Listening To My Life

Saying goodbye to the dress

It's taken me a week to really process this and be able to write about it, and still I'm not sure that I'm especially clear-thoughted enough to be doing it. You can let me know.

Last weekend brought with it a rearranging of our bedroom closet. In doing that, I decided to decide what to do with my wedding dress.

I'd put it there nearly 20 years ago, thinking, as most new brides probably do, that maybe I'd wear it again (vow renewal?), or a child might want to wear it (not my own, certainly, as I never planned for those). And there it's sat--or rather, hung--in the dark, in the back corner, still as could be, with no real energy emanating from it at all, despite it's beautiful design, and amazing hand beadedness.

It was even still when I pulled it out of the corner, and into the light of our bedroom. I held it at eye level, looking at it as if it would suddenly tell me what to do. I finally decided to put it on, and that's where the stillness ended.

What flooded back to me were intense and vivid memories of our wedding, and of our reception. Of how I'd flubbed my vows. Of the love that filled the space that night. Of people who were there who are no longer alive. And then, the juxtaposed memories of my first dance as a married woman with Dominic, and the last dance I ever shared with my father--who died two months later.

At the time, of course, I didn't know that it would be our last dance. If I had, I might have paid closer attention to the details of it. Of how his tux felt under my cheek as I rested it against his shoulder, or of how his lips felt as he kissed my head.

I shuffled in to D's office, like a little girl playing dress-up, holding the dress together at the back because it's now way too big for me. He loved me up as he saw me standing there, tears streaming down my cheeks. He didn't say much--he didn't need to.

Back in our bedroom, I slowly decided what to do with the dress. As I hung it back on its hanger, I did up all the buttons on the back. There were 19, I noticed... and a twentieth if I counted the button for the bustle. I found it odd that I didn't know that, then realized that the only times I'd been near the buttons were when the dress was on me and someone else was tending to them. Still.

I put it back in plastic, and hung if off D's top dresser drawer. I slowly sunk into our bed, where I looked and looked at it.

The decision? To give it to Good Will.

The hope? That some beautiful fat girl who couldn't afford such a dress would buy it and love it, and maybe she would have children to give it to. 

It felt right, that decision. And when I'd had my fill of the dress, I put it in another bag, and sat that by the front door.

Later that afternoon, D and I drove the dress and some other gently used items to the donation center. I couldn't bring myself to do anything but stand by the car and let D take it all over to the platform. I watched as the attendant picked up the bag I'd put the dress in, and carried it out of sight to deposit it in the trailer. For a moment, I wanted to run over, tell the man I'd made an awful mistake and get it back--for what, I haven't a clue. But I didn't. Instead, I took a deep breath, turned and got into the car, and drove away, whispering a silly thing that I used to say as a little girl, anytime I left behind a place or person I'd loved..."Goodbye, dress... I'll miss you."

Have I been ignoring, or listening, to my life?

When I started this blog, it was with the intention of having a place to more fully and transparently share myself than I tend to do on my strictly biz blog. The stated purpose?

"My exploration of bringing what matters more fully into my every day, walkabout life."

And I've done that, even if I've not blogged it. My life is rich, and full, and I couldn't ask for more.

But I was realizing tonight that with all the varied places I post about myself on a regular basis (Twitter, Facebook, and now, a new blog), it feels like there's not much left to say over here.

That may not be true, but I'm exploring that possibility.

Whatever the truth, I haven't posted here much. And I'm guessing that it's time to step it back up, or back it on down.

More as I know it... and maybe there'll even be a post or two along the way :)

my exploration of bringing what matters more fully and richly into my everyday, walkabout life.

I wonder

I am so grateful to the amazing Trish Bruxvoort Colligan for reading this aloud on our Self Care Salon call last night, and then for reading it again just so I could take it all in.

I wonder

I wonder what would happen if
I treated everyone like I was in love
with them, whether I like them or not
and whether they respond or not and no matter
what they say or do to me and even if I see
things in them which are ugly twisted petty
cruel vain deceitful indifferent, just accept
all that and turn my attention to some small
weak tender hidden part and keep my eyes on
that until it shines like a beam of light
like a bonfire I can warm my hands by and trust
it to burn away all the waste which is not
never was my business to meddle with.

- Derek Tasker

Quotation I love

"Maybe the more we try and will ourselves to states of bliss, the more
confused we get. To the point where we don't recognize ourselves.
Instead, we just keep smiling, trying like hell to be the happy people
we wish we were. Until eventually it hits us...it's been there all along.
Not in our dreams or hopes, but in the known, the comfortable, the familiar."
-- Grey's Anatomy

Culinary adventures with E

Things I can apparently now eat:

• Brussel sprouts
• Scallion jun
• Kalbi dolsot
• Guacamole
• Tortilla chips (I was reticent about trying these because of the misadventure with Terra chips!)

I can absolutely say we were both very happy with the outcome of the adventures. Especially since the Christmas lamb (the one I didn't write about), had me in trouble for about an hour scared crapless.

Protein shakes are still easiest (thank God for Starbuck's Vivannos!), btw.

And cause I know you wanna know: 85lbs :)

As an aside, having nothing, whatever, to do with the culinary adventure, Ren told me that I'd find it utterly remarkable when I started noticing bones and such that I'd not seen in years (or maybe never!). 

O
M
G
!!

• I have elbows sharp enough to be registered weapons
• My wrist bone is visible, and my wrist is 1.25 inches smaller
• I had no idea that a hip bone is as BIG as it is
• I can poke my organs. Never ever happened before
• I am utterly convinced that someone could dig his fingers under my rib cage and lift me off the ground by it.

Do skinny people even know this stuff is going on in their lives? Or does one have to be more like me to really see/get it?  

Let your love show

Popping around the blogosphere to catch up with some of my favorite women, I stopped for a visit with Elena. Her post about this sticker she saw made me think that I never told my own similar story.

 

 

I shared it there with her in a comment, but wanted to share it here with you.

 

On the day I learned my mother had died, Dawn met me at one of our fav lunch haunts for Soothing Lettuce Wraps, Salt and Pepper Calamari, and Kung Pao Chicken—all the comfort foods needed on a day like that day.

 

Out on the parking lot after lunch, she wrote, in lipstick, a message to me on my car window. Here’s the snap I took of it:

 

 

I thought I'd keep it there for a week or so, and imagined that rain and other elemental forces would ultimately wipe it off. But six months later, it’s still there (Dawn did just rejuvenate it a bit earlier this month, and it looks as good as the day she first did it).

 

I never realized how truly warm and happy I would feel every time I see it. Nor did I realize how many people would engage me about it. But I’ve been to countless banks and other drive-through places where, upon seeing it, someone will say something like, “I love you, too!” or, “Awww…thank you for loving me!” and thereby make my day (and doubtless his or her own, as well).

 

I had to have some body work done on the car back in the spring, and when I went to collect it, the body-shop owner said to me, “When I washed your car, I was going to wash that window, but decided that was a pretty important thing you have on it, so I washed around it.” 

 

The point? Love matters. People love love. They love talking about love. They love connecting around love. And given the chance, they’ll respond to it—even around absolute strangers. What can possibly be better than that?

A change in the way I want to experience Bday celebrations

My birthday is a week past, but the celebration isn’t yet over. People I love who couldn’t be with me on the actual date of my birth are still making plans to see me to do just that. What’s not to love, right? And I do love it.

To me, birthdays are the most important days of the year. To me, someone's birthday is a day on which to shout out loud how delighted we are that someone else exists, and is in our lives. Sure, sure, we should let people know how we feel about them every day. I absolutely agree with that. And, I think we can also have one special celebration day (or in my case, it seems to be a birthday month!) for each of them when we very pointedly show them how much they matter.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a post for a blog I no longer write, in which I said that I’d shattered a common practice in my life—that of providing loved ones with lists of gifts I’d like to receive for special occasions. It seemed to me that anyone who loves me ought to be infinitely able to think of a gift I would treasure, and in doing that, the gift would become even more treasured. So I told everyone I would make no more lists. Since then, including this birthday, I’ve been gifted with some of the most heartfelt and remarkable things!

But this birthday, I had an experience that’s calling me to shatter another common practice—that of telling loved ones what I want to do to celebrate my birthday. I realized, in a big way, yesterday, that what I want is for people who want to celebrate with me to plan something for me, and then take me to do it. I mean, it’s great to get to do exactly what I want, eat dinner where I want, meet for group lunches at the restaurant of my choice, based on my whim, but until yesterday, I didn’t consciously realize how much I dislike that.

What showed it to me was that E invited me up to the city for dinner. I arrived shortly after 3p, he met me at the train, and whisked me uptown to the Frick. I’d not been to the Frick, and not being a museum-loving kinda gal, I wondered why in the world he would have taken me there. But it was magical for many reasons, including the Garden Court, where we sat and talked for quite some time.

Leaving the Frick, he took me to dinner at Taj—another place I would never have ended up on my own and am oh-so-happy to have experienced. It’s a very sexy, sultry, delicious sort of place with a zen-like, hedonistic feel (if you can imagine that). We sat in a “cabana,” which is a private area with a sofa with lots of squishy pillows, and had a remarkable dinner. At dinner, he gave me a pair of exquisite earrings. I was just all aglow at being loved so very much.

There was to be more fun in store for me, but we dallied so much at Taj that there really was just enough time to get me back to Penn Station and on my train home.

All the way home I thought about my other loved ones, and our celebrations. They were all very special, and I chose how they'd be, as I'd pretty much done all my life. I chose where, and when, and what. And E’s gift of planning and taking me to such special places made me realize how much I want that level of celebration. I want someone to plan the lunch; I don’t want to have to do the planning.

And part of that is because when I have to do the planning, I tend to plan around what I already know, and what I think will make everyone else happy. I’d prefer for someone to pick an activity, or place that maybe s/he knows about, or has heard about and investigated, and thinks I would enjoy. Then the person could tell me where to go, or better yet, pick me up and take me there. What a delicious thing that would be!

I’m thinking that, at least in America, probably the models I’ve followed are common. I’ve just decided I want a different level of experience on the "celebration of me" days. And it’s a gift I want to give to those I love, too.

Now to figure out whose birthday is coming next, so I can get to planning! :)

How do you celebrate? What models do you and your family follow? I'd be interested in hearing more, so please leave a comment. :)

Happy Birthday to meeeeee!!

Ok – so perhaps I was overly optimistic when I decided to go see my mother’s estate file on my 45th birthday (last Friday). A couple of friends asked me in advance, “Are you SURE you want to do that…on your BIRTHDAY?” And although I had to admit that there was something perverse about going to see the estate file of my dead mother on the day those I love celebrate my being brought in to this world, I really felt moved to do it. So D and I went off to the Register of Wills office.

And I was surprised at how easy it is for anyone to look at an estate file. At least here in Baltimore, if you have the estate file number, you simply walk in to the file room, sit down at the computer, plug that number into a form, press Enter, and presto-magico, the estate file appears in all its glory.

I actually expected to have been purposefully written out of my mother’s will, much in the same way my father wrote my half sister out of his (“And to my daughter, J, I leave $1 and all the love she wouldn’t accept from me in my lifetime”). What I wasn’t prepared for, and the things that hit me hard were that I wasn’t mentioned at all (except that I fell in the broad category of “heirs in law”), that the will said that she had no children at the time of her death, that my mother’s signature on the will didn’t bear any resemblance to the signature I’d known my whole life, that the executor (and heir to my mother’s estate) and her husband (also an “interested party”) were both witnesses to the will, and that the signatures for both of them looked…odd.

I tried to explain to E what I meant by “odd,” and ultimately came up with this: both of their signatures looked like they were done with their opposite hands. You know what that looks like, right…if you were to try signing your name in cursive with the hand you don’t usually write with? Yeah… that’s what their signatures looked like. Anyway—it was all just strange, and felt off to me. And not that it ultimately matters a whit, but I genuinely can’t help wondering if that was, in fact, her will. I thought doing this would be one more bit of closure, but instead, found that it just swirled some stuff up for me, giving me more questions than answers.

On the upside, the rest of my day—in fact, the rest of my birthday weekend—was filled with immense love and joy. Happy Birthday to me, indeed! 45 is going to ROCK!

Catching up

I’ve been away a long time. So long, in fact, that someone posted a comment to say, “ANOTHER DEAD BLOG!” Ouch.

Not dead; not really. Just so much going on in my life that listening to it and living it has been just about all I’ve been able to do. Writing about it just hasn’t been in the cards.

And now, I’m stuck wondering if I should just pick up from this point, or try to fill in some of what’s been happening since I last wrote. It seems as though catching up would be difficult, at best. But not offering up anything of what’s happened would make anything I share now seem like something’s missing (kinda like when you run to the kitchen without pausing a movie and then try to figure out the details shared while you were gone).

So…I’ll give catching up a shot, and we’ll see where we end up.

When last I wrote, D had left for Aruba, and I was feeling much better following some kick-ass massage and Reiki with N. That was a Saturday, and the next day brought a life-altering experience I never expected.

I’d gone to New York to spend the day with E. Now, I’ve not written before about E, because—well, I don’t know that there’s a good reason, really, except that E, and the relationship we have, is difficult to talk about in any way that makes sense, I think, to anyone except he and I.

But to try to give you a snippet of this—E is someone with whom I share the most remarkable connection and bond. According to J, E and I have a soul agreement, and have been together before in other lifetimes. She gave it a name: Safety of Heart. I never would have come up with this, but the moment she said it I burst into tears for its utter perfection. I cried because E absolutely is the safest person in the world for me. Our relationship is such a sanctuary of love and peace and comfort for us both…and beyond that, I really don’t know what to say about it.

So I’d gone off to New York to spend the day with E. This was the first time he and I would be spending that much time together, alone. And I was excited to see where he took me and what we’d do together. And although what we did was fun, the life-altering thing that happened was that I realized just how deep the connection and bond we shared actually is. How amazingly vast the love is. It’s deeper and more vast than anything I’ve ever experienced with anyone, ever. And the realization was, for me, all at once, like getting beaned over the head with a bat (in that there was no way for me to miss it), and a soft, gentle unfolding thing (in that it didn't come as a jarring realization).

I remark on it with such superlatives because I honestly can’t think of another way to even try to explain it, him, or us to you. Oh, wait. Let me share a promise E made to me, and maybe you’ll get it. He and I share a private blog, where we write to each other and explore the connection we share. In it, he wrote to me:

While I live (and beyond as we know), you will never be unloved,
un-cared for, uncherished, un-watched over, un-listened to,
untreasured, unnurtured, or truly alone.

Now do you get it? I sure hope so, cause I don’t know what else to share to begin to get close to the heart of it all. :)

So I returned home from New York that same night, with a calm and a peace I’d not felt in a very long time—including before D left for Aruba. And it continued through the week until D came home. He had a good time, was terribly tan (lil growl), and we were both so happy he was home. Hearing about E, he seemed to actually understand it. In reality, all of my closest friends seem to actually understand it. That surprised me because J had told me that people wouldn’t understand it—that it doesn’t conform to expected relationship norms, and it would be too difficult for most people to get. Maybe my friends get it because they’re not “most people?” Maybe they’re in my life because I need folks around me who can get esoteric woo-woo stuff? Whatever the case, I’m thankful they all get it and don’t seem to find it at all odd that I have a relationship of this sort, with a man, and with a man who isn’t D.

April really was a whirl-wind. After D came home, life went on as usual, then E came to DC for four days for a conference, and I went with him. What a grand time we had. How much further forward our relationship leapt! If it’s at all possible, the level of my astonishment grows daily over the immenseness of this…of its powerfulness.

I was super happy that Dawn got to meet him. D already knows E. Now almost all of the very most important people in my life know one another. That makes me happy.

The rest of April was spent doing two things…nurturing/growing/dealing with relationships, and dealing with the need to have a trench dug under our apartment. UGH.

It seemed that, over the years, a sewer pipe had sunken and bulged, causing problems for other units in our building. The sunken and bulged part was under us. I wrote about it over on Virtual Moxie—about how I made it as effortless for us as it could possibly be. We moved out for a week, and stayed in corporate housing. The apartment we were in was very nice, we were able to keep the cats with us, and I have to say that if we had to be away from home, it really provided the best possible scenario for us. Back at home, they did what they needed to do, gave us new carpet, repainted for us, and gave us a new bathroom floor (they ended up having to dig that up, too, which they didn’t expect). We moved back in, Dawn helped me unpack (which was actually great fun!), and life went back to normal. Well, normal for us, at least.

The last Friday in April, Dawn had an editing party, and I was sooo happy to participate and support her. You can read more about that here, and here. Dawn just blows me away with her courage. How lucky am I to have such a best friend, huh?

And now it’s May. And Spring is finally here in the Baltimore area. Pollen covers everything, and we’re seeming to have our “April showers” this month instead, but I am infinitely happy to have the many sunshiny days.

In the meantime, and when I probably needed her most (to date), J was on her own journey. Not dissimilar to Carla’s move, J, moved by spirit to live near the water, sold her condo in Boulder, packed all her stuff in storage, drove to the west coast, and looked around the Bay area to find a new home.

The reason I tell this story, besides wanting to give J some serious props for doing what most people would never, ever do, is to tell this little tale.

My fabulous and amazing therapist, Mark Shuler, lives near Carmel. On the phone with him on a Wednesday, I told him about J, what I was learning from her in our work together, and how amazing she is. He looked at her website, and said to me, “I need to know her.” I suggested he write to her, and on that very Friday, he sent me email with the subject line: Not a good pic of me, but it tells a story intuitively and therapeutically. It was a pic of he and J!

I was utterly dumbfounded that in less than two days since I first mentioned her to him, he’d made it work to meet her (heck, even I haven’t met her!). Apparently he’d written to her, she’d replied, he toured her around Carmel and environs, and they’d passed a very nice few hours together.

Synchronicity is just the grandest.

And I guess that one sentence sums up for me what this last month has been about—synchronicities, and exploring what comes of them. A lot comes of them when you’re paying attention. And I sure try to—even when it means that paying such attention doesn’t lead to my blogging as much as I might want to.

I am such a comfort whore

My closest friends know how true that is.

If it's not comfortable, I don't want to know about it, much less experience it. Life's just too short.

I used to write about it now and then in my old blog, and for a time, even had a blog devoted to all things comfortable and comforting (I still haven't taken it down, so although there's nothing new there, if you care to see it, look here). I just don't seem to do very well with blogs that are tightly focused, and as happened with that one, I get bored doing only one topic, and move on.

One of my absolute favorite things, though, is amazingly comfortable/comforting hotels. For a hotel to qualify, it has to be both of those things, and be beautiful, welcoming, and offer a high quality of service. The one thing it cannot be is snotty or pretentious; pretending to be more than it actually is (and that, btw, usually is transmitted to guests via the hotel staff; I look for a staff that's been trained to make everyone feel welcome and valued).

Right now, for me, there's just one hotel on the list, and that's The Benjamin in New York. It's just the most delicious place!!!

But I suspect I've found another here in Vegas, and I'm already drooling at the prospect of coming back to stay there and actually find out if I'm right.

I've been in every major hotel here in the course of my visits, and really haven't been overly impressed with any of them. But today, I walked into Wynn, and was blown away. It's funny, too because I haven't heard much about it, and the one person I had heard from didn't seem impressed.

I, on the other hand, was utterly blown away.

There's a feeling I got the instant I walked through the door that I just wanted more of (there's the whore part). And I was fascinated by the decorative detail throughout the public spaces. Nothing about any of the spaces was without fabulous use of color and detail. Nothing was cold or sterile in the least. Even as I was surrounded by very high end stores (like Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton, and Manola Blahnik) where I would never shop, I didn't feel out of my element or as I've felt in other places that, "this isn't the place for me." In fact, every time I turned around I found another surprise to delight me--a wooden tub in a corner with flowers floating in water, gorgeous "non-traditional" chandeliers in the Esplanade (shopping area), restaurant menus that would keep any foody insanely happy for months, marble floor inlaid with mosaic flowers, sparkling lights in trees leading out of Reception, curved escalator, amazing use of light through monsterously huge doors and windows, a bar that uses parasols for it's decor (and name!) --it just never seemed to end. Here are a few snaps to show what I mean:

I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out what it is about Wynn that fascinates me so. And I have it....it's whimsical. Gorgeous, elegant, refined, top-shelf, and whimsical. I felt invited to be there, and called to play. And that's a good thing, to me. A great thing, actually. What I realized it's missing, here in this big beautiful gaudy town, is a theme. There are no sirens, no canals, no living statues, no dancing fountains, no knights, no slanted pyramid rooms. It's just a gorgeous, inviting hotel with plenty to do and see. Brilliant, that!

Oh, and back here at the hotel, I went to the website for the first time. Go. It's another welcoming thing--and you'll understand when you see it. I especially love that Steve Wynn's greeting on the main page talks about how the site has "surprises" for you to find. See? Whimsy and an invitation to play, even on the site. Yay!!

If you've been and stayed at Wynn, I'd love to hear your experiences. Before I leave Vegas, I'm going to try to arrange to see one of the suites for a retreat I lead; I think Wynn could be a magical next place to have it. :)

You Can Heal Your Life--the movie

Last night, D and I went to a screening of the new Hay House film, “You Can Heal Your Life” (see the info/trailer). Our massage therapist, Nancy, had invited us to come to Ojas (voted Baltimore’s best Yoga studio--yay!) for it, and we were excited (ok, I was excited, and D was along for the ride, but he ended up liking it well enough).

If you’ve not heard of it, this is an inspirational film based on Louise Hay’s book by the same name. In it, Louise and other metaphysical and self-help authors and experts (like Cheryl Richardson, Cristiane Northrup, Gregg Braden, Doreen Virtue, Mona Lisa Schulz, Gay Hendriks—who also wrote and produced the film, and Esther Hicks) share their experiences and thoughts about what people can do to heal their lives.

Like every other Hay House product I’ve ever seen, it’s beautifully done, and visually stunning. If you’re new to Hay’s work, it’s a perfect introduction. If you’re not new to her work, it’s still vastly worth the purchase price, as not only will you get the reminder of her work, but four hours of interviews with the other folks in the movie, and an interactive affirmations tool (there are two versions of the movie—the extended version has the extras, and that's the one I like to, above).

I loved it, and it’s called me to go back through the book and rework the exercises—I haven’t read the book for five years, and it’s time to pull it off the shelf and get busy.

If you’ve seen the movie, and/or read the book, will you please share your experiences in a comment? I’d love to know your thoughts!

And…I’ve noticed that Louise Hay and friends are taking their show on the road (so to speak—no disrespect intended by that remark!), and will be in New York in November. I think I’d like to go—is anyone else interested?

Wait...

It's not, in fact, enough.

When all is said and done, only this is truly enough:

I love you

We have not come to take prisoners

Via Carla, comes this amazing piece. It speaks so loudly to me on several levels--mostly with regard to my most important relationships, and the core of who I know myself to be.

Carla said she'd love to paint it on her office wall. I want to remember to paint it on my soul.

We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.

We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.

Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.

Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.

We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
"O please, O please,
Come out and play."

For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,

But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom and
Light.

~Hafiz

On being precious

Things are changing in my life, and as a result, I am changing. Or, maybe it's the other way 'round.

The Law of Attraction would say that as I become more Attractive, I attract better people, things, and situations. Mike Dooley, whose work can be summed up as "Thoughts become things," would say that my thoughts are drawing better people, things, and situations to me. My friend C might say that as I show myself capable of handling and being responsible with better people, things, and situations, God is sending them my way. However it's happening, I'm glad that it is.

Of the changes, the one I think I like best is the decision I made to have no one in my life on more than a cursory level who doesn't see me as being utterly precious. More, seeing me that way isn't enough--showing me that I'm precious is critical. Words are nice; words plus actions are the best.

Over the past several years, I've purged from my life several people who shouldn't be here--most significantly, my mother. I know the peace of putting to rest relationships that are draining and rotten to the core. In considering this most recent decision about my life, I've not yet thought of anyone currently in my life that I need to let go of. What's important now is deeply considering who to let in, and being willing to bless them and send them on their way should they show themselves needing to go. :)

Recommended Resources:
1. The Portable Coach, by Thomas Leonard
Learn about Attraction in a way that is easy to understand and integrate into you life.
2. Notes From the Universe from Mike Dooley
A daily, personalized email blast that will help you remember the "awesome power you possess for the creative manipulation of "all things time and space" - especially your happiness!"