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It was hypnagogic to say the least, watching her blood pressure fall with each automatic inflation and calculation.  Starring through dried contact lenses at familiar numbers. My background allowed me an understanding which most daughters may not have had the luxury,  She was septic. I knew it before I called 911. I knew it the moment her temperature rang 102.8 as she shook under five blankets obsessed with how chilled her internal organs felt. I also knew what we were concerned about although no one had said it yet. Shock. A multi-organ system failure. The blood pressure drops, the heart rate increases and a loss of consciousness marks a time to stop fucking around. As I spat out the communal concern, some surprise feel across their faces. It was okay. They seemed to breath a little easier; a pressure was released. I understood. The nurse in me stepped forward moving lines, checking numbers, suggesting interventions, and explaining to her what was going on and why she needed to stay under an ice blanket. It was quiet and about twelve hours into our emergency room adventure when the daughter in me gently reminded the whole of factual possibilities. The unthinkable could happen here, it happens all the time. People go in for routine procedures and don't come back out. Like a bad Grey's Anatomy episode, "But she only had the hiccups." It was a surreal moment. What stands out the most is how I stood up, and I breathed. There were no dramatics. There were no pity parties or reaching out to somehow alter this experience making it more acceptable, easier. I was present, I was calm. I did pace though. Movement helps me think, it keeps me grounded. I paced five steps this way, four steps that way. I stood on a crag I had escorted so many others down. I stood sober and exposed as I realized that one day, my mother would also join the many who had passed on from this life to the next. That one day, her heart would cease to beat and her chest would cease to rise. Knowing you will one day loose your mother and watching what appears to be a generated preview offer two very different perspectives. I wondered what that moment would be like; I wondered if this was that moment. It was here the tears found their way into my experience.

With Grace & Gratitude...

For the Love of Passion

Yoga sounds good right now. Sunday. There is a basic yoga class on Sunday. I'm at Biggby. As much as I love my office space, it's a nice change sometimes. I am without direction at the moment. Few "topics" I'd like to write about, but nothing really tugging at my muse. It's just nice to be here, writing. I admitted my first piece of writing last night to an online distributor of various collections on social media, Thought Catalog. I wrestled with it for a while, which piece would be best? What should the title be? Should I have a pen name? etc. Finally, I let it go. I took a step. I submitted it. It's my most recent piece, based on my feelings surrounding my family dynamics and how I exist within them. I had that brief thought of, what if this hurts someone's feelings? What if my mother? My Aunt? My cousin sees this? But is it a true expression of how I felt? Yes. There will be times in my writing career when people will be discriminatory, critical, and take things personally. Do I allow that to deter me from sharing my passions? No. I was asked the question yesterday in a book what my deepest dreams were. What do I want to do with my writings? She said many of us writers don't know. Me? I want to write books. I want to write articles. I want to write books that open people's minds and hearts. Books that inspire people to grow, be kind, and gracious. A sharing of experiences and thoughts that expand someone's consciousness. That is the mark I wish to leave on the world. To bring about more connection, more reflection, more healing, more joy, and more peace.

I'm definitely feeling more  decisive lately. Stronger emotionally and energetically but softer overall. A gentleman told me a few days ago that I was very kind, and to continue being myself. What a beautiful compliment. One of the best I've ever received. Giving much thought to the qualities I admire, to embody them myself, and help cultivate them in others. To surround myself with people who exude these same qualities and amplify other positive attributes. Patience. How grateful I am for learning that practice.

"Become one with your practice, your eight-fold path. Embrace it as though it were the lover you had waited for your entire life. Run with it, swim with it, sink with it, soar with it. Sail and sail hard..." - Geri Larkin

To Fran, To Regis. To Grandpa Dick. Your presences have not gone unnoticed these last few days. Thank you.

Letting It All Go

It's much more difficult to push someone out of your life because of who they are, than what they've done.

It's as if you don't really have a reason. It's more personal. There is no anger. It's just truth. It's a slow and painful realization that they are not healthy for you. And out of love for yourself, you choose to walk away, pull away, or create a wall between you and them. And that's okay. We stick with people out of love for them. But what about love of ourselves? It is not selfish. I would be in the same fucking place I was 10 years ago or worse had I not chosen to be "selfish" and love myself.

I respect people. I support who they are and the choices they make. I honor boundaries and wishes. Because I desire the same. I expect the same. And if someone cannot do that for me, I choose to not have them in my life. Good intentions mean so little compared to action. I do not pay for people's poor choices. I do not enable unhealthy behaviors. Being of blood relation DOES NOT give you a free pass to hurt me or inhibit my growth in a positive direction.

I surround myself with people who respect others. Who focus to raise them up, empower them, support them. To give them the freedom to become who they are, to allow them follow their own path. I choose to surround myself with people who strive to become better, who ask themselves the hard questions. People who overcome adversities. Who invite humility and grace. Who accept help as only a temporary tool to get themselves to a greater goal. THESE are the people I want in my life. These are the characteristics I have embodied, and put forth in the world to help empower all people, Not just friends, family, or people I know. But everyone.

I believe helping and empowering people are two different things. And there is beauty in allowing someone to hit rock bottom. Sometimes it is there where their answer lies. Sometimes it is at the bottom, in their created darkness they become willing to see things differently. It often allows them to see their own strength, to find their fight, their humility, their connection to something greater. It is ALWAYS our choice to remain where we are or move forward. I believe in allowing people take themselves to this place.. But also believe in not letting them take me there, too.

With Grace & Gratitude...

Transformation Continues...

It is one of the most quiet and still nights I've seen in a very long time. Aside from my occasional sniffle that started this morning, the day before I board a plane for Salem, MA. I've been having trouble sleeping the last 3 nights at least.  Struggling to feel tired. A part of me wants to go sit in the living room and blog, but this room, "my office", is by far my most favorite place in this house. There is something incredible about these old hardwood floors under my feet and open space behind me, still small enough to feel intimate and safe.

Let it all go.

There's my quote. The divine message that has been coming to and fro within my consciousness. My usual beginning. Let it ALL go. That's more what it sounds like when in resonates within my psyche. The anger. I'm letting go of the anger I've held associated with a certain of my relationship. I'm letting go of the anger I've held associated with my present physical body weight, shifting my focus. There is healing happening. I can feel it. Something inside of me whispering to be patient, be quiet. Be still and be brave. Just breathe. Move through it, steadily, gracefully. Keep moving. Breathing into those spaces I have long ignored. Asking only for clarity and next right action. A surrender I have yet to feel until now. Letting it all go. What does that feel like? A long awaited permissive allowing. Control your anger; restrain your impulses; keep your faith firm. This still applies. So very, very quiet.

With Grace & Gratitude...

For the Love of Birthday Cake

"I want to start a non-profit organization that takes cake to the homeless on their birthdays." And that was how this started.

I love cake. And not any cake, but birthday cake, on or within a day or so of my birthday. I'm a pretty calorie conscious, health conscious individual, but have no shame on my birthday week. There is something glorious about it. Playful, innocently joyful. It's colorful, and sweet. And you get to mix it with ice cream. It's your special day, and should be all about you. And I usually make sure mine is, not in a narcissistic, fuck everybody else kind of why, but a shoulder shrugging grin, yes, it's my birthday kind of way, you're welcome.

There were a few birthdays when money was tight, I was getting older, and decided I was okay if I never got another birthday present. I didn't want anyone to feel bad or not come and join the fun because they didn't have money for a gift. As long as there was cake, ice cream, and the people I loved I was a happy camper.

My birthday is actually tomorrow. But I already have two cakes. I homemade confetti with vanilla frosting, lots of sprinkles, and blue writing. A second Kroger cake, whipped frosting, chocolate, and a flower. That one had red writing I think, just incase you were wondering. Both fantastic. I'll be 29. As I sat gleefully, eating my fourth piece of the day and virtually nothing else, I thought of why this was my favorite part of my birthday. Well, you get a whole cake! With your name on it! Whatever kind you like, however you like it! Usually. Unless you don't. Unless you have no one to celebrate it with, unless you have no money to buy a cake, or unless you have no where to enjoy it. "Homeless" was a broad term I used this evening as I thought of how everyone should feel special on their birthday. Everyone should delight in their favorite sweet treat with their name on it, with at least one person who loves them. There was a seriousness in my heart when I wondered how I could do that.

I'm convinced birthday cake on our special day does something for the soul. Somehow it feeds our inner child and strengthens our Light.  God knows the world needs more Light; how can I bring it more cake?

With Grace & Gratitude...

Ramblings of a Sunday Afternoon

What is it that I want to do with my life? I'm almost 30. I am secure financially. I'm secure romantically and emotionally. I have a good support system. What mark is it that I want to leave on the world? What are my hearts deepest desires? What are my gifts? And how can I express them? I'm almost 30. A surreal understanding. It is entirely up to me how I handle my experiences and how I interact with the world and people in it. I am no child. I am dependent on no one to be in this world. *I* am truly my only obstacle. I am not starting over on anything, I am not getting sober, I am no longer waiting on nursing school to be finished, or waiting to get settled in my new job. I am in my life. Fully and able bodied. Both feet on the ground, totally submerged and living this life. So how do wish to be in this world? How can I make the most of each day? These are the questions I've begun asking myself. This is were I'm at.

It is empowering. This place. Not sure I've been here before, but God am I grateful for it. Still asking, What is required of me right now?

With Grace & Gratitude...

Write

I am always writing.

I write in my head all day long. About experiences, feelings. thoughts, perceptions, opinions... I mean the words literally start in my head as if I were typing wishing I had a computer in front of me.   I am a writer. I have been a writer since as long as I can remember. Sixth grade I broke down sentence diagrams with delight and perfection. Straight lines, commas, preposition or noun? I loved it. I've always been a poor speller, but that doesn't seem to be path altering obstacle, thank God for spell check, and auto correct (unless its on my iPhone).

There's magic in it. A doorway that leads to un-touched and hidden parts of ourselves. Art. Like any other creative masterpiece, a physical expression of intangible beginnings. It has been my sanity. It has been my savior. It has been my release and my hearts greatest joy as long as I can remember. I have journals from when I was twelve in my basement right now, literally only feet below the chair I sit in here, in this moment. A child's world scratched upon what is now tattered paper, so long ago yet so close to where I am now.

Pure poetry, even when it doesn't rhyme.


With Grace & Gratitude...