My Glad/Mad/Sad Year

Last year at this time the burrowing owls stood guard at the condo grounds.  Visions of a new job,  after a 3 year ordeal trying, and hopes for finding a house danced in my head.  Like everything I decide to do, I mixed up a potent dose of naive optimism, idealism, manic excitement and frustration at the pace of change.  I drank that  kool-aid right down,  drooling over the prospect of salvation from condo life- the sad chapters lived there-  to an upgraded version of 'freedom':  financial,  land to play with,  creating the office/studio space for all things right brain.  I believed all my sacrifices would count, and the struggle would merit a validation;  life would finally deliver my well-earned rewards for doing the 'right thing',  staying my course and not giving up.

This is partly a piece about New Age tyranny (everything must be 'positive').  And to differ from my profound and lifelong connection with Mother Nature,  I cannot explain this year by 'spiritual' means.  I can't blame myself anymore for believing in an impossible love.  Or exposing the entrenched dysfunctions at work only to find greater hostility.  For wandering the rooms of my new house in heartache,

when it was me that believed it was all possible, in a package,  complete with dog...true love in the oasis of creativity and peace- at last.
The move was a purge, a repackaging, and a revision of the old Barn Days if only to find that patch of ground to grow something, anything that would allow me to watch Mother Gaia do Her thing.
Working towards a professional space of counseling and workshops was simply embedded in the notion that anyone would like time away in a Garden,  to heal through Nature and wise counsel the many conflicts within.  

So it was especially poignant to find Kenny dog, and with that, M unloading himself into the house,  ready to train and mow and fix.  It seemed the past had taken the intervening 20 years and brought me to a kind of second chance, morphed into day job and house-owning and partnering with someone.  And on the surface it all looked so good.....my denial was so deep.

It only took a series of MIAs to bust that denial wide open,  and with it,  my determined idealism that all SHOULD work out well.
Kenny was the 'dog in the middle' of estranged humans who still live in the same house;  heartbreaking to watch waiting by doors,  and sad eyes, and no explanation possible. 

At work,  hostility becomes shunning,  while coping with the pressures of learning altogether new skills and authority. 
The Aries girl who loves a challenge is silently celebrating my victory.  The schlubby little jewish girl who never quite knows how to 'fit in' soon realizes I will never be understood,  accepted or appreciated by .... M,  staff, family.... By the happy New Agers,  the super Jews...   The lonely road at work meets lonely road at home. 

While Kenny grows and grows,  my owner-anxieties flourish over all the time he stays in the house alone,  the training disasters, chewed shoes, and running,  dealing with M coming and going, and never enough emotional space to settle in and find the rhythm of this life,  nurture my artistic self around the co-opting of artistic space.  M takes his time.   I wallow deep in seasonal depression not relieved by southern sun.  In an age of civil and cosmic unrest,  there is no space not otherwise occupied by the clamoring forces of change....just when I thought I'd be celebrating I seem left behind in a room 'of my own choosing', alone.

Depression stole my heart, my voice and my hope.  I didn't want to write and try to pump myself up,  or explain the 'cosmic rationale' behind everything anymore.  I felt deeply wounded and betrayed by shiny promises I wanted desperately to believe;  I wanted that chance to have that full package again;  I wanted to feel wanted.

I was awake before sunrise today, and despite overcast skies,  was determined to get Kenny to the beach finally, since he's never been.  After a quick pre-dawn walk I loaded him up and parked off A1A,  jogging down the quiet side streets until we came onto the open beach.  Kenny could smell something different and was excited, then nervous as the beach and the wide expanse of water opened up before us...he trotted around the beach until finally realized the water was coming in and out,  nervous to avoid the surf until I started throwing sticks.  Then it seemed to click.  We took our time, down then back up the water front,  chasing sticks.  He frolicked and got wet and full of sand- and seemed to love it all!

Doing something for Kenny satisfies the mother in me....and makes me feel needed.  I needed to walk this long empty beach today and see my dog happy in the sand and know I gave that moment to him.  I also need to mother myself, and accept the broken heartedness that my childish naive, idealistic self is struggling to outgrow,  while appreciating that all in all,  I landed in a pretty sweet spot.  It is still possible,  everything I dream.   I am not hardened,  only silent.  I am not gone,  just stepped to the side.  Something wants to emerge and its not just the dreams of my past anymore.  It wants to be Something Brand New. 

Mysterious Forces

While the Sun throws us deep mysteries and speaks through ramped up activity,  cooler temps come to SoFlo, allowing the intensity of light to fall through the crystalline skies.  It's hard to connect with the Cosmic world while navigating interior spaces in offices and buildings, the pressure of people's drama and find the sure footing needed to dance through it all, until respite at day's end.  But this week, each run, no matter how long or short, is an open invitation to fold myself into the arms of the atmosphere, and let Life embrace me as I pit-pat my way around the neighborhood. 

This morning,  Kenny and I took a more leisurely walk, interspersed with bits of jogging, over the river and into the quiet side streets.   I'm not a 'morning person' by nature, but my schedule has enforced a new relationship with the dawn;  during the week we are up and out before the sun, often watching the sky color up as we come to our pit-stop by river's edge.  Today,  the sun crested the horizon, but barely- and birds, which are migrating down the coastline, greeted us in raucous chorus as we padded along.  After dropping him back at the house,  I changed shoes and went out again on my own.  No matter how focused he can be,  it's still different to run with a dog than to run alone.
I headed north,  finding my gait to ease into a few+ easy miles with no burden but my own body and the weight of my own drama swirling in my head.

The adjustment to forces,  whether macro- or micro,  the crowded current events, or the maelstrom of personal issues which keep percolating their ever-present permutations, can be exhausting.  Like any run, finding the 'sweet spot' between going at it too intensely or not enough takes practice.  What I remind myself every day is that I've been at this a long time.  For many years I had no explanation of why I suffered at the mercy of life forces, and little skills at dealing with it.  The exhaustive process of falling and failing, finding help and learning what works for me paid off with the discipline I learned as an artist.  Life is a blank canvas,  an empty sheet of paper,  a block of wood.  Tools are at my disposal, along with a smorgasbord of materials,  to create my life.  Some of the work is crap, but often can be wonderful:  but without the discipline of the craft,  nothing would come to fruition.

I put all that to use going back to school,  coping with the process of the Real World in all its demands of degrees and credentials, creating a new career.  It was still a rocky road but I progressed.
I remind myself of my benchmarks;  like the mile markers of the course.  I come up to some formidable miles dispirited and exhausted but know that one foot in front of the other gets me to the finish line. 

We forget too easily, when feeling the enormity of our feelings,  that we've traveled a similar path...maybe it was another place or time,  but the process of our own progression down the road still contains the same elements.  We move, we adapt, we struggle, we grow.  We don't move sometimes, we rest.  But we don't turn around and move backwards.  Only art, or therapy gives us a window into where we've been.  But in truth we are still PRESENT here, now,  and the only way on is forward.

I give all respect to the Mystery at work which seeks to impress upon us the full weight of these changes....hang on to your hats and watch your step as you find your path....keep moving and if you stop,  know that a rest was needed, and whatever comes up is asking for your attention. Give yourself that love and care today. 

Void

Depression steals the will to express.  It's been a long time since I wrote on the blog,  and it finally hit me,  as I lay in bed this week with a stomach bug,  that the Thief was at it, again.  If you are a depression sufferer, especially of the 'seasonal' variety, meaning, made worse by the negative anticipation of holidays,  please,  pay attention to what I am about to share.

A Mental health professional who suffers a mental health issue is not uncommon.  Many folks are very vocal- they write books about their experiences.  I use my history in therapeutic doses,  primarily to 'normalize' what clients think is "going crazy", by suggesting how common feelings of existential despair can be, no matter what side of the 'couch' you're on.  And here on the blog,  I have used my experience with running as a kind of metaphor for the efforts I've undergone to learn to manage a life-long,  often debilitating condition.

Forward on to the new house, and the onslaught of changes in my routine.  New work schedule (9-5ish),  new house responsibilities,  new dog  (yes we all love Kenny!), and new 'roommate'.  OK he's an old roommate, but he's here again,  and the stress of dealing with someone who isn't willing to understand and use some basic skills to deal with this is exasperating at best,  devastating at worst.  Running began to suffer with the demands of a puppy's schedule, and I hung on for dear life to my weekend runs, especially Sundays, as the one day I could confirm to myself that yes,  I am STILL a runner!

And then this week: the equinox/eclipse portal and a stomach bug which brought me completely down and out of work.  Time to ...not exactly think....but percolate the material that has been swirling around the surface of my life, into my interior.  The Shamanic Descent does not ask for permission,  it just happens.  The imperative of our life to stop the superficial merry-go-round of daily scripts to dig into the depths of what we feel, 'know' or need to know is often triggered by crisis, as few of us go there willingly.  After all,  what is revealed is difficult- we have hidden it from ourselves for a reason.  We needed to remove all the needless distraction to find out that 'something is wrong'- some thing is asking for our attention and we would not give it, we were too afraid of what we would come to know about ourselves.

And so in the Void of this gateway,  with my usual defenses removed,  I find myself falling freely into the maelstrom of my anger, betrayal, resentments, fears...my ambitions, jealousies,  loneliness, unmet dreams.  Not just directed towards any source, but global.  For the World has decided Her time has come.  The tipping point that brings us to a brink- a birth?- is felt in these shock-waves of heavy emotions,  channeled through as as if all of human history is letting out its collective scream.  We betrayed ourselves and we dive deep to find ourselves again. 

It takes a Void to make it happen.  I embrace the knowledge of my Self waiting to be found. 

Micro Runs

 

Marine Corp marathon, the fall after my dad died, 2009.  

There will always be a distance runner in me.

Kenny is not quite 4 months old, and getting so verrrry big…!  I must remind myself that his age is the important factor when attempting to train him on the leash to run.   During the past few weeks, we have gone out after work into my northerly neighborhood streets which give us some nice, relaxed stretch of blocks free of major traffic.  I loop the leash around my shoulder so I have one hand on the lead directly (like training a horse), and he seems to respond well to this soft touch.  Once I warm up a tad (sitting all day in a cold office does not make for good evening runs…) I start a very slow jog and let him trot along beside me.  On a good day he can easily cover a few blocks no problem, except for his ‘distractibility’ level.  On some days EVERYTHING is interesting, even the oil spots on the road!  Other days he seems more in tune with the motion, like I am, and we just trot along comfortably.  Trouble is, between the lack of focus and the heat we never last more than a few miles before every bit of shade becomes a good place for a nice belly-down in the cool grass. (Him, that is, not me! Although it looks like a fine idea at times!)

I have not logged any “real” miles in some time, except for Sundays, and my long runs have turned into ‘medium-sized’, due to my lower level of overall endurance.  If you want to be an endurance/long-distance runner, then you need the miles, there is just no other way to do it.  So cross-training aside, losing my weekday runs under my own solo full-steam has been a worthwhile sacrifice for Kenny.

But something else interesting seems to be happening, as I pile my little micro runs up mornings and evenings.  I have never been this consistent, on a daily basis. I have never been up at sunrise (our morning walk/runs) or out every evening like I have been now.   I may not run ‘real’ miles on my usual schedule, but I AM running EVERY DAY, even if it is in very short bursts. Apparently, I am conditioned enough and these years of running have created a good foundation, a base of ability that can now carry me through these changes.  So when I’m out on the weekends without Kenny, I still do pretty well! And the gods must want me to know this, because I saw a beautiful little article via Facebook that spoke exactly to the theme of running small miles, not big ones, as a key to overall health!

 I feel so bonded, physically and emotionally, with this amazing creature, Kenny, who is a natural athlete and will be a fantastic future runner, since he’ll likely have long legs and a big chest to serve him well out on the roads, no doubt about it.  And there is something magical about having him next to me, trot-trotting along in his own little right-brain bliss, just taking in the world, same as me.  Not talking, not ‘handling’, not training, just moving and grooving along,  taking it all in. 

I tried to re-engineer all this at first:  calling on dog-sitters or gating him back up while I took off on my own.  Trouble was, I have so little time with him around work; my conscience got the better of me when I figured I would just ‘go with it’ as it is and see how it felt.  I had to get over so many of my own deep-seated control issues and prejudices:  the will to be the distance runner in my head, and not the runner in my heart who took on this doggie project by responding spontaneously to the call for adopting a puppy from an abandoned mommy.   We never know how our lives will change when we give birth, adopt (child or animal), marry/separate, but we can trust it WILL change and ferment a new mix of our daily cosmology.  I am still a runner.  I am a different runner now, a different person- with Kenny.

Sevens

A 10k is 6.2 miles.   Seven miles is a very doable distance, with just enough challenge to be considered 'long-ish' by my humble standards, when overall mileage is down- as it has been these days.  Longer than a 5k, about half the half-marathon.  I feel properly 'trained' after a 7-miler, a nice default mode.

I probably covered something like that today, my last day off of the holiday.  On the 'to-do' list:  run, pick up shopping @ WFs, write a blog post.  It's been about 7 weeks since I moved.  All this time a handful of drafts were written on themes of change and new beginnings....managing just one posted in June.  Kenny came since then,  and the entire Solstice season fast transitioning to Beltane, the mid-mark to Fall equinox coming up...the Wheel turns regardless of chaotic weather or Cosmic Re-design;  Mother Nature is undergoing her long birth process, and we can expect nothing but surprise, or miracles....and just when I think I 'got it', and the world Gestalt has opened to me,  fast open the flood gates of the unexpected.

I drove the new Jetta to Whole Foods to stage.  I geared up including hydration belt (always in summer) and my parka just in case.  Every day it's been storming, raining, flooding, lightening....somehow I've lucked out most of the time, and managed a run in between bouts of weather outbursts.  Same today.  looped south on Federal, over Sunrise to pick up Middle River and the lovely quiet residential stretch to 26th.... Taking my leisurely time afterwards for a rare Monday shopping trip for my 7 mile-ish reward of dense calories and the week's food.

Kenny is learning how to run.  At this age (still shy of 3 months) he is so distracted by everything, the stains on the road, the noises...he can hear a dog bark obviously far away.....so I watch him endlessly trying to sift through the stimuli around him.  But with persistence, he will settle into the gait I start on the leash....me in a shuffling lope,  and him syncing up besides me in his puppy stride....a beautiful thing, because I can see the runner in him.  Dogs are such natural athletes.

Monty is giving Kenny some good trainings too.  Establishing the 'pack' order of the house has settled out now, and it's been lovely to see Monty heal from losing Seven, his dog I knew when we first met.  Seven was also a rescue, a mixed something and his loss has cut a deep wound for M all these years.  Kenny's funny, sunny exuberant nature make it impossible not to fall in love with him.  And yes,  a dog can heal so much.

The blogs are full of inspired wisdom on the 7/7/7 today.  July (7), 7th, 2014 (2/14=7).  Signs and symbols are everywhere right now, your signs, mine;  and Great Mother's atmospheric blasts,  Her news with views, for where ever you are now in the world,  great change is upon you too.  Your village is under siege, or assault, or sinking into the sea, the desert, the endless rows of farmland.  Your family was displaced by flood, fire, famine, fear of murder, rape, cultural genocide.  The more that surfaces the more I celebrate the Cleansing of this endless pain, washing and rewashing out the wounds of the Patriarchy upon us all.

I don't know how deep the ETs were to orchestrate such polarizing dharma, because I feel more and more now that it's pointless, this eternal repetition complex we have all resigned ourselves too...THIS TOO is obsolete.  For once, we can step cleanly outside of the mind-fuck that is the patriarchal control-machine.  So it doesn't matter too much to me anymore who orchestrated it all.  They, too, are becoming irrelevant.  The Old Game is over.

Freedom is always the first law because in reality it's already 'Free';  all this other stuff is just our mass hypnosis, our distortion, our attempt to subjugate ourselves somehow, some way into a powerless place.  There's an attraction to staying there too,  it 'seems' as if we have side-stepped all choice and responsibility.  We can build denial higher from the foundations of the prison we have been led into, and remain even though the key is in the lock, in the door.

So here in our displacement of mind, of 'right-mindedness',  of sync with our True Nature and that of the World,  we need mantras to remind us:  FREEDOM IS THE FIRST LAW.  Yes, YOU are free..  YOU too,  can believe what your heart is telling you, it's YOURS- your heart, your soul belongs - no matter what- to only you.  YOU ARE SAFE.  YOU are FREE. 

When you climb the "Seven Story Mountain" you are ascending your own inner chakra/energy system.  Something has called to you for a long time,  and it's something that causes that energy to happen, to travel without obstacle to the fulfillment of you.  Sevens will liberate you in a musical bar; seven days a week,  you are being reminded:  work with that passion, follow that Bliss- something Bigger than us is coming on through.  It will make our Freedom apparent,  it will show us where our Power truly lies.   Today I run my journey and celebrate a path that leads me through the nodes of chaos, putting soft shards of sunshine in my back pocket. 

Many Firsts and Lead up to Solstice

When a road runner like me comes across a new route,  thrilling anticipation is the result- even if the route has a history.  The new beach loop runs part of the same roads used in the Ft. Lauderdale marathon, and by the local runners club when I was training for all that years ago.   Oakland Park was also once my 'cut-through',  driving from Hollywood up to see my parents in the old days...hitting the Whole Foods on Federal.  So having some history here, even while newly arrived, gives me a context for many firsts.

How many?  How long have I ruminated over having my own private practice space:  and finally! My first Saturday clients, listening as they bask in the big easy chair in the back office...the sunlight through the windows, the quiet green of the backyard buffering us from the world.  First drives down to work, forays to neighborhood breakfast places, pizza places, stores of all kinds...first nights and mornings without worrying what nonsense is going on upstairs, or down the catwalks...first evenings sitting out in the yard, writing, drawing or just putzing around.   First visitors.   First storms! 

Crafting new routines is my way of coping with change, and a good strategy overall.  For many folks, leaving ourselves open to the impact of change can cause stress and anxiety.  So after those first few weeks,  I began to find my new rhythm;  waking up early to a niche of sunrise slanting through my window.... running at least several days during the week after work,  finding new loops - and new serenity- through the gorgeous SE neighborhoods.  Scoping out new plantings, artwork, spaces for creating, resting, hanging out...feeling an up-swell of satisfaction and gratitude that all my planning and hard work has brought me here,  my little slice of heaven. 

If you live in my area and feel inspired,  come join me for Summer Solstice on Saturday June 21st. (4-7pm)  We'll hold a circle around my fire-pit and celebrate the Longest Day, the fullness of growth, the gift of Light.

We plant ourselves into the world.  As our roots anchor us,  our branches reach out to find nourishment and communicate with the living atmosphere.  Even a 'transplant' can grow successfully when planted with care...So bring plants or seeds for exchange and a vegetarian dish if you'd like to hang around and share a meal.  Message me for address.  And allow yourself to get into YOUR right mind!

A Birth Story

In 1980,  I lived in an old farmhouse in rural Virginia where I gave birth to my one and only child,  a home birth with a midwife.  The legend of that night contained many strange occurrences:  it was mid-summer and unusually cold.  I had a craving for steak prior to labor.   At 8 centimeters I seemed to get 'stuck' and entered what I can only say was a kind of true transitional zone where I distinctly remember standing by and looking out the bedroom window and feeling like the world was collapsing. 

Pushing through those last centimeters and birth was no doubt the most intense experience of my life.  I often think of it as a primary life metaphor;  feeling the fear of passage, while coming to know that I am stronger and more resilient than I could ever imagine.  Despite it's many sad lessons such as post-partum depression, and the implications for my then husband and son,  the seed of that knowing served me in subsequent challenges, always in a similar way.  It's when I close in on the goal that I tend to collapse.

I found this out in my first marathon,  trying to cross the 18, then 20 mile threshold, when my body felt like giving out.  I remembered it at my last one in DC,  when I was sure I would never make it to the phalanx of marines at the finish line.  In graduate school,  I was a few months shy of completing when my emotional state crumbled.  And in my career,  I point to many a moment when prior to a breakthrough I felt the end was near.

I am going through such a passage now,  before the move.  I have deliberately kept it stirring in my inner cauldron,  watching what has surfaced,  which fears and anxieties belong to me and which ones I inherited from my mother.  Never underestimate the power of ancestral beliefs and emotional patterns to influence us in the present-  it doesn't matter if your loved ones are in this world or not.  The beliefs operate in you like unconscious scripts.  So in this manner I am finding my fear of pressures, chaos, bailing out, in short- disastrous failure and not reaching my goal, poking holes in my otherwise enthusiastic anticipation of what this move is all about.

This is a dark place.  But I am not in fear this time.  I have those memories of finish lines crossed,  degrees hard-earned,  career moving forward and the many client success stories to tell me, my path is working.  I have my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter all well and wonderful.  I am a healthy elder, ready to embark on the next leg of my journey,  and what I am birthing will be AWESOME!

It's important that we embrace the hard parts of our path,  and understand that EVERYTHING coming up in us is our teaching and guide.  Our wise minds understand how fearful we can become and push us closer into that fire, because the Beneficent Ones wait for us deep in that cauldron of change.  When we can encourage our Selves, like any good Midwife,  by facilitating the Process,  we will move through.  Will we also learn the lessons, and recognize what we needed to leave behind?

I leave my fear of not belonging;  I leave my fear of ending up like my mother,  stuck in a life plan with a life partner that kept her in emotional bondage and sapped her physical strength, of the 'inevitability' of all genetic tendencies to map who and what I am.  I claim the benefits of my dedication to my 'work'- and as I come to crowning I anticipate what is coming as a Beacon,  an Oasis, a Magic Garden where ideas of Beauty and Belonging will grow.