It is What It is. I am Who I am.

It is what it is. I am white. I have fair skin. I have blue eyes. I am slender. These physical traits are worth gold. Sometimes, that I am a woman, strikes oil! But who am I? No one who doesn't know me, really knows that answer. But looking at me, they are certain they do.

They don't follow me around the department store. My former partner regularly shoplifted at Home Depot. But he was white and middle-aged. It is the Latinos who really needed to be watched.

I can get a job fairly easily. Many people in my predominantly white community don't show up for jobs, quit and complain when things don't go their way or when they want to ski or play instead. But those Native Americans are so lazy.

When I walk into a bank, I am greeted and it's likely assumed that I am depositing a respectable pay check or withdrawing money from a stable bank account. Surely that black woman must need help for a loan.

I can get a job. I can get a loan. I am more likely to get out of a ticket. I am less likely to go to jail.

My friends, and I mean good friends, have these traits: black, Asian, Latino, Native American, Eastern Indian, gay, bi, trans, asexual, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, atheist, agnostic, tall, fat, super short, have a gold tooth or a missing tooth.

And for any one of these traits, they have been criticized, ostracized, bullied, passed over. It occurs to me that if I asked them to share a short story of one of these experiences, it would knock my socks off because I'm confident I only know a small part of that experience of harsh judgment.

There are people in my blood circle who use the N word and huff in disgust when they see Black Lives Matter or a black president, or families seeking asylum--in accordance with US law. Because who knows better than they when these people should be "over" racism and segregation; surely they can judge that better than those who suffer the N label.

I don't apologize for what I look like; as I said, I am who I am. But I am acutely aware of the overt favoritism and the unconscious preferential treatment I receive.

If I am the majority, by society's standard, then I must stand up for the minority. To not would be to not use my magic for good.

And I believe people who look like me judge more, hate more, blame more, because they don't know what to do with their feeling of shame or guilt, so it's easier to be angry. It's easier to separate. But really, if they embraced who they are fully, empowered themselves with that, they could lift up many. They could help change the world, literally.

But hey, even with all the perks and security of my physical traits, when it gets down to brass tacks, I am more likely to be grabbed by the pussy. Isn't that special.

#justsayin'
#neverthelessshepersisted
#goddesses

Prayer for 2019

If you've shared a meal with me, you know that before eating, I bow and give thanks.

Someone once asked, out of curiosity, what I said in my prayer. It can go anywhere from the obvious, such as, thanking the planet for providing the food in front of me and for bringing my meal companion to the table, to giving thanks for the hot water water I use to wash my plates and the four walls surrounding us in safety, to being grateful for coming to a place of compassion and no harm in my food choices. I may send out prayers to someone in particular who has been on my mind, or ask that all beings know peace.

Last night, as I was having an early dinner because it was the eve of the new year and I needed to be ready to spend hours outdoors with my herd if the fireworks got too close, I sat in quiet and in prayer. For the new year, the new moon, the partial solar eclipse of this week, I felt the pull to pray deep for the planet and all its beings. More than that, to pray for love. To pray that all beings may know love, love for themselves and love for others. That they may know love from themselves and from others.

Suddenly, I heard the message, it was healing. Healing needed the space.

I realized, I could pray for love--and I will continue to do so, but it is healing that is needed. For if a person has trauma, self-loathing, lacks belief in their value, stews in old patterns and thoughts, they cannot be in a space of true love. Because love of self is often the hardest to achieve, yet it is essential to really loving another. Love of self comes from being healed of worn stories, from karma of past lifetimes; it comes from believing that you are love and so is every other being on this planet.

If you cannot see yourself in every other being, your expression of love is short-circuiting. To not see yourself in other beings, is to put yourself above others, creating separation and distinction, imposing a measure of worthiness and the right to exist.

Once we heal a wound, one at a time, once we forgive a past injustice, once we detach from the story we created that binds us to what happened, we experience a freedom like nothing else. We then possess the vision to continue our healing. As this happens, the pain is transmuted to universal love.

Love isn't agreeing with or forgetting, it's allowing space for all of us to heal, including ourselves. It's holding space for another to go through their process and not be tied to the outcome for them. Love is a practice and a journey.

I. We. All.

In light and love,

A Little Story About Gent

Ten or so years ago, when I first started coming up to Oregon, we stayed at a vacation rental on a ranch for well over six months, and then returned for several months more. This truly was my first dive into just how magical animals are.

There are photos of me standing at the fence of our yard, as far back as I could be with my arm extended as far forward as it could go, holding on to a baby carrot by the tippy tips of my fingers, all in an attempt to not get too close to the horse. Oh, who was that woman?!

One of the ranch horses was Gent. He was a gorgeous dark bay Thoroughbred/Quarter mix. He was the alpha of the herd and really didn't mind making that undeniably obvious any chance he could get. I was in love with Gingerbread Man, a buckskin Arab/Quarter cross. He got much of my attention as he was low on the pecking order, and who else wanted to be over there at the fence with that skittish woman anyway. Then I took steps closer to the fence, then I had a bent arm, then I had an open palm, then I quietly reached forward, then I began to understand the energy that flows between two hearts seeking whole.

Gingerbread and I continued with our tête-à-têtes and my draw into the equine world would become irreversible.

This went on for a while. If you know horses, you know they can sense your tenor the moment you open a door. As my comfort with Gingerbread Man grew, everything about me was different when I stepped out onto the deck. And that is when Gent started to pay attention. One of those days, he acknowledged me as one of the herd.

Two geldings vying for my attention required deft tactics. I would quietly walk around the other side of a structure to get time with Gingerbread Man because any time Gent approached, he smartly moved off. And then we had a hot summer lazy day and Gent was under the Ponderosa Pine tree, beside the gurgling creek, steps away from the water trough, head hung low and back hoof cocked, indicating he was at deep rest.

I'd like to think it was my sing-song voice, but maybe it was just his mood. He came out from under the tree, to the fence rail, put his head in my hands, closed his eyes, and feel asleep. There I stayed with him for what seemed hours, in absolute awe of the size of his head, and how soft his muzzle was, and how steady his breathing was. I would come to know this experience over and over, just about daily. I was drunk with how much was going on inside of me. My heart was growing and beaming, and feeling so much more at peace and safe than decades before.

Years have passed. Things have changed.

I drove by that property this afternoon and saw the horses out in the far end of the pasture. On my way back, they were closer to the fence. I pulled over, got out of my car, and walked to the fence saying, "Are you Gent?" There were three horses. Two did not even give me an ear flick, but one walked directly over to me, put his neck over the fence straight into me. I took his head in my hands, looking over him, noting that he had lost an eye, still asking, "Are you Gent?" There were things about him that seemed so familiar, yet the size and shape of his head seemed bigger. And didn't Gent have white stockings?

This boy stayed with me, eye closing, breathing with intention. I continued to talk to him and I asked again, "Are you Gent? How am I to know?" Within a moment or two, he raised his head and pulled back a bit back over the fence, he looked at me and a tear fell from his right eye. It was a tear. A dropping tear. It wasn't gunky eye stuff that horses can get in the summer as they defend their keen sight from dust and flies. It was pure, clear tear. It would go without saying that I offered one in return.

Later this evening, I learned from the owners of the property that Gent was euthanized three and a half years ago. His body may have left this physical world, but I am here to tell you, his spirit is alive and strong.

As I was telling a friend of this afternoon, I looked up and in my container of a roasted sweet potato, staring straight at me was a heart. #weareone

With Gent, 2007/2008

If you believe it, you will see it, 2018

Free Fallin'

So here's what happened this evening.

I went to the home of a couple, long time students of mine, to give them a private dance lesson before they left town for a wedding. They're just breaking speed in West Coast Swing, their fourth dance.

We were coming to the end of the lesson and I was explaining how at the wedding they will likely be able to fit WCS into much of the music. As an example of how to use the music to create the dance, I played Free Fallin', the Tom Petty cover by John Mayer.

Oh how the dance angels descended upon this pair! It was magical. Lost was the concentration on left or right, or 1, 2, 3 & 4. They danced. They melted into the music, they moved as one, the room became quite small.

It was an emotional moment I don't think any of us saw coming.

I remember my time at the Damn the Torpedoes concert as a 15 year old. And with that same appreciative but more wise heart, I shall remember my time feeling Tom Petty free fallin' into eternal grace.

Thank you J & R.

Thank You, Roberta Flack

We all know how music can transport us, heal us, comfort us, inspire us, energize us. And when the Universe is on a roll, the right song comes at the right moment.

Most of my friends remember the end of our relationship, the last few years. Those were hard years, painful and challenging. Of course, my friends have not experienced my journey as I have, since then, my healing, my understanding, my compassion, my forgiveness. So when people say something like, "I know your relationship didn't end well" it's almost as if I am being reminded of something, or really, more like being told something that seems so distant and almost foreign. It's just not where I live any longer. I have moved far away from those days. But I understand their point.

Our connection was soul lives long. Our time together was profoundly deep. Now that he has changed the dynamic, in death, another phase of movement is occurring.

Someone posted Roberta Flack's The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. Who hasn't loved this song! But tonight, it's as if I am hearing this fully, for the first time. It was a movie replaying. It was the feeling of cheeks touching that first time in the kitchen, of my heart pounding like never before. He was the one person who knew me and all of my demons better than anyone. It was vulnerable and raw and real. It was love.

My mother had said we had child-like play and laughter. It's because we offered our inner child to the other, to be known, to be appreciated, and to be healed of all the burdens our little one carries for us as adults. That's how deep we went.

For all that happened over our many years together, it cannot erase this. We were destined for one another, we had a soul contract. And now, I think I can finally grieve without fearing being caught in the loop of past lives.

We have truly separated.

And this calls for something different. This is what I am discovering.


Roberta Flack: https://youtu.be/Id_UYLPSn6U

Finding My High, Part I

I met her today. She's been screaming in silence. She was in a state of panic. Of shame. A state of fear. She's been showing up, tucked into an oversized barrel chair in the living room in Long Beach where I used to live.

I met her today. I took her hand. The hand that had been clenched with hurt, with rage, with pain. I went to her, stood beside her, and extended my hand. She took my hand. She stood up. My back straightened and my shoulders rolled back. My gaze steadied. My nostrils widened as I filled my lungs with space, expanding what had collapsed until I understood it was her silent roar I had been hearing.

There once was a door, and a room, and that too big chair. Then it was just us. Side by side, yet one in the same. She can rest now. All the work she had done, the struggling, the suffering, the crying, it was necessary. It was the sacrifice she made for me. She built me up. She kept reminding me to go forward. She demands that I never be silent.

She will always be with me; she is me.

She Says It's Time

What's a trigger if not to expel something lodged deep inside.
Encased. Enclosed. Ensconced.
A secret. But at whose expense?
Discomfort. Dis-ease. Distant.
Distant from the life She lives today.
The life She deserves.
The life She created.
The life She so wants to reclaim.
The trigger rang the doorbell at 8:10a.m.
Confusion. Cloudiness. Chaos within.
Sorting protective layers of survival.
Once firmly pressed down, sheet by sheet, as She kept climbing ahead.
Now the layers are rippled, exposing the spaces wanting to be healed.
She Says It's Time.
Time to go dark. Time to go deep. Time to let go.
It's Time to Speak.
It's Time to Expose.
Expose not the illness of another, but Her experience.
The trigger clicked.
Retraction is not an option.