Read Me Lovely

Seemingly Small

2005-11-03T10:40:00.000-08:00

When I am jogging I notice that if I lean forward ever so slightly I have more power. I also notice that my natural tendency is to lean back ever so slightly.

Neither lean is noticeable to the eye.

And yet, I notice a big difference in my capability to propel my body towards the finish line.

A tiny shift can lead to powerful results.

I wonder what a miniscule shift in perspective can lead to?

To Pax

2005-10-20T19:28:00.000-07:00

You're welcome

Amazing what you will find when you take notice

2005-10-20T15:38:00.000-07:00

I went to the pool today. This is what I noticed.

2005-10-20T15:37:00.000-07:00

A star full of trees.

2005-10-20T15:36:00.001-07:00

A blossoming star.

2005-10-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

A drop of beauty.

2005-10-20T15:35:00.000-07:00

My skin darker than the pavement.

2005-10-20T15:34:00.000-07:00

Trees cradling the sun.

Do you know me?

2005-10-14T16:03:00.000-07:00

This little guy followed my daughter home from school today.

2005-10-14T16:02:00.000-07:00

This cat is super friendly. I hope we find it's home.

2005-10-14T16:00:00.000-07:00

Is this your baby?

Flowers from Mom

2005-09-30T21:45:00.000-07:00

My visit with Mom this past week was AMAZING! It was like meeting her for the first time. She was helpful, supportive, open, kind, gentle, funny, and herself. We connected so much while she was here that when she left I was exhausted...in a good way. I don't think I have ever connected with her like we did this past week.

You know, Mom and I have carried around some hurt feelings and resentment for a number of years now. Well, it's probably more like my entire life (what can I say? That's how it feels). I can't remember being honest and up front with her. What I mean is that I can't remember ever being REAL with her. There was like this unspoken agreement that we wouldn't ever show who we were underneath the surface, simple pleasantries. The complexities of life were taboo. Like sexuality. Like body image. Like the way my grandma treats everyone. Well, it wasn't that these particular subjects were off limits; it was more like how we felt about them was unspeakable. Sssshhhhh....

Anyhow, a few weeks ago mom and I sat down to have a heart to heart. I invited her to go to a life coaching session with me and she blindly accepted. Susan (my life coach) facilitated an honor talk between the two of us and we peeled back our protective layers. We put our hearts on the line and boy, did it ever pay off! We both spoke our truth and what we found is:

~ We love each other and care about the relationship.

~ We relate completely different.

~ We both need to speak up - I need to ask for what I need and she needs to be willing to share what's going on for her.

I have to tell you, embracing the complexities of our relationship and ourselves REALLY paid off. It's like our relationship grew up in an hour long conversation. Yes, it was really that powerful. Powerful, I tell you!

And now we have this space. A space that allows us to see the beauty in the individuality of the other woman. A space that takes the complex with the simple along with a hug and a smile.

Thanks, Mom, for being willing to put yourself out there...for being honest...for trusting me...and for just being you.

I love you.

Are you tough & fragile?

2005-09-29T11:44:00.000-07:00

Before I began the life coaching process I was tough. And I was fragile. What does it mean to be tough and fragile simultaneously, you ask? Let me give you an example:

My partner and I had been married less than a year. And within a few months of buying our first home I was completely overwhelmed. I had never been responsible for such a large dwelling before and it was daunting. There was so much to decorate, clean, and organize. Of course, this was in addition to working full-time (at a job I hated), planning 100% of the meals, doing all the grocery shopping, and raising our daughter. Whew!

One evening I just couldn't handle it anymore. I burst into tears and told my partner how overwhelmed I felt. I was so angry that I had to be responsible for everything domestic and of course, it was his fault. I can still see the hurt in his eyes and how he wanted to comfort me. He knew at that moment I was untouchable even though he just wanted to hold me and lighten the load.

"What can I do to help out?" he asked.

"Nothing!" was my response. I rejected his offer to help out under the guise that no one could do it like I could. There was no way he could do what I could do. Just the fact that he was asking what he could do to help in a cluttered (by my standards) living room was proof he couldn't do it.
~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's it, folks. That's tough fragility.

There I was determined to do everything single-handedly; yet, no one ever knew when I was going to explode in tears and anger.

In retrospect, I realize that I took on 100% of the load because I needed people to need me. I thought I had to prove my value, my worth as a person. Without doing everything for everybody I might not be needed. I might have to stand on my own.

And what the hell would happen if I couldn't find my worth and stand on my own? What would happen if I was stripped of my defenses, my overwhelm, and my anger? Who would I be then? And would anyone want me around?
~~~~~~~~~~~
I wonder if there are others out there who have experienced tough fragility?

2005-09-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

My mom is coming to visit today. I'm looking forward to getting to know her better. As her daughter, I have expected her to know me. But, I haven't taken the time to know her. I am a mom too. I want my daughter to know who I am.

Fiery leaf

2005-09-23T16:52:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I wrote to Jake. You might not know who Jake is (I wrote about him last year). Well, I am entering a phase in my life where I am going to ask the question:

Who really is Jake anyhow?

Even more than that I am going to challenge everything I have believed about him up until today, the first day of Autumn. Have you ever done that? Asked yourself if what you believe is really true. I mean, how much was just told to you and how much is actually true?

Anyhow, I am going to let go of all the Jake stuff I have carried along with me all these years and create a new perspective. One that jives with who I am today. And maybe. just maybe. one that reflects who Jake truly is.

sometimes the truth hurts.

but I am willing to give it a whirl

why not?

it is a new season

Lying on the rug

2005-09-22T16:50:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what to write. I meant to post this on my flickr site, but I hit the wrong key. So here it is. On my blog. I just rolled with it. Instead of cancelling the post and putting the picture elsewhere I just let it be where I mistakenly put it. It's a mistake.

But, isn't it weird how there really aren't any mistakes? Sure we flub up. Maybe do something that wasn't all that great of an idea. But, we did it. We rolled with it.

And here we are. On the planet earth. On a Thursday afternoon. On the brink of Autumn. Although some of you are on Friday. Already in Autumn. But, in my world you are on Thursday. The eve of an Autumn dawn.

And isn't it weird how if you didn't flub up you wouldn't be who you are today? You wouldn't be reading this post. You wouldn't have that hair cut. You wouldn't have the mate you have chosen. If you had done just one thing different...

And isn't it weird how wishing you hadn't done it...doesn't change it all?

Here's the kicker: if you embrace the part of you that totally fucked up, then the wishing goes away. The pain rolls right through you.

And boom!

Your mistake becomes an experience...a part of you...and it's not so bad after all.

2005-09-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

There are no answers; only insights.

So simple it's complex

2005-09-16T15:36:00.000-07:00

How can you get what you want without asking?

How many times have you chosen anger and frustration over honesty?

Are you worth it?

Maybe you haven't gotten what you want from a relationship because you haven't been willing to ask for what you want?

Maybe it's frightening to ask?

Maybe it's more frightening not to ask?

Maybe you don't even know what you want?

Is it worth the time and energy to find out?

I believe you are worth it.

Downtown

2005-09-09T14:23:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I decided to go on a photo frenzy. I grabbed my pocket-size camera and headed off downtown. Normally, I like to go to new places to take photos. Somehow the newness of my surroundings inspire me to see things differently through the lens. So I search for parks, museums, and gardens that I have never been to. But, today I decided to challenge myself and go to Murphy Ave. Murphy is downtown Sunnyvale. There are restaurants, coffee shops, dance clubs, bars, and of course Leigh's Favorite Books.

I stopped by to say hi to Leigh and Khader and also ran into Evin (be sure to check out Evin's Cooking Peas & Q's - she's got some great recipes with more added regularly).

"I thought that was you quietly taking photos outside," Leigh said smiling.

"Yeah, I really enjoy taking photos. So, I thought I would come downtown to see what I could find. But, I'm not sure if there is much to photo around here." It didn't occur to me until later that my skepticism could have been misinterpreted. It wasn't the environment I was skeptical about - only my ability to find a photo in a place I have been to hundreds of times.

"Ooo, I like photographry too," Khader chimed in. "Do you have a website?"

Yup, I sure do! So here are my top 10 photos from today's trip downtown:

Big Mouth & Hair

Relaxin'

Stone Shadow

Sweater Weather

Bubbles Fountain

Flower Command

Brittle

Flaming Pink Flamingo

Fence of Stairs

Scares Me Every Time

Apparently it doesn't take new surroundings to find cool photos - only a new perspective.

2005-09-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'm 7 years old. Sometimes my sister scares me. Sometimes I hate her when she does that. But, then she's always there and I love her too. I know how to do this and I can show you how to do that. I love school! I am special there. I stand out and my teacher's see me. Sometimes I can drink Tab, but not before lunch. We stand in front of the fridge with the door open wishing the clock to move faster. Sometimes I imagine the house burning down. And sometimes my sisters get really mad at me. But, what if it happens and mom is sleeping? Sometimes I get to buy candy and I will save it so that my sisters will want what I have. Sometimes I get to stay up late. But, I always fall asleep anyways. Oh, and I never eat my vegetables. I hide them and throw them away. Yuck! My sister has a dog. I hate the dog. And sometimes I'm not 7 anymore.

My childhood definition

2005-09-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

My grandpa was a tall man. As the years after his death tick away most aspects of who he was are stripped from my memory. But, I will never forget how tall he was. He would always bump his head on the light fixture in our dining room. The funky, brown cube of a light fixture swung so far above my own head. He was gigantic.

I will also remember how he loved me. I don't remember him being affectionate, but he didn't criticize me. He didn't point out my spelling errors, my short hair, or my pierced ears. A quiet memory of a tall man who didn't say much was my experience of love.

He's still gigantic.

The fear of something

2005-09-02T09:32:00.000-07:00

I've run across some very hostile blogger comments lately. They are laced with put-downs and insults. It's disturbing: people with their dukes up...on the defense. I wonder what exactly they are defending?

Their insecurities?

Their fear of being wrong?

Their need to condescend in order to compensate for a lack of trust in themselves?

Mis-directed anger?

I really don't know.

I have lived most of my life on the defense. I would argue for days just to be right...to be okay. You see, I didn't feel like I was okay standing alone. I needed armory. My ammunition was good grades, super ambition, my political viewpoint, my religion, and later my anti-religion, Jake's abandonment, my work ethic, my pretend perfectness, the right answer, and more.

I still get defensive, but not as much. I began to use my defensiveness as a clue to examine how I am feeling. What's going on? Why does that anger me so much? What am I not trusting?

Sometimes I'm ready to face how I'm feeling...sometimes I'm not.

But, I do know that it takes more energy to be defensive than it does to process through my emotions. Somehow the act of defending holds fear in my heart. It actually reinforces my fear of not being good enough. I always thought it was backwards: that actually feeling my emotions would equate to my demise.

Interesting.

2005-09-01T10:07:00.000-07:00

I've known for awhile now that the judgments I make of others are actually judgments I am making of myself. They are the things I am secretly afraid of being. Well, last night at Susan's discussion group she brought up this idea: the qualities you admire in others are the qualities waiting to be unearthed in yourself. Really?!

Extreme shift in perspective

2005-08-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

In my first private session with Susan she told me, "I am all about extreme self care." It was definitely a certain type of warning. Or maybe like a dare, "If you work with me...I am going to challenge you to engage in extreme self care." In that first session I resisted completely. I had a million excuses why I couldn't take care of myself to acknowledge the recent work I had done. And to be quite blunt with you...it really pissed me off.

I was angry. Here was a woman sitting in front of me who knew exactly how to take care of herself and here I was completely uncomfortable with even the thought of it. I felt deficient and incapable...two things I try not to feel at all cost.

That experience was more than two months ago. I'm still working with Susan and I'm still learning how to take care of myself. I thought it would be easy and there was just something inherently wrong with me in my inability to do it. The thing is...it is a HUGE challenge to take care of myself. At every juncture I find my natural instinct is to over-extend myself, "Here let me do that for you" or "Can I do that for you?" Most people aren't even asking for anything from me...I'm offering up my time, my energy, my life on my own accord.

I literally have to force myself not to commit to everybody and everything to honor my commitment to myself. It's like sitting on my hands and biting my tongue.

After forcing myself to just sit back and watch how the world functions without me saving everyone I've learned that helping myself first is liberating and empowering. I thought people would think I'm selfish and a terrible woman. What actually happened is quite the opposite.

I'm rested. I'm cared for. I'm nutured. I'm connected. I'm creating. I'm in tune. I'm peaceful. I accomplish more. I'm honoring myself.

And what's really cool is that I even like being around me more than before. I'm free to nuture my daughter because I feel nutured. I'm available to my partner because I feel fulfilled. I'm actually less selfish than I ever thought was possible!

Through all of this I see how people in my extended family aren't really all that great about taking care of themselves first either. It sticks out so blatantly now. I can see it so clearly. I think to myself, "Yeah, you need a good dose of extreme self care!"

I thought this was something that was exclusive to my family...that somehow we missed that day in life lessons. Everyone else knows this but us....right?

2005-08-27T12:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life feels skewed...like you can see yourself, but not really. Interesting how a small shift in perspective can change your entire existence. It seems like so much boils down to how you see things...you and the world. The beauty. Or the anger. Or both.

2005-08-24T23:56:00.000-07:00

My mind is kinda flittery. It's late and I'm sleepy. fluffy teddy bears. wet slippers. cold shoulders. leftover ice cream & HGTV. Yummie!

Words of direction

2005-08-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

I asked my mom recently if she had any advice for me and her answer was an emphatic, "No!" She said that she has learned her lesson about advice. "It only gives people the right to blame you if things don't turn out the way they wanted it to."

It's funny because when I asked my dad and grandmother the same question they were bursting at the seams with words of advice. My grandmother advised me to, "Be willing to be hurt and to go back," and asked me, "Can you show love to someone even after they have hurt you?"

I was asking about vulnerability. This is an area that I hold back in. I have a hard time opening up at deeper levels in relationships. It's hard to detect because I have an extremely open exterior. People think I'm being vulnerable with them because I can easily talk about myself. The trick is to talk openly about certain things and then I can distract people from actually delving into places I just don't want to go. I pick what I will share and hold everything else back.

I tend to hold back the messy stuff. The stuff that might expose my less-than-perfect state of being. Yeah, I'm talking about the real stuff. The raw me. I hold it back. Even from myself. Without even knowing it.

Now I'm going through this process of self-discovery. Boy, is it ever uncomfortable! But, that's okay. I guess. Yeah, I think I can even go back to the parts of me that are hurt. Maybe I can even learn to love the parts of me that have hurt me. I will never know unless I try.

Do you have any advice?

A sense of motherhood

2005-08-11T09:56:00.000-07:00

This is the French cafe I used to visit every Wednesday evening. It reminds me of my mother-in-law who is a high school French instructor. Thinking about her reminds me of my own mother and then of course, that I am a mother as well. Recently I discovered that I had crazy, unrealistic expectations about motherhood. I thought that moms were above humanity; the ultimate sacrificers. The more they gave, the less they complained, the more admirable they were. With closer examination I found that I confused motherhood with roboticism. A good mother was a workhorse, always there for everyone, slept less than everyone yet had more energy, cooked and cleaned with a smile, and never expressed anything less than positive encouragement. The family would cease to exist without the dedication of the perfect mother.

It's easy to blame the man who doesn't understand and is responsible for these outlandish expectations. I mean, he's the one who wouldn't know how to do all of the never-ending tasks of running the household and raising the children while working full-time all at the same time. He's the one who couldn't survive without her.

Right?

The thing is...the last time I checked...there was no man living inside my head telling me I had to be everything, do everything, and be perfectly put together all the time.

In my head...in my heart....there is me. A woman. A mother. A human. Perfectly ordinary. With feelings and contradictions. Experiencing the fear of not being good enough. Using the fire of perfection to scorch the humanity out of me.

It is time to bring motherhood out of sainthood and into reality. It is time for mothers to embrace the definition of motherhood and have the courage to mold it into something different.

A mother is a woman who can show her children how to take care of themselves....how to love and be loved...how to be supportive and supported...how to express their feelings...how to chase their dreams...how to respect themselves.

She can only do this by showing her vulnerability, her humanity, her fears, her feelings, her courage. She can only do this by taking care of herself, loving herself, embracing her humanity, expressing everything (and not just the emotions wrapped neatly in feminine prettiness), following her dreams, and respecting herself.

I am a perfectly flawed human/woman/mother who can stand alone. I do not need the lives of my family to depend on me beyond reasonability. I do not need to sacrifice my life away and blame the opposite sex in the process.

Because I'm okay.

Standing tall.

On the foundation of a realistic me.

A girl.

Nothing more - nothing less.

Sipping coffee in a French cafe.

Where finally my mothers are free to join me for exactly who they are.

Nothing more - nothing less.

The fear of knowing and not

2005-08-04T15:25:00.000-07:00

That's me standing behind my daughter at her last birthday celebration on April 10th of this year. You can't tell, but only a couple of hours earlier I suffered a stroke in my left eye. Looking down on her there I couldn't see what she was seeing. A hole of darkness had opened in the middle of my field of vision blocking the way. An army of doctors were unable to diagnose me for almost a week. I presented a problem, a blow to the ego, a disease without a cure. I was a package to hand off to the next specialist. I was afraid because I didn't know how or why. What if it happened again?

"What happened to you is so rare that it is highly unlikely to happen again," the doctor says looking me in the eye.

What can I say?

Later on that night in the warmth and darkness of my bed a thought runs through my mind, "But if it happened once wouldn't it be more likely to happen again?" The thought is like a weed: it spreads faster and faster.

"My body has already defied medical knowledge once. What would stop it from doing it again? All of the chemicals in my body have already lined up in that peculiar way that snatched away a portion of my eyesight. It knows how. It could do it again."

Those thoughts have been tamed in the past few months. And, for the record, it hasn't happened again.

However

Today

I

Returned

To

The

Doctor.

And this time I wasn't a freak of nature. This new doctor took my case in his hands and molded my symptoms into a different possibility.

It is called Susac's Syndrome.

We won't know for sure if I have it until after the MRI. It's funny how relieved I was to have an explanation...a diagnosis...a possible treatment.

And now I wish I didn't know.

Because now I know how. I know why. I know what could happen.

Now I am afraid...all over again.

Flowering Beauty

2005-07-26T15:29:00.000-07:00

This flower is beauty. Other things I think are beauty: crying at movies, holding hands, ice skating, my husband's hearty laugh, my daughter's hair, the shades of brown my skin turns in summer, rescuing a drip of ice cream from the burn of hot pavement, the way my sister's eyes tell me she loves me, my cat licking my nose with her coarse tongue of love...

...and those are just a few moments of beauty.

The Light of Day

2005-07-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the most difficult situations have the simplest of solutions.

Like asking for help. I am scared to death of asking for support. I would rather drive 200 miles before asking someone to do something for me.

The thing is...it's not reasonable. How can anyone process through life without help?

Yeah, well, that's me: unreasonably trying to do everything.

As you can imagine...I'm overwhelmed, low on energy, and pretty much out of commission.

This is where my mom has graciously stepped in...yes, I'm even afraid of asking my mom to help me...she just left with all the teens and I am home alone. Of course, the first thing I did (after doing the dishes) is turn the TV on for some noise. But, now I'm off to lounge on the front porch armed with my journal/sketchbook. I'm going to turn off the distractions and let the creativity flow.

Bubbles

2005-07-21T09:31:00.000-07:00

These days the quietest place I can find is underwater. And it's not because I have three family members visiting right now. It's the only quiet I can find in my head. It's amazingly quiet and somehow comforting.

I guess it's also a little scary....how comforting it is. I hold my breath and stay under as long as I can moving my arms to keep myself submerged. They start to feel weird...like they aren't actually a part of my body anymore. The water feels velvety soft in a crushing sort of way.

Peering through my goggles everything is distorted and dark - my goggles are tinted. Through the surface I can see the tops of the trees surrounding the pool. They bob up and down with the movement of the swirling water and the beat of my heart.

I push some air through my nostrils trying to stay under longer. My arms move faster into underwater snakes. My lungs cry for air. My soul sings to stay under.

My body wins. This time.

Deep breath in.

**photo credit: my husband took this one in May 2004

2005-07-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

I can recycle the empty cans of experience.

Swirling Seasons

2005-07-17T18:17:00.000-07:00

Like a tree.
I can shed my leaves.
I can let them go
The lessons
That turned into hatred.
The wind is strong enough
To carry them away.
I can watch the beauty
In the season
And be courageous enough
To grow again.
Like a tree.

See Me Lovely

2005-07-17T08:48:00.000-07:00

My husband got me a camera for Christmas. I told him I wanted to carry it around with me to take photos to blog about. He got me one not sure if I would actually use it. Well, not only do I use it constantly, but I have also fallen completely in love with photography. It's soooooo much fun!

My sister Bren introduced me to flickr, a website designed to photo share. Now I publish my favorite photos. Want to check them out?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/seemelovely/

Purpose driven madness

2005-07-15T22:37:00.000-07:00

We watched March of the Penguins tonight. It was amazing. These birds defied death in their perseverance to procreate. It left me wondering, "What is the purpose of life if it isn't to have babies?"

I want to read a book about birds

2005-07-12T19:15:00.000-07:00

I love a good read. I like to pick apart writing styles, themes, characters, and endings. It's a huge part of who I am. In fact, I am often heard saying things like, "Oh, that reminds me of Empire Falls; Miles was so afraid of change" or "That movie was like Life of Pi; it had no ending". What can I say? Life relates to novels.

Battlemaiden wrote about loving to read. She published her list of books consumed so far this year. I thought I would share mine too. Here it is:

1. The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown [entertaining - thumbs up]
2. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez [outrageous - thumbs up]
3. Easter Island by Jennifer Vanderbes [mediocre - not thumb worthy]
4. The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri [irritating - thumbs up]
5. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini [contrived - thumbs up]
6. The Alchemist by Paulo Cohelo [lovey - thumbs up]
7. Mister Sandman by Barbara Gowdy [fabulous! - thumbs way up]
8. Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson [underdeveloped - thumbs down]
9. Change You Life in 30 Days by Rhonda Britten [monumental - thumbs up]
10. Possessing the Secret of Joy by Alice Walker [troubling - thumbs up]
11. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath [frightening - thumbs up]
12. The Fear Book by Cheri Huber [awesome - thumbs up]

It was extremely difficult to come up with just one word to describe the read, but a fun little exercise. Happy reading!

Sands of heaven

2005-07-11T11:59:00.000-07:00

On the drive home from Mendecino we drove a small stretch of highway that meandered through a beautiful Redwood Forest. My husband was driving even though I get car sick; I was determined to enjoy the view.

"Just let me know when you want to pull over to take photos," he said.

Ok. But, there was so much beauty around me I didn't know when to pull over. Finally, he just stopped at one of the makeshift parking places on the side of the highway.

"How about here?" he questioned tentatively. He knows that I like to be the one making decisions, but I just rolled with it.

"Sure. Okay," I replied. I didn't know if this was the optimum place to stop, but I was having such difficulty deciding I was relieved that he made the call.

We found trails zigzagging through the wooded area and I randomly chose ones to explore. I snapped photos of leaves and hundred feet tall trees. I was oo-ing and ah-ing the entire way. As the trail turned I looked up and saw that it opened up onto a beautiful, sandy beach.

I was speechless and overwhelmed with the beauty of my surroundings. My husband and I looked at each other in amazement.

"Wow! What are the chances that we would randomly choose to pull over where the trail leads to this gorgeous beach?" We were both amazed at each step that led us to the climax of our trip to the northern California coastline.

Maybe I should just roll with it more often...

The darkness of light

2005-07-09T11:06:00.000-07:00

"Any time we attempt to cling
to one side of a duality,
we are clinging equally to its opposite.
(Clinging and pushing away are the same.)"
~ p. 83 of The Key by Cheri Huber

So when I am clinging to perfection I am equally clinging to screwing up?

Maybe trying to be perfect is my twisted way of torturing myself? Punishing my humanity. Why? Why do I punish myself for being human? Where did this unrealistic standard of perfection come from? And why can't I let it go?

Crooked rugs
Spots in sinks
Hair out of place
Watches out of sync
Smelly fridge

Me.

I see now how perfection has stunted my creative growth.

It's painful....letting it go. There is a part of me that wants the freedom of humanity. And another part that wants to cling to familiar, irrational behaviors. I'm resisting.

And it's scary....being something I've never discovered before.

Someday...soon...I might venture into the darkness of the light that is the shadow of me. But, not before I shed the mask of perfect put togetherness.

2005-07-08T11:32:00.000-07:00

We're back from holiday :) We took a trip to the northern California coast. It was an awesome mixture of ocean, redwood forests, winding rivers, and manicured gardens. It was sheer, natural beauty.

Rosy drop

2005-07-01T22:51:00.000-07:00

I snapped this photo yesterday at one of the rose gardens in town. I can almost smell the rosy fragrance just by looking at the photo. Neat!

I'm going to take a few days off from blogging. Be back in a week.

I wonder what will happen in a week's time...

Scarcity

2005-06-30T09:02:00.000-07:00

There is never enough...

...shampoo
...facial tissue
...mustard
...blankets
...money
...time
...love

They don't seem connected.

Well, in my life...they are...connected.

In some twisted way I am constantly trying to preserve.

It's okay when we are talking mayonaise.

But, it gets in the way when it comes to love and affection.

I'm hoping that if I can learn how to throw away the tiny bit of shampoo that is so difficult to exume from the bottom of the bottle, that I can also learn how to share my heart with the people closest to me.

I'm really not going to run out of love.

Right?

The tangle of duality

2005-06-29T09:07:00.000-07:00

An excerpt from The Fear Book by Cheri Huber:

As long as I am caught in believing
that this is right
and that is wrong
and this makes me a good person
and that makes me a bad person,
I am completely
enmeshed in egocentricity.

I was brought up in an environment that taught me the world is divided into black and white. There are no questions when it comes to pure morality. A sin is a sin. If I stole one penny I was just as bad as someone who stole a million dollars. Let me tell you, that belief really did stop me from stealing.

It also stopped me from living.

The thing is...now I realize that viewing the world in black & white has shrunk my existence to near impossible. It sucked the color out of me and stopped me from accepting myself...my flaws...my greatness...my humanity.

Cheri Huber continues:

Once I realize that...duality, the world of opposites, is simply a way of staying stuck in suffering, then I have a chance of stepping back...to get out of that system, by not taking myself personally. Now I can just observe how a human being operates, see what's going on.

The cool thing about growing up is growing out of childhood traps.

I have found complex color in life! It's breath-taking beautiful...just like you...and me.

2005-06-28T10:15:00.000-07:00

Can I tickle your chin?

2005-06-27T11:10:00.000-07:00

blue layers of mountains in yellow grass

2005-06-27T09:47:00.000-07:00

Layers of mountains in blonde grass.

I've been suppressing it way too long

2005-06-25T15:47:00.000-07:00

My most active me-time is when I am jogging. Thoughts run through my mind faster than my feet can hit the pavement. Today I went jogging because I was pissed off and I thought it might help me release some anger. As I jogged, I started to punch the air in front of me. Then I started to mumble under my breath the things I was pissed about. I was embarrassed because I was jogging on a public street by my house, but it felt so good I couldn't stop. I thought, "Women are not allowed to release their anger. They are supposed to be prim and proper. Well, right now I am angry. I'm aggressive and it might not be feminine, but it is me." About half way through my jog I saw a bunch of men playing roller hockey in a driveway. I thought, "Not only are women not allowed to release their anger, but they aren't allowed to play like kids either. Men are allowed to be aggressive. Men are allowed to play like kids. In fact, if they aren't engaging in those two things people might think they are gay." What a bunch of crap.

Why?

2005-06-24T16:18:00.000-07:00

To abandon someone is to leave them clinging to you.

Photo credit: my 12 year old daughter Carina snapped this one.

~ *

2005-06-24T10:44:00.000-07:00

So many layers in life...in the trees...in you...in me. Maybe it's easier to be complex? Branch over branch...light through leaf...dirty and life-giving soil.

2005-06-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

I entered the bamboo garden and found an unexpected treasure: me.

2005-06-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

You might see me for who I really am...

2005-06-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

I know where I am headed. But, I don't know exactly where it is taking me. It's frightening. But, I am courageous enough.

2005-06-20T14:30:00.000-07:00

For Mermaid. After replying to your comment I realized that we had spent half of our father's day at the ocean. Interesting how this landscape is also a huge part of my childhood, but I connect so much more with the green and beige of the fields and rolling hills. What a contrast.

2005-06-19T21:08:00.000-07:00

The landscape of my childhood.

I wonder what fourth is like?

2005-06-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

This is Tyler.

A few days ago he was "the baby" of his family. Now that Matthew Allen is here, he is "the middle child". I think he knows how drastically his life has changed.

It seems like the birth of a third child exaggerates the roles of children in the family. The oldest becomes even more responsible. The middle child begins to do "stuff" to regain the attention of people who previously doted on them. And the youngest believes that their place in the world is in the center.

I am a third child. What are you? What is your experience?

Look...it's a cotton burrito!

2005-06-16T08:04:00.000-07:00

"He's so soft," she wispered. Her six year old fingers brushed the side of his face.

"Here, touch his feet. They feel neat!"

"Can I hold him, Daddy?"

"Sure. But, touch his feet first. I can't get over how amazing they are!"

Yesterday morning dawned my newest cousin: Matthew Allen.

Today

2005-06-09T10:52:00.000-07:00

I follow
the shade
of the trees
and
the light
of the sun
to my palace
of dreams

It will pass

2005-06-08T09:04:00.000-07:00

Pax writes about introversion and self esteem.

I am an extrovert and I have this uncanny ability to pretend I am super confident...especially in group social situations. I'm not so confident when sitting alone.

The thing is...I think Pax and I face the same struggles on the inside even though we deal with them dramatically different on the outside.

My experience with life coaching has shown me how afraid I really was...even though I had this exterior show of high self esteem. On the inside, I didn't see my own value. I was afraid that I was worthless, which caused me to defend myself; it was me against the world. Furthermore, I had this need to be perfect because if I wasn't then I might be worthless. And if I was ever wrong.....boy, watch out!

Life coaching has taught me how to deal with my fear of worthlessness. Instead of running from it I have learned how to deal with it....how to have compassion for myself...how to stop defending...how to let go of perfection...how to love me for who I am and to hear my inner voice.

I no longer have to pretend to be super confident. I'm no super hero. I'm human. I'm not worthless and I have the courage to simply be me.

www.fearlessliving.org

Are you choosing to sacrifice?

2005-06-03T09:10:00.000-07:00

Welcome back Ms. Battlemaiden!

You commented about the balance between self-sacrifice and self-preservation. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a woman recently. I asked her what her definition of support is and her answer was: support is how much you are willing to sacrifice for someone else. It sadened me to realize that her perception was based on taking something out of the mix rather than adding to it: in order to move you forward I must take a step back.

I read recently: There is no such thing as sacrifice; only choices.

Wow! Really? Because sometimes I want people to know how much I sacrifice for them. In pursuit of defending sacrifice I looked it up in the dictionary. Sacrifice is:

1a. The act of offering something to a deity in propitiation or homage, especially the ritual slaughter of an animal or a person.
1b. A victim offered in this way.
2a. Forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a greater value or claim.
2b. Something so forfeited.
3a.Relinquishment of something at less than its presumed value.
3b. Something so relinquished.
3c. A loss so sustained.

The definition demonstrates that not only is one party giving and the other receiving, but that the receiver is of more value than the giver - I am really not liking this definition! Sacrifice creates a hierachy. Is that a choice? It is a choice to accept one being as more valuable than another. It is a perception. Was it a choice of the victim to be slaughtered in homage? Not necessarily. But, it was a choice of the sacrificer to murder the victim - a being of less power.

If you forfeit something; is that a choice? I guess so. Forfeiture by nature is giving something up without being forced to.

If I relinquish something; is that a choice? Yes. I am offering it to you.

Ok, ok! I can't prove that sacrifice isn't a choice.

Not believing in sacrifice helps me take ownership of my actions. Am I choosing to give something up for someone or somthing else? Sometimes I do. But, ultimately it is always my choice. Is supporting someone a sacrifice? Not to me it isn't. For example, if I support my daughter by loving her unconditionally do I give up loving myself? No. In fact, it provides the security my daughter needs to show me the love she has for me. So instead of giving something up it is giving something and receiving something more. It is a win - win situation. Love breeds more love.

On the flip side, choosing another person over yourself continually will kill you. Let me just say that again: choosing others over youself will KILL you! Not only will you go down bitter and sad, but you will go down not knowing who you are.

So, Ms. Battlemaiden, you are right: there is a balance between sacrifice and preservation. It is a choice we all make every day.

My bottom line: choose you first and you will have more to give (and receive) to (and from) others. Plus, you will smile a whole heck of a lot more!

Thoughts from my Journal

2005-06-02T17:53:00.000-07:00

"Healing isn't pretty," Megg said. You're right, Megg. The process can get kinda ugly. But the triumphs are beautiful!

Iyana's powerful voice blesses my body, mind and soul: "There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing to fix. Only things to discover."

Rhonda says, "The place where you are most uncomfortable is exactly where you need to go."

I read, "Am I making it up or is it true?"

My life coach Susan slipped this one in at our last session, "There are no mistakes in life...only life lessons."

Motherhood is all about connecting, not commanding. If you can connect to your child among all of your humanness...you are successful. Your honesty will be adored in a way that won't sabatoge your relationship.

Sometimes I'm afraid of giving my all. Because if I give everything and fall short there won't be anything tucked away in reserve to make up for it.

The pitfall in the above thought is that giving your all and falling short is still more than not giving anything at all.

"Good enough is good enough," Susan smiles at me. Her smile challenges me to believe her.

I'm Fearless With Rhonda

2005-05-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not one for self help books. I don't need those. Right?

A few months ago Rhonda Britten appeared at a mall in downtown to promote the daytime reality television show she works on: Starting Over. I watch the show religiously and was excited about seeing her live. I travelled downtown and waited in line with a hundred other women. While anxiously waiting I purchased Rhonda's latest book Change Your Life in 30 Days. Of course, I wasn't planning on actually reading it. I only wanted to get it autographed. There is something about an autographed copy of any book that's appealing.

Months later (this was one week after the stroke) I was getting ready to take my daughter to the dentist. I knew I would be waiting for at least an hour so I went to grab the novel I was reading. But, it was nowhere to be found. What I did find was Rhonda's book that I had shelved (unsigned) with no intention of ever reading. I grabbed it thinking it could entertain me for an hour.

Sitting uncomfortably in the dentist office, I opened 30 Days. At one of the most difficult times in my life, I discovered 253 pages that would guide me through the sacred journey to finding my true self. The book is set up to read a chapter a day for 30 days. I call it my daily devotional to me. Currently, I am reading it for the second time. It really has changed my life.

Recently, Dave C has questioned his purpose and written about the fear that holds him back. I am right there with you, Dave. My entire physical being was shaken to the core in a way that makes it impossible for me to go back to what was. Along with the amazing support of my husband and friends, 30 Days has not only helped me recover, but has brought who I am into clear focus.

I see myself in a way I didn't know was possible. The book has given me the tools to see my vision, acknowledge who I am, recognize the opportunities in life, and to deal with the fear of worthlessness, rejection, and failure. My life is no longer governed by fear. My life is about risk, vulnerability, love, support, and connecting with myself and others. It is full of opportunity and I am self-actualizing...something I thought was only a theory.

I challenge the world to read 30 Days. Are you ready to change your life?

Yeah, I know where this road ends

2005-05-26T07:46:00.000-07:00

I had an interesting thought this morning. It went something like this:

I am afraid to feel self worth because...
If I am actually worth something, then I have to care about me.
If I really care about me, then I would have boundaries with people.
If I have boundaries with people, then I might lose my family.

Like I said, it was interesting.

Funny how thinking about things can keep you stuck and set you free. I'm glad to be thinking about my value as a person. In the past it felt like trying to run in six feet of syrup...but today it's just me...sitting in this squeaky chair...smiling.

Because I'm okay. It's okay. You're okay. My family is okay.

It's Me: Crazy and All

2005-05-25T10:24:00.000-07:00

Whenever I look back on the first 25 years of my life I can't remember having any thoughts that weren't already thought by someone in my family, a close friend, or a teacher. I would talk to people, ask them what they thought, then turn around and pass it off as my brilliant idea. It's not the most original of lives, but it was liveable.

Until I began to perpetuate strength without support, love with conditions, lack of trust in humanity, the worthlessness of me, single parenthood, obedience over communication, a black & white world...well, you get the picture. All of a sudden I didn't feel comfortable with the words escaping my lips. But, I didn't know how to think for myself. How were ideas born? Where did they come from if not from some other person? How do I have an idea that conflicts with someone I look up to? or worse: that disagrees with my mom!

I guess I learned to challenge my adopted ideas in college. There were so many points of view; I didn't know which way to go. I was dizzy with possibilities. Worse of all, there were no right answers. It was all about perception and molding things into shapes of your own desire. At first I was lost and overwhelmed. But, then I had my first epiphany. It was exhilarating and mine...new and exotic. I realized that I could think for myself.

Goodbye black & white. Goodbye rigid ideals. Goodbye narrow mindedness.

Hello possibilities! Hello gray! Hello flexibility & a wide angle view!

Hello me!

In All of Your Glory

2005-05-24T09:13:00.000-07:00

Life is messy.

I wish it were packaged in handmade Japanese paper - a design so lovely you lose yourself in it. The corners are wrapped in crafty geometric shapes held together by a lick of tape. Anticipation tickles my spine. What could be in it? Happiness? Success? Self-actualization? or Failure? Rejection? Loathing?

It is safer not to know.

I can cherish it from a guarded distance near and far. Keep the paper in tact...the tape tightly secured. The fear of failure close enough to control and removed enough to admire.

But, life is messy.

It is beautifully complex. A bundle of opposites...conflicting thoughts, feelings and ideas kissing one another. You are for and against...you push and pull. You can rip the paper off the package of life and accept the risk of success and defeat. When you see what's inside you will be amazed at the beauty and wonder why it took you so long.

You are alive!

2005-05-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

I think I can...I think I can! It's a starburst of energy and momentum.

Impressions

2005-05-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

It's about truth and family. How one incident can be interpreted in a million ways...yet they are all true. Living and breathing next to one another. Not smothering or judging. She laughs like only a twelve year old can. I hope my phone doesn't ring. I'm busy figuring out my own truth. I can hear my mom tell me it's black or white. You're either with me or against me. I'm both. Beautifully both. I love and hate you...all at the same time.

Magnetic Shores

2005-05-17T09:09:00.000-07:00

You greet me
With bare feet.
My curly waves
Rhythmically kiss your toes.
I pull you towards me
With reams of seaweed
And shifting sand.
Your gaze consumes
My horizon.
You beckon my hidden treasures
To bestow their remnants of bliss.

I greet you
With salty splendor.
You lick your lips
And swallow me whole.
I whisper to you
Sensations of life
Secrets of creation.
You hiccup
And only hear
The cry of my seagulls.

I am your horizon
An ocean of infinite perceptions.

2005-05-15T23:59:00.000-07:00

I just wrote a couple different posts to accompany this photo and they both suck. It's kinda frustrating. They were both about my 'ocean of anger'. Now it's late and I'm tired. Damn.

Sisterly Love

2005-05-13T11:22:00.000-07:00

My sister Nancy gave me some good advice this morning. She said that it's possible for me to forgive Jake.

"That's what it's all about, Cassandra. Forgive him on your own terms and you will have the strength to move forward."

She's right.

But it's still tough.

There is a part of me that wants to hold on to the pain, the anger, and the hurt. If I let it go, then what would be left of Jake?

2005-05-12T15:47:00.000-07:00

Love me and touch me...I wish the sun would come out...I'm hungry...love me

2005-05-11T20:35:00.000-07:00

I've been working on showing my daughter that I love her no matter what she does or says. If only I could show myself the same compassion, then both my daughter and I would be in a better place. I love you.

2005-05-11T09:35:00.000-07:00

It's much easier for me to blog when I'm unhappy! Are you surprised? I am.

Jogging thoughts

2005-05-04T14:21:00.000-07:00

I always encounter amazing thoughts while jogging. Here is a sample of today's jog:

I am willing....

to organize and compartmentalize my physical world while simultaneously integrating my emotional world

to love

to receive gifts of kindness

to smile while jogging

to kick down the barriers I have spent my life building

to let go of hurt

to embrace my own power

to explore my truth

to listen to you even if you are whispering

to support you

to have courage

to be afraid

to question the world

to travel places I haven't been willing to go

to eat food that doesn't even look like food

to be willing

to make choices and not sacrifices

to exercise my body, mind & spirit

to be wrong

to say I'm sorry

to paint with brilliant colors

to look through the shattered window of my left eye

to admit that my right eye is perfectly normal and capable

to ask for help

to love.

What is your will?

"A PURE AND STRONG WILL IS ALL-POWERFULL" ~ Vivekananda from Springs of Indian Wisdom

2005-04-29T23:15:00.000-07:00

One of the awesome things about my husband is that he shows me how much he cares. I don't have to guess with him. I don't have to fill in the blank. He shows me. It feels like I have spent my life guessing. Not anymore.

The Triton Museum

2005-04-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

I went to a new art museum today. It is the first time I have entered a sanctuary of art since the stroke. Normally, when I walk into an exhibit I am hugged by the splashes of color and creativity surrounding me. Today I was forced to face the reality of my eyesight. It didn't feel like a hug. It felt like a sharp stab of pain. Loss.

I browsed through the photography show with little difficulty - the pictures were big and recognizable - familiarity and memory filled in the void. It was when I entered the gallery of paintings that my head dipped in defeat....my eyes closed to spare me the details. You see, the part of my eye that has forsaken me is my central vision. It is exactly what I want to focus on that I cannot see.

It's like sniffing the enticing aroma of a gourmet meal without the ability to taste. You still have a tonuge, teeth, a stomach...but no taste buds.

I left the exhibit prematurely...without even deciding if I liked most of the paintings or not. I escaped to the garden around back. It was peppered with sculpture and squirrels. I sat on a bench and noticed a butterfly wavering around the tree next to me. Everything was absolutely beautiful: the greenery, the sun, the clouds, the squirrels, the flowers, the scent of spring, and the butterfly.

On that bench in the garden I found the hug I didn't find inside.

2005-04-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

The room was dark and comforting. Most times I'm afraid of the dark, but now it hides my broken vision. I don't notice the cracks...as much. Can you see me? I'm over here.

2005-04-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what to write. I only know that I love this photo. I like how I captured the wing span. I can see the force behind the bird. I like the moving water and the rocks poking through the surface. There is determination and confusion; shadows and sunshine. It is enough...to simply like the photo.

2005-04-21T19:16:00.000-07:00

Brenda called me yesterday. It was 17 minutes and 33 seconds of heaven. Thank you, Bren.

Ten days ago my life changed forever...

2005-04-20T11:19:00.000-07:00

Branch
Retinal
Artery
Occlusion

What is it? I don't know. Me? Hopefully not. But, it is and always will be a part of my life. I was cooking - something I do almost every day - and boom! I began to see spots. I thought I was temporarily blinded by the sunshine through the kitchen window. But, I was wrong. The spots didn't go away.

After being examined by the first of many doctors I discovered I wasn't seeing multiple spots. Instead, a black void had developed in the central vision of my left eye. The easiest way to describe to you what happened is that I had a stroke in my eye.

Something blocked an artery in my eye and wouldn't allow blood to flow as necessary. The blood vessel in my eye that was deprived of oxygen has died. It will never function again. Sometimes it feels like a part of me has died with it. A piece of confidence. A chunk of courage.

In it's place is fear. I am overcome. It is so many shapes and colors I don't even know how to describe it to you. Sometimes I'm afraid a stranger is in the room with me. Sometimes I'm afraid I am going to hurt myself on accident. I'm afraid to drive. I'm afraid to read. I'm afraid to write. I'm afraid to feel the depth of this battle...to live.

I haven't posted because I knew it would be difficult. And it is. Extremely hard to bring forth my thoughts...my feelings. I want to bury it. Hide it all under a thick armor of strength and heroism.

But, I'm not strong and I'm not a hero right now. I am scared and for the first time in my life I am admitting that I can't do it alone.

I'm not able to write anymore today, but I want to leave you with a ray of hope. The doctors say that my vision may improve over time and that this is such a rare occurance in someone my age it will probably never happen to me again. So far all of the tests and lab results have come back normal. How can I be so 'normal' and so damaged at the same time?

2005-04-10T08:57:00.000-07:00

where are you going? where have you been? one step in front of another. to arrive someplace new. somplace old. or in between. my footstep leaves a print. in the mud. on the way down. on the way up. where are you going? where have you been?

2005-04-09T16:33:00.000-07:00

nothing but a shadow. a reflection of light. an absence of light. the darkness of a shadow. the intrigue of something you can see but not touch. so temporal a shadow is. dependent on the sun. or the moon. or the lack thereof. so defined by others. so nice in the summer. so cold in the winter. sensitive to its environment. always on the move. nothing but a shadow.

2005-04-08T17:35:00.000-07:00

In honor of my staircase...

...and everyone's staircase

Finding the courage to leave the stairwell

2005-04-07T17:45:00.000-07:00

When I was a young child I would encounter moments of sheer terror. I remember one instance in particular. It was summertime and my sisters and I had no school. They are two and four years older than me, so of course my mother put them in charge while she slept. She worked the night shift at the hospital...always taking care of other people she was.

My sisters were curled up on the sofa watching their daily soap opera. I was old enough to watch, but too young to understand what was happening. As I sat there in front of the TV a nucleus of fear began to form in the inch of skin and muscles between my shoulder blades.

What if there is a fire?

It sprouted down my arms.

What if there is an earthquake and our apartment collapses on me?

It spread to my chest knocking the air out of me.

What if the fire traps us all in the corner and we burn alive?

It grabbed my legs and I sprung up from my crouched position in front of the television.

"Move it or lose it," my sister sneered.

I was standing in front of the TV screen. Paralyzed. Holding my breath. Wishing I could run upstairs and wake my mom.

I scurried away from the TV before my sisters got angry at me. I sat on the stairs alone; halfway in between my mom's second floor room and my sisters on the couch. Images of fire and destruction played over and over in my mind.

I learned to deal with those fearful moments in seclusion. It was far worse to irritate my sisters or wake my sleep deprived mother. Today, I visit that young girl on the stairs. I hold her and rock her. Whisper words of encouragement in her lovely ear.

It's okay, Sweetie. It might feel like your world is self destructing, but I'm here to protecct you. You're not alone. I'll carry you when you feel weak. I'll hold you when you feel afraid. But most of all: I love you just how you are.

2005-04-06T20:56:00.000-07:00

I walk through the doorway of my life to enter the tantilizing freedom of vulnerability. I leave the darkness of survival with only a glance over my right shoulder. I'm running. I can't stop. I'm diving in. I can feel the freshness wash over, under, and through me. Here's to finding new doorways...

How tall are you?

2005-04-05T20:41:00.000-07:00

After reading Skyscraper I had to post this photo. I took it in San Francisco a couple of months ago. My husband and I were walking to the independent book store that was to sell my first published story. I was so excited. I felt like the buildings we walked beneath: tall and amazing.

We arrived at City Lights and I rushed over to the magazine section. I leafed through the publications absolutely as fast as I could without ripping them. When I found the Word Smitten Quarterly Journal my heart was on fire. I pulled it out and opened it up.

Breath held. Fingers crossed. Heart strings tied.

And nothing. No Sunday Struggle. Apparently, the bookstore didn't have the most recent edition in stock.

We purchased a few tokens and began the walk back to the train station. Standing on the corner waiting to cross the busy street I looked up at the building kissing heaven. Somehow I didn't feel tall and amazing anymore.

I felt better than oversized. I felt human and hopeful. Just my size.

The uncut flower

2005-04-04T19:53:00.000-07:00

During my lunch hour I often walk over to the museum. Last week on my way back I discovered a cluster of flowers blooming in a dark alley. It was so dark I had to use the flash. In fact, the picture looks like it was snapped in the dark of night when in reality it was taken during the brightest part of the day.

I find this photo extremely disturbing.

I absolutely love the red and orange tones of the flower petals. But, the leaves are dirty. They have spots. I can only imagine that they are water spots mixed with dust...maybe a little city smog as well.

When I decided to post the photo I began cropping out the leaves and playing with the color tones to mask the dreaded dirty dots of dust. As I made edit after edit in Picasa I began to feel dirty myself.

If only I could erase the dust, then the picture would be beautiful. People would only see the fire orange and blazing red. I have to make it prettier.

This, my friend, is the result of a lifetime of edits. If I dress a certain way, put on makeup, smile just right, and say the perfect thing, then people will tolerate me....maybe even like me.

You look tired without makeup, Cassandra. Be sure to always wear lipstick; that red one looks great on you.

Was that a compliment, Mom? Do you like me without lipstick?

There's an option to 'undo all edits' in Picasa. I took the liberty to use it on my fire flower photo. You have the pleasure of seeing the uncut version.

Beautifully naked

2005-04-01T23:10:00.000-08:00

Today on my lunch hour I strolled around downtown San Jose looking for unsuspecting trees to photo. I discovered this little beauty of a naked tree when I found myself on the wrong side of the street. If you look real close you can see tiny green sprouts rupturing through the fists of branches.

It's like I took a picture of me. A self portrait: naked with new growth.

Mom

2005-03-31T22:16:00.000-08:00

The relationship with my mother has been distant lately. I can sense her hesitation with me. When I saw her this past weekend I felt reserved - not sure - how much to show - how much to hide.

At one point during the family gathering I took a break from my busy work in the kitchen and stepped in place next to her. I draped my arm across her back. She responded instantly by wrapping her arm around me too. We didn't say anything in that moment; only rubbed each other's back a few times.

It was the strongest connection I have had with her in a long time.

2005-03-29T21:56:00.000-08:00

As a child I would rip the petals off of flowers picked on the way to school. He loves me. He loves me not. That was before I had even tasted the bitter sweetness of a man's heart. Now I snap photos of flowers as treasures. I pack them away in bytes of computer space.

Pull...quickly

2005-03-27T22:27:00.000-08:00

It seems like a long time since I have really connected here. Opened the door and sat down. Relaxed. Smiled and giggled. I've been covered in religion. Smothered.

But, that's okay. For now.

It's kind of like ripping the bandaid off. It hurts like hell when you finally do it. But, only for a few moments. Then your wound {translates to my wound} can air out, dry up, and soften into scar tissue. Maybe even some day disappear. But, hopefully not completely. It's important to remember...loosely...don't forget.

What have you forgotten that has crept back in and bit you in the ass?

I used to think that holding grudges was ugly. It was prettier to forget...and quickly. Maybe even before you left the room. Now I realize how ugly forgetting can be. It doesn't have to be a grudge. It can be a gentle reminder of hurt gone by. A built-in alarm system of sorts.

I really should retreat to my bed now. Turn off the light. Feel my way under the covers. Drift. Dream. Imagine.

It's rough - this bandaid thing. Maybe you could do it for me? I'll close my eyes. Tell me when you are done.

2005-03-27T07:40:00.000-08:00

Deuteronomy 9:3 "Understand therefore this day, that the Lord thy God is he which goeth over before thee; as a consuming fire he shall destroy them, and he shall bring them down before thy face: so shalt thou drive them out, and destroy them quickly, as the Lord hath said unto thee." This is what I found when I opened the bible randomly. It is so violent. Apparently the current inhabitants of some city are wicked and god is going to destroy them in order to replace them with the righteous. This is genocide at its finest.

2005-03-26T17:05:00.000-08:00

My husband asked me for proof. He wants tangible evidence as to the detriment of religion. So here is my first installment: Ephesians 5:22 says, "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord."

2005-03-25T15:55:00.000-08:00

How often have you sabotaged your own happiness?

Of course, you had good reason. I mean, the risks are just too tremendous - the price too high. You could get hurt. You might be humiliated or abandoned; maybe even rejected.

Then again, you might be happy.

Uh oh.

Listen closely

2005-03-24T20:46:00.000-08:00

love god

HATE YOURSELF

you sinner!

you will SUFFER without the grace of god

because you are MEANINGLESS

you LITTLE peon of a human

Cassandra 30:15

2005-03-23T20:58:00.000-08:00

When I saw this sign I giggled. I turned to my husband and said, "Hey, I should have a sign like this. I could drape it around my neck to warn you when I'm in a bad mood!" My husband chuckled, "If only it were that easy...."

2005-03-22T21:42:00.000-08:00

My husband and I went on a walk a couple of weeks ago. It was simple pleasure. There were lots of trees. Ah...lovely trees.

Thanks, but no thanks

2005-03-20T21:29:00.000-08:00

So I'm going through this painful process of peeling away years of 'stuff' so that I can figure out who I am. I'm hidden under years of disconnecting. One thick layer that I've been wrestling with lately is religion. Yesterday while I was making macaroni and cheese for Carina and her girlfriend these thoughts came to mind:

If somebody tears you down so that they can lift you up does that make them a great, supportive friend? This is what I believe the church does: they tear you down in order to reconstruct a robot of good moral standing. And I wonder why I spent most of my life feeling like I needed to be fixed. Yeah, it certainly wasn't fun for the boyfriends along they way.

Oh, I get it! I was turning to boys to add value to me. Alone I didn't add up to much. But, in a patriarchal religious system boys mean something. They are the saviors. Women are the cause of sin. There isn't a female god. All three of the trinity are male.

Oh they irony: the system that should have saved me destroyed me. Destroyed any chance I had at equality and a healthy self image. This is why I walked away from the church. So when my family asks me why I will not go this will be my answer:

Because I love me.

Beautiful Brenda

2005-03-17T18:14:00.000-08:00

So my comment page overloaded on the religion/community post and I wasn't able to reply to something my sister Brenda said. So here is what she wrote:

I don't know where exactly I stand on the religion line. There are so many questions that arise for me when I think about religion. Like..Do you have to go to church to be considered religious? Can you have religion without church? Can you worship by yourself and get the same out of it if you were with others? Does religion and church make you more of a moral person than one that doesn't go to church or have religion? Am I still considered a good person if I didn't believe in a God? I know some of these are a bit off the point but you get my general idea.
I think for me,and mind you I am not a deep thinker, I choose to live life rather than constantly question myself on what would God do. I am not a mean person, by any means, I do my best to contribute to my community. I do my best to raise my girls to be good, strong women who can think on their own. I try to be the best wife that I can be. If I fall short in some ones eyes because I don't go to church or have a set religion...well then that is just something they will have to live with. :)
So I guess by sitting down and really thinking about it I do lean on one side of the religion line. Not that I am completely sure there isn't a God or completely sure that there is. I just think that the whole church thing can be overated.
I love you sis!!

Bravo! Brenda, you are an awesome example of my belief that you don't need God or religion to make you a good person. You have more integrity, honesty, humor, love, and honor than most people - religious or not.

But, there is one thing you said that I completely disagree with: you are too a deep thinker!!! You don't give yourself enough credit.

You are such a bright light in my life, Bren. Amongst all of this religious baggage you remind me that above all I just have to be me. Thank you! You have shown me more compassion and gentleness than anyone else in our family and I am so grateful.

I love and adore you.

I have a few bones to pick!

2005-03-16T21:32:00.000-08:00

This whole discussion about religion has prompted me to write this next post.

The bones:

Sex is taboo
Growing up I was taught that sex was evil and you were not supposed to have it until you were married. The one problem here was that no one ever taught me to respect myself and my body. You know what this equated to: teenage pregnancy.

The individual is unimportant
Only the collective church group counts. If I had been valued as an individual, then I probably would have been taught to respect myself and my body. I would have been armed with better decision making capabilites.

Appearances are more important than substance
You have to look good. If you go to church regularly, then you look good. It doesn't really matter what is on the inside if it looks good on the outside. This is why you have to publically display your devotion during the benediction. Your faith doesn't count unless you get up in front of the congregation.

Women are the root of all evil
Now isn't it convenient that women are the core of everything evil in a male dominated system? Of course, I am referring to "original sin". This is such a bunch of crap and when did women start buying into it?

This also ties into the role of sex. Women are portrayed as the enticer, the instigator, the seducer. It reminds me of why women are supposed to cover their bodies from head to toe in some countries: their bodies are evil. It's a double standard: don't have sex until your married - be pure and innocent - but once you sign that legal paper making you a wife, then let loose and be sexy - behind closed doors, that is.

Oh ya, and of course Adam was helpless.

People are evil by nature and need God to fix them
This point of view is so detrimental to the self image. In fact, it promotes self hatred. You are nothing without God and the church.

Women are to obey their husbands
I'm sorry, but I will not buy into anything that indoctrinates the suppression of women. Again, when did women start to agree with this?

(Did you notice my new vocab word up there? I hope I used it correctly :-)

The reward is immortality
Oh ya, this one is good! We all want to live forever. Whoever came up with this one was really clever. It is a promise that can never be fulfilled. Religion exploits my natural desire to survive.

Where this all leaves me:
Why can't religion teach equality? A partnership between men, women, and God. People are valuable - we do mean something - we aren't evil by nature - we have choices. We make mistakes. We are nice. We are mean. Appearances can be meaningless. Where the heck is the common sense? Religion is all about blind faith, but where is the faith in the person? Faith that people can make good decisions. We can think for ourselves. We really don't need someone else to tell us how to live.

I hope someday I can undo all of the damage that has been done to me by religion....that I can find myself....my humanity...my uniqueness...me.

2005-03-14T22:09:00.000-08:00

You've heard me say before that community is the key to happiness. Although I do not believe in organized religion...I have to give it credit for creating community. Except I'm starting to realize that maybe community isn't the key after all. On Starting Over they are introducing a new woman to the house. She is very active in her church and she keeps a healthy community. But, she has no clue who she is or how she feels. I guess it's just now hitting me how easy it is to disconnect from yourself while plugging into the church. It's tragic. Maybe I should tweak my worldview to be something more like: community is the key to happiness...but, only after you've figured out who you are. You come first. You are important. In all of your flawed humanity: you are special. I have to tell myself this at least five times a day. Maybe someday soon I will believe it.