Little House

Start with a bang ...

2012-01-08T13:05:00.000-06:00

2012 has begun with vigor!

So far, the vigor has involved shedding responsibilities that are no longer serving me:

I'm transferring my half of my therapeutic massage partnership to my business partner. I simply don't want to own that business anymore and don't want to go in those directions. I want to steer my own ship now.
I'm leaving a healing circle that was created by a Native American elder because of the ego, shadow and constant projections that come from its members. When you haven't healed yourself, you can't heal others.

I have spent time focusing on how I would feel at the end of my life, what I would consider my life to consist of were it deemed a success or failure. When I did this meditation on New Year's day, a few aspects of my life came up wanting in this regard, so I've changed priorities a bit to include more energy and time toward the things that deeply matter to me.

Success to me in my lifetime means working out my life lessons, dealing with unfinished business of past lives and ancestors, and working out my own individual karmic accumulations. For me it doesn't necessarily mean money and fame :-) I really don't care about that very much, though I *would* like to have enough money income to be comfortable and have all of my needs met. I'd LOVE to win a big, fat lottery and be able to take care of everyone I love! I hope this happens, too, but either way, my "success" in this lifetime is not tied to that.

Along with this refocusing, I've begun a few projects that astonish myself. I'm writing fiction, some bawdy, some tame, and I'm also writing a couple of how-to's, one for the massage profession and one for the shamanic profession. Such hubris I have to think that I can write books! :-) As Marianne Williamson puts this quandary:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

If not us, then who? Who am I not to be a voice in the world? Why else am I here?

Cheers!

No Moss

2012-01-01T11:22:00.000-06:00

I've been traveling almost non-stop since 2 December when I left home for Cleveland to sing with a group there. Came back for 2 whole days of work, then out on the road again for our annual Christmas visiting of both families. Just got home last night with a sick hubby; he's got headache, sore throat and sinus crap. Work starts back tomorrow bright and early. *sigh*

But we did get this for Christmas from my husband's niece, so all is not lost. The perfect Nutrckacker! Ours also has a guitar.

Love thy neighbor as thyself

2011-11-21T18:45:00.001-06:00

I just read this:

http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/im-christian-unless-youre-gay.html

and it has really made my entire decade. Many of the thoughts I've always had are espoused here. Please do read it in its entirety; it's not long and it is really, really worth it.

There's a follow-up here: http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/powerful-responses-to-im-christian-unless-youre-gay-blog.html

This second link is the follow up post which has responses to the first, both good and bad. Also worth reading.

Love.

Peyote Stitch Project #1

2011-11-20T20:47:00.001-06:00

I'm currently trying my first large-scale Peyote Stitch beading project: I'm beading the handle of a rattle that I made a few weeks ago. The hide that I used turned out to be a beautiful light and dark. I think it's horse hide, but not certain. The colors begged for golds, yellows, reads, greens, so that's what I went with.

As I'm not very quick at this yet, what you see represents between 8 and 10 HOURS of work so far. I figure I've beaded about 20% of the handle, so I've got more work ahead of me, though I am getting faster.

I also sorta fucked the pattern up a little bit, but hey; it's my first so I'm cutting myself some slack. I'll just take "finished" and be happy about it :-)

It passes the time fabulously quickly.

Queer Meme

2011-11-20T13:36:00.001-06:00

My turn, I think, on this one. And this prompted me to turn on the "adult content" warning sign.

1. How old were you when you knew you were gay?

I was about 5. I always liked to be with men who had body hair and big calves; I just had this tremendous warm feeling about it. I had more hints in school when I was teased about playing in the sandbox with the girls instead of playing with the boys. And then when I was nine I told my next door neighbor about the anal sex I was having with my cousins - when he blew his stack I *knew* there was something different about me! What, none of the other little boys I knew did these things?

2. Have you ever had sex with the opposite sex?

My girlfriend and I in High School (she's multi-sexual now, has been married once, was with a woman for a couple of decades and now is with a trans man) masturbated each other to orgasm once and heavy-petted a lot, but that's as close as I've gotten.

3. Who was the first person you came out to?

My own self, followed closely by my parents.

4. Are you out to your family?

Yes, completely. Since I was bout 20 and had just gotten with my first partner.

5. Do you want children?

I'd love grandchildren. I like kids and I'm really good with them - just don't want to have them in my house breaking my stuff all the time. But my husband and I would be fab granddads. Too bad neither of us has children of our own. I'm finally at the age when I think I could handle it, though.

6. Do you have more gay friends or straight friends?

It's a relatively even mix.

7. Were you out in school?

OH, hell no. I quietly came out my senior year of college, so my housemates (all lesbian now) knew. But then we were all coming out to each other simultaneously. I was the "brave one" who did it first and gave the others their tacit permission.

8. Is your best friend the same sex as you?

Yes. Had you asked me this in High School I would have said, 'no'.

9. If your best friend is the same sex, have you ever had sex with them?

I've had sex with a few of my best friends; current best is my husband.

10. Have you ever done crystal meth?

No - I didn't even know what that was until a few years ago. I thought "Tina" was a person.

11. Have you ever been in a sling?

No - but I sure would love to be.

12. Have you ever done a 3-way?

Absolutely! It's lovely to be in a bed all snuggled up with a few people.

13. Have you ever dressed in drag?

Only once as an adult - I was an elderly maiden of Diana's court in a Baroque opera scene here in the city where I live. I was in a skirt, pearls, had a foliage headdress and my beard, of course. Played "dressup" as a kid, of course, like we all did.

14. Would you date a drag queen?

Depends on the drag queen. I'd date *anyone* if their soul called to me.

15. Are you 'fixed in your ways' as it were?

Not really. There are some things I do insist on, but others I change to suit my fancy

16. Cher or Bette?

Neither. I'm more an Emma Kirkby/Leontyne Price/Jan DeGaetani kinda guy.

17. Have you dated someone of a different ethnicity?

Oh, yes! I love Arab men, though I haven't dated any. I dated a beautiful black man who had the most amazing ways about him. Yum. Right now its just us two white crackers.

18. Been to Fire Island? Saugatuck? Key West? Ft. Lauderdale? Palm Springs?

Key West. On a whim with a British friend. "Clothing Optional Pool Bar" was new to me.

Original 18. Have you ever barebacked?

Yes - my first partner and I were exclusive. We barebacked for the duration of our relationship, and then used condoms when we had sex together after we broke up. Once or twice - foolishly - with others. I do prefer it.

19. How many Madonna CDs do you own?

Zero.

20. Name of your first love?

Patrick

21. Do you still talk to them?

No - we were in kindergarten at the time.

22. Does size matter?

You know, I used to not think so. I love a beautiful dick, and I'm mesmerized by some large ones. But really, I can't do much with the really big ones or with the really teeny ones. Until I started dating at 40 and found out that there were dicks that fit my own anatomy much better than my first partner's had, I would have said that this was a non-issue for me. *Thickness* matters a LOT, I have discovered. I can get pleasure from any penis, sure! And I love giving it, too. BUT, when I dated Paul, I came spontaneously every single time he put his cock in my ass in a breathless, earth-shattering way. Really. Every time. Holy Crap. That was nigh on to the perfect cock for me, hands down. Too bad that sex was almost the only thing we had in common :-( SO, I would say that some cocks fit me way better than others and can greatly influence my pleasure and ability to orgasm. AND I would also say that technique and love matters more. Pleasure is a multivariable equation, and size is merely one isolated term in it.

23. Biggest turn on?

Gentle masculinity. Body hair! (I almost came spontaneously when I saw the body hair on the hairiest man I've ever been with, no lie) Beautifully muscled legs. Kindness.

24. Biggest turn off?

Assholism. Overly aggressive and manipulative people. Arrogance. Meanness. Retribution. Underarm odor.

25. Ever been harassed due to your orientation?

Never.

26. Worst gay stereotype that applies to you?

I can camp it up when I want to. I have a deliciously wicked ability to mimic voices - which is completely nelly and turns a lot of people off. I'm terrified by bugs and I squeal when they scuttle. It's the scuttling part that does it to me.

27. Ever been to a pride rally?

Yes! Several - all total fun.

28. Would you marry if you could?

Did. Want to again as many times as possible until the US gets it right.

29. Would you rather be rich and smart or young and beautiful?

Rich and smart.

30. Do you sculpt your eyebrows?

Oh HELL no. I briefly dated a hair stylist (what was I thinking?) who wanted to tweeze my eyebrows so that it would "open up my eyes a little". I scoffed so hard at the notion that I think he died a little inside.

31. Do you trim your body hair?

Nooooooooo. Did that ONCE. I think secondary sex characteristics, especially body hair, is extraordinarily sexy on a man.

32. Ever had sex with more than one person in a day?

Actually, no. Well, if you don't count my older cousins when we were little.

33. Ever been to an orgy?

I've been one in a room where six people were having sex with each other ... not sure if this is 'orgy' material.

34. Which character in "The Women" best reflects you?

The what? Actually I'm familiar with the idea that there IS a movie named "The Women" that gay men get off on. Never seen it. But I do know the "Jungle Red" reference.

35. Favorite gay expression ?

Faaabulous!

36. How may 'ex' do you have?

One. We had seventeen beautiful, strange and difficult years together. Still love each other now and are still in regular touch. I have a few other "we've dated" exes, but they really don't count as exes.

37. Do you believe in fairies?

Yes. And angels and Little People and Trolls and Wights. And Power Animals and Teachers and Guides ...

38. Do you have any tattoos?

Not yet - several planned, just need the time and the moolah. And the right artist.

39. Do you have any piercings?

Yes - left earlobe and PA. Want a discrete septum piercing that I can hide from clients when I'm at work. It would be nice to just have the old bone in the nose on weekends when I'm among family.

40. Would you date a smoker?

I did without knowing it. He didn't smell of smoke, nor did he taste of it! Very fastidious. So - depends on the smoker.

41. If you are male, do you know many lesbians?

Tons. Love 'em. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

42. Do you know anyone who has died from HIV?

One very dear friend in the late 80's. A few others who were really only acquaintances. I just wasn't hooked into the scene then.

43. Are you part of a gay organization?

No.

44. Is your gym cruisy?

Gym? My gym is the mountain trails I hike. I have gotten some sultry looks out there though ...

45. Grinder or Scruff?

Um, excuse me ... what?

46. Are your best years behind or in front of you?

In front of! I'm just learning how to live at 49.5!

47. Got Porn?

Duh. Does a boy have a dick?

48. Make out music?

Johann Rosenmueller, Hesperion XX,

49. Ever been in love with a straight guy?

Lots. I have a couple of straight friends who love right me back.

50. Did you ever have sex with him?

I would so love to. One's a skinny, hairy dude, and he would be dynamite in the sack. The other is a beautiful Italian bear who *has* kissed me. And who'd also be a ton of fun to play with.

51. Have you ever been to a nude beach?

Yes. Haulover Beach in Miami and Wreck Beach in Vancouver! Loved it, especially Wreck. When I descended the 400+ stairs to get down from the bluff to the beach and the elderly lady in front of me whipped off her top, I knew it was going to be fun. And THEN when I saw the nude young man helping his elderly nude father - with walker and oxygen tank - I was totally sold. Seeing naked families playing together on the beach was a total treat.

52. Have you ever been to a bath house?

No.

53. Ever had sex in public?

Yes - it wasn't planned that way, but it sure ended up that way. There's something more than hot about being watched ...

54. What gay gene did you miss out?

Tidiness. And decorating. To my partner's sorrow, I'm a slob. And a small-time hoarder. Alas. Well, I also missed out on the skinny twink gene: I'm a mesomorph, short, squat and strong and now, overweight.

Ég er napur í bullet

2011-11-14T14:47:00.001-06:00

I am biting the bullet.

For years I've wanted to learn Icelandic, mostly because I groove on languages, and also because one of my ancestors was from there. Not having a really good reason to learn a language I was never, ever going to speak, I didn't.

Now I have a reason.

Since April I've been working with and exploring seiðr ("sayth"), a shamanic-like indigenous magic that was practiced by the old Norse peoples and which is spoken of in the sagas. Seiðr is somewhat of a mystery to modern peoples since we don't really know how it was done, nor do we know what it actually did.

There are other related workings called spá and galdr, practices which encompassed shamanism, sorcery, prophecy and other forms of indigenous magic. Some modern practitioners lump all of this under seiðr, and some like to separate all of the different practices using the different words for them found in the sagas.

Personally, I have no idea.

What I do know is that spá or spae is written about almost exclusively as a method of prophetic divination, or augury. Seiðr in general is described as being used for healing, cursing, weather-working and for changing events. For a longer article, see the Wikipedia article on the Völva or Spae Wife. I also know that I have been drawn to this practice like a moth to a flame, my ancestral imprints tugging at me from the ancient past. After my first session of oracular seiðr, of actually being a seiðmaðr on the High Seat, I felt as if I'd been born with a staff in my hand. The practice felt so oddly familiar to me, and they fit me like a comfortable well-loved and well-used glove.

These practices also calling deeply to others who are sharing this journey with me: one of my study group mates was plunged into rich visual imagery as I read to the group from the best-known account in the sagas of the ritual of an oracular High Seat spae from the saga of Eirik the Red. Her images contained several details I had not mentioned but which are written of in other sagas. Um, and did I say she's of Norwegian descent?

So, I've ordered a book on beginning Icelandic so that I can possibly begin to read some of the sagas that have not been translated yet. Further down the rabbit hole ...

Sticks and Hair

2011-09-17T13:27:00.001-05:00

It's amazing what one can do with three sticks and some hair. I've discovered the magic of spinning fiber into yarn, and it only takes sticks and hair to do it. Admittedly, the sticks are finely made, and the hair has been prepard so that it *will* spin. But still. It's totally fun and magic.

And a bit mysterious and irritating. The principle is simple: adding twist to fibers makes them grab each other. When they grab each other, you get strong yarn that doesn't let go of itself. Here you see my first yarn spun on my brand new Aegean spindle that is a copy of a spindle bought in a Greek market about 15 years ago by the man who made this one. It truly spins like a dream. The bluish fiber is a mixture of 60% Merino wool and 40% Bamboo. Cool, huh?

Kinky. Hairy. Just like I like it.Down here is the first wool that I spun last night from this beautiful creamy-white roving. I think I'm in love with yet another hand craft. My husband merely sighs.

I also knit, another thing you can do with hair and two sticks. My late grandmother, my dad's mom, learned to knit and to crochet when her sisters died with said projects unfinished. She learned so that she could finish their work. I've got crochet on my radar for sometime this winter, too.

Taking up the spindle feels to me like completing unfinished ancestral work. That's one reason I bought the spindle with the Anglo-Saxon runes. They are: Wunjo, "Joy", Ear, "Earth", and Kalc, "Chalice".

Make a beautiful, big container for all of your joy here on Earth.

Names

2011-09-12T08:15:00.001-05:00

Each of us has a name
given by God
and given by our parents

Each of us has a name
given by our stature and our smile
and given by what we wear

Each of us has a name
given by the mountains
and given by our walls...

"Names" by Zelda

I love this poem, and especially love the setting of it found on the Roches album Zero Church, a collection of prayers set to music, a collaboration with women at the shelter at 0 Church street in NYC.

I also love it because it encapsulates the shamanic concept of using thought to bind, of using the name we build in our heads to place upon another. Naming something builds a box around it, an enclosure that defines and confines it in our minds.

Those names, those thoughts, those thoughtforms, are not just thoughts, but are real; real energetic constructs that do affect us physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

Yesterday when this song came along on the CD in my car, I realized that I've been doing a lot of name-calling lately; this week I'm working with a recalcitrant teacher who is teaching a workshop here and who is flouting hospital rules and regs which could endanger my livelihood and my relationships with medical teams where I live. I've been putting much mental energy into specific names/thoughtforms and sending them towards her these past few days, binding her and adding energetic intrusions to her energy field.

Doing this, asserting power over someone or some thing is the very definition of sorcery.

As irritated as I am about her dangerous bullheadedness, using sorcerous means is not very good for the soul or for ones karma ;-)

Today I ask that I may be able to express my emotions, but not send them; that they be transmuted into healing energies available to all.

37 Things

2011-08-31T09:37:00.000-05:00

I usually eat my food sequentially, consuming one item at a time on my plate
As an adult, I have never lived in a house that had a dishwasher
For eleven years I lived without a flush toilet
We also had no running hot water
For at least three of those years, we had no running water at all and would go into town to gather it in five gallon jugs from a neighbor's house
We heated exclusively with wood
My ex has lived like this since he moved to his father and uncle's old farm in October of 1988
I loved that place - still do
When he and I split up I lived for two years in a travel trailer (a beautiful Airstream!) with no electricity
I have grown my own food
I score 1 point away from the Asperger's score on most on-line autism tests
I still don't understand the things which motivate people, though others around me get this sort of information as if through osmosis
I don't live entirely in the 'here and now'; I walk the Otherworlds occasionally
As a child I sometimes knew who was going to call before the phone rang, who was going to come by the house before the knock sounded, etc.
I put these abilities away when I went to Engineering School - they weren't 'scientific'
When they began coming roaring back, I ended up leaving my technical career to become a bodyworker
"Healer" is closest word I can think of that matches what I do now
That word makes me squirm
But it fits
I don't know how to create business cards and brochures for that
Had you told me six years ago that I would be walking the Otherworlds, teaching classes in shamanism and guiding others in being mediums for compassionate deities, I would have doubled over in laughter
Had you told me fifteen years ago that I would be doing *anything* other than crafting software or building robots, I would have been offended and angry
Had you told me just how much I love this new life, I would have been frightened
I love what I'm becoming
I love what I've been at each time in my life
Even as a child I had affinity with mechanical things
I put this to good and unconscious use - as a software developer at an almost-Ivy university I could almost walk into a room and tell what was wrong with a piece of machinery just by the way it felt; machines sort of talk to me that way
I usually know a machine is going to break before anyone else
I feel their pain, and I hate it when people mistreat them
I work in a major medical institution, a regional cancer center, doing massage
and shamanic healing
and energy work
and every single shamanic healing technique you can think of
Soul Retrieval
even Depossession.
Many, many times
the farther down the rabbit hole I go, the more at home I am

Two Hot Bears in a Spo-Shirt

2011-08-09T22:11:00.000-05:00

This is us modelling the Spo-Shirt that UrSpo sent us as part of his spo-shirt tour! Enjoy :-)

Edge

2011-08-05T14:05:00.000-05:00

I've found that it's good to do one thing that scares me and pushes me to one of my edges every day. Today: work in the cheomotherapy infusion unit giving massage to patients receiving treatment there.

As Within, So Without

2011-07-29T12:36:00.001-05:00

We are starting a volunteer effort at work in which my business partner and I provide gentle massage to those receiving chemotherapy infusions in the infusion unit downstairs and in the Phase I clinic upstairs (where new chemo drugs get administered to humans for the very first time ever).

This is my business partner's dream that she's been working on for 12 years. It is not my dream. I'm scared to death about it for no apparent reason, and I've been trying to figure out whence comes my anxiety and fear and overweaning terror.

In an email today I received my weekly note from a cool therapist who nailed it:

Such mirroring is one of the sacred, and practical, functions ofrelationship. If we want to know how we truly feel about ourselves,we simply need to observe the quality of relationship we are attracting into our lives. It will give us an accurate read every time.

As I read this I turned it around a bit and then it finally hit me: I'm so afraid of doing this because this is something I don't do, can't do for myself: In so many ways I don't step up to support myself, really nurture myself. I have some sort of deep aversion, deep fear of taking care of myself (because then that might mean I'm truly alone, truly "on my own" now? fear of not being loved and/or taken care of by a loved one? is this my own fear of abandonment at work here?).

So, unable to rise to the cause of taking care of me, how can I possibly think of doing these unthinkable things for anyone else?

It's a relief to begin to know what this is. And in the knowing , begin to unravel it.

Update: I just saw my first patients while they were receiving chemo infusion, and everything was totally fine.

Being of Consequence

2011-07-15T12:38:00.000-05:00

I come from a family energetic and from a place of self-esteem which says: "you do not matter".

The tape in my head, the agreement I've made with myself about myself plays its loud, endlessly-looped message thusly:

"What you do in the world does not matter."

"People do not notice you."

"Your talents are wasted, go unappreciated, unnoticed, unapplauded."

I was shocked today to hear exactly the opposite from someone I care about deeply and with whom I have shared a business for over ten years. While giving her a massage this morning, she made it perfectly clear to me that she does see me in crystal clarity. She made it absolutely plain that I do matter to her and to the company, and what's more, she has a dead-on, very accurate assessment of my strengths. She enumerated them to me at length and in great detail and in a way that kind of took my breath away.

I am seen, and I am seen by those around me very clearly, indeed.

Replacing this very old agreement I have with myself with something closer to the actual truth could seriously change my daily experience of life.

Knowing how keenly I also see my fellow humans, this should have been no shock, but is one of those blind spots that I have, that we all have, I suppose.

The truth? The new agreement that I forge for myself with myself?

I am seen very clearly indeed, and by all.

Nothing about me is hidden or obscured.

Everything I do matters.

Deeply.

To All Beings.

In All the Worlds.

Dark Shadows

2011-07-13T17:17:00.000-05:00

Auuugggghhh!!!

Johnny Depp is starring as Barnabas Collins in Tim Burton's upcoming film adaptation of Dark Shadows!

Squeall!!

Bookmongers R Us

2011-07-12T12:10:00.001-05:00

In an effort to rid myself of excess possessions, I've opened an Amazon Marketplace shop to sell my (lightly) used books.

To date I've sold about 20 items and have made a modest profit (I finally read the fine print and saw that I could ship books "Media Mail", thank jebus! First Class postage was eating my lunch!). Most of my stuff is shamanism-related or New Age type stuff, books that I bought for one nugget, one tiny kernel of something that I needed to learn or wanted to read about but are now just cluttering up my bookshelves and storage spaces. I have also sold some regular old novels and stuff too, though.

It's been interesting - the first two books I sold I shipped to Australia! I quickly figured out that overseas shipping might eat my lunch (I lost money on that deal), so I quit doing that. I'm constantly intrigued by the names and places that come under my eye as I'm packing up books to send, complete with custom bookmarks (designed and made by the hubby) and return packing labels.

I like to think that someone else can get good mileage out of my very lightly used books - I tend to get on a kick and buy several books at a time, or just buy a book that interests me with its energy, its cover (I know, I know: don't judge a book by its cover!) or by a recommendation given by another author I enjoy and whose opinion I trust.

But the reality is that I don't need a library. I do have a few books I keep which tell me how to do things. I have books which outline a process or which contain resources I can't find on-line, resources I want to have access to when the power goes out :-) After searching in vain for "answers" in many of the shamanic books that I have bought, I find that most of the answers lie within, anyway. I've learned more by doing than I have by reading.

So, I've decided to sell my books, one little volume at a time. And I let go of them as I ship them out, thanking them for coming to me and lending me their wisdom when they did. With each book I ship, I cut the tie, reclaim my energy, and bless it on its way to brighten the day of another person. I've had great times with my books so why shouldn't somebody else?

Despite my best efforts previously to pare down, I have so many books in the house and under/near the bed that my husband makes fun of my "floorganization". I have stacks and stacks of books. On my bedside table alone I probably have 12-15 books. In its little shelf below I have another 20. On the floor next to the bed (on my side, the far side which is hidden from view when you walk in or look through the door) there are probably another 10-15 books. And this is AFTER I've winnowed down and taken the sellable ones to work to put in my bookcases to await sale! I don't even like to think about the boxes and boxes and boxes of books I have in storage.

There's probably a word for me as book-hoarder. "Bibliophile" is polite, but doesn't exactly convey the exact flavor of voraciousness that names my kind of book lust and thirst for knowing. To give you an idea, on the references pages of my shamanic web site, I've listed bibliographical info and given thumbnail reviews of 77 books relating to shamanism. And these are merely the ones I thought worth mentioning; this list doesn't include the books that I thought were lame or which were clearly written by dilettantes. I have twenty-seven more on my on-line published waiting list, and there are probably ten to thirty more that I haven't bothered to list there, either.

And these are just my useful books about shamanism.

I also have several wonderful and hard-to-find books on anatomy at the office, including The Body Moveable, an absolutely stunning and informative book drawn entirely by hand by the author. He wrote this book as a form of taking notes when he himself was studying anatomy. It is telling that its current used selling price is almost twice what I paid for it new twelve years ago. AND, since it's classified in my mind as "reference', it will NOT be sold :-)

The books I don't sell after a reasonable amount of time will be donated to a local funky bookstore or two; there's a used bookstore that's about a quarter mile from my office that takes certain items, and there is another one in an old converted-mill-turned-into-arts-hangout that will take the rest. I hope someone buys them; I've heard from a friend who works at the University library that they are getting rid of their books by the dumpster-full due to on-line resources now available. "Who needs books and the facilities to store them when you can read it on-line from anywhere?"

This trend bothers me greatly. From childhood training by dominatrix librarians (remember the "here's how to properly open a new book!" lesson we all got in the library as kids, and the utter horror with which the librarians spoke about finding ink markings and, *gasp!*, dog-eared pages! in their sacred tomes? I remember one scary old librarian brandishing such a "destroyed" volume to us captive students while frothing at the mouth and yelling, "See!?! SEE?!?) I still have visceral pains when I see books being thrown away. I also think about the Library of Alexandria being lost in the fire. All that information, all that knowledge, gone.

Having seen firsthand the fragility of our electronic infrastructure, I'm worried that the same thing might happen to us in this day and age. One good, massive and extended power outage would be all it would take.

So, keep your books.

Oh, the Irony

2011-07-10T17:25:00.000-05:00

Twelve years ago I left my corporate software job to become a massage therapist. I was hired by the massage school I had attended to be an admin part time, and I also started up my therapy practice part time. I had many reasons for making this switch, chiefest among them that bodywork called to me very, very strongly. The life of a 'healer' was something that I knew was in my bones.

I also made the switch for these reasons:

to have a less complicated not-corporate-style life
to have flexibility for singing, travel and pursuit of other interests
to *never* have to attend a meeting again!
to reduce my personal stress
to have an income-producing career in which I'm not totally hooked in to the system

The hilarious part is that here I am today, practicing out of a huge regional cancer treatment center, putting together a hospital training program, and having more meetings than I ever had in my software life. Since becoming a massage therapist, I've led and attended more breakfast meetings before 8:00am (oh, the pain) than I had even conceived of in my previous 20 years as a software developer. I can't tell you the times I've gotten up at an ungodly hour to do a breakfast seminar for nurses, docs or other health professionals.

And really, I only traded stresses. I didn't eliminate them. Well, that's a little fib: my overall stress level did go down quite a bit, I think because I'm doing something I really love, but all in all there are still tons of stresses to be had when one is a sole-proprietor business owner.

The flexibility I've retained - I do take time off when I want it. I had the luxury of taking 5 weeks off last year to go a' singin' with the group who graciously hires me to do so. It was a total blast! And yet, I find that my clients still like their massage therapist to be there whenever they want him. So, in that respect I'm still a little bit "hooked into the system".

I have a slight personal phobia of people who want something from me - I don't do well with others' neediness. Which, of course, the universe has presented to me in spades in this profession. I get to work with that phobia all the time now. Which is good, because that is getting a lot better.

But, dear GOD, can we please dispense with the 7:00am meetings?

Bank Balance as Mood Ring

2011-07-07T11:54:00.000-05:00

I've come to realize that my bank balance mosttimes serves as my Mood Ring ... or really my Mood Generator.

When I made the decision 12+ years ago to leave my "secure", "stable", "high-paying" (oh, I laugh at that one) job as a software developer and become a full-time massage therapist and therapy instructor, I also entered a world in which my income was far from dependable. My parents, tenured faculty members at a university, used to repeat this fact endlessly, as did my "wise" and smug co-workers. "Why the hell would you want to leave a perfectly good job, salary, security, a reasonably "sure thing" to do that?"

Yet, consider: none of the companies I worked for in the past as a software guy even exist now, or they are so changed as to be unrecognizable:

the department I worked in at Duke for seven years was subsumed into another department, completely changing form, mission, directors and staff
the first engineering company I worked for is completely out of business now
the engineering company I first worked for in AL no longer does software at all
the second AL company I worked for, a local-done-good, home-grown software company for library automation (which was the best place I ever, ever worked, btw) saw its owners sell out and take all the cash, leaving the company to be merged with two of its competitors. They've now moved to a different state, leaving its original employee base and the ones who actually *built* the company high and dry, laid off with few prospects. In a military/space town, library automation experience doesn't get you very far.

In retrospect, there wasn't stability or security to be had in my former profession, either, despite what anybody thought.

Yet, knowing that had I stayed with my last employer I would now be unemployed and a little desperate, I still get discouraged and depressed when funds are low, as they are today. This is an old wound that I have not yet been able to heal, that of yoking my mood to my fortune. As a shamanic-y guy, I know that this life is a dream, and its a dream of my own making. Yet this particular part of my dream seems oh-so-real to me, the veil is thicker here, and I have a difficult time seeing through it. I suspect that there is ancestral energy, possibly curse energy here that I must deal with in order to make my way through this. Both sets of grandparents raised large families in the midst of the Great Depression. Perhaps the family energies of those hard times are what lingers still.

Money and self-esteem are tied together in me, and I would love to untangle that knot and sever that binding connection that weighs on me so heavily.

Intellectually I know that these two things are not actually connected by anything other than my mind, yet in true magical fashion my mind creates this very solid external reality from my thoughts.

Historically, money has always, always been there when I've needed it, which I have continually marvelled over. The prospect that it might not be there at some future point is what is so wearing, month after month. And it is a cycle - I see it happen time and time again, not being able to remove myself from this draining equation. I suspect that this will be a layered healing that will come in stages. Like the bolder that is caught in soil in the garden, a lot of preliminary work has to be done around the edges so that it can be dislodged with that final, easy tug. One clue to the layered nature of this problem is that my mood also appears to be linked to storms - I get sad, sometimes really really sad, right before certain kinds of rain storms. Maybe these things are linked? Maybe not.

I just hope I can keep paying my mortgage while I figure it all out ...

Interconnections

2011-07-06T11:01:00.000-05:00

My partner performed an Illumination on me last night. I have been having an issue - a set of issues, really - come up for me lately again and again, and the Illumination process is a beautiful way to release that kind of issue.

The big thing that I wanted to address and release was abandonment, but as the session progressed and we got deeper into it, I was surprised that there was also a thread of betrayal to be found as well. The energies of people suddenly separating from me (and me separating from them) have turned out to be a bit traumatic and lasting.

Illumination is the process of releasing imprints of traumatic events from one's Luminous Energy Field, and it is a gentle, deep and powerful technique which leaves the receiver feeling cleansed, calm, 'light' and somehow larger inside when all is said and done. Issues addressed in an Illumination are well and truly gone afterward, completely erased from one's energy field. Having removed the energetic imprint, the behaviors and recurring thoughts do not recur. I've received several and have given many, many of these sessions in the last year and a quarter. I am still amazed at what happens during an Illumination session, and am astonished at how I feel today and at how I felt last night when we had just finished. A great weight is lifted from me.

What uncovered this and touched this old wound for me was a 'simple' misunderstanding with a friend. During a recent conversation her internal script kicked in and activated an old, unhealed wound of hers. She has subsequently pulled back from our friendship in an abrupt, one-sided manner despite my exhortations that what she was 'hearing' through the filter of this ancient wound from her mamma (she freely admitted this) was decidedly different than what I had actually said. Her wound activated so strongly in her that she literally didn't hear the words I actually said, she heard the echo of what her mother said and how she still feels about it. Even though I've always known that this particular person wears her woundedness on her sleeve, I expected deeper insights from someone who used to have a private psychotherapy practice and I certainly never expected her to wield her wound like a club against me.

Alas. Chalk one up for experience.

As the Illumination got underway, I began to see the threads that connected all of these issues in my own life, starting with separation anxiety when I was five years old and had to have a tonsillectomy. Mixed in were separations from friends when I've moved over the years, and the lasting stings of things said and done that put distanced between us, another form of being abandoned.

But my biggest 'aha!' was discovering the ways in which I had abandoned myself in all of this. Discovering that I have always been there for myself and that I have strengths that I couldn't necessarily see before through the obscuring fog of my own wounds is a great comfort.

I'm still mulling over the actions and interactions with my friend that led me to uncover the need for this particular Illumination session. Caroline Myss talks about this "wielding one's wounds like a club" phenomenon in her book, "Why People Don't Heal and How They Can". To the wounded person, one's wounds justify all manner of ugly behavior toward others and the world. If you don't talk on the level of their woundedness or in her words, "talk wounds" with them, they can respond by feeling abandoned and betrayed by you.

This certainly happened to me in this situation, and during last night's session I could see in great clarity the times in which I've wielded my own woundedness against others, too. Not pretty, but I did it. And really, those are the times when I abandoned myself and withdrew from loving friends, cutting myself off from their love and affection.

My beautiful, wise husband tells me repeatedly and gently that when one gains the tools to heal one's woundedness, it is irresponsible to do anything but heal them. Acting in the old ways and reverting to wounded behaviors doesn't cut it anymore; one now has the ethical imperative to use those tools, however personally distasteful and painful the process might be, to heal one's self.

The good news is that healing the self helps heal the world; my efforts at looking at and owning and healing my own personal woundedness heals others around me. Actually, it helps all the beings in all the worlds :-)

Money and Wealth

2011-06-28T15:36:00.000-05:00

I've been doing a lot of shamanic work lately around the subject of money. Having grown up with a seriously challenged world view of money and wealth, this exploration is long, long overdue for me.

In a journey today, the information I received was very interesting: money told me that it really loves to be out there working; it said it likes to be 'harnessed', especially if the work it is doing is 'interesting'. I was shown the formula for Work: (roughly) force x distance. I was shown a draft horse, really getting into what it was doing.

I was also shown a tube of paint accompanied by the words, "paint doesn't do anything sitting in a tube".

What I take from that is that money is useful when being used to create something of beauty, something creative, something that helps heal the world ... not when sitting idle. The implication is that there is skill involved as well :-)

When I connected to the spirit of Wealth, it came to me as a giant sea turtle. Information generally comes to me in my journeys frequently as allegory, metaphor, or in a form that sparks another remembrance or knowing, so I waited to find out what Sea Turtle had to impart.

Turtle said, "True wealth is when you are absolutely free at every moment".

I can't think of anything more beautiful and elegantly free than a Green Sea Turtle.

Thanks, Spirit :-)

Sign of the times ...

2011-06-28T15:11:00.000-05:00

I heart NY

2011-06-25T07:57:00.000-05:00

Distillation

2011-06-13T17:04:00.000-05:00

As I change the energies I carry and suffuse myself with, so do my friendships also change. In the past few years some people have fallen away and others have come to the fore. This has been an interesting experiment, an interesting thing to watch.

And also painful.

You see, I'm still connected to those others who have fallen away. What does one do with these energies of connection when the other party can't or won't continue being your friend? The nearness to me is still undiminished, yet this connection holds no great importance for these others.

I'm searching about for ways to sever these energetic filaments as they are so that they can regrow into something different if the desire is still there.

If anyone knows of a 'ceremony of severing', please let me know ;-)

My 49th Ellipse

2011-06-08T18:14:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow marks the end of my 49th orbit around our local star, or in layman's terms, tomorrow June 9 2011 is my 49th birthday. I also begin my 50th traverse around the sun.

Birthdays generally aren't that big a deal to me; the orbital period of this planet is arbitrary, after all.

But still. One does pause and consider the question, "what have I done in 49 years here on earth?"

I hope that I've

healed some personal wounds
progressed along the path of my soul's Divine Journey
been the catalyst that's helped others heal their wounds
made 'em laugh

Really - if I've done even a little of that, I'm happy. I know I can make 'em laugh; that's sooo hardwired in me that it's not even funny.

Being a gay Gemini male in this lifetime has been interesting. I'm glad I came into this life and this body with a) lots and lots of personal baggage and b) a small-to-middlin' member, 'cause if I'd been more together and on-the-make and even partially well-endowed, I'd probably be dead by now. I guess being majorly fucked up in the head and average-of-body does have its good points, retroactively and prophylactically speaking.

Looking back, this has been a fucking great life! Yes, it's had its share of dark-nights-of-the-soul (particularly that two year period where I went to bed every single night planning in meticulous and craven detail my own suicide), but recently it has also had its share of discovering tools for permanent healing of personal wounds and gaining a semblance of a clear Light Body.

Which is totally cool. I never thought I'd have this much appreciation for life or this much clarity.

Several years ago now in one particular dark night, I cried to the universe to give me ALL of my karmic lessons now, immediately!, in this lifetime. I wanted to be completely done and not ever have to re-do any of these lessons over again. Ever.

All I have to say about that is: "Holy shit, be careful about what you ask for."

Because the Universe listens. And gives you precisely what you ask for.

The Spirit Who Blows Through All Things hears you. And responds.

And then when you think the Universe has forgotten all about that one lonely night, shit starts to show up, in spades.

After an intense year of shamanic work designed to heal onesself, I am happy to report that many of my old wounds are truly gone forever, never to return.

I'm a little irritated to report that no, I'm not enlightened and completely healed of all my crapola yet :-). But, I do now have a map which shows me, in rather stark and un-apologetic detailed clarity, the things that do need healing and further work. Which is waaaay more than I've ever had before, so thank you for the incredible gift!

Thank You Universe! Thank you for listening when I thought you weren't.

Thank you for bringing me the love of my life (at age 47! Who knew? He is worthy of an entire blog, not just a couple of posts!), and for providing me with honorable, ethical, effective teachers and also for providing me with the beautiful and powerful tools with which to pursue the rest of my own personal healing in the years to come.

Maybe I will have the chance to complete all my karmic lessons before I die, after all :-)

The Diss of Disses

2011-05-29T02:03:00.000-05:00

I received quite a shock today: the Baroque music workshop that I have been a part of since 1994 is having a 40th anniversary this year. They are celebrating by having a gala concert during the last week and are mounting a production of the St. Matthew Passion, sung one-to-a-part.

Via today's email not only did I find out that I'm not one of the 'ones' to be singing despite the fact that I've been de facto tenor soloist in faculty productions since that first year (37.5% of the running time of the entire festival!), but I found it out in a 'sideways' manner.

Arg. Boy, did that sting!

It's an old wound, yes, and one that perhaps I can finally let go of.

Home Again, Again

2011-05-24T11:49:00.000-05:00

The husband and I returned recently from our 'Hogwarts': we've been taking a year-long course in shamanism that addresses the releasing of old wounds, shadows, ancestral and past life karma, and other personal baggage.

It's been amazing.

During the process of healing and releasing our wounds we've been building our personal Medicine, our personal medicine bundles of healing stones. In the Peruvian tradition, this is called a Mesa, a small traveling altar that in the mountain tradition is a bundle of stones wrapped up in a special cloth woven of alpaca.

My unfinished mesa at the cliffs.

This is a picture of my mesa taken in Wisconsin in April when I was there for a different shamanic class. This cloth is not traditional, but one my stones and I picked out at a truly fabulous upholstery fabric shop. I have since been gifted with a traditional mesa cloth that I will use for my earth-healing mesa! This cloth will be used for either my healing mesa, or my personal mesa. Personal mesa, I think, since I'm so fabulous and so is that cloth.

All in all, we went to Wisconsin four times for this course, four days each meeting. At each meeting we worked on our inner issues using techniques specific to one cardinal direction point on the Inka medicine wheel. Our 'North' class began the day after the big snow that moved across the country back in February. Miraculously, and against many odds (Delta ticket agent had re-booked us over the phone the night before; we had a printed itinerary complete with boarding passes, etc., while the computer had us on a completely different set of flights. We discovered this mid-trip while almost stranded in Atlanta), we were able to actually land in Madison, WI the night of the big blow. Getting the last two seats on two successive flights while being re-booked at the ticket kiosk mid-concourse (and already boarding on another concourse when we were doing being re-ticketed) is what I call a miracle.

Better view of the cliffs - yes, it's high up

But things like that happened in this class all year. We had an equally funny experience on the way home when our outbound flights were canceled and rebooked as well.

One of the greatest insights that I received from this work was on the nature of healing itself. This insight came at the end of the fourth class as I was working with stones in my large outdoor sand painting, my healing mandala for that weekend. The exercise was a relatively simple one (simpler than building personal sacred fires in three feet of snow in February outdoors at night in single-digit temperatures), but lengthy, and it involved witnessing issues from several different archetypal perspectives. One of the issues I had put into this personal mandala was the abandonment I felt from a set of friends four years ago when I had chickenpox as an adult (not recommended) and had to cancel a trip to DC to be with them at the last minute. Haven't heard from them since in any meaningful way, which shows me a more accurate picture of the friendship. Working with the sting of this issue and its roots and tendrils back in my earlier life, I had a sudden huge tearful revelation about it, and I literally felt it lift and go. Now, I had been working on this issue all year. This time I saw it sort of as a huge bolder from the garden that's stuck in the ground: you dig and dig and dig and dig, and still the thing won't budge. And then you do one more little tiny thing and like magic the formerly immovable impediment lets go and comes out of the ground as easily as you please.

Sometimes a big issue has other smaller, intertwined issues holding it in place.

I also learned a beautiful (and painful) lesson in attachment. At the end of our working, every one of us in class opened and laid our mesas out so that they were all touching so that we could all walk around and admire them. THEN our teacher stepped into the middle of the circle and began to rattle counterclockwise over each mesa. I thought she was just cleaning them up a bit until she 'threw' everything out the window. She then announced that she had just sent all of our stones away. I cried. All that work! And I still cried for the next couple of hours as we continued working. Of course, what she really did was to remove the story of the wounds, the stories of woundedness attached to each stone, and told us to do shamanic journeys and go and fetch them back from the 'stone spa' where they'd been cleansing themselves :-) It took me a while to really understand how attached I'd become to those wounds! Yikes. Being attached to the healing of those old wounds is a much better energetic place to be :-D

We've been traveling so much this year; 6 trips to Wisconsin for me, 3 weeks on the road with a baroque orchestra, then 2 weeks at Christmas for another set of gigs, plus minor trips to FL to see the folks. We've burned up the skies. We have one more trip to Florida this weekend to see the dad unit for his birthday and to rest and relaxticate, then we're on our own for the rest of the summer. It's camping and relaxing and now just working with our stones for a few months!

Home again, indeed.

Home again

2011-05-02T22:08:00.000-05:00

We're back in Huntsville now that power is back on to much of the city. Husband only needed to work from the actual office one day; power was back to our neighborhood this morning so we drove back this evening. Still BIG patches of dark driving through the city tonight, though life looks like it is mostly back to normal again.

And through it all: the mail was delivered like absolute clockwork.

Curfew

2011-05-02T09:43:00.000-05:00

We're in Nashville so that the husband can work at his job since he couldn't telecommute during the massive power outage. Since power has returned (we think) to our neighborhood, we will most likely return tonight.

However, there is still a martial-law, dawn-to-dusk curfew in effect for the city which could complicate our after-dark return. As of last night the paper was reporting that 474,000 homes and businesses still are without power. The office phone doesn't even ring and the VP isn't answering any emails or texts.

So. Life is still a bit uncertain here. I haven't heard of anyone I personally know who has been impacted, mostly because the devastation was all around us rather than right on us.

We were so fortunate.

So many stars

2011-05-01T15:47:00.002-05:00

Huntsville, the town where I live, has not had power since last Wednesday at 4:30pm. Wednesday was the day that tornadoes roared across the South, killing a few hundred people. We set a new record for tornadoes in the month of April this year in 2011: 679 - up from a record of about 250, set in 2003.

Main transmission lines went down from TVA, our electrical supplier. The utility company reports that our grid is intact, just that no power can get to it just yet.

Traffic lights are dark, gas stations cannot pump gas, and stores are operating their registers from generators, selling whatever food they have. Even though we had 4 bars of AT&T service, we could make no outgoing calls, receive no incoming calls, and could only text and email sporadically until yesterday. Fortunately a neighbor has a land-line that still worked.

We have been furiously grilling all usable food from our freezer before it rots. But we still ended up throwing away a huge amount of food that we couldn't keep.

Water is still flowing; one water pumping station is back on the grid, the other one is generator-powered for now.

My husband and I drove to Nashville yesterday so that he could go back to work tomorrow (he telecommutes). I drove us up - I'm currently not working since the building where my business lives is not powered yet - I'm self-employed, so I'm not making any money, either, and rent and mortgage is due today. We took my car up here since we used all of his gas the day before to take a friend to a car rental place so she could drive to Ohio to be with family.

Through grilling on the lawn during the evenings, we've gotten to know our good neighbors :-)

Stars, so many stars!

Our infrastructure which supports our high-tech life is fragile, friends - be prepared for when it breaks, for break it will. Even though Wednesday, April 27 2011 began with tornado sirens at 6:00am and continued all day long (12 separate warnings), we were not prepared. Thankfully we just happened to have enough food to eat, running water to drink, neighbors who shared with us, and enough gasoline to get us out of the blackout zone when we needed to leave.

I know I'll be more conscious of what dry goods and emergency supplies we have on hand from now on; the remembered words of my grandparents from when I was a child about emergencies are ringing in my ears now.

I would encourage you to have an emergency kit ready, even if you don't live in a place that normally succumbs to extreme weather - our electrical infrastructure is fragile.

Prepare! As of this writing 500,000 people in my county still have no power.

Favorite Republican Quotations

2011-03-25T12:16:00.000-05:00

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.

Dwight D. Eisenhower, From a speech before the American Society of Newspaper Editors, April 16, 1953
34th president of US 1953-1961 (1890 - 1969)

Long time, lots of silence, huh?

2011-03-09T22:30:00.000-06:00

So. Life has been in high gear of late and I just haven't had cogent things to post and say.

Except:

You can choose to be good

You can choose to be whole.

What you look for in life

is what you end up seeing.

Change what you're looking for,

change what you find.

It's all about relationships

isn't it?

Love one another.

Greatest gift

2011-03-09T22:11:00.002-06:00

To the "best friend" who wrote me off in college our senior year via a letter addressed to me. After I had come out to him in a letter in response to his letter to me about his angst over lusting after boys. I finally got it the other day :-)

Dear P.,

I've never thanked you properly for giving me the greatest gift anyone has ever given me: the gift of myself.

Your letter from our college years was the catalyst. From the moment I received it, I began an intense journey of self-discovery, a journey inward to find the truth about myself. Your letter has given me the greatest gift of personal Medicine of anything I've experienced in life so far; it has led me to the totality and strength of who I truly am, and I cannot thank you enough for it. Only one who loved me with such depth and strength could have done it. It has been a great gift, indeed.

Without it, the path to wholeness, to true healing would have undoubtedly taken me much longer; I would have wandered in the weeds and wilderness for many , many more years, I don't doubt. Now, today, I am whole, and I have finally claimed all of my own personal power, the immense power that comes with true acceptance, with truly integrating my entire self into one magnificent unified being. Without your nudging, this would not have happened.

I have often repeated the phrase from the creed, "by whom all things were made". I thought and felt for many years that the word "all" did not include me, did not include my love of other men. Now I know without a doubt that I am part of that 'all', that I live inside the circle of relations as we all do, right alongside everyone else in creation, neither lesser nor greater. Colossians 1:16-17 makes that crystal clear and without any room for doubt.

I thank you also for helping me rekindle my Gifts, my shamanic and intuitive abilities. Through them I once again have a direct experience of God and of the Divine, with the Spirit Who Blows Through All Things. I had many mystical experiences in the church, and now they are with me every day. Once you told me that as a young child you could call the wind. I used to doubt, but no longer. Now I am able to talk to the Wind in partnership, too. Wind, my friend and colleague, my relation, is one of the many voices of the One which I am beginning to re-learn how to hear.

P., you were the perfect one to give me such a monumental gift! At the time I took it as betrayal, and I hurt myself deeply with it. Now, I know that it has been my greatest strength, the most wonderful and vibrant and shining bit of Medicine that I have ever made for myself. By facing those bits of darkness and shadow within myself and then truly welcoming them in, integrating them into myself, I have truly become whole.

As a wise person once said, "you can be good, or you can be whole". I have chosen wholeness, and without you, I never would have found it. As a tiny representation of my thanks, I offer you this green stone. It's beautiful and it means a lot to me, and it has gone a long way in helping me realize the depth of this teaching and gift you have given me. The Lord has, indeed, worked in mysterious ways His wonders to perform.

Thank you, and much love to you, L. and the girls!

Love Always,

The Bear

Worked like a charm :-)

2010-12-22T10:13:00.000-06:00

Last year, I posted this entry about Christmas letters and the extreme number of them that I receive from friends, my very fundamentalist Christian friends, all divorced, remarried and living in blended families. Said letters almost always talk about the joys of a Christian life and crowing about the work that God is doing for them. One new wife of a very pious prick of a former friend actually talked about her husband as being an extremely 'godly' man. Never mind that being re-married is not exactly in line with all of that. I Corinthians says a whole heck of a lot about 'divorce', none of it pretty.

My Yule letter from last year and also from this year was pretty unapologetic about us getting together.
This year I only included a card with links to our on-line newsletter; I didn't bludgeon anyone with it. I figure I did that effectively last year and didn't need to repeat it. The lesson was received, evidently. This year, as of 22 December, I've received none of those letters from any of my 'friends'.

Funny, these were guys I grew up with, laughed with, did all sorts of things with, and helped them out when they were in enormous troubles. When they learned that I was gay, all I received from them was disappointment and gentle reprimand, both in direct action and in communication. When the letters began coming in, I sort of couldn't believe it. But I guess in their world piety takes precedence over actual relationships. My only question to them would be: who did Jesus shun and mock? I don't recall those scripture passages, but I'd love to see them.

It was actually a relief to get no letters this year. I'd dreaded them for the last few, and this year was blessedly silent. I think maybe I've made my opinions crystal clear once and for all and won't be bothered by such twaddle again.

Anyway, those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.

The end of a run

2010-10-26T21:45:00.000-05:00

[prepared 20 Oct]

I just finished a project: 11 performances of Claudio Monteverdi's Vespers of 1610. We're in Santa Fe and we've just turned in our music and have had a lovely after-party.

The people on this tour were extraordinary; amazing musicians and lovely people to boot. I knew most of them before this run, and have had the pleasure of getting to know them even better on this three-week project.

I always have a little bit of 'post-partum' letdown after a big project, and this one is no exception. I'll really miss being with the majority of my fellow musicians. Well, and I came home with a cold, so I'm a bit exhausted on top of that.

But on the whole, good music done in great spaces and exceptional folks. Mmm, mmm good.

El dia de los Muertes

2010-10-22T13:02:00.000-05:00

I love Halloween, and sadly it's been several years since I really celebrated. I just didn't feel in the mood!

This year, though, I think we're going to do something fun and a little bit different: we're going to have a Day of the Dead party ("El Dia de Los Muertes"), and no, I'm not talking zombies.

The Day of the Dead, usually celebrated on November 2, is a day to commemorate and venerate family and loved ones who have died, crossed over, made their transition, kicked the bucket. It's a festive and fun day - one of the things people sometimes do at this festival is make up humorous epitaphs for the deceased, and tell happy and funny stories to remember them.

That's what this party will be all about! I and mine have had several "losses" over the past few years, and I've have several nudges from Spirit lately that this is a Good Idea to commemorate them. And after just having done death work at our West Mesa class, it fits perfectly with the season and with the teaching. I'll get to think about Jimmy Sue, Randy, my grandmother Ernestine, my uncle Larry, my uncle Clarence, my former father-in-law John, and so many others :-)

Though I'm not Jewish, I sometimes light a Jahrzeit candle to commemorate their lives and to thank them for the many, many gifts they have given me through being incarnated. This will be such a much larger commemoration! The Day of the Dead festivities involve making ancestor altars, cleaning up gravesites, having festive food, and generally just enjoying life and remembering those who used to be in it with us.

There may be much more to it than that, but this is what I personally know about it.

I can't wait!

Santa Fe

2010-10-19T12:11:00.000-05:00

I'm in my hotel room in beautiful Santa Fe, and am witnessing this amazing skype meeting between my roommate, Nadia, and her musical collaborator, Brandon, who is in Seattle. I know intellectually that skype is used all the time and I've even used it myself, but I honestly had no idea that it could be so useful.

You'd think that a former IT professional would be on the ball, huh?

It's given me great ideas, too. When I'm home I'm gonna set up skype on my dad's machine so that I can call them and see them more often :-)

The real amazing part of this skype conference is the magic that is being developed here between these two musicians. They are working on a new show that opens in November, and putting together arrangements, playlist orders and all sorts of amazing creative stuff. The utterly amazing Dick Tracy technology is in the background.

c/o

2010-10-11T21:28:00.000-05:00

I've been writing cards to my honey while I'm on the road doing eighteen billion performances of the Monteverdi Vespers. When I address each card, I add our current address in the return address place.

Each time I put the return address on, it says "c/o Mr. Right". Every time I write this, I get a little warm feeling in the middle of my stomach.

I really am in the care of my husband. He cares for me in a way that I've never been cared for before. Seeing that "care of" makes the world tilt in a funny and very good way.

Pacha

2010-10-09T01:26:00.000-05:00

Walking through the doorway into another chapter of life, that is a 'pacha', a place, a transition.

Though I did not physically die today, I've died lately, have written my eulogy, have passed through one death and into a new chapter of life. After this very real process where I was under a black shroud and heard my eulogy read and 'kitchen talk' about me, I had a talk with my Significant Other. I had to say to him, "if I die before you do, remember: I'm not really gone. I'm still here, in the everything of everything".

And tonight I came across this poem which summed it up for me right smartly:

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

The Song of Amergin (one translation)

II am a stag of seven tines,
I am a wide flood on a plain,
I am a wind on the deep waters,
I am a shining tear of the sun,
I am a hawk on a cliff,
I am fair among flowers,
I am a god who sets the head afire with smoke,
I am a battle-waging spear,
I am a salmon in a pool,
I am a hill of poetry,
I am a ruthless boar,
I am a threatening noise,
I am a wave of the sea,
Who but I knows the secrets of the unhewen dolmen?

I am the womb of every holt,
I am the blaze on every hill,
I am the queen of every hive,
I am the shield to every head,
I am the tomb to every hope.

Hat Full of Sky

2010-10-08T00:53:00.000-05:00

Did I ever tell you about my wonderful husband?

When he was younger he had a special prayer chair made out of a Catalpa tree. He said that the seat was about 60 feet off the ground and it was made just for him. He could see for miles! Closer to the Spirit Which Blows Through All Things, too. For a Taurus, that's pretty far away from Earth :-)

Dragonflies are his friends, and he talks to squirrels; makes this funny squinching sound and they stop and look, coming closer to see who this tall two-legged squirrel is. Maybe it's a relative!

The world hands him treasures all the time. I mean, the man can find fossils, the coolest rocks, pictures in spiderwebs, faces in tree bark, and well, all sorts of amazing stuff without even trying! The pachamama just hands it over to him :-) Well, of course he spent years and years gaining her trust, cementing their relationship and reassuring her that he would never harm even the smallest of her children.

As Terry Pratchett says, he has the sky for his hat and the wind for his coat. He clothes himself in sunlight, the scents of flowers and the sounds of All Our Relations. Grass for shoes and rain for his bathing suit.

Pachamama isn't quite sure of me yet, but I think maybe she's beginning to thaw just a little. Because she trusts him, and I'm apparently a friend of his :-)

the Shaman, Ho'oponopono and the Axis Mundi

2010-10-07T12:44:00.000-05:00

In many world culture and their cosmologies, there exists the idea of the axis mundi, a certain something that represents the center of the world. In shamanic cultures, the axis mundi often turns up as a tree or a mountain.

Yggdrasil, the "World Ash Tree" or the tree where Odin found his enlightenment is one such symbolization. The concept of the axis mundi seems to be common and relatively universal. When I began doing shamanism, I didn't start from a tree to go to the Lower or Upper worlds as many do, but in my personal cosmology there are tree roots in the ceiling of the Lower World, and my Upper World teachers live in the branches of an enormous tree house. Years later when I found out about the universality of the tree/mountain depiction, I had to laugh at this. My starting point is a mountain that lives in Colorado.

I remember an electrifying lecture by one of my shamanic teachers in which he stated that one of the functions of calling the directions and opening sacred space in that manner is to reaffirm that while we do shamanism, we stand at the axis mundi, the center of the world. We literally are the center point of the world. Of course, the universe is infinite, so therefore we all stand at the center of the world. All the time.

While reading about Ho'oponopono the other day and watching YouTube interviews with Dr. Hew Len Ihaleakala, it came home with gravity that also in this teaching, we are the center of the world. In fact, Ho'oponopono takes it one step further into a very shamanic concept: we are the world - Dr. Ihaleakala maintains that everything exists inside us; it is not "out there". And that that is exactly how and why Ho'oponopono works. He asks us to act as though we are 100% responsible for everything that has manifested in our existence: the war in Iraq, pollution, elections, poverty, teen suicide ... everything.

When I began really thinking about this and taking his teaching and practice to heart, the enormity of it was staggering. I know that everything is alive, aware, communicative, responds and changes, and I know that all things are manifestations of Creator, of whatever you call Divinity, the 10,000 Things. And yet I cling to the idea that "I" am somehow separate from it all, that there truly is differentiation.

This idea was gently prised open two days ago when I and my partner, both 600 miles apart at the moment both did some journey work for his sister, another 2,000 miles away. Both of us had the same difficulties getting started with the work, and our difficulties manifested in an identical way. After just having read the Ho'oponopono stuff and after comparing notes with both Honeybear and with his sister, Firecracker and getting identical stories, I began to have the sneaking suspicion of a huge idea: that I was the situation in its entirety. Well, that and coupled with the reading of a Terry Pratchett book, whose body of humorous, brilliant fiction is chock full of this idea anyway.

So I began cautiously asking myself the obvious questions: are my journeys depictions (implying a separation) of what is going on in the "real" world? Or are my journeys the "real" world? Up until this year I had operated on the model that my journeys showed me stuff, and that I had to do something to "fix" a problem. After taking a truly transformational shamanic course back in March of this year, I began to see that sometimes the change comes from inside and that one doesn't have to do anything in the external world.

There is a story about a village that hadn't had rain in so long that the crops and thus their lives were endangered. They called for a very well-known Taoist monk to help them. He arrived and said, "let me be alone in a hut, all by myself. Leave food outside the door." And so they did. Three days later it began to rain again, and the monk emerged. The villagers asked him, "what did you do to make it begin to rain again?" His reply is telling: "When I arrived, I noticed that I was not in balance with myself. I spent three days regaining balance. The rain is the proof."

Change yourself, change the world.

Ordinary Things

2010-10-04T13:01:00.000-05:00

A fews days ago I did a little journey work to find a method for 'enlivening' shamanic tools - for helping find its unique Medicine and encourage that Medicine to come and be with the tool.

The answers that I received were very, very interesting. That everything is alive, and that we use things as, well, things instead of engaging them as partners was the message hammered home. The flavor of what my allies showed me was along the lines of, "other than being used specifically for shamanism, how is a shamanic tool any different than, say, a fork or a newspaper?" which really gave me pause.

I had the immediate double-sight of being surrounded by 'people' I didn't even know were people. When I did a cursory journey to the objects which surrounded me, I did get a small sense of sighing and a slight grumbling about being used as slaves, being used without asking. "You wouldn't go into your neighbor's yard and just take his lawnmower, would you?" was what they said. Well, no. I wouldn't. And the pen said, "but you just pick me up and use me without so much as an acknowledgement, huh?"

This puts a whole new, dizzying spin on things.

Shadow

2010-10-03T12:27:00.000-05:00

I'm here in the Land of Cleve working with my favorite Baroque Orchestra and group of singers.

And wrangling a bit with my shadow.

Not so much wrangling as merely being amused and watching it squirm a bit, as the things it used to do to get my attention don't work much anymore.

Example: We're doing a musical work I absolutely adore, and one I did very young when I didn't have much Italian vocal ornamentation technique under my belt. Now that I can actually do all this flashy stuff, I'm not one of the ones who even has a small solo part :-) I had hoped for third tenor in the big number, but wasn't considered. Usually this would throw me for a loop. Now, I'm having fun listening to great tenors and anticipating having to work a lot less hard and have a fabulous experience.

Yesterday I found myself drifting back to the old familiar thought patterns I sometimes have when I'm with this group - 'I'll never be a soloist!' 'I'm no good!' 'But I'm just as good as that!', etc., etc. All the old familiar but-they're-all-professionals-and-I'm-not / I-shouldn't-even-be-here-playing-hardball-with-the-big-boys / what-would-they-think-if-they-found-me-out bullshit.

And the funny thing is: these thoughts could get no purchase. It's like the hooks that used to be there are simply gone.

I found myself simply saying to myself, "Dude; you're 48 years old, you don't have a music degree and besides, this isn't your main gig anymore. Yes, you love it, but you're not trying to carve out a career in this field. What's the big deal? You're here, you're having fun, you're singing well! Enjoy :-)"

And it was all fine after that. I just got tired of playing the game with myself, I think. Plus the fact that I've just done a major 4-day weekend's worth of shamanic work to purge and integrate exactly this portion of myself, and have initiated even more shadow work while I'm here (khuyas cooking in a mandala outside as I write).

It's so much more fun (and easier!) to be here and present and not have all of that shadow energy dragging me back down. I like having all of my energies on board with me, and devoted to the task at hand rather than having at least half myself pulling me apart and casting doubts. Thank Dog. I thought I'd never make it to this point in life.

And now that I've had a wee little taste of what it's like to have all your power available to you, I'm so ready to do more, to embrace and integrate every last bit of shadow that I can muster up! Yes it's hard work, and yes, it's embarrassing and a little on the dreadful side at times, BUT ... the end result is so amazingly good.

Your travelin' boy :-)

2010-09-30T11:32:00.000-05:00

Hi Mom and Dad :-)

J. and I just got home from a 4-day shamanic workshop in Wisconsin, part 2 of 4 which will come to completion in May of 2011. It's pretty amazing work and I'm glad that we're both doing it together. The course is all about working with the Peruvian medicine wheel, each class centering on one particular direction of the wheel, its archetypes and challenges, and ultimately its Medicine. It is all about inner work, clearing out shadow aspects, ego, beliefs about self, etc. Each meeting is extraordinarily intense, and we spend the 4 days initiating 3 new stones into our medicine bundles, our 'mesas' as they call them. When we finish, we'll have 12 stones altogether. Now we have 6.

This past weekend was all about West (we started in South), the place of Jaguar and also the place on the medicine wheel where we die. We spent much of the time tracking imprints and curses from our Ancestral and also Past Life lineages, finding lives where we had a lot of power and lost it, where we had a lot of power and used it poorly, and lives where we had a lot of power and used it very well. The process is fascinating - we do a shamanic journey to find these things, then blow the essence of that into the stone that chooses to be part of that particular process. We then build a 'sand painting', a nature mandala outside at a spot where we're led to, and the stones alternately 'cook' out there and are brought back inside at intervals for more work. We did three layers of work for each stone over the course of three days, gradually making it part of our medicine and a great ally for us.

On Saturday, we died. We had been instructed to write a eulogy for ourselves. In groups of 5, we each took turns being underneath a black shroud and lying on a massage table. Our eyes were covered but we could hear what was being said, much like the spirit of a person who hasn't crossed yet. Sacred space was opened by the person being 'shamam' and the eulogy was read. Then there was 'kitchen talk', the gossip that you might expect about a dead person, and around his/her funeral or wake. Then, the person acting as 'shaman' physically disconnected our chakras and the group lifts the luminous energy body of the 'dead' person. When I was being dead, I could actually feel this. When I was one of the other 4 around the table, I could also actually feel the luminous body of the person from whom we were lifting. Even though this part was all done in silence, I could actually feel my luminous body coming back to me as the participants lowered it back into me and before they even touched me to let me know that this was going to happen.

Since J. and I are a couple, the teacher had us work together, asking us each to be the other's shaman performing the rites. I was fine up and until the point at which I had to unwind his chakras and then I just began to lose it. Even though I knew he was not dead, going through that was very, very powerful. As they say, I made Great Medicine with that act.

This work is very grounding and helps shed the 'stories' that I carry around with me about myself and about others. I can't wait to see you in November and tell you more!

I'm back in Cleveland for a 3-week gig; this time we're doing 12 performances of the Monteverdi Vespers of 1610. Seeing as how this is the 400th anniversary, it's a big bang :-) I left Wednesday morning after getting home Sunday night from Wisconsin. I arrived yesterday and had about two hours to compose myself before our first rehearsal. We went until 9:30, then I went and had a beer and some fries at a local institution that serves about 200 different really good beers. They have an iguana that is their mascot; it's in a lighted, heated glass cage and is about 5 feet long from nose to tail. The beer is great.

Weather here is in the 70s at present, getting down to about 40 at night, which is glorious after the endless high-90's that we've had in Huntsville. I've lost plants and my trees are stressed.

I paid my court fees and had my last court appearance (yay!) about the citations for the outside of the house. I've got to repair some electrical stuff before we can get power back, and I'm hoping that my friend D. the handyman can do some of that work before I get back. It's relatively simple, but I have to pass the inspections before the utility company will hook the house back up so we can use power tools again.

I've taken a local gig in December; I'm singing the Bach Magnificat solos (version in Dmaj) and also the tenor solo in Cantata 36 (which I don't know and will have to learn while here). It'll be a fun thing, doesn't pay anything, and will hopefully redeem my wretched performance back in October 2007 the weekend that grandmom died Interestingly enough, doing this Earth Mesa work has allowed me to have more freedom and less tension when I sing. I was called on last night to do some of the flowery solo work in rehearsal since the principals are not here until tomorrow. Mom, I'd love a voice lesson or two when I'm home. I could trade you a session of Illumination - it's amazing work that J. and I learned at the first class, South mesa, back in April and have been practicing each week since.

More info on that here:

www.soulupgrade.com/shamanismsouth/illumination.html

I'd love to do some work for C., too. Ethics dictate that I can't do anything on his behalf without his asking, so I'm going to work on getting him to actually ask me. This work is so amazing; Jeff and I have witnessed one miraculous thing after another while doing and studying this work. I'm confident that this work could help him. Oh, and by the way; I taught my first beginning shamanism course two weekends ago! It went well and the students were amazing. The helping spirits really came through for everyone. While we were flying back on the plane, I journeyed and was given a new method for 'enlivening' shamanic tools and artifacts which I'm going to try out with a few friends. I'll turn that into a workshop, too. I'm teaching a short half-day workshop in November; I've got 9 students signed up already. They were signed up minutes after I posted the class on-line :-)

Massage work at the cancer center is going well, if a little slowly. Though things are picking up: we may be hosting a regular Reiki clinic soon, and I'm going to begin giving guided meditation sessions for people who ask for it - one of my shamanic teachers gave me an absolutely fantastic method of strengthening and shielding that can be used by anyone. She comes from a north coast Salish tradition, and this is part of what she was taught as a little girl. Incidentally, her grandmother who was Scotch-Irish used to tuck her and her siblings in with, "From ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night, may the good Lord deliver us. And ... just because you can't see them doesn't mean that they can't see you".

You know? Once I just decided to just be that little flower child that you've always said that I was, life became a whole lot easier.

Life is Good.
Love,
Raybob

Back to life again

2010-09-29T09:48:00.000-05:00

After quite a long hiatus, I'm back to blogging again.

I've entered a period in which many amazing and intimate things are happening to me, and which also involve several other people. Since my last post I couldn't figure out how to sanitize the experiences enough without betraying others' anonymity, so I took to the silence. And after having gotten a smack-down by one of my readers about betraying that which took place in kiva, I couldn't figure out how to thread that needle again.

After reading some of SARK's on-line journals and after having had an seriously deep experience in a shamanic course this last weekend, I realize that sharing these experiences not only helps me make my Medicine, it helps you make yours, too.

I am currently in a year long, four-meeting shamanic training course that is walking the Peruvian medicine wheel and making great Medicine. Last weekend was West, and we died. Initiating three new medicine stones, we expunged shadow traits from our selves, our Ancestral lines and our past life lineage. And at the end of all of that amazing and deep work, we died. Each of us had the marvelous opportunity to be underneath a black shroud, to have our chakras disconnected and to have our luminous bodies lifted up and away from our physical bodies. We heard the eulogies read that we had written, and we got to hear the 'kitchen talk' about us, things people said about us when we were alive.

Since my husband is taking this course with me, the teacher put us at the same 'casket' so that we got the chance to do this work together. It was amazingly powerful to disconnect my beloved's chakras and to lift his luminous body away. I thought that I would be fine, but when it actually came down to it, even though he was not physically dead and I knew that he wasn't, I broke down. So did he when it was his turn to be 'shaman'.

We're going to do it again on New Year's and invite friends! A shamanic friend of our teacher says that it's a good thing to die at least once a year :-)

Part of our discussion about shadow aspects of self was a grand discussion of the Karpman Drama Triangle. I found this wonderful and concise article on-line that has made several things very, very clear to me about how my family dynamics work, and about how I work, too. I knew that I had Victim tendencies, but this article also made very clear that I have strong Persecutor tendencies, too! Yikes. Gulp.

Ah well. Only the shadow knows.

One more trip

2010-06-09T20:20:00.000-05:00

... around the sun. Having just completed my 48th orbit, it's time to reflect on what this last elliptical journey brought to me. Since last year

I completed retroactive puberty rites with a Native American healing circle I'm a member of. I'm now a Man!
Accomplished a four-directions Quest for Vision.
I stood up for myself, confronting and rejecting the abuse I was taking from former shamanic teachers and cut the ties. It was a Good Graduation. I did it well, grew, and made most excellent Medicine out of it.
Completed my fifth season singing with a professional, well-known Baroque ensemble.
Declared my intent to teach shamanism ... and received absolutely no resistance from said former teachers. This was a biggie.
Despite appearances, despite my perpetual "can I afford this?" energy, went for it and received absolutely amazing Middle World shamanic instruction from an incredible teacher. Life-changing.
Signed up for a one-year shamanic course that's turning out to be the best thing ever. Even more Life-Changing.
Moved in with my honey - he moved here to be with me!
Seriously started renovating my ancient house. By hand. With help. Lots of help.
Moved my massage business into fantastic new (custom!) digs in the huge regional cancer center.
Started doing Yoga.
Started losing weight.
Started doing daily meditations and breathing exercises with my healing stones.
Successfully and quietly and seamlessly integrated shamanism into my daily massage practice.
Came out of the massage closet.
Rented a storage unit with my husband. Now I know we're married :-)

Birthdays used to bum me out. I always ended up focusing on what I hadn't accomplished, on the "I'm this old, and this is all I got to show?" story.

I like it better this way.

Free at Last

2010-05-22T12:47:00.000-05:00

During my shamanic studies with certain teachers two years ago, I signed an agreement that basically barred me from teaching.

I chafed from it even before I signed it from the moment I heard about it from their former students.
Yet, I signed it and abided by it for almost two years.

After a truly hellish, unpleasant year of facilitating workshops for these two (nothing was ever right in their minds even though they made a ton of money and both said I was the best organizer they'd ever had), I ceased our workshop facilitating agreement back in November. Today I mailed off the letter saying that my spirit allies have been giving me the call to teach for some time now, so I was a-gonna.

The weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

While I was in the mailing company office mailing my letter (with return receipt, thank you, to make certain it is received), I received a phone call and voicemail from a woman who had found my web site and wondered whether I was teaching shamanism. The "Yes!" from the universe couldn't have been clearer.

I spoke my truth in my letter, simply saying what I will do, no pokes or jabs, no "nannee nannee boo boos" or anything. If they wish to argue the points - they frequently do - it will be all about the story they tell themselves about what this means.

I love them, I respect their teaching, but in that agreement they overstepped themselves. My thoughts and feelings on the issue are that no human person has the authority to bar or regulate my teaching if Spirit is telling me to do so and gifting me with unique material to pass on; that which is freely given me by spirit must also be freely shared, I believe.

Free at last, free at last!
Thank Badger Almighty I'm free at last :-)

R.I.P. to some formerly-favotite blogs

2010-04-19T15:11:00.001-05:00

I was once a die-hard fan of Joe Jervis' blog, Joe.My.God. back when he actually wrote a blog instead of what he's become: the shrill voice of Gay Liberalism. He's now become the Gay Left's equivalent of Faux News.

Which is why I give up.

His early writings (in the archive - go look, they're great!) are no longer to be had. Every once in a while he trots out one of his yearly faves. The last one recently made its 5th (eighth?) appearance, and for me that's quite enough, thanks. And though I'm as liberal as they come, reading his posts just makes me mad now. Creating more anger and frenzy in this world is not what I wish to be a part of.

The other one I might have to put down is Towleroad. Andy Towle has a calmer head, and his posts are a lot more varied than Joe's, but still tend towards the shallow end of the pool. When an article about Lady Gaga and Grace Slick gets more screen than real news, that's when it begins to get ridiculous for me. It's almost humorous to see the firestorm erupt when I post "who cares?" as a comment. It's also disheartening when I see that that article had enormously more comments than the articles about gay partners being barred from each other's bedsides despite legal documents to the contrary.

Is this what gay youth care about? Grace and Gaga? Really?

Who cares!

People are starving, people are being maimed and mistreated all over this beautiful world of ours. That's news. Sorry, but unless Grace or Gaga can solve World Hunger and the problem of achieving World Peace, they're not worthy of wasting time over.

I'll still stick with my faves: Spo, TigerYogiji, Mind of the Bear, and many of the others linked on their blogrolls. They make me smile and help me have a happier day, every day.

Now I know I'm married

2010-04-12T10:09:00.000-05:00

We rented a storage facility together.

This past weekend, after 900 miles of driving, three states and several stops to gather/deposit stuff, our possessions are truly commingled.

That, my friends, is what really tests the mettle of a relationship :-)

Further Down the Rabbit Hole

2010-04-05T09:46:00.003-05:00

Curiouser and curiouser.

Card Carryin'

2010-02-26T18:52:00.000-06:00

And evidently I have six fingers.

The Issue

2010-01-06T02:02:00.000-06:00

I had a lovely visit in Florida with my parents, brother and husband. While I was there, my father said something interesting and very charged with emotion.

We'd had a meal, and were sitting around afterward chatting and laughing. I honestly don't remember what we were talking about at the specific moment, but I must have said something about having a great husband. My father sort of hesitated and said with not an insignificant amount of heat (for him) and said, "It bothers me that this is the end of the line, that the family line ends with me." Which is not true - his two brothers both had boys, so there's plenty of line left in the DNA sense. He had mentioned this to me when I came out to him in 1983, and has never mentioned it before or since. I was quite taken aback with the evident emotion in his voice, and also that he'd never sought me out to talk with me about this at any length.

I never wanted kids when I was young; the responsibility scared me quite a bit. Now, I'd welcome them if my life weren't so hectic what with a massage practice, a singing career, and with taking shamanic classes all over the country. I think I'm finally mature enough to handle kids.

Part of why this came up is that in three psychic or shamanic sessions in the last month, mention of "an issue with my father" came up. I had no idea what it was in any of the cases when this was mentioned to me. I truly was clueless. After my father said what he said, my lovely husband said, "hon, I think this is the issue between you and your father."

My feeling is that family endures and propagates, not exclusively through its shared DNA, but also through the traits and behaviors that get passed down through it. With my mild interest in geneology and my shamanic attachment to my ancestors, I keenly feel my family flowing through me. The unconditional love that my father's mother showed every day of her life and which is her defining attribute in my mind is firmly and deeply anchored in me. I do my best to live that legacy like she did, and pass it along. My late uncle, my father's brother who recently passed also had this trait. Love for his family meant a whole lot more than anybody else's notions of how people should treat each other.

To me, this is family: the gathering up of all that is good from those we know and love, distilling it and passing it along, out into the world where hopefully it will live forever in those to whom we've passed it.

I've been pondering this for several days, trying to choose the right words. I'm hoping that I can find a way to communicate this to my dad in a way that makes sense to him and heals this issue that I can't solve in the way in which he wants.

Sometimes I amaze even myself

2009-12-21T00:24:00.000-06:00

My new partner and I just sent out about a hundred Holiday / Yule cards, some with the Yule Letter in it. I feel so industrious! Maybe one or two of you out there in blogville will get an actual paper card this year :-)

The excruciating mill of the holidays is almost at an end: on Wednesday we fly to FL to visit my family for five days, then return to visit his family for five days.

I'm looking forward to sleeping in, cooking, eating, drinking, and laughing a LOT. It's been a very busy year, and this little bear is ready to hibernate a bit.

The new year is shaping up, though: workshops to take, friends to visit, and fun things to do, see, and learn :-)

May 2010 be the best year ever for us all!

Love,
Raybob

Yule Letter, 12,009

2009-12-15T00:50:00.004-06:00

I personally think that "Christmas Letters" are a scourge on mankind, and I hate, nay loathe them.

Which is why I love getting them in the mail, read them completely, and keep and cherish them. As much as I chafe at being gang-mailed by gaudy crap like this, I really do like knowing what family and friends are up to. And I get such laughs out of the cute, "christmasy" embellishments that most of these are printed with. Holly! (so pagan!), Christmas trees! (so pagan! Again!) Greenery! (um, pagan) Reindeer! (*sigh*, pagan) Santa! (Oh, arg. anagram: "Satan"!) Srsly.

BUT, of late I've been getting several holiday letters that are of the "holy" variety: "God's Blessings", "Keep the Christ in Christmas!", "Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus!", "My Husband is such a Godly mayun! He works tirelessly for Our Lord!" etc., (really ... kid you not. I'm Southern - what can I say?) and I'm a tad irked.

First of all, Christmas as a holiday is a relative latecomer to the scene, co-opting Yule, Solstice and a host of mid-winter celebrations. We all know this; it's plain if you do even a modicum of research. Even though I grew up a Christian of the Episcopalian variety, I'm now more aligned with a shamanic / pagan / earth-centered / tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping / The-Spirit-Which-Blows-Through-Everything way of thinking, and it's interesting to see the Christian myopia at work during this time of year. It happens at "Easter", a "holy" day whose date is calculated the full moon and the Spring Equinox. How Christian.

So, this year I'm writing my own holiday letter, a Yule letter. Maybe a Solstice letter. Baby Jebus will absolutely barf. Or ... he'll be totally glad.

And here's kind how it's gonna go (all true content, though slight snarky exaggeration is used for effect :-) :

Solstice HE 12,009
Dear Friends and Family,

    Greetings of the Season! I hope everyone is well this MidWinter as we approach the Winter Solstice and Aphelion! Can't wait for the Light to come again and banish the darkness once more as the year turns again. I'll have to say, 12,009 of the Human Era has been quite an amazing ride around the sun :-)

    At the beginning of the year, I met Jeff, the man of my dreams: a handsome, sweet shaman with whom I'm madly and deeply in love.   We found each other about three years ago accidentally when he began leaving comments on my blog postings. Based on his nickname, at first I thought he was a young, hip lesbian :-) How wrong I was! He's the partner and playmate I've always dreamed of having :-)

   This year my shamanic practice has really taken off. I've been doing shamanic practice since 12005 when I took a beginning shamanism course from a friend, an urban shaman who has had many years of training and who has studied with Michael Harner of the Foundation for Shamanic Studies. In the fall of 2008 I took a two-week residential shamanic healing intensive training course in Southeast Ohio, and it changed and opened me in ways that I would never have imagined. After the training, I took over facilitating duties for our local monthly shamanic healing drumming circle and hosted five shamanic weekends for a total of eight workshops. The relationship I've developed with my Spirit allies over these past few years is the most important spiritual relationship I've ever had and could possibly imagine.

Singing still continues to be a joy for me :-) I just completed my fifth consecutive season with Apollo's Fire, the Cleveland Baroque Orchestra. To date I've been involved in about fifteen projects with this amazing group of people. The CD we recorded in 2005, "Praetorius: Christmas Vespers" was in contention for a Grammy last year, a very exciting thing to be a part of. With every project, my love of the people involved and the music presented grows and grows.

In January, Zefiro Productions, the 501(c)(3) non-profit Baroque production company for which I am Artistic Co-Director, hosted the Smithsonian Consort of Viols (formed for our production!) in a concert of the music of Christopher Tye, a groundbreaking English composer working in the late Renaissance. Kenneth Slowik, Curator of Instruments at the Smithsonian gave a pre-concert lecture, and then the program of his In nomine compositions was performed on five historic violas da gamba, generously provided by Catharina Meints, whose collection of historic gambas is unparallelled, even by the Smithsonian. We were very pleased (and extraordinarily proud!) to be able to present this concert with these beautiful historic instruments to Huntsville audiences with the help of a very generous grant from a private foundation.

My massage business grows and flourishes! My business partner and I moved our practice to a large regional cancer center at the beginning of October. The center sees about 500 patients each day and is opening its Level I clinical trials clinic in the new year. It's an amazing place to be working. Our non-profit arm hosts continuing education for massage therapists to learn how to work safely with cancer patients and the medically frail; we feel it's a very important and neglected part of every therapist's education.

Jeff and I plan on tying the knot in 2010, in every place in America in which it is legal. We will start with a blanket-wrapping ceremony which is part of the ceremonial lore of a Native American healing circle that we are a part of. We plan on also having a ceremony in our home town to invite family and friends to be a part of our joy :-) We've talked about a "Fifty Weddings in Fifty States" project, a sort of documentary of the state marriage legislation in our country of the Free and the Brave, where the Pursuit of Happiness and All Men are Created Equal are enshrined in our founding documents. The reality is something else, entirely. Having recently attended several weddings, many of family, we have seen firsthand that all marriage in this country is secular: no one gets the benefits of marriage until the marriage license is signed by authorized agents of the state. The church ceremony doesn't matter in any case: to be validly married, one has to have a license from the government. We ask ourselves why the government doesn't dole those licenses out to every tax payer who applies. Perhaps our "Fifty States" project will help that along a little :-)

As for me and mine, I wish you a very happy 2010 indeed! I am eager to actually live in the 21st century where all are people, all religions and spiritual practices are treated as equal.

May the Spirit allies bless you in 2010 :-)

Cheers,
Raybob

Systems

2009-12-03T23:04:00.000-06:00

I'm good at following and developing (and exploiting!) systems, not so good at setting them up from scratch.

From a relatively early point in my career as a software developer, I realized that I could expound on a system, make it sing, dance, do a jig. Any system. It could be a filing system, it could be a software system, it could be a social group. Once I figure out the rules, I tinker and tweak and see what the boundaries are and then make a go of it from there.

But setting up my own systems, now there's a challenge!

When I do file, I'm methodical and logical: alphabetized hanging folders for the big pictures, like "Projects", and individual manilla folders for each individual project. QED.

Things like paper-flow, the part that comes before the filing however, get me stuck. For instance, I had a pile about three feet square and two feet high on my desk recently that had accreted there over the course of about two years. I just didn't know what to do with it.

Turns out, if you wait long enough, things become irrelevant and can be simply thrown away.

The "it might come in useful someday" meme is deeply rooted in my family's soul; my paternal Grandmother (god rest her beautiful, sweet soul) brought a family of five through the depression on basically nothing at all. When she died in 2007, her house (and garage! Lord!) was crammed with stuff, mostly things she had "inherited" from her sisters who had died before her. For instance, in her sewing room she had a doll with a cloth body that was missing a few limbs that came from god knows where ... she said she "might" get to it someday. The garage looked like the inside of a trash compactor.

Sort of like my car does.

Discernment is something I hope to eventually learn in this lifetime, the ability to sift out the truly important from the merely interesting.

Therapeutic tools

2009-12-01T14:23:00.000-06:00

My blogger friend, Spo, had a thought-provoking post that appeared today.

In it he tells about working with his first AIDS patient back in the late 80's. Toward the end he says,

"My crude set of tools is improved, but it is never enough"

Being not a physician, but a massage therapist and shamanic healer of ten+ years, I feel the same. Many is the time a client comes to me for aches of the body, and through our work it is clear that those aches are woven in with aches of the soul: the one often engenders the other.

Often through the course of the week I am reminded of a quotation I saw in one of my massage textbooks somewhere along the line (and have not been able to find again!),

As we live,
So do we move.

The inner is made manifest in the outer. As within, so without; as above, so below.

Now, I'm not in the business of being a counselor, but I do listen. I hear the stories that so closely match the physical ailments that it makes me ache. My toolbox seems so inadequate so much of the time; it's like standing in front of a beautiful old, crumbling castle when all you have at your disposal is a ball-peen hammer.

I can address soft tissue issues, and I can do that very, very well. I can't address the sometimes underlying causes of extreme stress that manifests into the soft tissues: money woes, adult children in jail, parents ill and dying, failing businesses, philandering partners.

I have my own list of those, of course. And I try and remember that life consists of what I see and what I look for. If I look for the amazing and the wondrous, it's right there in front of me. If I look for the disasters, for the evil and for the scary, I find it, too, in droves.

As Terry Pratchett, modern comic luminary has to say,

Humans! they lived in a world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose every day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impressed them? Weeping statues. And wine made out of water! A mere quantum-mehanistic tunnel effect, that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and enzymes, wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time ...

Terry Pratchett ~ Small Gods, p. 149

Life is great! Even when I'm broke, sad, depressed, sick. What a miraculous body to merely be in! I hope I never waste my precious moments by not being here, not being now.

Siding III

2009-11-29T16:48:00.000-06:00

Siding project continues ...

End of one of the days down to house wrap (yes, we worked into the darkness - using flashlights and worklights on our heads):

and end of the next day with siding going up:

and with gable vent installed. I can live with it, I think. Maybe at some point in a few years I'll have the vent and all its siding re-done so that it is thinner and more beautiful.

Yes, I know that the gable vent does not line up with the window. The opening for the window is not centered on the wall ... and when we ripped the siding off we found out why: there was a so-not-on-16"-centers two-by-four that prevented the window from being centered. Judging from the construction details, these windows were added when the house was moved to its present location 30 years ago. As with most things in this house, it was a case of "if it doesn't show, let it go". Siding is sealed and primed, not painted yet. That will come in the Spring.

John T. March 15, 1918 - November 22, 2009

2009-11-29T10:22:00.001-06:00

My former partner's father has been ailing for some time now; prostate cancer was what it was.

Spooky, because twenty years ago his twin brother went the same way.

As the eulogist said in his remarks yesterday, John was a gentleman and a gentle man. And I loved him, deeply.

I was touched when, two visits ago he looked me in the eye and said, "you're going to sing at my funeral, aren't you?" I didn't believe that he was really asking me this, but he was.

As a young man he and his twin were both drafted into the Army to fight in WWII. They both individually asked to be placed in separate units. They were so close that had one died by gunfire, the other might have gone out of grief. This almost happened 20 years ago when Wilson got prostate cancer first.

In the War, he was a Forward Observer in all five major campaigns, and lived to tell the tale. Though he never actually did tell the tale since he hated war and just didn't want to talk about it. So, his graveside funeral yesterday was one with military honors. A cousin's wife, a three-star general, a liberal general who thinks that guns should be abolished, conducted the service. I sang three hymns in the middle, and at the end, I sang Taps as there was no bugler to be had here.

Asking the gay former partner of your son to sing Taps at your funeral despite your very conservative family says a lot about the relationship that I had with this wonderful, amazing man whom I shall miss very, very much.

At the folding of the flag, I almost lost it entirely - it was as if they were folding up his spirit to tuck away somewhere. But I know that is so untrue.

This relatively conservative man, an elder in the Church of Christ, went into the Peace Corps in his late fifties and was sent to the rural Philippines as a banking and agricultural advisor. He came back a changed man, eyes open to and deeply loving a world composed of people totally unlike himself. When he found out his son was gay, his sole response was, "if my son can accept me, I can accept my son".

He was the epitome of a gentleman, the gentleman's gentleman. And a lovely human being.

I'll miss him like hell.

Day is done,
Gone the sun
From the lakes,
From the hills,
From the sky.
All is well!
Safely rest.
God is nigh.

I fired them

2009-11-26T01:00:00.000-06:00

Today, after endless internal wrangling and soul-searching, I fired the people for whom I've been hosting shamanic workshops.

It feels good, and I feel free for the first time in over a year.

I wrote a letter simply stating that this business relationship has not been working for me, and that I am terminating the agreement and will no longer host workshops. I expect a shit-storm, since we had 4 workshops scheduled for 2010, though no registrants for any of them.

I had gotten to the point of dreading their arrival in my town, and when I fully realized that, I knew that it was time to just let it all go.

Life is FAR too short for that.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

Siding, II

2009-11-24T22:32:00.000-06:00

So. The "scraping/painting" project turned into the "replacing siding entirely" project once we figured out that it would take about a century and half of labor to get the old crap off the house.

Since now we were taking off the siding, I figured that it would be an opportunity to insulate the attic. Which meant venting the attic. Which meant making gable vents.

This is what I wanted:

This is what I got:

Not quite the elegance I had envisioned, but hey. They were made with my own two hands, and I'll love them just the same.

A few more shots of today's work, us taking off siding to uncover the "well insulated" house. As it turns out, this was the best course to take, since the entire house structure was rotted and/or termite damaged from long ago. God knows what was holding it up. Actually what was holding it up was merely the tongue and groove siding on the inside of the walls! Had we not already replaced all the floor joists for this part of the house this summer, this wall would probably have fallen in. The window is lightly tacked to the wall and is basicaly sitting on the sheetrock. Good God.

So, at the end of all of this, I will have TOTALLY rebuilt the entire structural frame of my house.

Don, my straight and absolutely not narrow carpenter friend is Mr. monkey boy.

First Thanksgiving

2009-11-20T23:55:00.001-06:00

My husband-elect and I just bought about $256 worth of groceries and sundries for our (and my) first Thanksgiving. We have Turkey and ALL the fixings, and will have two friends over at our togetherment ('apart'-ment just sounds wrong), and maybe others who will drift through during the day.

But now I have to cook all this shit. And I've never roasted a turkey before! Though I have roasted chickens, and I hear that it's the same thing. And, ironically, easier.

Yikes. People will be coming over expecting a good meal! Ack. I've never used this little teeny oven to cook much of anything, much less a big bird. And all the over-the-top gay trimmings :-)

Eek. What have I done? I hope I can pull this off!

.

Opening Doors

2009-11-19T00:01:00.002-06:00

I just had an amazing telephone conversation with another shamanic practitioner friend of mine. In ordinary life she is an accountant, living in the Bible Tourniquette of the South: Ohatchee, Alabama.

In Shamanic life, she is the new Dean of Shamanic Studies at a metaphysical school in Clearwater, Florida.

For whatever reason, doors and opportunities are opening like mad just now in almost all aspects of my life. From my shamanic work, psychic readings, akashic readings, etc., it is clear that someday I'll open my own school of healing. And when I do, I want people like this friend to be right there with me.

Open my own school. O, lord! When did I become the kind of person who would do such a thing? It happened day by day, step by step over a long period of time. And yet it feels totally right. I've been opening and moving toward this for the longest time now; my shamanic journies have been hinting at this sort of thing. It seems that every person I meet tells me what an excellent teacher I am, and actively encourages me to teach.

I do know that when I did teach massage therapy, I was more alive than I ever am when not standing on a stage and singing. Singing and teaching seem to hook me right up to Spirit in the most direct way possible.

So, taking the easy way out, the downstream approach, one day soon you might be hearing about a very unique school of esoteric healing techniques Somewhere In The South.

.

Siding

2009-11-13T17:51:00.000-06:00

A couple of months ago I abandoned my project to scrape paint off my circa-1870's wood-sided house when I found out it was lead based paint.

That stuff is nasty and you totally don't want to mess with it.

The project began when I received a notice from the City that I was in violation of a residential code since I had "curling paint and/or exposed wood". So, we started the scraping project.

Five weekends into the project with two people working at least nine-hour days, we had scraped approximately 1/5 of the entire house. AND had most likely exposed ourselves to lead dust and lead fumes.

Oh, hell no! This was going to be waaay too big a project. So, I mulled it awhile, also turning my predicament over to the Universe. Shortly thereafter, my wealthy ex called me and asked how long it had taken me to get as far as I had gotten in the scraping project. When I told him, he said, "what if I paid for new siding?", to which I gulped and said, "yes, thank you".

Now, my house is little, as in less than 400 square feet, so it's possible to do nice things to it and still not pay a bloody fortune. The entire siding bill comes to less than $2,000, and I'm providing labor. His gift is being well received and well cared for! I found two local sources that still produce this exact pattern, so nothing will change appearance-wise, except that bare wood with ugly moldy curling paint will go away.

AND, I get to wrap and insulate the house and put on sheathing! So, double yay all around. I've joked that when I finally get done, I may have replaced every board in the entire house.

Last year: new roof.
This year: new floor joists underneath 50% of the house + new siding, sheathing, insulation, attic gable venting, gable exhaust fans, attic insulation, house-wrap.

Next year: lowered electrical bills, peace of mind, beautiful landscaping.

Ahh. My house becomes my home and my haven.

.

Psychic reading

2009-11-11T13:42:00.000-06:00

I had a psychic reading today via telephone with a wonderful psychic lady. It was a birthday gift from June from my intuitive hubby, and well-received. At the time it was hard to schedule, but as always, it has come at precisely the correct time.

Not to go into much detail, but the gist of it is this: remember who you are. Re-member yourself; put yourself together and actually see that amazing being that is you. Allow yourself to be as amazing as you actually are. Own it.

The more specific parts of the reading were directed towards relationships, and specifically with the relationships I have with my shamanic teachers who I host for workshops here. All I can say is: this lady nailed it. She couldn't have given me a more accurate description of what is going on between unless she had seen all of our communications over the past three years. And, she gave me insight into the why of it all. Others have hinted at these same reasons, but she gave me such a complete picture of it that it felt totally true to me.

Subjective, yes. Yet energetically she hit the bullseye so many times that I quit goggling at the whole process and just started asking my questions. Right now I feel energized, focused, and am armed with information that helps me make decisions about the direction that I'm taking my business, my healing practices, and my shamanic practices.

Pretty great stuff.

.

Karma Bomb

2009-11-03T21:59:00.000-06:00

Oy.

One of my shamanic teachers wrote me an email karma bomb tonight. WHY did I not {take care of his personal shit for him} since we've had to change up our workshop weekends since he and his wife are coming about four weeks early?

First of all,

You're Welcome.

I WHOMPED up a workshop out of NOTHING at all in less than three days' time, making the best of a VERY bad situation which said shamanic wife created back in early August. I should have been the Hero, yet, I have become the Villain.

For The Last Time.

I will no longer allow people to treat me as I was treated in tonight's e-mail. Above-mentioned bitchy shaman seems not to understand that he is a Guest Teacher at my circle. I am his employer; I sign his checks. I am NOT his minion, I am NOT his emplyee, I am NOT in any way his underling in this. He is ultimately MINE to command.

After the detritus of a very busy and stressful day at the FullTimeJob, I wrote a neutral response to his caustic missive, and will entertain him in normal style this weekend. After which I will sever our business relationship.

I love them as people, and I respect their teachings.

And I will absolutely not be involved in any business dealings with them from this time forward nor allow them to hold ANY sway over me in any way whatsoever.

Thus do I reclaim a portion of my soul and declare myself a Man.

.

Poetry Monday (for my baby)

2009-11-02T21:38:00.000-06:00

HOME

I have a need of silence and of stars ;
Too much is said too loudly ; I am dazed.
The silken sound of whirled infinity
Is lost in voices shouting to be heard.
I once knew men as earnest and less shrill.
An undermeaning that I caught I miss
Among these ears that hear all sounds save silence,
These eyes that see so much but not the sky,
These minds that gain all knowledge but no calm.
If suddenly the desperate music ceased,
Could they return to life ? or would they stand
In dancers' attitudes, puzzled, polite,
And striking vaguely hand on tired hand
For an encore, to fill the ghastly pause ?
I do not know. Some rhythm there may be
I cannot hear. But I oh, I must go
Back where the breakers of deep sunlight roll
Across flat fields that love and touch the sky ;
Back to the more of earth, the less of man,
Where there is still a plain simplicity,
And friendship, poor in everything but love,
And faith, unwise, unquestioned, but a star,
Soon now the peace of summer will be there
With cloudy fire of myrtles in full bloom ;
And, when the marvelous wide evenings come,
Across the molten river one can see
The misty willow-green of Arcady.
And then the summer stars ... I will go home.
~ William Alexander Percy

Dealing with the Karma Storm

2009-11-01T17:02:00.001-06:00

I facilitate shamanic workshops. The teachers with whom I have my business relationship are very good at the teaching part, and very, very bad at the communication and business parts.

Early this year we dared mightily and went ahead and scheduled a workshop for Thanksgiving weekend. Yikes. we all huddled and just said, yeah, let's see if it will go.

August 9th and without first consulting me, one of the teachers sent an e-mail to my entire shamanic drumming circle (we're about 600 miles away from her) to ask if we can reschedule the workshop. After I hit the roof and reasserted my authority, I began researching options, none of which (as I had clearly recalled) had much likelihood of working. BUT, I soldiered ahead. I even called a colleague who also hosts workshops with these folks and asked to swap weekends with him to accommodate this situation. His reply was that if he had to switch weekends, he'd never in a million years fill a Thanksgiving week workshop.

So, I said, let's keep it the way that it originally was, then; forget that I called you.

Wednesday night (yes, the Wednesday before Halloween!) I received an e-mail from the male teacher, female teacher's husband (they live in the same house, sleep in the same bed), to say that I needed to call said colleague in Virginia because somehow we both had workshops still scheduled for the same weekend.

Arg.

I called my Esteemed Colleague in the fifteen minutes that I had to spare between clients and discovered that he had never heard me say, "keep your date as it originally was". He had gone ahead and moved his workshop! Yikes. I quickly e-mailed all of my peeps and asked if, in an utter emergency situation, we could move OUR workshop to NEXT weekend. 8 of the 9 have said, Yes.

So despite having salvaged a situation, my teachers, as usual, are making extreme demands upon me such as - guarantee us a specific level of income, change my acupuncture appointment for me that I've made with the doc in your town, harrumph, harrumph, harrumph, etc., etc.

First, I find it incredible that in the three intervening months they never spoke of this date-switching issue either with my Esteemed Colleague OR amongst themselves. Second, I've just materialized a workshop equally as large as the original one and on one week's notice - the other one is also full, so ... what's the issue? Come here instead of there, go there instead of here. Be an adult and 1) understand that mistakes and misunderstandings happen, and 2) make your own damn acupuncture appointment change.

Dayum.

The flakiness of the alternative "healing community" sometimes makes my head spin.

For now, my dealing with the chaos merely involves letting them make their decision: the workshop can go this weekend, or ... we can cancel.

.

What to do, what to do

2009-10-29T21:52:00.001-05:00

As a male massage therapist in the South, I'm often stymied as to how to successfully market my services. "Successfully" as in, not marketing myself as a gigolo. Which, honestly, would be very fun to be.

But since I'm not that, I sometimes get a little stuck. I'm in business with a classmate of mine, a wonderful woman who is very connected in the medical community, and we also have one other woman associate, a massage therapist who is not yet a partner. Additionally we are allied with three other women who do adaptive yoga, Feldenkrais, lymphedeme therapy, and a lady who does stress reduction classes. So, I'm the lone guy, albeit a gay one.

Whenever we market our services together, invariably the ladies get all the calls, or when people want to redeem their gift certificates or make an appointment, they want a gal and not me. Here's pretty much how it goes:

Last Wednesday we went to our local Senior Center to do an hour's presentation on massage therapy for the geriatric population. To work with seniors, a massage therapist has to know what not to do in order to avoid hurting the client. Too, seniors need a lot more attention and hand-holding in general; not true of everyone, certainly, but its'a trend that seems to hold true. It's a bit of a specialized population. Anyway, we gave a wonderful presentation, gave out gift certificates to everyone there for a half-price hour of massage ("first 1/2 hour free when you book an hour!" we crow), and waited for the massages to roll in.

Tuesday I took a call from a woman with whom I'd spoken to at the seminar, and she asked what we had available. I said I had blah, blah, blah open this week, and then she hesitated. She said, "do I get to pick my therapist? I really wanted a woman." to which I replied, "sure thing! No problem. I'll give you their numbers so that you can book directly with them." This seemed to rattle her a bit, and she went ahead and booked with me anyway. She came in Wednesday of this week, I spent at least 30 minutes doing an intake, and just before she was to get on the table as we were talking about all of her aches and pains she said "I'm not sure you can get to all of that in a half hour!" Arg. I explained that the appointment was for an hour with the first half hour free. She wasn't prepared to pay that day, she said, but she'd book an hour to make up for it. Ok, I said, and we proceeded with the massage. A very good massage, indeed.

Afterward she was very complimentary of my work, relaxed and happy with the massage and then she asked, "is it just Russian roulette as to which therapist I get when I call?" and I answered that no, she could request anyone she wished when she left her message requesting an appointment. To which she then replied that she'd come back in November for her hour massage "and give one of the ladies a try".

*sigh*

So. An hour's worth of marketing gone, at least an hour's worth of massage time gone with nothing at all to show for it except for bolstering my partners' businesses.

I've been looking at myself and into my beliefs, energetic setups, etc., as to why this scenario is so familiar and has happened to me so very many times in the ten years I've been a massage therapist. Being the Good Southern Boy, I do my best not to irritate a client, especially an elderly lady client, since if you irritate them, they just go away and don't come back. Then talk about you all over town behind your back.

In our business, our individual income streams are separate, so I do not get any money from massages that others do. For corporate accounts that we all do, it's a different story, however. But most of our income is individually derived. Hence my conundrum.

I feel sort of like Edison did when he said (to paraphrase), "I know 10,000 ways it doesn't work". And, like Edison, I keep casting about for ways, likely and un-, in which it might work. I wish I knew how he felt when he was searching, though. I feel almost a little desperate, especially in this economy: it's getting harder and harder to bring the ends together at the end of the month. Maybe I'll find the "magic filament" soon, though :-) It would be great if I could truly "turn my talents on" in a lasting, wonderful way. I keep searching.

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Dark Night and Golden Dawn

2009-10-28T23:11:00.009-05:00

Spo spoke of his dark night of the soul, one dreary year in medical school. Mine lasted a lot longer: pretty much from the time we moved to Florida at age ten until I graduated High School, college, came out and finally emerged from a software career to become a massage therapist and healer.

For me, the dark night (all three, almost four decades of it!) has been about not being congruent with my inner self, about not being honest, about not coming out of all of the closets that I've put myself in.

Why is it all about the fucking closets? Why do I even care what others might think of me? Jebus, but it seems like this life so far is all about "lifting the veils", about uncovering the real me and having the courage to reveal it to ... me.

At age nine I was blissfully happy, connected to the world around me and to my beloved Blue Ridge mountains of Asheville. At ten, I'd been reviled and rejected by a next door neighbor kid who, despite his morbidly obese and threatening, domineering ways, his attention I nevertheless craved. I'd candidly told him about my sex play with cousins (which was perfectly fun, pleasant, and ordinary to me), and I thought he'd have a coronary. In that moment, on that sidewalk on a sunny day in the mountains, the concept of "I am not OK as I am; therefore I need to be different somehow" entered my world. If that were true, what else about me needed to be hidden?

I took the safe route and hid everything.

We moved to Florida shortly after this, and I was plopped into an alien landscape: weird trees, strange-tasting water, sand everywhere, flat landscape, and ... Public School. It was summer of '72, Nadia Comenici was the Olympic star, and I was just absolutely miserable, completely adrift and unmoored from everything that was recognizable in my life. But not as miserable as I would soon become when school started. It was Hell, and I cried every single day before going to that awful dungeon that was Fifth Grade.

I began my campaign to Become Invisible, to Blend In and Not Be Seen, definitely never Wanting To Stick Out In A Crowd. Thus I shut my first of many closet doors. I developed this weird notion that if I was a Good Boy and Never Had Emotions, I would be OK and everything would turn out All Right. It seemed to work at least passably well for a few years, but there was always the occasional scrape, the occasional threat from a much bigger, more testosterone-laden guy, from someone seeing me "play with the girls", or ridiculing me for being in the show choir, for being in musicals, for excelling.

I SO did not want to be different, "special", or in any way noticeable. At ALL. I dressed in ways that didn't bring the light of attention. I wore boring shoes. It was sheer agony trying to figure out how to be the person "they" wanted me to be! I kept thinking I got it right only to make some big mistake and ...

But you know what? I'm quirky! I stick out! I'm built like a little gnome, a dwarf who is far stronger than his stature might suggest. I was never fast in gym, but was always very, very strong. I may not have been the smartest one in class, but I was frequently the cleverest, frequently the guy who saw through the smoke to get to the point. Even I missed the signs, myself. I stuck with an Electrical Engineering major looong after I should have given it up.

NOT listening to the still, small voice cost me much, but the lesson has eventually been driven home with much force: know thyself. You can't change the deep inner nature of "thyself", but you can own it all, love it all, cherish it all. And then start putting it to most excellent use! I was listening to Carolyn Myss' "Sacred Contracts" on CD the other day, and she said something about when we incarnate that our soul shatters into a thousand pieces, and that it's our job in this lifetime to earn our souls back by reclaiming it one piece at a time. This jarred me a little bit, because I felt that this was precisely what I've been doing in life lately: I've been on my Knight's Quest, out in the woods and completely off the beaten path searching for and finding (!) my own Holy Grail, myself.

When I finally started listening to that still, small voice inside of me again, life became Good once more. I am learning to embrace all these thousand parts of my soul, each of which gives me more and more clarity about who I am and about what my chosen mission in the world is. I think we can go ahead and rule out "ordinary citizen" ;-) since that sure as hell won't work. I've always known that I was a catalyst, an element that forever stays apart, aloof from a reaction, but that is nevertheless necessary for the reaction to take place. Inscrutable and also familiar.

I'm just me. Wildly, exotically, amazingly me. I feel like the staid
English character Sterling in the movie "Jeffrey" as he wraps
himself in a cape and looks at himself in the mirror and says "Is this
really me? Can I *do* this?"

To which I answer myself: yes :-) (You have to! You must. You know
this, deep down inside.)

I think I'm just going to be wildly, fascinatingly, amazingly, me. And to hell with all those tiny-minded people I went to school with.

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What is shamanism?

2009-10-27T21:56:00.002-05:00

Shamanism and shamanic practice is popping up more and more these days. What exactly is it? Well, "exactly" is a little difficult to quantify, but here is a road map based on where I've been on the shamanic road so far:

Simply put, the shaman is "s/he who knows" or "s/he who sees". The word "shaman" or "saman" comes from the Tungus of North Central Asia. It means, literally, "he/she who knows"; the shaman is the person who sees what others do not, who finds information from the greater world. The shaman acts as an intermediary between the ordinary world and the world of Spirit.

Entering a different state of consciousness in order to access information not ordinarily available in "ordinary" consciousness is to practice shamanism, to work with Spirit. By many accounts, it is an ancient practice practiced in some form in every culture so far studied. It isn't new, nor is it "New Age"; indeed, it is very "Old Age" with pictograms, records, and oral histories dating back tens of thousands of years. Check out religious historian Mircea Eliade's tome "Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy" for a mind-numbingly exhaustive survey of thousands upon thousands of existing sources, eyewitness accounts, interviews, etc. I had to read it as prerequisite for taking the two week shamanic healing intensive course last year; it's quite fantastic.

According to Eliade's work, entering a "shamanic state of consciousness" can be done in many, many different ways, with entheogens, hallucinogens, ecstatic trance dancing, ecstatic trance singing, sleep deprivation, or some sort of sonic driving mechanism like drumming or rattling. I use drumming and occasionally dancing, just because they're cheap and legal. And I love my drums. Once in the altered state, the shaman or shamanic practitioner interacts with big-'s' Spirit in the form of working with little-'s' spirits to ask questions, effect healings for self or others, to find out answers to questions, to help put things, people, relationships, souls back together again.

Shamans are healers.

This works because shamans believe a few basic things, most of which can be summed up by Tom Crockett's "five stones" of shamanism which I introduced a couple of posts ago:

Everything is Alive
Everything is Aware and Conscious
Everything is Dynamic and Changing
Everything is Connected
Everything Responds

If everything is alive, we can certainly have a relationship with it. If everything is aware and conscious, everything is participating in Life as we know it, and can give insight and help. If everything is dynamic and changing, new conditions are arising all the time that we might need to know about. If everything is connected, we all affect each other, the earth, the cosmos. And it affects us, too. If everything responds, we can communicate and have conversation.

In a shamanic journey, the shaman literally communicates with anything; rocks, trees, water, mythic beings, the sun, cancer, AIDS viruses. In my first journeys to contact an Irish ancestor, I initially interacted with a red-haired female water entity. She showed me in no uncertain terms that she flowed West, and that she was very female. She turned out to be the River Shannon, which does indeed flow West. Only if all things are connected and if all things are alive, aware, changing and responsive could I have known this without every consciously knowing it.

How and why is shamanism done? Although this varies in form, the shaman does his or her work in a shamanic journey, a state similar to meditation that looks much like a self-guided meditation, fueled by one of the above methods. Time after time after time in Eliade's work, he reports near identical methods of healing and journeying to speak with the spirits. From peoples in Japan, Siberia, Tibet, the Pacific Northwest, Pacific Islands, Central and South America, Greenland, Iceland, Central and Eastern Europe to Native Americans, almost all methods share commonality, sometimes very closely. Regardless of background, the shaman journeys into a cosmology that is described as extraordinarily similar by all accounts: There is a World Axis that contains Lower World(s) and Upper World(s) and (most of the time), Middle World(s). The shaman works with a familiar ally with whom s/he has established a long and trusting working relationship to seek the answer to the client's question, find the cure, the remedy, or bring back an essential part of the client to initiate or effect a healing.

The shaman is the glue that holds a group together - by being himself consciously connected and in conversation with the world in a way that others are often not. I didn't understand this when I first started out with this practice; that's why I said at length in an earlier post that shamanism is teaching me community. I can't not do this for my peeps, for anyone who asks, really. It's almost like a compulsion, definitely a motivating force.

The flavor of what shamanism is like is described in an article by Tom Cowan of Riverdrum.com in the recent issue of Journal of Shamanic Practice (yes, we have journals! Lots of them!) that talks about the language used to describe "otherworld" experiences. Drawing on the work of many others, he states that since our western vocabulary consists mostly of nouns, and since language informs thought just as thought informs language, we may not have adequate language to describe what it is that we experience there. He talks instead of the Algonquin verb-based language which might have better constructs through which to understand.

An example might be that English speakers would look at a garden and say, "Look at all the flowers." The Algonquin speaker might say, "Look at all the flowering." Another examnple: we loo up at the night sky and say, "Look at all the stars." The Algonquin speaker might say, "Look at all that shining."

Cowan, Tom. Twisted Language. The Journal of Shamanic Practice volume 2 issue 2 (Sept 2009): 11-16.

This captures the essence of it for me: when I journey, I am immersed in the being-ness, the becoming-ness, the unfolding of it all, and am able to communicate with that unfolding. Shamanism is more about what the world is doing, how it is interacting with itself, and not about what it is.
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The Song of Myself

2009-10-25T23:06:00.002-05:00

These days I'm learning to sing the Song of Myself, strongly and harmoniously. As a Southerner, I was taught early on that We Don't Do That, and that Others Come First, and that To Brag was A Bad Thing.

But ... is it bragging if it's really, deeply true? Methinks no.

Methinks also, though, that me hasn't learned the appropriate way of celebrating my own strengths, my own beauteous strengths and true joys. What a paradox that someone else can say something good about us, but if we say the same thing, it's considered immodest braggadocio.

How interesting.

And what a double standard.

Ignoring that completely, I'm taking an honest look at myself, my succulent strengths and at my peculiar and unique brand of quirky goodness, and for the first time in my life I'm saying, "wow! What a great guy I am!" and taking myself absolutely, deeply seriously as I say it.

At first this feels a bit like masturbating in public: so good, and yet soooo wrong from society's standpoint.

And yet. And yet ... it's something that feels really, really good to do; to honor one's self for what one really is.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson

Community

2009-10-24T11:08:00.000-05:00

Though I am very much a "people person", I am also a bit of a recluse; I have definite saturation limits as to how much people-energy I can take over a given time period. Massage therapy suits me well; the one-on-one is a good thing. I don't do well with crowds of people, though, so I avoid places like malls, loud concerts, big parties (at certain times).

Until recently, the idea of "community" did not appeal to me much. The compromise and consensus processes that I've witnessed in the few commune-style communities that I've been tangentially involved with have always bored and irritated me. Which probably marks me as somewhat antisocial. Part of this has to do with growing up in a family the emotions modeled were either suppression (my dad) or explosion (my mom), and it has taken me most of half a century to figure out how to safely embody other emotions and to speak my mind truthfully without screaming and having a meltdown.

Really. I still have to watch it, especially when I'm tired.

"Community" was something I never really wanted to have at all since to my inner child it meant "discussions" which meant "scary screaming arguments" or merely "seething, un-expressed emotion". So, it's come as a bit of a shock to me that for the first time in my forty-seven year life I'm cultivating an actual desire, a need to be connected to people. And shamanism is teaching me this. Last night I surprised even my own self when I saw one of the particularly difficult people from my shamanic drumming circle as I walked into a local buy-it-all-here retail store, and my first reaction was one of delight and to immediately yell "Hey! Good to see you!" and run over to her and give her a big hug.

In mid-hug I marveled a little at myself.

A couple of years ago when I was a shiny new student of shamanism, I came across the book Stone Age Wisdom by Tom Crockett. From a powerful journey, he espouses five simple "stones" or tenets of shamanism:

Everything is Alive
Everything is Aware and Conscious
Everything is Dynamic and Changing
Everything is Connected
Everything Responds

I'm beginning to see the depth of the phrase, "everything is connected" :-) If I am a true student of shamanism (which I sincerely hope that I am), I see how I am connected to everything, everyone, "all my relations". Even connected to the particularly difficult woman from our drumming circle. For the very first time, somehow I'm finding myself deeply drawn to this crazy, quirky group of people, and finding that I care about them. A lot. They are teaching me viscerally that we all are indeed connected, that I'm connected to everything, and that it really does matter what we all think, how we all feel, and it does matter if my brothers and sisters, any one of my relations is unhappy or feels disconnected. Despite my own self, I don't want them to be disconnected or dispossessed - I want to help them become and to stay connected, too.

In that hug moment, I realized that I had somehow, over the past several months, shape-shifted into something different, into someone new.

One thing that has helped this occur is that I've consciously tried to stop seeing what I want to see in others, and instead have been keenly observing what's actually there. Who is this person, really? Have I ever seen them clearly? What I've been finding is that, no, I've never seen anyone clearly! If I have seen them at all, I've seen them dimly, through the smoke of my own expectation and projection. Giving up wanting people to be who I want them to be has been a relief, and has been fun watching these "new beings" unfold. They're so much more wonderful, complex and oddly beautiful than I could ever make up in my wildest dreams :-)

And so much more fun to have as friends and neighbors.

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Parsing

2009-10-23T22:33:00.000-05:00

Life has been in High Gear lately: within the past month I've organized and registrared a 21-student massage therapy workshop with an internationally-renowned instructor, attended a 35-hour acupressure continuing education workshop, sung a weeks-worth of gigs in a remote city, moved my business office to a regional cancer center and set up my new therapy room, moved truckloads of office furniture, participated in no less than five major marketing endeavors, made two public speaking engagements, worked on clients, and have spent a couple of weekends with my husband-elect.

Though things have gone fairly well, I've remarked to myself that a lot of this karma-storm has felt as if I didn't have clarity about my therapy business, about who exactly I want to attract to it, how I want to incorporate my shamanic skills, etc. I've been needing time to just sit down, think and examine, put things on paper.

As sometimes happens, my honey-to-be had a dream that perfectly expressed what it was that I needed (our dreams often have bearing on each others' lives, and are always vivid when we sleep together. We were 136 miles apart last night when this one came through):

... had interesting dreams last night. The main part I remember was being on a cruise ship & some tour guide forcing me & you to take an excursion trip on a small boat. We seemed to be in Alaska... someplace wild & beautiful. Made us both take off our shoes thinking this would keep us from running off. What he didn't know was that you & I are both quite comfortable going barefoot, so we were still quite free. We exchanged a laughing look that said "He may think he can control us!" (Not sure what this symbolizes, but it seems to speak of being patient about our eventual living together... that it will happen ... our "barefootedness" indicates we're free even if others may think they control us.)

Another part of the dream took place in a foyer type entrance on the ship. There was an amazing device we'd heard about - something called a "parser" - that improved whatever it was aimed at. I was a airplane pilot looking for work & had a resume book of photos, paintings & writing I wanted parsed & [you] had something too. In the foyer was a water garden in a rectangular pool with plants & lilies in it. As a man wheeled the parser in (it was a large, black, boxy contraption "steam punk" style, with blinking lights. It had a coiled hose part with a wand type instrument with a directable flashlight on its tip), a ship worker was pointing out how the water looked milky & murky, despite his best efforts to keep the pool clean. The parser man said "no problem" & stuck the lit flashlight end into the water & turned knobs on the machine. This in turn adjusted the water's clarity, much as I can adjust color balance & contrast in Photoshop & soon the water looked sparkling clear & beautiful!

"You don't have to change the water," said the man, "just the frequency of the light passing through it." (That statement felt very important & I can think of spiritual metaphors galore...) I then had him pass the light over my resume book & everything in it clarified as well; still in my handwriting, but the words were more precise & descriptive, spell corrected & neat & all the photos & paintings had better composition, vibrant colors & were perfectly exposed. Amazing!

It didn't occur to me to put *myself* into this light until after I'd woken up...

Ah! Just what I've been needing! A parser :-) The statement that you don't have to change the water, just the frequency is bullseye, spot-on. It's how I'm looking that's most important; the content is already there, just maybe not in the right form yet.

Gosh! Wish I had a parser in my office all the time!
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Chili a la Raybob dans le Crockpot

2009-10-22T23:51:00.003-05:00

It's getting cold. 'Tis the season.

Stuff to fit in a large, 5 quart slow-cooker

1/2 lb. bacon
2 lb. beef, ground (I use Chuck)
1/2 box (or more as needed) beef broth
4 16oz cans Bush's Best Chili Beans (mild spice)
1 28oz can Hunt's Crushed Tomatoes
1 fresh tomato, chopped
1 6oz can tomato paste (can use 12oz if you're brave)
1 humongo Spanish onion, chopped
1 1/2 tsp Paprika
3/4 tsp Cayenne pepper
2 tsp Oregano
3/4 tsp Chili Powder
1 Bay leaf

Instructions

Cut bacon into small pieces. I use kitchen scissors. Brown it, keeping the fat in the frying pan. Drain and put bacon into crockpot.
Brown the beef in the bacon fat about 1/2 pound at a time. I know, I know - heart attack in a bowl. But wait! read on ...
Drain beef, add to crockpot
Add all remaining stuff and mix well - a heavy hand with the spices and peppers is not a bad thing.
Cook on low 8-12 hours, stirring occasionally and adjusting moisture content with leftover beef broth ... heat and cooking time will depend on the individual slow-cooker!
IMPORTANT NOTE: IF you add salt, do it only AFTER the complete cooking time. I've never added salt to this recipe; it seems to turn out just fine as is, maybe because of the bacon.

Best if made a day ahead so that flavors merge and mingle :-) Good with cheddar cheese, sour cream, crackers, etc., or just smeared on your favorite bear and licked off him.

Serves 1. (just kidding! Your friend can have one bite)

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Little Love Notes

2009-10-21T22:33:00.001-05:00

I've been listening to Caroline Myss' "Sacred Contracts". Very interesting, and spurring. One thing she says in the midst of all of her teachings is a bit about the Lover and Virgin archetypes. She goes on to discuss Emily Dickinson, the "Lady in White", to explain that she perfectly embodies both the Lover and Virgin archetypes.

She says that Dickinson wrote "little love notes to God" on scraps of paper and tossed them out her window for the townsfolk, or sent them in letters to friends. She says that Emily Dickinson was in love with the universe, and her poems were her love notes.

When I think of this very simple thing, of writing a little love note to God, it makes life so much easier. One thing I worry about regularly is how to put all the pieces of myself together? How can I put my singing, my shamanism, my massage therapy, my craft-y self all together in one coherent piece? And furthermore, how can I do all of these things right? God forbid I should be less-than-perfect at anything!

If I merely exhale and relax and look at myself, really look honestly at myself, I see that the sum of me is much, much bigger than the box that the parts fit in. When I relax and just let all this me just sprawl around on its own, I see that it's a pretty big me, and it doesn't fit in any conventionally-shaped box. So why force it? When I further relax into allowing me, I see that the things I do don't have to be perfect and don't necessarily have to represent me: when I truly let them flow, my expressions - whatever their forms - are my very own little love notes to the universe.

Emily scribbled hers on scraps, envelopes, grocery lists. And she scribbled lovingly away.

Its our poetry, not our paper.

Stories

2009-10-08T17:39:00.000-05:00

We interact, not with the people or events in our lives, but with the stories we have written in our heads about those things.

When someone "makes me mad", it's because I believe my own story, not because they "made" me mad.

My beautiful husband-elect recently gave me the audio version of Byron Katie's "Loving What Is", a set of umpteen CDs outlining and showcasing 'The Work' as she calls is. The Work is a simple set of four questions and a general method of self-inquiry that takes a look at those stories and asks the question, "is that really true?" Simple and very powerful stuff.

The same idea crops up in Toltec wisdom teachings: 'stalking the lies' that we tell ourselves about ourselves and about the world. Don Miguel Ruiz' "The Four Agreements" and "The Mastery of Love" are excellent, simple roadmaps.

I'm only beginning to understand and uncover the stories that I tell myself about the world, about people I love, about my own self. And as the light dawns, I laugh and see that for decades I held myself hostage over mere beliefs.

A breath of life

2009-10-06T16:21:00.000-05:00

My last post was from some time ago. A lifetime ago, really.

Since then, I've been looking for the Good Stuff, and finding it by the cartload :-)

I have been given a new name by an intuitive friend: call me "Drawing Deep Waters", and my new husband-elect is "Medicine Song for the Heart", or simply "Medicine Song". The truth and depth of these names is so spot on that it's comical, almost.

Life with the new man just gets better and better! After having the experience of being in a relationship for 18 years with a man, I thought I knew how this went. How ignorant I am turning out to be :-) Life with OneTree / Medicine Song / Jeff is better each day than the last one. I get happier and happier (and I think he does as well, at least he tells me so), and more and more downstream. He's rented a small apartment here in town, a "togetherment" we call it, so that he can begin working remotely from his job two and a half hours away, and also so we have a place to go while we work on my teeny tiny house.

While recently in the Land of Cleve doing some singing, I re-acquainted with a soprano friend who has gone through a couple of years of Hell and in the process, blasted open her intuition. She's now giving intuitive readings, and the one she gave me was dyn-O-mite. It's great to see someone bloom and blossom! This is indeed a year of change.

Watching her be so in her bliss has given me the permission to begin my own blooming and blossoming. Who knows what the future shall bring?

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You always find what you're looking for ...

2009-06-01T19:54:00.002-05:00

So be sure you're only looking for the really great, juicy stuff!

Here's how:

Update:
It occurred to me as I was driving home last night that the Focus Wheel serves a similar purpose (though much, much more crude and much less involved) as the Navajo curing ceremonies do: both serve not to change the "what is", but rather to bring one's awareness and inner thought back into harmony with it.

Being in harmonious relationship is to Walk the Beauty Way.

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Gently Down the Stream

2009-05-01T11:13:00.002-05:00

I'm an unabashed follower of Abraham, purportedly a group of beings channeled by a completely unassuming woman named Esther.

The core of the message is pretty simple: at every possible opportunity, choose "downstream" thoughts, that is, thoughts that make you feel good. Abraham's teaching is that that "feeling good" state is what makes you a "vibrational match" to your desires; you can't get what it is that you're desiring until you and it are "vibrationally matched".

Whether this statement is an accurate description of the way the world works, whether she's really channeling a group of beings collectively called "Abraham" or whether she's making it all up is immaterial to me: it works.

Life is just plain easier when you choose a downstream thought. Eckhardt Tolle says about the world, "it is as it is". My thoughts don't change the external world or its conditions (maybe); my thoughts change how I feel about those conditions, re-configure my frame of reference so that I can view the exact same incidents and external conditions and not get upset by them. Being upset is a choice that I am no longer compelled to make.

Now that's valuable juju.

Choosing "downstream" is simple, too: which thought makes you feel the best?

Generally, having expectations about a desired outcome is completely "upstream", difficult, against the flow. If "expectations are premeditated disappointments", any expectation you have immediately sets up the conditions necessary for failure.

Anticipation on the other hand, that is, looking forward to being happy in the next moment regardless of what the conditions are in that moment, is a Good Thing.

Edison had the anticipation that he would find a substance that worked as a light source when current was run through it. Had he had the expectation that Iron was going to be it, or Aluminum, or Human Hair, he would have failed miserably. Instead, he merely made note of those things which did not work and kept looking, anticipating (and, I believe, deeply knowing full well) that he would find something that did. He said, "I have not failed; I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

It's all about how you think of your world, really, how you feel about it, and not the world itself.

We believe that we can't choose how we think and feel about our world, about our conditions. I'm living proof that that is simply untrue and merely habit, that over time we can change our habitual patterns of thinking so that in every single situation there's something good that we can find in it, if nothing else than we'll be able to look back on it later and see the chain of events that led to something good coming out of it.

I have lived life lately in a state of almost constant bliss, not because things have gone completely my way, but because I've just let go of allowing external circumstances to bother me: I simply choose to not be bothered by people or by events.

The world "is as it is", and it's far more wondrous, nourishing and entertaining to simply observe it as it actually is and to see what's actually there rather than trying to see what I want to be there that isn't.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily.

.

Side-by

2009-04-06T21:29:00.003-05:00

I'm engaged.

I asked the man I love to marry me, and he said "yes". He asked me, too :-)

Who wouldn't love a man who could paint like this? (And these are just crappy cell-phone pictures!)

He has many charms to soothe my savage breast, not the least of which is that we talk the same spiritual language. I feel as if I'm the richest man in the world. His name is Mr. Wright ;-D

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Gemini powers, Activate!

2009-02-24T20:55:00.001-06:00

7:40am - rise, shower, prepare
8:20am - business coffee with Singing Wife to discuss upcoming March 13 concert, write Public Service Announcement copy for radio spots (long and short versions) to be recorded at 10:00am
9:20am - meet priest and (finally! yes, thank-ya Jebus) secure venue
10:00am - record both long and short PSA spots for local public radio station
10:15am - go to University library, update library ID, search, locate and secure final piece for concert, the one STB trio to be found in Bach sacred cantatas. (For bonus points, anyone out there know the BWV#?)
11:30am - lunch avec Singing Wife
12:30pm - office to return umpteen e-mails, find/buy/download recording of said trio on iTunes
1:20pm - meet with architects and executive about 1,000 feet of custom build-out new space for our practice at premiere-o new cancer consortium building
3:00pm - AT&T store to buy cable, ask questions, get new (FAB-u-lous!) iPhone bill set up on auto-pay (and fervently hope and pray they don't screw it up)
4:00pm - back cross-town at office, receive call from 6'4" built, BearGod client and inform him that, yes, I do have an immediate opening (ahem) and to come on down!
4:15pm - field another call for another walk-in-wannabe
6:15pm - finish with client (no, no happy ending but don't I sometimes wish), initiate last laundry load of the day, make study copies of new Bach piece
6:45pm - write shamanic practice bio for web page
8:00pm - write to-do's for ten on-going projects
8:30pm - start writing this blog entry
8:55pm - publish, edit, shop for dinner, go home, cook, drink, read, crash.

The moon must have moved into the House of Gettin'-Shit-Done today.

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Self Care

2009-02-18T19:55:00.007-06:00

I'm taking a class at the local Religious Science church and today as an exercise the facilitator asked us each to respond to the question, "What isn't working for you?"

I thought about it and came up with a couple of things: I'm beset about with clutter in my car, my office, my house; I'm not paying enough attention to my financial planning, balancing my statements, etc.; I'm not getting enough sleep; I'm constantly running from one thing to another; I feel harried and put off joy-producing leisure activities for the things that have piled up that I absolutely must do.

And then it dawned on me. It wasn't any one thing, it was everything: my entire system of self-care isn't working for me. Not drastically enough to impair me or to hinder me in ways other than making it hard for me to find things like socks, receipts and the like. But definitely to the point where I've become a joyless, headless chicken running around from fire to fire.

Which must and will stop.

This is one of those lessons that the universe sends me from time to time to see if I've mastered it, "gotten" it yet. Today when I saw that my dysfunctions are symptoms of failure of my self-care system as a whole and point to the fact that I've never really learned to care for my self in some very basic ways at all, maybe, just maybe I can begin to tackle this at a higher level than I've ever tried before.

Until today I've never much understood the motivation for wanting to be neat and tidy to a fault - I go through periods where I live like a wild animal, and I'm in one right now. I've never seen the point of doing certain basic chores if it's "just for me".

This morning though, I saw in a flash how this hinders every single aspect of my effectiveness, how it pervades all portions of my life and contributes to feelings of lethargy and hopelessness. My Inner Daddy reared his beautiful, bearded head for a moment then and I got it. Before I'd always had the thought that I was wasting time and energy doing these things for myself if there was no one there (such as a partner) to see them and praise me for being such a good boy.

In that daddy-flash, I deeply understood for the first time that there are two of me here in this body, somehow, and that "I" can do things for my "self". I and self can start to actually have a relationship. Seeing as how we're stuck with each other for the rest of our days :-)

I saw how stingy I've been with my very own self! I've been withholding ease and comfort from my very own self and giving in to self indulgence every time, the quick feel-good fix.

OK, since we already know how that feels, what about trying something new and different and actually expending some energy on some real self care? And finally, finally admit to this self of mine that I'm worth spending that kind of energy on me, even when there's no one else around to see it.

Radical.

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Val

2009-02-14T22:58:00.003-06:00

Had a great VD, did not receive any deliveries from STD :-) Heard a phenomenal a capella concert in Atlanta. A happy day :-)

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Love on the Gerbil Wheel

2009-02-12T23:30:00.000-06:00

For close to a year and a half, I've been in contact with a man via the internet. An amazing man with whom my soul really, really resonates. We share the same name and numerous life experiences. He's one year my senior, not my usual preference of Older Man. Or is he? He and I have joked that we've now become the old men we've always lusted after being in a relationship with.

We've had exactly one date, a chaste dinner in a little town one hour from his home, two from mine.

I think I've waited all my life for this man to show up, and yet now I find that I'm growing impatient. I said I wanted a long courtship. Which is, unfortunately, exactly what I'm getting. (Be careful what you wish for ...)

Man On Horizon's partner died last September, a man with whom he shared 26 years of life. I know it's too soon. And yet I long to jump right in. Mostly, at night, I long to just have someone in my arms again. It's been too many years since that was a regular thing.

I know I have things about my character that need a little attention: I tend to go through the occasional period when I live like a wild animal, and now is one of those times. Seems to happen in the Winter a lot. If you saw my house, you'd be appalled. Only my two close friends and my ex get to see my house when it's in this state. Maybe the wait is good, um, at least until I can clean up my house :-) and cosmically, maybe that's what this is all about: in both our lives, we've both been prone to just jumping in without looking or thinking. This time we're each doing both and taking it slowly.

Agonizingly slowly. Our one date was weeks ago, and it looks like at least another week before we can get another one in.

I despair.

And then I get an amazing e-mail out of the blue from him like I just received while writing this, and it makes the waiting more bearable. But I still pull my hair out.

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I Have Touched His Noodly Appendage ...

2009-02-12T22:47:00.000-06:00

"The universe was created by an all-powerful all-knowing being who came down to us in the form of a cosmic Jewish Zombie who was his own father who can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree."
-- every Christian in America
(courtesy of Angry Buscuit)
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The Siren Call of Ethanol

2009-02-12T22:30:00.000-06:00

A poem (nod to Ogden Nash)

The Siren Call of Ethanol

C2H5-OH,
How I love you so.
My health and happiness
do not,
though.

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Center

2009-02-12T22:00:00.002-06:00

Every now and then a client and I will chat as I'm working with them. Of late, our conversations have turned to me and my life changes, namely the transition out of software and into singer/massage therapist/shamanic practitioner. Some are baffled by this, and others understand it immediately. I simply say that I've stopped labeling myself as an X or a Y, and have simply begun making decisions and doing things which take me closer to my center, closer to what feels like the "real me".

The more I interact with others, the easier it seems to be to find my own center, my own balancing points. I can see so clearly when others don't have theirs, and am sometimes swayed by the moods of others. More recently though, I'm less and less thrown off by being in close proximity to the whimsical moods of others; I find it easier to say to myself, "I don't want to feel like that", and I stick to what is truly my own center.

I thought about this the other day when I sadly reflected that I don't really have a robust "posse" here. I have two very close friends, one gay man and one woman (married, with kids). I've got (well, I thought I had) great friends in the D.C. area who have a wonderful cadre of friends, many of whom I've met, many of whom I've kissed. I yearn for a circle of close men friends here, and have yet to be able to build that, and have frequently sort of pined for my friends in D.C.

Then the other day I realized that this thought, too, was taking me off-center: those boys never contact me. They love me fine and embrace me when I'm there, but the communication is pretty much one-way and all uphill for me. They're not, and never will be, my posse despite the fact that we love each other.

Once I sat with that for a half a day and really let it sink in, my yearning wobble stopped and I was back to spinning on my own center again, if not ecstatically happy, then at least content and utterly OK with the what is of my life and my friendships.

I've longed for a group of gay men to call my own to hang with and call "family". Haven't found 'em yet, but I do keep looking :-)

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Blue Meanies

2009-02-12T21:29:00.002-06:00

Got jumped on and roughed up a bit by a gang of the Blues this weekend. Not serious, just a little blue-ish for a day or two. I put it down to being tired from the trip back home from the incredibly snowy Land O' Cleve and the unearthly hour we had to leave the house in order to get to the airport, and then jumping right back in with regular work the minute I got home.

BUT, I did absolutely splurge and buy an iPhone the same day, and boy am I a (relatively) happy camper. I can at least check e-mail from my phone and respond back, my bare minimum requirement. The extras are just eye-candy icing on the cake and they make me happy. I haven't had a new toy in a while, and this one will keep me busy, I see. I'm lovin' the GPS capabilities!

Friday night my singing wife and her very crafty friend, Lydia, made a duct tape body form for me. It was quite the bondage experience and fun after I got used to the sensations of being bound. I kinda liked it. And mine is made out of red duct tape, so it looks all shiny and kind of latex-y. This is all so that I'll have a body form to help me fit shirts (which I've begun to make again) to my own body shape.

Getting creative and making things with my hands helps lift me out of the blues.

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Gospel of Thomas

2009-01-22T11:58:00.002-06:00

Boy, do I wish I had read this in my earlier years. It's what I believed all along anyway and would have spared me a bit of heartache and anguish.

...the Kingdom of God is inside of you, and it is outside of you. When you come to know yourselves, then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you who are the sons of the living Father. But if you will not know yourselves, you dwell in poverty, and it is you who are that poverty.

I am the light that shines over all things. I am everywhere. From me all came forth, and to me all return. Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift a stone, and you will find me there, ...

Saddleback, Saddlebacking

2009-01-21T20:07:00.002-06:00

I have no wish to redefine marriage. I'm much happier helping to redefine other things instead. From Dan Savage over at Savage Love:

My life's purpose over the last week was reading thousands of proposed new definitions for "saddlebacking" sent in by my readers. As with the new definition of santorum crafted by Savage Love readers ("the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes a byproduct of anal sex"), the new definition of "saddlebacking" has to be some act that 1) needs a name but doesn't already have one (we can't just rename "reverse cowgirl," people) and 2) is naughty enough to discomfort, say, a Reverend Warren, but something that actual people might actually do because that's the only way the actual word will actually get used.

So I've disqualified proposed definitions that were too literal ("putting an actual saddle on someone's actual back and actually riding them"), too gross ("to crap on someone's back and then sit on it, moving forward and back while making horse-riding-related noises like 'giddyap!' and 'whoa!'"), too complicated ("one person on all fours with a strap-on strapped to their midsection, a second person riding said strap-on, and a third person hitting the first person from behind while holding on for dear life/giving a handjob to the second person"), or too bitter ("when you give someone some kind of basic human right, like marriage, and then take it away again after a few months"). Here are the proposed definitions that made the cut:

1) Logically, if "barebacking" means having butt sex with no condom, then "saddlebacking" should mean having butt sex with a condom.

2) Saddleback (verb): to submit someone to any kind of humiliating, unreciprocal sex act, either literally or metaphorically, consented to by passive partner due to submissive/masochistic tendencies, desire for approval, or other darker motive. E.g., "I don't know why Obama is letting Rick Warren saddleback him into presiding over his inauguration."

3) The saddleback position involves placing your lubed dick between the butt cheeks of your partner. This position can be performed on your sides or on top of a facedown partner (maybe with a pillow under his or her hips). My favorite way of finishing up the saddlebacking is to lift up and come on my wife's sweaty back. The saddleback is a nice compromise position when your partner won't allow anal entry.

4) To saddleback is to rail against gay sex in public while secretly indulging in the same in private. Ted Haggard? Total saddlebacker. Larry Craig? Saddlebacker. Rick Warren? Probably a saddlebacker.

5) "Saddlebacking" should be the term for the phenomenon of Christian teens engaging in unprotected anal sex in order to preserve their virginities. "After attending the Purity Ball, Heather and Bill saddlebacked all night because she's saving herself for marriage." Please, please adopt this definition!

6) Saddleback (verb): to ejaculate on the back of a partner at the culmination of doggy-style anal sex.

7) Before being invited to give the invocation, Mr. Warren was most noted for his book The Purpose Driven Life. Therefore, "to saddleback" is to fuck with a purpose, i.e., to procreate. A heterosexual couple asked if they're trying to have children could reply, "No, we're not ready for kids yet, but we'll probably start saddlebacking next year."

Those are the nominees, ladies and gentlemen. But before we open the polls for a vote—you're going to pick the winning definition!—let me quickly handicap the candidates:

1) I like the idea that "sex" is understood to include condoms and that sex without condoms—bareback sex—needs a special term. But tons of people suggested that "saddlebacking" should be the opposite of "barebacking," so here it is.

2) Seems a bit tortured and unlikely to come into common usage, but I like the point the reader is making with this definition, so I included it.

3) Technically, this kind of assfuckery—butt-cheek fucking à la titty-fucking, with no actual penetration—is a form of frottage, but like a woman doing a man in the butt with a strap-on dildo (dubbed "pegging" by Savage Love readers), this particular brand of rubbing off could use a name of its own.

4) One of my favorites—but does a Haggard or Craig tumble out of the closet often enough for the term to come into use?

5) Hilarious—and an entirely appropriate way to honor Reverend Warren, who is a proponent of abstinence education, the "sex ed" that has convinced so many Christian girls and boys that buttfucking isn't actually sex.

6) A common move—and not just in porn—that could use a name.

7) Makes sense, so here it is. But I imagine Warren would approve of this definition—except when lesbians used it. (Even you, Melissa E.!)

Okay, Savage Love readers, "saddlebacking" is in your hands now. Vote for your favorite definition from the list of nominees by sending an e-mail to saddleback@savagelove.net. You must include "saddleback" and the number of your preferred definition in the subject line to have your vote count ("saddleback: 1," "saddleback: 2," etc.). Vote now!

Download the Savage Lovecast (my weekly podcast) every Tuesday at thestranger.com/savage.

mail@savagelove.net

My schedule is your plaything

2009-01-05T19:35:00.003-06:00

One unfortunate result of this erratic economy is that the frequency of no-shows and last-minute cancelers has gone up rather dramatically. I'm no fool: I know that people don't have extra spending money, or at least because their 401(k) savings plans have lost paper value, they perceive that they don't have money to spend. But last time I looked, salaries have maintained, most people have kept jobs here, and gas has gotten cheaper.

Wealth has never trickled down to me, but having my income cut certainly has. It does seem to be true that shit is the only thing that rolls down hill.

Being self-employed in a field I adore, the only thing I can think of is to cast a wider net, work harder at marketing, and get the word out that I'm here at all. I left a corporate software job and its concomitant stress a decade ago and I don't wish to return to that sort of daily life. Quirky as it is, I prefer the life I live that has less work in it. I don't prefer having the smaller income, but I sure like being loads happier and way less stressed which is *highly* valuable to me. And being single, I have no dependents so I can live rather simply and please myself.

Though this not-showing-up-without-calling and canceling-at-the-last-minute stuff is not pleasing me much right now. I work by appointment, which means that time is the actual commodity that I sell. My time. And after years of denying it, I'm coming to the inescapable conclusion that my time is quite worthy, indeed.

This hasn't been such a problem with clients in the past, but presently it has the feel of a lesson the Universe wants me to learn so it's being presented over and over again. I need to decide, without a shadow of a doubt, just how valuable I am to myself in order to be able to telegraph that to others. Self-worth, worthiness has always been a tough one for me, but I think that 2009 is the year to finally get it.

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I'm in love!

2009-01-04T18:51:00.005-06:00

My new love: a Mahalo Soprano ukulele! It's so cute. My dog has fleas.

I can play a C chord, a G chord, an F chord, a C7 chord and a G7 chord.

WooHoo! This is a ton of fun for $24.95!

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Mele Kalikimaka

2008-12-20T19:46:00.003-06:00

And here's one with house lights synchronized:

And a totally unrelated, hilarious one:

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Bah Ho Ho

2008-12-18T12:42:00.002-06:00

So I have a little ambiguity about this holiday. Sue me.

But seriously, I love Winter, the Solstice, Yule, and all of the other New Age wannabe holidays that have co-opted this time of year, like Christmas. I grew up Christian yet have always been more enamored of the celestial mechanics of the Solstice and the winter stars and constellations that appear in the night sky. Christmas is fine and Jesus was a nice guy and all (love the words attributed to him about love, not so hot on his followers or "his" bible), but there's something more deep and primal about the turning of the wheel of the year.

This year is a bit more special since during my healing intensive course back in September I was directed by my allies to do a Solstice vigil. It seems right to me to do that and I'm looking forward to it :-)

Cheers,
Raybob

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Personal Ad

2008-12-01T23:27:00.002-06:00

GWM, 46, seeks witty, well-read Sasquatch for intelligent conversation, moonlit walks, fireside chat and the occasional stalking of small woodland creatures. Must be a good dancer! I'm really good at the horizontal rumba. Not averse to roughing it, though I do enjoy the occasional flush toilet and hot running water. Your cave or mine?

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Downstream

2008-12-01T18:17:00.003-06:00

Regarding our feelings, in every moment we have two options: choose something that feels better, or something that feels worse.

Choosing 'better' is to emotionally go downstream, to go 'happier'.

Choosing 'worse' is to go against that emotional current and to go upstream.

I had a funny moment this morning while writing my Morning Pages. I was all torqued up about something, and then had the above thought, something that comes from the Abraham teachings. After my Eureka! moment, I let go of whatever it was I was wrangling with and thought of something nicer, something more downstream and immediately felt better, could take deeper breaths, relaxed. And at that moment the Alison Kraus song "Down to the River to Pray" started playing on the Starbucks' PA system :-) The words were pertinent:

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way!

The resonances about the river, the good ol' way, and being shown the way were, to say, a bit electric for me in that moment.

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New Roof, Days 1 and 2

2008-11-22T20:42:00.004-06:00

A hard, driving rain in early October resulted in the reveal of a huge roof leak. Thinking to get it patched prior to insulating the attic which apparently was never done in the Little House, I called an excellent carpenter friend who does remodels. After a 10-second trip up the ladder, he said, "you need a new roof".

At least one of the charms of living in a 375 sq ft house is that even a fancy schmancy metal roof doesn't cost too much. And it's such a pretty green, too! The roofing supplier, in business with his dad, didn't understand why I wanted this color. It was the only remotely acceptable shade that I could even get in our town. He kept trying to sell me the blue which he had in stock ...

We began work Friday, worked again today, and will finish tomorrow before the rains come Monday. Mr. Carpenter is teaching me to do major revamps to the house. Insulating and painting are next on the list.

To say that being on this roof scares me shitless is putting it mildly. The roof is so far gone that there's nothing to get traction on; shingles just disintegrate beneath your feet. And since the roof is set at a 45 degree angle, we've already overcome the coefficient of friction. Mr. Carpenter is like a monkey, and I'm so much more like a slug, sticking to any available surface. But I climb my ass up that ladder and screw those damn panels on nevertheless, clinging to what remnants I can find of furring strips and ridge and sanity. The metal is as smooth as a slide, and it's about a twelve foot drop or more from the edge to the most decidedly solid ground. I've been exhausted at the end of each day from the adrenalin expenditure. My mantra is frequently "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck"

But. My Little House loves it. He knows I'm putting some love into him at long last.

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Separate Church and State

2008-11-17T17:20:00.002-06:00

Tax the Catholic and Mormon ~~political machines~~ churches.

Give me civil union that is equal in every way to marriage in rights and privileges. It is my civil right.

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Anticipation wins!

2008-11-15T21:04:00.002-06:00

Two days ago I just plumb gave up on getting this workshop off the ground. Today, we had six people show up! I was expecting four. Once I just gave up and said, "let's just let it be as it's going to be", then the flowering began.

It's a good group of people, and ... there are six of them, yay! Who knew?

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Expectation vs. Anticipation

2008-11-12T11:51:00.003-06:00

Expectation gets me every time. It's my rigid adherence to a prescribed outcome. Expectation is seductive.

As my dad's mentor said to him in his first year of teaching voice,

Potential will break your heart;
You've got to focus on results.

In that equation, "potential" equals "expectation" for me; it's that expected outcome, the outcome you know can happen, will happen because you can just see it and taste it, must happen. And it breaks my heart every time. Or rather, I break my own heart over it.

Until today.

I'm arranging a Fundamentals of Shamanism course taught by my teachers, and over the ensuing weeks it's been like pulling teeth to get people to register for this thing. Several people over the months and years have expressed earnest interest, lots of interest, begging interest, and yet when it comes down to the wire they go silent, disappear into the woodwork, tell me that "things have come up".

Which of course I understand because, well, things do come up.

The two-day course costs less than $200. Way less if you'd registered earlier than this week.

Today, doing my Morning Pages, I had a lovely and easy revelation: it's time to get new friends, results-friends instead of potential-friends, and it's time to stop letting my expectations break my heart and instead move into the joy of anticipation.

It's time for me to forget about what I think this prize-winning rose that I'm growing and nurturing is going to look like, and instead focus on the miraculous process of the flowering. Watching a bud burst into flower in slow, everyday time makes it look to my eyes like a stately, orderly process. Time-lapse photography shows me something completely different: it's an explosive, chaotic event with lots of lurches and wiggly bits before the true grandeur of the finished flower erupts into this world.

The energy of anticipation is focusing on the process of the flowering rather than focusing on my limited idea of what the finished prize flower "should" be, must be for me to be happy. After all, they say, "the joy is in the journey" and not necessarily the achievement of its final destination.

Maybe the flowering of the art and practice of urban shamanism here in my town takes the form of a rare, shy, understory woodland flower rather than a showy and profuse inflorescence. And now, with that knowledge, maybe I can slow down my time sense enough to watch it wonderfully unfold in the way it was meant to be :-)

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Second Coming (out)

2008-10-30T19:20:00.003-05:00

The doors of another closet are smashed wide open. I had my interview today with the Faith and Values editor of our local paper. I knew I was ok when I drove to her rural home (near when I used to live) and saw that she had a "Coexist" bumper sticker on her car :-)

I got there at about 8:50, and left at about 11:45! We jabbered and talked and talked, and she asked good questions. And she observed and photographed me doing a small journey to connect with the beautiful, strong feminine spirit of a white oak tree just outside her home. The article comes out next Friday, the 7th. Hang on to your hats!

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Walk through beauty

2008-10-30T18:36:00.004-05:00

Do you dance, my friends? I've done a bit of ballroom stuff, zydeco, swing, things like that. And I love to waltz and two-step and can do two versions of true Viennese Waltz, not to mention Baroque dance (and read some notation!) as well. I'm not such an imaginative lead, but I'm a great follower. (The dance version of being a bottom?) I have a very fond memory of a year and a half ago two-stepping with my D.C. friends at the Hippo in Baltimore on a Sunday night. My favorite dance partner of the whole bunch of my friends was Chris, now single, who was leading as I was following. It was as if we were one dancer and one body; from the minute he took me in his arms we fit together like nothing I've experienced before or since. I literally was just filled with love for him and was taken to a different realm while we danced; like your "dual conversation" you mentioned having with the gentleman. I dream and daydream about it sometimes because it was so wonderful :-) Dancing together might be a lovely way to get to know each other.

Favorite foods? Smells? Things to do to amuse onesself?

Me? All food is good food :-) With the exception of beef tongue. The idea of that makes me, shudder, not want to eat! Carbs, especially breads make me blow up like a balloon, so I try and avoid those these days. For many reasons, I didn't cook much during my partnership with my Former, and now I'm learning the fun and joy of making good food. And the humor that is to be found in a kitchen disaster, too. I don't burn water anymore and am actually making some right good things to eat in my little kitchen. But again, ingenuity is sometimes lacking for me there. But I can wash a pot and a dish with the best of them.

When I was a kid growing up in Asheville, sometimes mom and dad would just take us up on the Parkway for a short way, especially when we were going home from church. I still love to do that kind of thing on occasion, just take a back road in a pretty section of the world and see where it takes me. I did that today after the interview and before going to see my friend David for lunch. I need more connection to the beautiful stuff around us. We walk through beauty with the eyes of our souls closed most days. Time to open those soul-eyes :-)

I love the smell of my beloved Blue Ridge mountains, especially when it is damp, cool and foggy. The smell of a dog, especially their earthy paws. The scent of a cat right after a sunny nap. The lingering smell of a loved one on a chair, in the bed, on the coat he was wearing this morning out in the cold. The perfume of an old-fashioned rose. The aroma of baking bread and the yeasty smell while it rises. Halloween :-) The insides of carved pumpkins as they char from the candle lighting them from within. Skunk (!!) Stones on a mountain. The heady whiff of healthy loam. Leather ;-) The smell of the sea, clouds above the treeline, the spray of a mountain stream as it laughs its way down a hill. The odor of growing things. My slight synesthesia gives me mixed-sense input sometimes: the symphony of a slowly swelling water droplet, and the tense expectant chord of its detaching and the in-my-head percussion of its final splat. The aria sung when a cat springs from the floor and lands with perfect ballistic grace, economy of style and no motion wasted. I never before really realized what all that was. Now, I watch a sunset, day turning into dusk and night as the grand music plays on in my head, the perfect soundtrack.

I think some of my favorite things right now consist of making new mistakes. I've made the old ones so many times; at least when I make new ones I know that I've moved territories a bit and I'm no longer stuck where I was.

P.S.

Sometimes I write a post that's really a love letter to you, in disguise. Yes, you.

In beauty may I walk.
All day long may I walk.
Through the returning seasons may I walk.

Beautifully will I possess again.
Beautifully birds . . .
Beautifully joyful birds.

On the trail marked with pollen may I walk.
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk.
With dew about my feet may I walk.

With beauty may I walk.
With beauty before me, may I walk.
With beauty behind me, may I walk.
With beauty above me, may I walk.
With beauty below me, may I walk.
With beauty all around me, may I walk.

In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk.

It is finished in beauty.
It is finished in beauty.

~ A Navajo Indian Prayer of the Second Day of the Night Chant (anonymous).