The Ultimate Yes

Even Here We Are

I was incredibly sad last week.  The news of Natasha Richardson's tragic accident and subsequent death reminded me how quickly life, as we know it, can be over. She was on vacation taking a ski lesson, fell and hit her head, and two days later she was removed from life support.   I had seen a few of her movies and knew she was married to Liam Neeson, but hadn't given any thought to this woman until suddenly she showed up on my computer screen.  I've been wondering why her death has affected me as much as it has. Perhaps it's because she died so young.  Perhaps it's because she leaves behind two young sons and a husband who adored her. Perhaps it's because it just doesn't seem fair that someone can be here one minute and gone the next.  Yeah, that's it.

Last Friday, I attended the memorial of a wonderful woman who owns a vibrant and playful art gallery in the town I live.  I knew she'd been ill for a few months, but her death came as a complete surprise to me. I had thought about sending her flowers and a card numerous times, but I just never got around to it.  I just never got around to it?!?  WHAT THE F*#&%?   Why didn't I let her know I was thinking about her?  Why didn't I take the time and make it important enough to tell her how happy I was to have met her when I first moved to Cannon Beach?  Death and life...they wait for no one. Yeah, that's it.   

So I've been wondering for the past few days...how am I to live?  Really, truly, deeply...looking at all that is my life and seeing what is important and what is not. Every day it becomes a bit more clear. Last week during one of our classes at the studio, I played a Shawn Colvin song I absolutely love and it inspired me to write this...a simple poem about dance, about life. Despite everything, even here we are. Yeah, that's it.

Even here we are...

Despite what we've been told
And what we've learned
And yes, even what we've experienced

We take all of it into the dance

Our mother's voice
Our teachers' lessons
Our lives lived thus far

Even here we are...

Despite time ticking
And to-do lists lengthening
And yes, even worrying still

We take all of it into the dance

Our joys and sorrow
Our hopes and fears
Our dreams big and small

Even here we are...

Despite what others do
And what happens in the world
And yes, even those things we can't control

We take all of it into the dance

Our pause and ponder
Our heartbeat and heartache
Our bodies and our beliefs

Even here we are

Despite everything else
And no matter what
And yes, even just because

We take all of it
All of it
Into the dance

 

I've Stayed Away Because...

  

I've stayed away because I've been afraid of my own thoughts for the past three weeks.  Because I didn't want to dwell on the not-so-happy aspects of what's transpired in my husband's and my world. Because deep-down inside me, beyond that place of having patience or trust or even faith...I'm scared and I haven't wanted to admit it. 

There is the long-winded version of this story that I've told to many family members and friends and then there's the one I'm ready to share here. On Christmas Day, a chest x-ray and CAT scan showed three nodules on James' right lung.  After three weeks of a multitude of tests, procedures and possible diagnoses, James' health remains a mystery. The good news is all of the nasty things the doctors thought he might have he doesn't have.  The other good news is many of the symptoms he's been experiencing are going away. I'm grateful for both of these things and it's challenging not yet knowing what's been going on with James' body. And so for now and for the next 4-6 weeks until his next CAT scan, we wait.

There's a part of me that's been strong and supportive to James...I've researched medical terms and have asked plenty of questions of the doctors.  I haven't shown my fear of the unknown, but have remained steadfast in showing love and showering him with positive, healing energy.  I've let go of my anger towards the doctors who had to follow "the rules" which kept us for three days over Christmas at the hospital. I've let go of my rage and disbelief at the physician who accidentally punctured James' lung while he was retrieving tissue samples.  I've let go of my sadness having missed spending the holiday with my family.  I've even let go of trying to figure out what all of this possibly means.  But what continues to lurk in the corners, and keeps me up late at night, and makes me want to scream is my fear.  

When I don't know something, I want to find an answer.  Would knowing an answer in this case alleviate my fear or would it make it greater than it ever has been?  I sit here at 2:30 in the morning staring at the blinking cursor.  How ironic to want an answer to provide comfort and peace and yet not having one also creates those feelings. 

No matter what happens, the love of my life and I will be okay.  I know this.

A Year of YES!

I decided not to wait until the last day of 2008 to reflect on this year's adventures and ponder the ones I've got planned for 2009.  When the clock strikes midnight and the calendar turns, I want to be very clear about what I'm letting go of and what I'm moving towards in the New Year. With a little more than two weeks to go before we pop the corks and partake in the festive celebrations, I wanted to spend some time revisiting the things I've said "YES" to in the past year with a few words and pictures.  What have you said "Yes!" to this year? 

YES! to starting off 2008 with hosting a fabulous retreat with six amazing women.  Despite feeling under the weather and losing my voice, it was grand to spend a long weekend being reminded of how much I love working with women and inspiring them to show up, get real, and play big in their lives.

YES! to having spent two weeks in the South Pacific sunshine during the Pacific Northwest winter.  Even though I won't be joining my husband on his next trip to New Zealand in January, I know I'll be spending more time down under the older I get. This is a very good thing.

YES! oh YES! to creating BeachDance this summer.  It was a defining moment in my life to see thirteen people, alone in their own dance and yet very much together, moving to the music while at the same time being moved from within.  Out in the open...out in the elements...out in nature. This is the path I will continue to follow and lead others to find here at home and around the world. 

 

YES! to finding the courage and following a feeling that gave me the opportunity to work with one of my favorite women at a beautiful retreat center in July. 

More to say and share about my YESES (is that actually a word?), your YESES and how we can help each other out by saying it more often, but a YES! calls to me now...it's time to go facilitate tonight's class at Tsunami.  YES!

One More Week Before 40

   

Wait a minute...there's not THAT much difference, is there?  

• Same smile.  (Thankfully, teeth are noticably straighter now.)
• Same hairstyle. (I never quite got over the one time in my life I had short hair.  When Brenda Carroll asked me in fourth grade if I was a boy or a girl, the Dorothy Hamill haircut was banished forever.)
• Same 70's style of fashion.  (Wild and crazy prints never go out of style, but thank God one-piece jumpsuits did.)
• Same girl.  (I may have grown older, but I'll never grow up.)

Seriously, though..I can't believe I'm turning 40 next Saturday.  I remember when I graduated from high school in 1987 and thought it would be a very long time before I'd be the age my parents were at that time. I'm still shaking my head that that day will arrive in one week's time.  And so...in celebration of being on this planet for almost four decades now, I'm having a big ol' party.  Yes, it's just another number and yes, I'm now old enough that I don't HAVE to have a party, but I'm excited that many of my friends and family members will be coming to the coast next weekend to be with me.  Makes a person feel pretty damn special and loved. 

But it's not the yummy dinner that awaits us or the delicious dessert we'll consume or even the dancing that will take place at my studio (although dancing with 30+ people I love and care about stirs me up quite a bit) that brings tears to my eyes and causes my heart to beat faster.   I'm in the midst of planning a surprise that honors each of my guests in a way I hope they'll never forget.  It may be my birthday, but I'm the one who'll be giving the gifts.  With age comes perspective and with that, wisdom hopefully follows. 

I've always been somewhat of a wise-ass, but I can now see...slowly...ever-so surely...I'm becoming wise.  Bring on the Big Four-Oh I say!  I'm just getting started. 

On Being Seen...

I've just returned home after spending the last twenty-four hours with my girlfriend, Layne. (She's the other giggly gal in the photo.)  We've known each other for about fifteen years and during that time, she and I have gone through a helluva lot together. 

She and I both had the courage to cancel our weddings when deep down we knew the relationship wasn't the right one for us. (I'm happily married now, but was engaged to another man eleven years ago.)  Over the years as we changed jobs, homes and men, we've been there for one another as plans changed, hearts broke and fell in love again, and dreams were realized.  It's one of those friendships where you just know you're going to love and care for this person for the rest of your life...no matter what. 

And right now...as Layne is going through a tremendous medical challenge and enduring incredible pain, she has allowed me to see her in her most vulnerable state.  She has let me help her in ways I'm sure she never anticipated she would need or would want me to.  Were it possible for us to trade places for a few days so she could experience a body that was free of the disease that is currently effecting the quality of her life, I would do it in a heartbeat. She's seen me at my worst and I feel so grateful that she continues to let me see her during this not-so-great time of hers.   I would do anything for her and I know she feels the same way about me.

While it may seem that the longer you know someone the easier it is to be seen, that's not necessarily true.  To the degree in which we show ourselves (our "here-is-who-I-really-am" self) to the world, the more likely it is that someone will not only take notice, but will show up and let us know we've been seen. 

This evening as I made my way home, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few items.  As I entered the building, off to my immediate right was a display of flowers.  What caught my attention were some beautiful calla lillies in a variety of colors.  While I stood there looking at them, many thoughts went through my mind.  The dialogue went something like this;

"What lovely flowers.  And how interesting the deep, dark purple ones are.  They're almost black. Maybe I should get some.  Nah...they probably won't last very long.  But hey, I could enjoy them for a few days at least.  I wish they had some burnt orange ones like I had my wedding.  Hmmm...my wedding.  What a beautiful day that was.  I miss my husband.  James....."

And then somewhere amongst the dreamy thoughts of my husband, I decided not to buy the flowers and when I turned to resume my shopping, a woman who had been standing only a few feet away from me said, "That was such a lovely picture to see." And I said somewhat confused, "Excuse me?"   And what she said next took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. She said, "The way you were looking at those flowers.  I feel honored to have seen that." I just looked at her in amazement and said, "Thank you. What a sweet thing to say.  Thank you."  I felt like hugging her.  I felt touched by something more than just a stranger's kind words.  I was seen.

I believe we all need to be acknowledged for who we really are and when it happens when we least expect it, those are the sweet moments when you know we're all connected to each other.  Those are the moments one never forgets. 

It's the littlest of things...

"Let's dance around the Maypole today and celebrate the first day of May.  With May Day baskets in hand, we scamper across the land."

Happy May Day - Cannon Beach Elementary Fourth Grade

This was the sweet, hand-made basket that was given to me by a nine year-old girl as she wished me Happy May Day.  And then when I opened up the little piece of paper that was tucked inside and read the poem, I cried.  The entire fourth grade class of our local elementary school went around town today, walked into various stores and gave merchants and customers these baskets.  What a lovely gift.  What a simple way to make someone's day.   A gesture of friendship, compassion and just overall goodness.  I've been noticing of late that it's the littlest of things that have touched the deepest places of my heart.

Things like...

• warm, soapy water
• the swift and beautiful flight of swallows
• an unexpected compliment
• connections with strangers
• the soft glow of candles and the sweet smell of incense at dawn
• a gray hair that I pulled out of MY head
• that look my husband gives me that makes me tingle all over
• being still (which I don't do that often)
• walking to where I want to go instead of driving
• oh-so delicate and colorful hummingbirds outside my window
• the ache in my right wrist
• love...it's everywhere

Let's dance and scamper across the land everyday. Yeah...that sounds like a very good idea to me.

The Ache of Longing

I've been dancing...and running...and thinking...and dreaming big.  Two days ago, I was doing all four at the same time while on the beach and the strong, sure voice spoke again with a sense of excitement and urgency.  "Create the space and people will come to the beach and dance," it said. And it's not just in a very lovely and sacred space with beautiful hardwood floors and warm-colored walls, but they would come to dance ON THE BEACH!!!

My heart aches to make this kind of dance, this kind of self-expression, this kind of art available to others.  And while I'm dancing on the beach anything seems possible.  Ideas flow easily.  Negativity and resistance disappear and my ego goes with them.   In this place of utter bliss, I am more of the me I want to see in the world.  And then I return from my dance and I struggle.  Reality sets in.  How do I make something this BIG happen?  Where does the money come from?    And then the next moment, I shrug it off because I see signs all around me saying "Yes, yes, yes," but then I waver again and become afraid.  What if I fail?   And fear I feel is changing.  It's no longer the fear of failing because I tried to make this dream of having a community-based movement studio come true, it's the fear of giving up and regreting I never really gave it all I had. 

The longing isn't going away.  It's deepening.  It's burrowing its way into my being.  It's asking me what I'm willing to risk to have what I really want.  I recently read Steven Pressfield's "The War of Art" and in between fits of laughter (he's got us procrastinators pegged!) I tried to let the wisdom of his words sink in.  We each have a calling; something we are inherently gifted to do.  The question to ask ourselves is, "Are we going to answer that call?"   

So as I sit here at 11:11 pm on a Wednesday night feeling the ache of longing, I google it and it doesn't come as a surprise that it's available.   And now the voice whispers, "What are you going to do next?"      

Loving the parts of me I don't like

"Something we were withholding made us weak.  Until we found out that it was ourselves." ~Robert Frost

I really hate to admit I'm still learning to love myself.  Not just the parts and pieces of me I like and I'm confident about, but the ones that make me flawed and human.  The ones that sometimes whisper not-so-nice things in the middle of the night and the ones I can't help but see when I look in the mirror.  They're not physical attributes (although I wouldn't mind having straighter teeth, smoother skin, firmer thighs and rock-hard abs) they're the things I do (or don't do) that keep me from being more fully-expressed and living big.

Things like...

• Worrying about money all the time. 
• Comparing myself to others.
• Procrastinatinating and putting off things that are really important to me.
• Feeling like I always need to be doing something.  I hate to be bored.
• Unfairly judging people who have vastly different political viewpoints than mine.
• Flitting from one thing to another.  It's challenging for me to stay focused on one thing for long periods of time.
• Having way too much clutter and forgetting where I put things. (Might there be a connection there?  HELLO!!!)   

I'd love to point the finger and blame someone else for my blemishes and not-so-confident bits, but I'm old enough (and I like to think I'm wise enough now) to know better.  I take full responsibility for my life.  All of it.  What it's been, what it is right now and what it will be is of my own making and choosing.  Loving the parts of me I don't like is a life-long process.  I know this even though I'd like to believe I otherwise. Today I'm going to do the things that really nurture me and make me feel good so that when I look in the mirror all I see is love.

Feeling a bit grumpy of late

I feel a bit like this dried-up puffer fish this morning.  After spending several hours online yesterday watching streaming videos and reading articles about the Democratic primaries taking place, I am exhausted.  I gave up my daily newspaper habit and watching television years ago and now I'm seriously considering giving up visiting websites like this one.    I want to be informed of what's going on in our world, but I think there's a point where too much input messes with your mind.

What was it exactly that made me so grumpy?   Politically-speaking, there were plenty of things that happened yesterday that caused my irk-meter to rise, but what created the most chaos for me was reading people's negative, very prejudiced and sometimes downright vicious comments on a variety of newssites.  I'm all for expressing one's opinion, but when folks can't state their thoughts and feelings without having to resort to name-calling, fear-mongering and gossiping, ooohhhh that makes me so angry.  When I'm all riled up, I'll admit that part of me wants to jump into the fray, write a nasty comment of my own and tell everyone they're full of shit.  The bigger part of me says "be the change I want to see in the world" and so I will step away from it all, calm down and do something today that brings positive energy to this planet.

I feel better already.

An experience of "IT"

Ah...Neahkahnie Mountain.  It's one of my favorite spots along the Oregon coast and I feel fortunate it's only a short drive south from my home.  It's the place I've told my husband to toss my ashes if I go before him.  It's a place where I feel both free and utterly connected to everything. If I could fly, this would be the place where I'd earn my wings. 

This past weekend I felt like I soared and I believe I helped six other women to do the same.  Our flying took place during my annual winter-time beach retreat.  No, we didn't hang-glide off of Neahkahnie Mountain, but we all took plenty of leaps during the two days we spent together. There were leaps of trust and courage.  There were leaps into the places we normally hide and there were leaps into seeing things differently.   I saw moments of awe and appreciation, compassion and connection, authentic and creative expression and pure delight.  It doesn't get any better than this for a facilitator.  To see an idea you've created and have it be wholeheartedly embraced and expanded upon by those you hope to effect is incredibly rewarding not to mention profoundly moving. 

So as I sit here in the mid-afternoon Tuesday sun, recovering from the nasty cold that took hold of my body last Wednesday, I'm grateful to the women who chose to be a part of this weekend's retreat.  They  reminded me why I do what I do.  And even though I can't seem to find the right words to describe what "it" is, I know it's an experience we won't ever forget.