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." 

Are You In?

Live Rhythm Tumbler 

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. 

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!

'Tis the Season!

With my birthday so close to Christmas, my family didn't really develop any holiday-centric traditions. Sometimes we give our gifts on Christmas Eve, sometimes we spend the morning playing board games and drinking my father's awful coffee, sometimes we buck Christmas all together and celebrate the Solstice. Every year is special, every year is lovely, but there hasn't been one intentional through line that ties one year to the next.

What I have is an accidental tradition. Very much on a whim one year, my friend Richard and I posed as George and Martha from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for a Christmas card. Since then, we've recreated scenes as celebrities, iconic duos, and even "ourselves," to wish our friends and families happy holidays. It's frivolous fun, something we look forward to and start preparing for months ahead.

After seven years, this is probably, solidly a tradition. And I didn't realize it until this very moment, but this year, we appropriately chose The Seven Year Itch as our inspiration! Any ideas on who we should portray next year?

George and Martha, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – 2006

Harper and Prior, Angels in America – 2007

 Holly and "Fred," Breakfast at Tiffany's – 2008

"Ourselves" – 2009

Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe – 2010 

 Andy Warhol and Edie Sedgwick – 2011

 The Girl and Richard, The Seven Year Itch – 2012

10,000 Hours

Music video shoot for a Seattle artist. 

"Ten thousand hours felt like ten thousand hands.

Ten thousand hands, they carry me." – Macklemore

Since making space in my heart and mind earlier this year, incredible things have come to pass. I am relearning language, articulating truths and feeling out honesty. I've explored my own backyard and found beautiful new corners of my city and state. I've learned hard lessons. And most delightful of all, music has bloomed, billowed, exploded. 

How band practice usually starts. 

From helping out at a music video shoot (see above), to crafting a song out some lyrics that came to my head while carrying coffee back to my apartment (I've learned that the voice memo app on iPhones is perfect for capturing words when you don't have a pen and paper), music has suddenly become a very important part of my life. I put the intention out that I wanted more rhythm and joy, and people started knocking on my door. I sang my favorite song at a house party, I recorded some vocal tracks for a friend from high school, I'm slated to record a demo with my bandmate in January. Sometimes it makes my head spin. 

Recording in my childhood bedroom. 

Music has also given me something to hone and practice, to wildly make mistakes and learn from them. As I've written before, I struggle with perfectionism and living within other people's definitions of success. As I log my 10,000 hours, there are rough moments, raw realizations, the potential for me to get hard on myself because I didn't get it right the first time. But those cracks give the light a chance to shine through, and I am grateful for every moment I get to spend making music and mistakes. 

Rocktober!

This has been a month of music for me! I am very lucky to live in a city that lives and breathes music—some of the best musicians in the world call this place home, and many artists make a stop here on their tours.

The month started with Xavier Rudd, an Australian artist with a giant spirit. I stumbled upon his closing prayer at his Bumbershoot set a few years ago, and stood spellbound. He trances with didgeridoos, deep drum beats, and words of healing and love.





Next came Macklemore, who has been making waves around the world with his track Same Love, which supports marriage equality. I've been following Macklemore's career since he started making waves on local nonprofit radio. Now he is suddenly huge, performed to a sold-out audience of 7,500 people, and had the number one album on iTunes for four days. All without a record label. His lyrics are authentic, hilarious, and heartbreaking. If you haven't already, watch the video below. Warning: it WILL make you cry.




The following week, I fulfilled one of my life goals and saw David Byrne in concert. He is currently touring with St. Vincent in support of their collaborative album. The show was a show: choreographed dance moves, crazy lights, and head-filling sound. My friend and I didn't think they would perform any Talking Heads songs, and they performed three of our favorites!





Next up was First Aid Kit. I missed them the first time they came through, but this time I was lucky enough to snag a ticket. Plus, the show was a benefit for 826 Seattle! They cast spells with their music, and sing with voices beyond their years.




Lastly, Lord Huron. I didn't get to go this show because I was sick, but the music is too good not to share. I call it ambient surf rock, lovely harmonies glide with a lilting guitar. Check it out.

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?

Soul Rebel

Photo by Jessie 

I'm a rebel, soul rebel. 

I'm a capturer, soul adventurer. ~ Bob Marley 

My best friend performs in holiday burlesque shows around Seattle, and through the frolic and pageantry, there is always a deeper message. For their Independence Day Freedom Fantastia, boys in heels and girls in beards celebrated rebellion, the most American of traditions. I may not have pride in the whole of the United States' history, but I do have pride in my forefathers and mothers who questioned, pursued, and battled for the kind of life I lead today.

I celebrated the with friends and picnicking on what seemed like the edge of the world. We found a spot surrounded by tall grasses on the edge of a bluff, overlooking the Sound. We ate oven fried chicken and homemade pasta salad, listened to Janis Joplin, and explored the surrounding woods. At one point, we made music with a guitar-slinging random my friends literally found in the field. We soaked in the sun and it made us sleepy and hazy and happy.

Photo by Jessie 

Photo by Jessie

We ended the night with the Lake Union fireworks show on the roof of my friends' apartment building. Booming blooms that illuminated the night and made the towers of the city look like crystals. 





I like the idea of celebrating rebellion. I value curiosity, questioning, challenging, and (much to the chagrin of some of my colleagues) demanding answers. When something doesn't feel right in breath and bones, the community that I identify with values changing it. I'm grateful for this power, for this freedom. 

Do You Ever Feel A Little Like Ringo?

Photo credit 

Well, I'm getting happier all the time. Which is very nice. – Ringo Starr 

Over the last month, there's been a lot of excitement around my office. Three women are in their third trimesters of pregnancy, this lovely lady got engaged, a comrade of mine left for her dream job, a coworker is transferring to our other office because her boyfriend got into grad school in that city, and we officially hired three incredible talents. There have been choruses of congratulations and excited ooohing and aaahing as people prepare for their new phases in life.

Meanwhile, I started to feel a little like Ringo. Parading in the background, never getting the ladies, writing songs about octopi. And my immediate reaction to all the excitement is to retreat to my self-pity cave, because none of it is happening to me. This retreat starts a cycle of inactivity, isolation, and escapism that doesn't end until some external force boosts my confidence again. 

This past month, however, I was able to recognize the Ringoisms early on, and I decided to do something about it. I channeled the energy I would have spent on listing out reasons why I'm inadequate into celebrating my coworkers and loved ones. I planned parties, organized gifts, rallied, and raved. Usually, my self pity clouds any attempt at genuine happiness. For the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely happy for another person's accomplishments, and let myself revel in their successes. 

This space of compassion fills my limbs with a glow. It feels so much better than the cold I let reign. 

Waking Up

 Photo credit 

If every day is an awakening, you will never grow old. You will just keep growing. – Gail Sheehy

I feel as though I am waking up. I am stretching my limbs wide, reaching fingers and toes outward like an animal. The comfort of darkness and depth, the low hum of sadness that had been following me, still whispers its promise of isolation and loneliness, of going blank. Forget the world for a bit, it hisses.

But the morning breaks, the cool light of dawn washes over me. I let the glow raise the hairs on my arms. It it cautious, slow, waiting to see how I will respond. Will you allow yourself this happiness? it asks.

I can't help but enjoy this newness, this reprieve, even if this too shall pass. And there is an acceptance that this shall pass. Our darkest and our brightest moments all do. How does it feel when the edges of light creep into your vision? What are your experiences with waking up? 

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.

You and I and a Flame Make Three

Last night, I attended the Eighth Annual Winter Bonfire (and Xmas Tree Immolation) at Golden Gardens, a beach in the northern part of Seattle.  The light clouds provided insulation from the bitter cold, and friends, neighbors, and strangers gathered around three glowing fire pits. Every few minutes or so, a family Christmas tree, that had been drying out for over a month, was tossed into a pit. The fire would swallow the tree, sending its flames several feet into the air and washing the watchers in heat. Whoops and hollers would echo as the flames licked higher and brighter.

Papers and pencils were passed around for people to write wishes and toss them into the flames. Our host said, "Your wishes will come true! Or they won't." 

Fire dancers delighted us with fast spinning heat while djembe players set the rhythm. This woman's hips seemed to dictate the movement of the flames around her, swinging fast or sashaying slowly. The glow beneath her made her smile look Cheshire wild. 

Many of my personal rituals involve fire and heat. When I'm sick, I make a special concoction, heat it to near boiling and drink it very quickly, letting the heat scour the sickness out of my body. A celebratory alone night involves a steaming hot salt bath and fogged mirrors. Thanksgivings with the family used to be spent around a bonfire with a drum circle and capoeira. I've sent letters addressed to people I'm struggling to let go of into the flames of beach fires, or let them be consumed from the small flame of a match. I light a candle when I am cooking a meal for a friend and want to put intention and love into what I am cooking. 

One of my favorite songs right now (that coincidently captures my feelings about fire, love, and life) is Akron/Family's "River." 

And once this spark met kindling
Forgets its gentle ambling
Becoming heat, becoming steam
Becoming luminescent glee
Atoms splinter, sparkling
Alive and nimble symmetry
And all along, this glistening
Blankets we and everything
Shadows dance triumphantly
A wordless whisper sighs and pleas
Little deaths envelope thee
You and I and a flame make three

I've felt the sparkling of splintering, and I love it. 

And We Can Act Like We Come From Out of This World

I've been going to a 60's Northern soul dance party once a month in Seattle for almost four years now. My first night, I was nervous and didn't know quite what to do with my arms. I felt the music run through my body, shooting through my limbs like lightning, and I fell into the rhythm, my shoulders moving in time with my feet and my hands occasionally moving the hair out of my face. Every time I return, the dance feels natural and joyous. I get lost in the moment of sweet sweat and electric endorphins. 

Photo credit

A photo of me in reverie next to one of my best sister friends appeared in an alternative weekly recently. I think it captures exactly what I feel on the dance floor. Wrapped up in the moment like a cocoon, a smile creeping up the sides of my mouth, trying to catch the lights on my skin and take them with me. 

Photo credit

I recently discovered a new love: square dancing! Every two weeks in the neighborhood I live in, a bar hosts a square dancing night. A live band plays straw bale rhythms and a caller lilts out the directions. People are incredibly forgiving when you mess up, and it is the only time I've seen adult strangers grab each other's hands and laugh and spin, unabashedly happy. As I was swung by my partners, I felt like I was flying.

Photo credit

This is my love letter to dancing: the physical expression of joy, the slick sweat, the crush of bodies, the heartbeat bass, the way I feel when I spin fast and can feel the world spinning with me. Thank you. 

Little Corners of my New World

Moving has certainly made it difficult to post regularly, but I am now settling into a routine and able to carve out a little time to write and respond. There are still boxes everywhere, and we're waiting on our dinner table made from the gym floor of a local high school, but this place already feels warm and inviting. I love coming home to people, sharing our days, sharing meals, or sharing the quiet. It feels like  a simple pairing of comfort and consistency as I seep my spirit into the corners of my new world. 

And I've had this song stuck in my head for days.

But What Is Success?

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A path to success is not paved with good intentions, but with good intentions that are carried out.

I used to think success was finding that one thing that would be the catalyst for all other things in my life to fall into place—the perfect partner, the dream job, the stellar apartment. But there is no snake oil fix for the unpredictability of life. There cannot be one single thing that will make breath in and say, "Ah, there it is, the life I've been searching for," because there are always variables.

Instead, I want to look at the path as a series of adventures, lessons to be learned, experience to dive into head first with eyes wide open. Can't success be the toe-curling, arms-to-the-sky, full-throated rebel yell celebration of the path itself?