24 Feb 2014 Leave a comment
03 Feb 2014 2 Comments
Recently I was feeling some serious blockage of energy around my heart (chest pains), my lungs (heaviness when I breathe), and my central chakra there (I couldn’t see it clearly). I’ve been working on it, albeit somewhat slowly, but concerned that I couldn’t quite “feel” my way through any of it.
When someone brushed over the throat and heart chakra/centers I felt a wonderous relief and a sense of opening, yet it was brief and I could still feel this lingering darkness.
It wasn’t simply a haunting spirit, a demon, a pain from eating the wrong foods, or an infection.
Yesterday after a long and involved therapy session, I realized..
It was me.
For all of my work on letting go, on forgiveness, on opening up and loving further, deeper. I’m really, really, REALLY angry. Yes, I felt the energy of a few specific people lingering with me, but it was my anger towards their actions, their behaviors, their words, that I’ve been holding on to.
And I could feel it yesterday while laying back, gently probing the sense of darkness. And I knew what it was laying there in my heart. It wasn’t just angry adult me, mad at terrible drivers or people being cruel or whatever. It was the younger me, furious at the world, at the people around me.
Today I woke up with a sensation, that was almost depressed. But it wasn’t “just” that. I let myself fall back asleep, briefly, curled up on the couch. I didn’t push my errands to happen, I didn’t stress that the books aren’t back at the library or the shopping for my trip isn’t done.
I just let myself be.
01 Feb 2014 Leave a comment
Today, as I sit listening to the wonderful sounds of music on my player, I wonder if we’ll ever know just how much the little things made the biggest differences in someones life.
Listening to Patti Griffin can bring me joy, comfort, and to tears of sorrow and such depth of emotion, one I rarely find myself in recently. And I recall the friend that brought me to her, Jennifer, do you know how important you were? How this one (among many) gift you brought in to my life has echoed over these past 12 years?
Does Darcy know how her enjoyment of Enya (albeit played at a level much higher than was reasonable to us neighbors downstairs) helped to bring this music in to heal me? For some 20 years now…
Does my grandmother quite understand how The Secret Garden saved me as a child? How I would hide away from the pain in the garden, growing, learning, lost in my own secret paradise.
How a trip with a friend to Tokyo could leave me at such peace, utterly lost in a world not my own, yet so at home anywhere I went.
That hypnotherapy with my great aunt, once, has left me with a grove of flowering cherry trees to visit in meditation, dreams, day dreams, any moment I needed safety and calm.
That a conversation between this same aunt and her friend could leave me afraid to share my own gifts in a way that would request any compensation. And lead me to question and ponder how we share our gifts with the world.
How driving up to the last house on a list, in a funky neighborhood, tired and frustrated at the lack of reasonable rentals, could lead me to a little black cat, and an amazingly bright, loving soul, that would change me forever, who would heal me and love me so completely.
How from one afternoon, my friend sitting in an AOL chat room, could bring me to my friend, partner, husband of nearly 20 years. One sentence from her, and I knew someone special had entered my life. Did she understand this ripple at all?
How firing me from a job, as a waitress in a strip club, could take me down the path of office work instead, of HR management, Business administration, from doctors offices, lawyers, to Microsoft, and Amazon, to my own businesses now… what if she hadn’t fired me that day?
Even the seemingly bad moments, led me to some amazing, beautiful memories. Perhaps I would never have been able to grasp the love, the light, the joy in my life without the darkness in it too.
That through the pain, we aren’t just damaged, or broken; we are in fact lifted up, brought to another plane of existence. We are stronger, more capable, aware, and alive, because those ripples of sorrow, of grief, despair, depression and rage, found their way in to our path.
I wonder how it would be, if we realized how powerful our own ripples were. How they transform the world, not just ours, but of others, in ways we may never, ever, see or know of.
13 Dec 2013 1 Comment
Add your tThere is a truism among parents that one of the benefits of pet-ownership is that it helps to teach kids about death. I think this is true, but it is not the most important lesson that our dogs (and other furry family members) teach us. They teach us about compassion, too. They teach us to be patient. They teach us that life isn’t just short, it’s also fragile. They teach us that it’s important to be a noticer.houghts here… (optional)
Originally posted on Kelly Barnhill:
The internet is a funny place. I wrote this piece about my ancient, beloved, sometimes foul-tempered, and often stinky, but always utterly herself, cattle-dog-mix – gosh, almost a year ago – and suddenly it has gotten approximately one skillion views over the last two days. Randomly. And people are commenting like mad and sending me beautiful, passionate, and soulful emails, telling me the story of their own beloved pets – those still hanging on, and those tenderly carried into their next grand adventure in that dog park in the sky.
And people are asking: how is Harper? Is she still alive?
13 Dec 2013 Leave a comment
Originally posted on Kelly Barnhill:
This is my dog.
Her name is Harper, and she is very old. Decades. Centuries. A cool millenium. You might not believe me that she is actually 1,000 years old, and you might try to convince me otherwise, but I would like to point out that you have no proof. And she’s my dog. So.
She has been in our family since 1998, back when my husband and I were two shacked-up quasi-Communist, vaguely Anarchist ne’re-do-wells, stomping around Stumptown in our government-issued firefighter boots and quoting Saul Alinsky at whoever stood still long enough to listen. We lived in a house with a bunch of other twentysomethings and their various friends, partners and hangers-on – artists, puppeteers, Wobblies, graduate students, people who used to work for ACORN, and so on. I would make huge vats of beans and rice and someone would bring beer and we would play cards and eat and argue until early in the morning. My couch often had some guy sleeping on it. Some guy in need of a shower.
11 Dec 2013 Leave a comment
11 Dec 2013 1 Comment
I want to start out by saying a huge thank you to all the dishwashers that have ever been in my life. I miss you and appreciate all the dishes you’ve cleaned for me.
No, seriously. I miss having a dishwasher and I’m oh so thankful for them.
I wandered in to the kitchen today (this doesn’t take much, our tiny abode is, well, tiny) knowing that I had to do SOME of the dishes in the sink, today and no more ‘eventually’ about it.
When we moved from WA state we not only left behind our cute, cozy, but newer home, a lot of rain and some greenery; we left behind our own washer & dryer, and the dishwasher. Some days this bothers me far less than others.
Ok, most days it bothers me far less than others, but mostly because I just don’t do it that day and we end up waiting one more day.
And though I know to some people this would seem like one of those complaints about “1st world problems”, and perhaps it is in a way; however when just getting out of bed can be tiring, when sitting, walking, running, standing, and often all forms of laying down even are painful (and feel exhausting) - the idea of spending half an hour or more scrubbing dishes is less than ideal.
But this would be day 5 of not cleaning the dishes, and I’ve run out of any clean dishes so I can’t eek by any longer. This is a point at which the mental and physical fatigue I feel just have to be ignored. It isn’t to say that it no longer exists, but that at this moment, it is less important than clean dishes – if not for me, for the rest of the house.
I think that part of this block to clean the dishes stems from such a small space to do much of anything in the kitchen, cleaning, cooking, breathing (although the draft from the edges around the AC unit there help!) and I find myself standing there missing what was so much more than I .. well, than I want to.
I’m very thankful to have a fairly functioning kitchen, however I deeply miss have a kitchen more than 10 sq. ft. (including counter space and cupboards), and I long for a bit more space to stretch out in to, to cook, to bake, hey! Even.. to clean the dishes.
I’ve considered adding a second dish rack on the right side of the sink so that I can get all of the dishes at once, but there’s no where really to store it when I’m not using it so… that idea goes right out the proverbial window.
I suppose that really it will come down to doing every other day what I normally only dig up every few days, the desire for a clean sink overpowering the pain and fatigue.
And thankfully I have a spouse that has finally come to a point where they are ok with such housecleaning disasters – even suggesting that I get some outside help in to clean up this week. And I’m thankful that for one of the first times in my life I felt ok with this idea (there was a part of me that wasn’t but it was finally a small part), I felt OK asking for help and admitting I couldn’t really do it all without destroying my precariously balanced state of health.
I could finally, fully, admit that scrubbing the kitchen & bathroom floors, the toilet, the counters, the stove and then perhaps vacuuming would indeed be too much to take on (as it has been for many years) without too much guilt.
Guilt is such close companion to fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, and all manner of illness – that voice that says what I “should” be able to do, what I wish I was able to do, and how much better I might be if I did it and ignored the end results.
Which are usually pain, fatigue, bitchiness, sorrow, depression, and lots of sleeping. Somehow those things don’t pop up quite as strongly as guilt does though.
However, thankfully, gratefully, the past couple of years I’ve been slowly releasing the guilt and letting in the sunshine. Someone else out there is willing to do these things for me, and I’m ok letting them, mostly.
Of course… in our next place? Dishwasher, Washer & Dryer, my friends how I’ve missed thee.