I choose to believe

December 16, 2010 at 12:25 pm (holidays, music, Relationship, The Artist Life)
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I choose to believe.

I choose to believe in the connectedness of my world, my universe and beyond.

How can I not, when things like this happen:

Years ago, my young niece (15? 16?) Katie (hi punkin!) and her buddy Rachel were visiting us, their Aunties S&S, for the weekend. Pure delight, those two were (and still are!).

I clearly remember being in the kitchen during that visit, being surprised by a heart-melting ribbon of golden music coming from the living room. It was Rachel, singing Sarah McLachlan’s “Adia” while playing accompaniment on the piano.

Skip forward 10 or 15 years to earlier this year. I have reconnected with Rachel through various threads of Divine Planning, and was delighted when she announced she has created a CD of her original music. I immediately purchased several CDs without hearing any of the songs.

My heart remembered her rendition of Adia years ago — no more sampling needed.

Rachel (photo by peggy dyer)

As I heard the first notes of Rachel’s voice, the beauty became my own grateful tears. “Unapologetically,” she’s called this musical collection. And her lyrics, her acoustical guitar, piano, voice — all take me consistently to that place where I don’t need to apologize for who I am, what I believe, how I feel, who I love.

Yesterday that dream came true. Without my involvement. Because of authentic connections.

You see, I had shared Rachel’s CD with my friend/colleague Rebecca. And Rebecca was moved to sell Rachel’s CD through an online recommendation-based “shop” (on OpenSky).

And yesterday Rebecca published a blog post (read it here) about connecting herself to nature and music. Specifically through Rachel’s CD.

That, my dear readers, is why I choose to believe.

‘Tis the season — maybe we can all choose to believe?

********
[Click here to purchase "Unapologetically" ]

6 Comments

A life-giving death

September 17, 2010 at 6:05 pm (Parenting Parents, Relationship, Uncategorized)
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It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.  

Mom Betty King

Actually, no, it wasn’t the worst of times.  That’s the really unexpected thing about these past 3 days leading up to Mom’s death – these have been some of the most amazing 3 days of my life. 

Yes, of course, my heart went through the wringer and is pretty thoroughly bruised.  I know some days I’ll bump those tender bruises and cry out in pain, and it will take quite some time to stop seeing Mom’s laboring chest heave in my mind’s eye as I take my own deep breaths.

And yes, it was emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausting to “let Mom go” each time we thought she was ready to quit… only to realize she had no intention of doing so on OUR timeline.  But of course — she was adamant about controlling her own schedule in life, why would she be any different in death? 

That gnarly stuff hardly matters, though, as the beauty of these last three days lingers like the delicate scent of a perfectly-balanced perfume, mixed from moment after moment of rich life-changing experience:

The feeling of love from Mom as she held my gaze, unable to speak, with eyes so full of her that in those few moments I felt more connected to her than I have in all of my years.  In those moments, I finally understood the sacred relationship that exists between mother and child. 

The slight lift of Mom’s Parkinsons-ravaged arm followed by her strong “squeeze my hand to say yes” response as I asked if she was trying to say she wanted to hold me…and the healing heartbath of tears as I lay my head on her chest and felt the grown-up and youngest child little girl me all wrapped up together in Mom’s strength. 

The laughter interwoven through even the most painful of moments, and miraculously one of the only recognizable sounds Mom could make.  Seeing so clearly that Mom was cracking jokes even though she couldn’t speak. 

The claim (numerous times) from every one of her 8 children that “well, I’m Mom’s favorite” and seeing Mom wink at each one who said it.   (We may have to accede to my brother Marty’s Favorite Kid status, though, as she died on his birthday.  Bummer.  I always thought it was me.)

Eating ice-cream, drinking coffee and dropping cookie crumbs on Mom’s legs in her last hours to honor her love of sweet treats (yeah, the youngest does kinda get away with a lot in a family our size).

Take a gazillion more moments like that, wrap them in an incredibly interwoven connectedness of family, friends, nurses, and doctors, and add a golden braided thread of life-changing spiritual, mystical, and emotional profundity.  Yeah, that’s pretty much how the past 3 days have been.

See, Mom, you ROCKED it… !!!

48 Comments

Just go home and love your baby

September 1, 2010 at 8:22 pm (Relationship, The Artist Life)
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“Just go home and love your baby.”

When my colleague said this to me today, she was quoting her pediatrician — the advice she was given for handling the overwhelming experience of her baby boy born prematurely and facing ongoing developmental challenges.  

She was talking about a literal baby, but it struck me as incredibly wise advice for dealing with unsettling situations with whatever our “baby” might be. 

For some of you, this “baby” is indeed your child, your children.  So many worries and stressors around these little lives in the palm of your hands — little humans you are trying to guide and protect.   Responsibility can be overwhelming.

Just go home and love your baby.

For others of the “baby” is a new project, maybe even a new business (um, yeah, that would be me).   All these pieces to fit together, and sometimes it feels like perhaps someone mixed several puzzles into the same box when you weren’t looking.  All the unknowns can take on a life of their own, and oh how quickly doubt can try to snuff out the passion of creativity.   But whether you gave birth to or adopted this “baby,” you did so out of love. 

Just go home and love your baby.

For others, the “baby” is a partner in relationship.  Disease sneaks up on us, life gets too big for us to handle on our own, we struggle with making sense of everything — or sometimes anything. 

Just go home and love your baby. 

What is it for you, this “baby”?  What is it that gives you a place to pour your love and refill it all at once?   Think about it, look for it, and consider… maybe it’s simply… You.

Just go home and love your baby.

6 Comments

You show up, and you shine.

August 18, 2010 at 12:46 pm (The Artist Life)
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“You want to change the world, this is how you do it.. You figure out what you’re brilliant at, and you show up, and you shine.”

- peggy dyer

Ok, Peggy’s going to think I’m stalking her (see my OutWrite Living blog post, Face-to-Face)…really, I’m not!  

She just happens to be doing and saying stuff that rocks my “change the world” heart…like taking photos of ONE MILLION faces, then posting the above quote in her “write whatever you want in that little box under your profile pic” area on FB (Facebook). 

The quote which I copied for myself,
then sent to a client,
then shared with my nieceling Juliet,
who posted it as her FB status, 
which was seen by my nieceling Kristy,
who posted on my FB wall to look at Juliet’s FB status,
which I did,
then decided it was asking to be shared more broadly,  SO….
I posted it here.

(have you read “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie?”  You must. )

I really think Peggy’s words stand on their own… so I’ll leave it at that. 

Go now…with whatever you’re planning to do… show up… SHINE! 

 

7 Comments

I was just a kid

August 3, 2010 at 8:32 pm (Mental Health, Relationship)
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My sister, Angela, would have turned 49 this past weekend.  

I want to write something to honor her (like this post I wrote last year), but it gets all mixed up inside, tangled up with the memories of her mental illness. 

I want to talk about what a wonderful sister she was and how much I loved her.  But I never got to make that connection. 

I want to tell you how we talked for hours about her struggles and I was able to ease her emotional pain.  But we didn’t … and I didn’t.

I simply didn’t know how to reach beyond my fear of her illness to find a person there. 

In fairness to me, I was just a kid.  I was only in 7th grade that night I watched her break.  A 7th grader sitting still-stunned the next day in Mr. McAllister’s science class.  A 7th grader who still got a 100% on that quiz because I didn’t know what else to do.

But I’m not a kid anymore.  And I now I know what I’d do.  I would talk.  I would talk to my family.  I would talk to my friends.  I would talk to my teachers.  I would talk to my journal. 

But mostly I would talk with Angela. 

I would ask her how it felt to be a genius in an average world. 

I would ask her if she got any joy from learning  new languages as though they were always part of her.

I would ask her if she felt the music when she brilliantly but mechanically played the piano.

I would ask her how I could help, how I could understand.

And I would listen.   Listen through the fear.  Listen through the discomfort.  Listen as long as I needed to in order to hear my sister instead of her illness.

Mental illness is unfair.  It’s also unpredictable, often indescribable, and at times even unbearable.  

So let’s fight back!  Let’s talk. Let’s listen.  Let’s Love.

17 Comments

Context, Please

July 21, 2010 at 4:30 pm (Relationship, Uncategorized)
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Shirley Sherrod, the (black) Department of Agriculture’s GA director of Rural Development, was asked to resign because she told an audience that she had withheld some assistance from a (white) farmer.

Over 20 years ago.

As an example of what not to do.

To explain that ”working with him helped me to see that it wasn’t a black and white issue.” [Sherrod]

When I first saw the video clip of Sherrod telling that story, I was disturbed and disheartened that someone would make such a clear discrepancy between black and white — AND proudly tell about it.

Several minutes later, however, I realized the full context of the video clip, and everything changed for me.  Sherrod explains she told that story (20+ years ago) to describe the moment she realized that black and white farmers both had the same struggles.

Out of context, Sherrod’s resignation seemed perfectly reasonable. In context, it seems a misguided and unwarranted request (requirement??).

How many times do we make judgments out of context?

How many times do we label someone negatively when we only have part of the story?   Then broadcast that snippet to our various audiences?

…Yeah… me too.    Let’s change that, ok?

*******
Related News Articles:

6 Comments

Phlog

July 15, 2010 at 3:15 pm (The Gardening Life, The Writing Life)
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I’ve done this before…   sat down to write and had too much going on in my head to make the space to let the words come.

So I picked up my camera and headed outside.

Once again, focusing (quite literally) on the tiniest of visual details has gently silenced my mind, quieted my heart.   In fact, I think there’s no longer a need for words…

(click photos to enlarge)

(photos by Starla J. King)

******
UPDATE: approx 2 hours after posting this blog, I see my friend/colleague Rebecca Cohen’s blog post (click here) – without her realizing it, she supplied the PERFECT WORDS when mine weren’t available.  Thank you Rebecca! 

6 Comments

There’s still 1/2 left

July 7, 2010 at 8:33 pm (Uncategorized)
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It’s July… half of 2010 is done… gone… *poof* just like that.

I didn’t finish everything I wanted to this week, much less the past 6 months worth of weeks!

  • My niece’s wedding pictures (all 2,172 of them. I kid you not.) are waiting to be sorted and sent (Rachael, is 2012 soon enough?).
  • That lightbulb in the foyer is still burnt out.
  • I haven’t become a piano prodigy (oh, I guess that had to happen before I turned 5 … well, shoot!)
  • I haven’t rescheduled our trip to Canada (if the Queen majesty herself can make it there, why can’t I??)
  • Business-wise, I’ve also missed a few goals — more details on that at my guest-blog post this week for Big Fish Nation.

I could go on, but I think you get the point.

So I have a choice.  I can focus on everything I didn’t accomplish, and set myself up for a disappointing rest of the year…

…OR…

I can focus on what I did accomplish, and get all twitterpated about the possibilities for the rest of the year.  (In the business world, we call that goal-setting).

  • Rachael HarnishI did get those 14 million wedding photos downloaded to my computer.
  • I have written a blog post every week of this year (Hi Nancy :) )
  • I did start thinking about piano lessons again
  • I did make it through the crazy-busy-tiring Spring landscaping season with no injuries (physical or emotional)
  • I am turning my dream of becoming a (paid) writer into reality, and started a new business (OutWrite Living… find us on Facebook … website still in process)
  • I can still get to Canada and write my book outline and get a few steps closer to saving the world through love, kindness, and writing.

Bottom line?  I still have (almost) 6 months to get that lightbulb changed, and there’s ice cream in the freezer. 

*************
What’s your “lightbulb”?

16 Comments

Circle of Care

June 2, 2010 at 8:20 pm (Uncategorized)
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A dear friend of mine has undergone surgery for two types of cancer, so her journey is a potentially frightening one over rough terrain.   Yet she reports being “so grateful it consumes most of me.”

It’s all about her Circle of Care – the friends and family “circle” she and her partner of 20 years have gathered around themselves to support them both as they deal with this totally unexpected whiplash turn of their lives.  

This Circle started out as an apology for mass email report-outs of surgery / recovery process, and turned into a very real gathering of supportive energy. 

Both of these women describe incredible experiences of an ongoing influx of love coming from this Circle.  In my friend’s words, “…it became like arms intertwined as our circle held us in tender strength and allowed us to find a comfortable resting/healing place. ”

And here’s the really amazing thing:  this Circle of Care has became a powerful virtual healing-energy space not only for these two women, but for all of us who are part of the Circle.  

Even though none of us have chosen “reply all” in our email responses.  Even though none of us knows who all is included in the emails.  Even though many of us have likely never met and maybe never will. 

Yet I’m pretty sure all of us are feeling the healing power in the connection of the Circle.

Maybe we should all consider gathering together our own Circle of Care – virtual or not.  Ask individuals to be on stand-by for the days we need to ask for help but don’t have the strength (or courage?) to do so.   And turn them into a group.  A Circle of Care. 

Or maybe just start by stepping into someone else’s Circle.  The Circle I’ve just described. 

You see, tomorrow (Thursday) is a big hairy scary day for my friend and her partner — chemo stuff… ugh!   So they could use even more hearts in their Circle of Care for this one.   If you have even a drop or two of extra strength for them, just join their Circle of Care (whatever that might look like for you) for a moment. 

They will know you’re there.

 

18 Comments

Behind the words

May 26, 2010 at 8:28 pm (The Writing Life)
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“I actually meant to talk about [a different topic] but when I started writing it took a completely different direction. I think I love when that happens.”  – Rachael L. King

Maybe writing isn’t really about the words.  Maybe it’s more about giving the Universe (some call it God) a means of expression, a way to connect with us and through us.

Like Rachael’s experience of starting to write about something and then having a completely different set of words come out.   I think I too love when that happens!

My fountain pen tat (click to enlarge)

What if all it took to hear Wisdom’s voice was to open your heart, soul, and intellect and just start writing?  

I’m not talking about a refined essay or brilliant poem or carefully crafted set of ideas.  I’m talking about free-flow writing, messy writing, give-or-take the punctuation writing.  

It’s in that kind of writing — the kind of writing that’s accessible to ALL of us —  that inspiration can touch us and answers can find us.

As one of my favorite authors, Julia Cameron, writes in her book, The Right to Write (italics and color emphasis added by me):

Although we seldom talk about it in these terms, writing is a means of prayer…

Moving alone onto the page, we often find ourselves companioned by higher forces, by a stream of insights and inspirations that seem somehow ‘other’ than routine thinking.

Artists throughout the centuries have noticed this higher dimension and called it ‘God.’  It doesn’t matter what you call it.  The point is that writing allows you to contact it.  Whether you think of it as ‘God’ or ‘higher forces,’ as ‘inspiration’ or as contact with your own ‘higher self’ doesn’t really matter.  What does matter is that you can access a source of information and guidance, both creative and mundane, that will serve you.”

So really… why not write??

6 Comments

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