Trust Exercises

Ace Hotel art gallery, New York City at the James Victore show

My Mama Di and I don't make new year resolutions—we set intentions. We also like to home in on a guiding word for the year, and her word for 2014 is "trust." I like that word so much that I'm adopting it as well.

My first reaction to "trust" is that it implies letting go of control. Without the illusion of control, fear takes over and contorts, riddles, and ransacks my relationships, my work, and my life. But even when I feel I am in control, the fear is there, simmering. There are moments when I am in complete trust—when time seems fluid or nonexistent and relationships are effortless. I don't usually appreciate them in while they're happening, but most definitely mourn them once they've passed.

I've spent much of my life as a worrier – I want to be a warrior. My vision of the warrior is self-possessed, strong, present, not necessarily combative except when the weapons are truth and love. There is an absence of fear, and in its place is trust.

There is a lot of power in simply stating an intention. When I take a few moments of silence in the morning and focus on trust, the intention becomes a gentle reminder throughout my day. When we let go of the features and benefits we think are going to come to us by stating an intention (overtones of my judgement of The Secret here), this exercise pulls us into the present and amplifies our days.

And when I'm at a loss for words, overwhelmed, or fearful,  I say to myself, "Warrior, not worrier."  

A Change in Perspective

Project 52 – Pic of the Week by Dianne Poinski 

I rag on social media a lot, mostly because of my own insecurities and how I choose to interact with various platforms. However, sometimes, goodness shines through the bullshit. 

My mama Dianne shared this experience on her blog: 

A few months ago, Kim Klassen, who writes one of my favorite blogs, revealed in a post that her husband had been diagnosed with leukemia. I have never met Kim or her husband in person, but have come to know and be constantly inspired by Kim's writing, images and the occasional email exchange. 

Having lost my mother and a good friend to this undiscriminating disease, I was filled with sadness when I heard this news. I know first hand how a diagnosis like this affects everyone. (I am sure most of you do too........) I wasn't aware that her husband was scheduled to have a stem cell transplant until while scrolling through my Instagram feed, I came across this post by Kim's friend Myriam Joseph:

I immediately grabbed a candle and then spent ten minutes looking for matches. 

...

The point of all this is, here I was feeling a little "snarky" about social media when it was brought to my attention the power of the online community. Of course I wish deeply I could do more than light a candle and this won't cure any disease, but sensing the energy this simple act was creating, made me pull back, count my own blessings and send good thoughts through the universe for a friend and her loved ones. 

This is a small sampling of the 193 posts made with the hash tag "LightForJohn". 

Before I end, I just want to thank all of you for being part of my community. This includes my online friends and those of you I am lucky enough to be able to engage with occasionally in "real time". Participating in social media through this blog, Facebook and Instagram has definitely enriched my life and broadened my experience of the world. While it's not always perfect, I now have a stronger sense of the important role it plays in our lives and I am grateful.

I needed this reminder that social media is not all selfies and posturing. Sometimes, genuine connection and raw honesty break through the noise, and we put the "social" back in "social media." 

Feeding the Wolf

Source

I love the story of feeding the wolf, but what made it real for me what this little tidbit of information (articulated well here): 

In Jill Bolte Taylor's book 'My Stroke of Insight,' she points to scientific evidence showing that the life span of any particular emotion is only one and a half minutes. After that we have to revive the emotions and get it going again. 
Our usual process is that we automatically do revive it by feeding it with an internal conversation about how another person is the source of our discomfort. Maybe we strike out at them or at someone else--all because we don't want to go near the unpleasantness of what we're feeling.

In other words, that internal marching band of self-pity when we're passed over for a promotion; that white-hot rage at an ill-timed comment from a partner that you know stems from years of them actually hating you rather than having your back; that steady rap of guilt from not performing perfectly at school; those emotions typically last 90 seconds until you give them a story.

And we get to choose the story.

That self pity you feel? Maybe choose to see that everything happens for a reason. That anger? Cultivate some compassion. That guilt? Let go of perfection in favor of progress.

Cue the response: "Easier said than done."

It's true. But think again about the wolves – which one do you want to feed? Imbibing in the negative emotions will give strength to the evil wolf. The good wolf will eventually have no room to exist at all. The practice of feeding the good wolf will make it easier over time, and your default will be choosing to see the positive.

The next time a turbulent emotion strikes, try pausing. Live in it for 90 seconds, acknowledge its reality, and then choose which story you give it.

And let me know how it goes, I'm still working on it.

Are You In?

Live Rhythm Tumbler 

Paying Attention to the Signs

Like I said in this post, just because I've made a few changes in my life does not guarantee that it will be perfect. Recently, shifts have occurred in my world that make me question what I thought my future would be. I've gotten good at letting go of outcomes, but what do I do when the unexpected erupts?

On the morning after I received this news, I saw this writing on the wall on my walk to work:

This gave me pause, and it zapped me back to the present moment. It didn't say everything will be fine, it concluded that right now, in this moment, everything is fine. And that is the truth. My future tripping about the situation did nothing but foster fear. Heeding to the sign, I was able to pause, recognize, breath, and relinquish control. 

I also recognized that the sign did not say "everything is good." Reality is the full spectrum of human emotion, and not everything is all great all the time. What comes next is how I choose to respond.

Fake It 'Til You Make It

You've got to get up every morning 

With a smile on your face and show the world

All the love in your heart. 

– Carole King 

Every morning, my alarm clock is this song, Beautiful by Carole King. While I am generally a pretty happy person (if you had told me three years ago I would write that sentence, I would have called you a liar and scowled), there are some days when smiling and showing the world my love is the furthest thing from my mind. 

The days when I swear I am the world's spit bucket. When everyone around me seems to be at odds with my intentions, or aren't listening, or are willfully pushing me. And those days are real. They happen, and will continue to happen. So what to do when my nerves are raw and the slightest bristle sets them on fire? 

I fake it. I slap on that smile; I got through the motions of my content self; my voice mimics a more positive tone; I ask the universe for a reprieve. Eventually, I slip into my regular self. Whatever was wringing me gets lifted and I let it go. 

It took years to develop this practice, and I'm nowhere near having this be my default. But a shift in perspective is helpful in almost any situation, because like Ms. King says, you're beautiful as you feel. 

Learning to Live

Me with my 30 day coin — My sponsor has my 1 year coin

So a year has passed since admitting I was powerless over alcohol, and I have learned so, so much. Here are just a few of the lessons (mostly captured for my own benefit—in the darkness, I tend to forget).

1. My goal is serenity, not happiness.

While happiness has certainly been a by-product of this decision (since my serotonin and dopamine levels are not constantly chemically altered), I'm learning that it is okay to feel the spectrum of human emotion. As long as my serenity is the touch stone, I can experience what is real.

2. Just because I made this one change does not guarantee my life will be perfect.

In the same vein, I imagined nothing bad would ever happen again because of this one decision I made. Reality is that bad things will happen, and I have the tools to deal, but there is more potential for joy, peace, exhilaration.

3. Future tripping is not as fun as it sounds.

I used alcohol as a balm because I was so, so afraid of the future. I would try to control people, places, and things, and when one element fell out of place, I assumed the worst and would detail how this one thing would make the rest of my life a shit show. I know now you can never, ever predict the future. We can actionable intentions, and nothing ever happens by mistake.

4. FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real

Before, so much of my life was ruled by fear. Now, fear still appears, but I know most of it is exactly the acronym above. I can convince myself of almost anything, and it was often easier to live in a place of fear, self doubt, and worry. Those are my defaults. Shifting my focus from the imagined to the actual, and learning to identify the difference, is pretty powerful.

Today, I am full of gratitude. A girl couldn't ask for more supportive friends, family, and fellowship. I'm going to keep coming back.

I'd Like To Find A Way to Love You

Right now, I'm sitting in my underwear, with dramatic cat-eye eyeliner sharpening my eyes, listening to  the second album I've made with Joe, and this all seems so wild and crazy as this makeup (the eyeliner was a whim—I've been watching a lot of Mad Men).

I've been absent from Blogland (pronounced "blahglund") for good reason. Since making the shift last year, my world has burst like a firework—opportunities have risen, love for myself and others has blossomed, and I'm processing everything raw and unfiltered for the first time in my life. As I'm circling back on a year, my values are emerging, as are those activities I want to develop into healthy habits. One of those is sharing and connecting with others, and I can participate in the collective conversation through this blog.

So there will be more on my sobriety when (by the grace of God*) I reach one year. For now, my reentry may not be super smooth, but I'd like to say "Hi again!" with our celebratory summer album, You Win Summer, You Lose Summer, available below! And check out a little video we made to accompany one of our favorite tracks on the album.

Love!







*Again, I feel the need to mention that I use God here as a placeholder for my higher power. I haven't found a word that captures what I'm trying to express more aptly than God. One of my friends uses Guide, which I love, but gets lost in translation without context. 

Thunderclouds Out of Balloons

San Francisco, December 2012

Last night, I had a dream I was at a cafe on the beach. It was the last day of my trip, I had spent the morning packing, and I was enjoying a cup of coffee in a blue-and-white-schemed shop. I looked out the windows into the impossibly bright morning and saw a massive, dark, ominous cloud traveling over the sea. It was coming toward land, and I knew I did not want to be caught in a downpour in the car on the way back home.

I left my half drunk cup of coffee at the cafe and called my traveling companion, imploring him to hurry so we could get on the road. His response was muffled, and I couldn't figure out where he was. I was harried and nervous and angry, and the storm was getting closer. Just as the storm reached the beach and I braced myself for thunder and electricity and confusion, the clouds dissipated and revealed a bunch of gray balloons that slipped silently over my head. The morning went back to being bright.

When I was younger and things seem to be going well in my life, I feverishly scanned the horizon for the next crisis. I braced myself for the nightmare workweek, the breakup, the house fire. Instead of being in the moment and enjoying the happiness, I thought, "Well, this won't last. I should start distancing so I can protect myself." Even though I was willfully making myself miserable, I wondered why my life was always so stormy.

Still today, the impulse to look for a crisis is there, but I know now that by looking for one, I am apt to create mountains out of molehills (or thunderclouds out of balloons, if I may). So instead, I practice the daily reverence and revelry, gratitude, and openness. I embrace instead of run away. I speak my truth instead of silently seething and expecting others to read my mind. I know that this too shall pass, but I can enjoy it while it lasts.

Christmas Time is Hear Ye!

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love light gleams...

Like I've waxed on about before, music has played a large role in my life this year. It soothes, awakens, enlightens, enthralls, makes clear what is swirly and dark. It has been a gift in my sobriety, a wish I had that has somehow come to be. 

This year, the gift culminates with my first Christmas album with my friend Joe, Christmas Time is Hear Ye! We cover our old and new favorites, from the crooning standards like I'll Be Home for Christmas, to the unconventional carol Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis.

Click here to view the album, or listen via the player below. May your holidays be filled with love and light!

Of Accidents, Emergency Rooms, and Letting Go of Anger

Sometimes, things have to explode for you to take a moment to pause. Sometimes those things are hot, sugary shards of glass that embed themselves in your skin. Let me explain.

Yesterday, an accident in the kitchen involving a Pyrex of cinnamon rolls set on the wrong burner (I meant to heat the tea kettle, and accidentally set the front burner to high) sent glass all over my tiny kitchen and into my right hand and forearm. I let out a string of incredibly creative expletives just as my friend Joe showed up for our afternoon music session. I told him we were going to the emergency room instead.

The lacerations were minor, the burns second degree, but it still hurt like fire in my veins. After the emergency room, Joe and I hunkered down with Thai food and British comedies. My apartment still smelled like delicious cinnamon rolls. I fell asleep trying to keep my arm propped up, like the nurse had told me to.

Joe was a champion, going above and beyond his friend duties. He kept one arm around me as we drove, cleaned my kitchen while I called my people to tell them what happened, and helped me redress my wounds before bed. Earlier in the week, we had gotten into a disagreement, and when I spoke to him about it in the moment, I felt my teeth grind, my heart pound, my voice tip into that strained octave. By the next day, I felt fine. I had let go being angry, and after a quick conversation, we were right back where we had started.

Two years ago, I would have let that anger burn. It would have smoldered into a resentment, possibly ending our friendship. I used to have no patience. I would cut people out of my life for minor offenses, but held on to toxic friendships that fed my addiction to victimhood and perceived power. Now, however, I'm able to practice "live and let live." If I had held on to that anger, Joe wouldn't have been there.

These cuts and burns will heal, and one day I'll gain full mobility of my hand. I'll always remember to check the burners, and I'll be forever grateful to my friend who was there in such a stellar way. Lessons learned.

Breathe. Believe. Receive.

Cousin Riah and her contribution to a blank wall and chalk we found when walking after dinner. *Please pardon the spelling error!*

As I have shared before, I am continually inspired by my family. They transcend time, they follow their bliss full throttle, and they know what I need before I even do. We're a collection of odd ducks, of bar tenders and artists and teachers and shadow agents (I'm convinced my papa works for the CIA, because I have no idea what a HVAC VP sales rep does). When we get together, it is all laughter, cooking, singing, like no time has passed between our gatherings.

So when my cousin Riah came to visit, once again, it was like no time has passed. We continued conversations we were having a year ago, and what started as musings are now real, fully formed ideas and opinions. In the time we spent apart we continued on our trajectories, not knowing the other was experiencing the same thing. 

We decided this may be the picture definition of "traipsing." 

There are surface similarities (like getting facial piercings within a day of each other—we had no idea what the other was planning to do!), but beyond that, our beliefs and values have grown alongside each other. We're both experiencing this shift, this openness to the universe and what it has to offer. It's one thing to have these kinds of tumbling talks with a friend, but someone you've known you're entire life? It's absolutely wild. 

Our conversations centered around the theme of not knowing what the day will bring. All we have is this moment, and we have no idea what will come our way. All we have control over is our intentions, our energy we put out into the world. I can experience the world with love and lightness, let go of particulars, and be open to offerings. 

Her visit was a breath of fresh air in the routine, an affirmation of my recent choices. Thank you, Riah!

Explanation for an Absence

Back in December when I wrote about love, I made a wish to the world for peace, health, and light in the new year. While I included myself in that collective whole, I had no idea the transformation that take place in the coming months. I had a vague sense that something would shift, but I thought it would be an external factor, like a new job or boyfriend. Turns out, the shift was internal and scary, joyful, and radiant.

After some dark moments, I started to realize that the things I wanted were within my grasp, but I was making unhealthy choices that cut me off from them. This started a slow awakening, a laborious sunrise, light that crept into the edges of my vision (Missa picked up on this in my posts). Then, something clicked. The answer was in front of me the whole time, the pieces were in place, I just needed to speak the words, and when I did, my shivers ran through my body like cold lightning.

Before I came out as an alcoholic, the idea of not drinking terrified me. I thought about everything I would lose (the friends, the loose limbs, the confidence). I looked at it like a deficit, something I would have to trudge through life without. Now, on the other side, my life is taking turns in ways I never thought possible. It's like I opened the doors and invited warmth, music, adventure, and a new sense of physicality to come and roost. The first time, I'm feeling what it's like to live wholly in the present, to engage on a corporeal level. I'm more my self than I ever have been, and it is a wondrous thing.

So, after a few months of experiencing this new way of being, I'm ready to return and dive in head first.  You are all so lovely and gracious, and it is a privilege to share my thoughts with you. Thank you thank you thank you.

Music and Magic

Music has always been, and always will be, a huge part of my life. My earliest memories include the Moody Blues' Knights in White Satin playing at Thanksgiving; my father telling me how much he loves Cyndi Lauper's voice; my brother and I banging on upside-down pots and pans and strumming on rubber band guitars, practicing our favorite songs for our epic band. Despite these promising beginnings, however, I never picked up a proper instrument, until very, very recently.

My mama gifted me her ukulele in December, and I thought that her birthday in July would be the perfect time to unveil what my practicing has yielded. I spent several hours pressing the pads of my fingers into the strings, perfecting the breezy-yet-firm stroke patterns, trying to sync up the singing with the playing. My friend Richard volunteered to accompany me with the piano and voice. Being the incredibly talented person he is, it took him roughly two minutes to pick up the harmony and piano part.

I feel about singing and music the same way I feel about dancing: I relish the kinetic, rhythmic, whole-body expression of joy. I like the way it feels to have my voice trill up my throat and over my tongue.

How do you experience music?

Old Soul

 

When I was very, very small, my aunt held me and told my mother, "She is an old soul." My mama says that since that moment, I've had worldliness and  knowingness about me. They only evidence I have of that is ordering salads at restaurants when I was three years old. 

Yesterday, I visited the newest member of my family, Eli. I was scared to hold him, as I had been with his sister when she was an infant. I was afraid of holding something so delicate, of holding him the wrong way. I was telling his aunt this, and she said, "Oh, you have to hold him. When you do, it feels like there is nothing wrong with the world. He is such an old soul."

And it's true. As I held him close, the whirlwind, static noise of thoughts and worries evaporated. All of my attention was on this tiny little being. My heartbeat slowed to match his rhythmic breathing. He took in the world, and his eyes didn't hold the same grasping quality I've seen in most infants. There was an acceptance, a patience with the attention he was receiving, a knowingness and a sweetness about him, so rare in others that he was striking and comforting at the same time. It was a comfort being close to him, a little respite.

Welcome to the world, Eli. May it be a wonderful one for you.

Resonace and Frequencies

 

Photo my mama took on the airplane ride to Southern California 

There is something incredibly—I can't describe it other that tiny-laugh-secret-smiley-comforting-and-lovely—about having a conversation with someone, and they say things that echo your heartmind so thoroughly you feel a though they are reading pages from your personal journal. Those moments bring me back down to earth, make me feel connected again, and validate my cascade thoughts.

I'm in Southern California right now, where the air is constantly thick with a bougainvillea perfume that sticks to the roof of my mouth. My mama flew down from Northern California, and we're visiting my uncle and his family. My mama and uncle and I spent yesterday wandering around Descanso Gardens, venturing up into the hills among the poppies and the lizards, drinking in the sun's warmth.

Both of them are artists. They speak with candor, humor, and cadence that I recognize, and there are moments of resonance that give me pause. I wax on about struggles and insecurities, and they don't placate with "There there, now." They offer up truths so rare and so raw that my world starts to soften. My tunnel vision, narrowing in on the awful, expands to let in some light. "I've been there too," they say. "You're not alone."

I could write entire posts about how each of these people have inspired me in their own ways (and I most likely will). Take a moment to visit their websites and be inspired. The links to their blogs areavailable in my Love List. 

Joe Murray Studios – joemurrarystudio.com

"We can’t waste precious time bemoaning what is no longer. What our careers used to look like. How much money we used to make, or how much notoriety we once had. Those are illusions anyway. Sometimes we even limit ourselves with what we think is right for us. Your art is happening right now, and moving like water where it wants to go. It has bigger plans for us than we know." – Joe Murray 




Dianne Poinski Handcrafted Photography – diannepoinski.com

"I know that even if I won the lottery today I would still continue to pursue photography. I really don't have a choice. My sanity and well-being depend on it. I like to think I am making the images I want to make and not just for the market. Just try to imagine for one minute, what it would feel like to create simply for yourself with no intention to ever share that work! I feel so liberated and joyful when I think about that (even if it's only in that moment)." – Dianne Poinski

Ask the Angels

Photo credit

On my birthday this year, I received a pack of angel cards from a dear family member of mine. The box prompts you to choose a card on your birthday. The word on the card will overlight your year. 

I thought about it a moment, surrounded by family and friends and laughter and warmth, chose a card in the middle of the deck, and pulled out the word love. I felt a chord strike in my heart.

Very recently, exes and past lovers have been coming out of the woodwork. Boys I never thought I would hear from again, telling me things I desperately wanted to hear when our relationships ended. Now, the words ring like tin in my ears and taste like pennies in my mouth. Am I suspicious of these boys and their motives? Am I doubtful of their words? Am I convinced I am undeserving?

Photo credit

I am not any of these things. I am someone learning the hard lesson of loving themselves, of learning that acceptance and balance doesn't come from outside, but within. I spoke before of the catalyst that would make everything right in the world, and how it does not exist. The rhythms that move the world move me with them, and I am a different person than I was when I was in these relationships. I choose to not let my suspicion and doubt get the best of me. I choose to accept these sentiments with grace, even if I can't reciprocate, and I choose to let go. I trust that the person or persons I'm supposed to grow with will appear, seemingly out of thin air, like they always do.

So for the year, I wish for myself and all of you, that love infuse your life. There are many shades of love, and I hope all of them refuse to dim as the seasons pass. If you believe in angels, I wish for them to bring you your chosen vision of love. Here is to peace, health and light in the new year.

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