TT - "The Gift"

I love that my life is a gentle rollercoaster. I love that the dips are growing smaller than the pinnacles. I love that, just as I am ready to throw in the towel, my life shows up to remind me there is still hope. I love that I used to give up long before it was anywhere near time to do so, almost as soon as I had begun. I am appreciating that I can see the progress and the distance I have covered with small, persistent steps. I am appreciating that, through all of my life, I have always wanted "it" NOW! *imagine Veruca Salt* and in my desire to have it NOW!, I have frustrated myself more often than not. And, yet, I have kept going. If there is one thing I can say about myself is that I KEEP ON GOING.

It's my gift to myself, I realize now. I understand that, while things may not always look how I want them to or may not always be what I want them to be NOW!, I am creating in every moment. What I love most is that I can now see how my propensity to "keep on going" is building a beautiful, magical life that I am proud to be living.

Wow! I am proud to be living my life???

*sighing happily*

I had never acknowledge that before. Yay me!

While there may be no store-purchased gifts from or to me this year for Christmas, I am offering the gift of myself to me and to all who care to receive. I feel happy about that.

TT - "Gratitude"

Nothing can evoke my gratitude more strongly than spending time with my loved ones. Last night, I had the honor of supporting one of my very good friends, Mary Tebbs, as she performed her new show Make it Light. Not only did I get to be there as her friend, I also got to be there as the official photographer. Magic!

The more I play with my camera, the more I realize how much I love it. One of my friends recently told me that she experiences me so differently when I have my camera in my hands. She said she sees me as very young and playful and that, rather than hiding behind the camera as many photographers do, it becomes a toy that is part of the action and through which I interact with life.

I have so much for which to be grateful. In thinking back over my life, I have realized that my gratitude is coming first and foremost in my life. I feel happy about that. I have so many friends and loved ones in my world that enhance my life and bring me to getting to know myself completely. As I look at my life through the eyes of gratitude, everything becomes beautiful. Everything is a miracle. Everywhere there is magic.

Gratitude, indeed!

TT - "Scattered"

Scattered
Dust into the wind...
Lies upon lies... waiting for them to unravel... holding onto them... who has told whom what... remembering to exhaustion
Time fleeting
Pieces of broken glass hearts shimmering and vibrating
Swirling in a storm
Defying gratitude
One thought here
One thought there
Part of me is missing
Sadness
Emptiness

Scattered?

The Talk Thursday topic gave me pause this week. I have a story that two months ago I would have so closely related to the topic on so many different levels that I would have burst into tears. These days, though, I feel centered and complete, whole and present. My energy is focused in the moment and this is creating peace.

With gratitude I acknowledge myself for taking that step into the unknown. For finding the courage to breathe, move and go forward in the face of my biggest fears. It is in that step that I have come into myself and, thus, I am no longer scattered.

TT - "Shooting Stars"

I was in love. With all of me. Down to the very tips of my toes and to the ends of my hair. I loved him deeper and wider than I thought possible. And he was going away for two years. I couldn't imagine my life without him.

It was late, the sky an inky blue-black, lighter near the horizon, deeper high above. The sounds of frogs and crickets and other night creatures filled the air with a rhythmic melody as we walked through the forest toward the lake. My feet sunk into the moist layer of decomposing yellow leaves, my footsteps muted by the layers of autumn flora as the tangy golden aroma and the scent of pine sap filled my senses. My light jacket barely held the cold, damp air at bay and I hugged myself tightly, patting my arms to encourage blood flow for warmth.

"You cold?" He whispered, close enough that I could feel his body heat against my back.

"A little." It had not been a ploy to get him near me, but I was grateful for the outcome.

"Do you want to go back?"

We weren't supposed to be out here this late. We had told my parents we would be going back to the cabin. But the idea of being alone beside the lake under the almost-full moon had drawn us away from our original destination.

"No. I want to go to the lake. We're almost there."

And then, suddenly, we found ourselves on the bank of the lake, the gentle waves glittering with moon-diamonds. A bird, startled by our approach, took flight and I jumped at the sudden movement.

He chuckled in my ear. "You're a little jumpy."

I laughed nervously as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against his solid form. I melted into the comfort of his embrace, feeling found and whole and aware. A purr rumbled around in my belly and slid out in a moan as I leaned my head back against his chest.

"Beautiful..." he whispered on a sigh. I didn't know if he meant me or the view, but it was the same way he said 'beautiful' when he meant me. I smiled.

"I am going to miss you. Miss this," he said, squeezing me closer to indicate what the 'this' was. He was going to miss our closeness, as was I.

"Me too..." I said. The tears were there, burning at the back of my eyes. I willed them away. I would not cry.

"It's going to be okay, babe. We are going to be okay. We're meant to be together," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

I nodded. Choking on a silent sob, I could not speak. I nodded again.

"You know how I know that?" He asked and I could hear the coy grin in his voice. I knew him well enough to sense he was gearing up for something really quaint. Little did I know that he was going to reveal something that, while it sounds saccharin now, would be the answer to my prayers then.

"How?"

"The stars told me. The stars said, 'You are meant to be together. Forever.' And, you know, Angie, the stars don't lie."

As if he had paid the gods to conspire in the telling of his story, a star shot across the sky in a blazing trail of brilliant fire.

I gasped and he said, "Forever, Angie." He pressed his lips to my throat and whispered hungrily, "The stars don't lie."

Shooting Star image: http://twisp.wordpress.com/2006/11/

TT - "Now What?"

Yesterday I said, "I wish it would rain all day long." Today, it is raining. The air smells clean and the atmosphere is cool and moist. I hear the droplets gently kissing the earth and washing away the schmutz that has coated the air for far too long.

For three months I have said, "Let me go." On Tuesday, it happened.

Be careful what you wish for. That is one of my favorite lines from one of my most favorite movies, "Practical Magic." Because I believe in magic, I also believe that what I put out there comes back threefold. However, I have never been able to grasp the fact that I can make a wish come true. Some of the simplest magic - manifesting.

As a child, I learned all sorts of superstitiously-based "magic," although it wasn't ever called "magic" in my world...

Star light, star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may,
I wish I might
Have this wish I wish tonight
~~~
Step on a crack, break your mother's back
Step on a line, break your mother's spine
~~~
If you love someone,
Set them free
If they come back to you
They're yours
If they don't, it was never meant to be
Thing is, I never believed in any of that. Even as a child, I knew there was magic; I believed in magic. But that hooey-patooey garbage, I couldn't get behind. I felt hopeless, helpless, staring at the window and pleading with that star to grant my wish, all the while knowing it was complete horse crap. I knew if I accidentally hit a crack in the sidewalk that my mother would not fall down from a broken back. And, most of all, I knew that if I set my loved one free, they would never come back. Ever. So I clung to everyone for dear life.

It was odd growing up as a magical child in a totally unmagical world. In a world where magic was viewed as the hand of Satan and that all that even uttered the word were evil. It was difficult to be able to feel, hear and see things that others could not. It was harder still to turn it all off and deny who I was.

When I gave birth to a magical daughter almost eleven years ago, all that wakened in me. Suddenly I could see and hear and feel other dimensional beings and sensations again. Suddenly I remembered all I once knew. And, even with that remembrance, I still did not believe that I could call forth the wishes of my heart and have them granted.

Until lately.

Thing is, everyone can call into their lives that which they want. We are the creators of our own lives. Everyone is a manifestor of sort. However, being a conscious, purposeful manifestor is a whole new ball game. My mother is such a master manifestor. She can literally speak things into being. When it first started happening, we would giggle and look about as though we had done something truly awful. At first it would take days for things to happen. Now, it takes only a breath's-width of time to call it into being. For a couple years now, I have envied her power of manifesting, believing myself to be devoid of such a beautiful gift.

But it is happening. I am getting my wishes. I understand that I have been getting them all along, but I have been unwilling to own the results or even see them. I am getting my wishes faster and faster and I am finding myself surprised when I stop, look around, breathe deep and gasp I got my wish!

Now what?

That question has been the most exciting pivotal point I have come across in a long time. Now what?!

Now I have all the time in the world on my hands. Now I have the time to finish the process of publishing my first book. Now I have the time to put up my art for the world to see and take into their homes. Now I have the time to pursue my genius and my passion. Now I have time to step fully into myself and finally become that woman I have been waiting to recognize. Now!

I feel limitless and free. I feel excited and overflowing with joy and love. I feel peaceful and safe. I feel in every inch of my body my latest mantra: I believe in the abundance of the Universe and my financial needs are always met.

I have harnessed my own power. I have taken back myself.

Now what?

Now, I LIVE!

“Wish Upon a Star” by Jessie Wilcox-Smith found at http://www.art.com/asp/sp-asp/_/pd--10100766/Wish_Upon_a_Star.htm

TT - "Green"

I stretch luxuriously, the silkiness of the blanket's edging slides along my tender under-arm skin and sends shivers running delightfully through my system. My fingertips gently graze the grass and the prickly-points of the individual reeds tickle me as I slowly run my hand back and forth. Languidly, I roll to my back and stare up into the endless sky. My arms sink into the cool dampness of grass and earth. Above, the sky is dusky; the color just between blue and darkness as the stars begin to wink forth. The sound of the creek and the wind in the treetops, rustling the aspen leaves high above, lull me into submission as he stares at me with dark emerald eyes.

Somewhere deep inside me, he calls to the surface an awareness of lifetimes past and lifetimes to come. He looks into my soul and my soul answers back, swimming through a verdant sea of knowing and remembrance. This feeling... this is where my search has been leading me. This knowing. This remembrance. This love.

He trails a single fingertip from the tip of my hand to my shoulder to my face, his eyes watching the progress. He holds my face tenderly and speaks volumes without a sound, without moving his mouth. I feel my body speak back, my soul rising to meet his serene authority and dance in his embrace. Neither of us have moved. Neither of us have spoken. And yet, yet, there amongst the water and the earth and the air, there is the fire that has burned with an undisiplined flame, waiting for this moment.

I smell the water and the air and the earth. I feel the fire. And I taste the liquid juiciness that explodes in my mouth when I bite into the green grape he has slid between my lips.

TT - "Hot Summer Nights"

The year was 1978. I was ten years old and feeling like a grown up girl as me and my friends piled into the back of our Pinto station wagon. It was dark outside, truly nighttime and we were going to the movies! Just us girls! The plan was to be dropped off at the Villa Theater - which was soon to be the last of the real theaters with only one HUGE screen and a seating for 1300 people. This theater was magical, complete with a rich velvet curtain that draped the screen until the commercials started for the concessions stands with the marching ice cream on a stick dude leading the other treats around. Sadly, they have turned that magnificient place into Adib's Rug Gallery. But I digress...

The year was 1978. I was ten years old and feeling like a grown up girl as we climbed into the back of our Pinto station wagon. I had delayed my birthday party this year, specifically for this incredible event. The energy of the group of girls caused a giddy headiness to fill the car and the anticipation was agonizing. We were going on our first official "Girls Only" outing to see a double feature with the hottest hunk to hit the screen, John Travolta. Someone had gotten wise about Saturday Night Fever, had edited it to a PG rating and had re-released it with Grease. We were breathless with the restless waiting.

We piled out of the car, adjusting our clothes and feeling awed by the dazzling marquee and blinking lights. We sat beside one another holding hands and swooning over how handsome John Travolta was in Saturday Night Fever. However, then they started Grease and our worlds exploded in song and dance. We bounced our legs and swayed with the songs, surely creating a distraction for anyone behind us. But, we didn't care. We were ten! We were there! And we were in love with the entire experience.

We tumbled out of the theater together, tripping to the car and climbed inside. With all the windows rolled down we sang all the way home at the top of our lungs...

Summer lovin' had me a blast!

Summer lovin' happened so fast...

I am all grown up now and miss the days when I was ten and all seemed right with the world. When I could climb into the back of the station wagon with a bunch of my girl friends and have not a care in the world. Even now, when I hear the first deep notes of that song and the drums, I stop and smile. I am young again, with the air going through my hair.

Now, when I listen to it, though, it never escapes my noticing how differently Danny and Sandy approached the whole scene. Danny enticing his friends with hints at lurid details, "We made out under the dock and she was good, if you know what I mean." Down-dooby-doo dooby-doo dooby-dooby-dooby Down-dooby-doo dooby-doo dooby-dooby-dooby Sandy being all sweet and doe-eyed about "strolling and drinking lemonade and staying out until ten o'clock." Down-dooby-doo dooby-doo dooby-dooby-dooby Down-dooby-doo dooby-doo dooby-dooby-dooby

Tell me more! Tell me more!

It never ceases to amaze me how differently men and women approach matters of the heart vs. matter of sex. My former husband just recently shared a joke with me that seems appropriate here: Women think they are so smart. They fake an orgasm to have a relationship. Thing is, men fake entire relationships to have an orgasm.

And, there, you have it. We are so very different. And that becomes really apparent when the temperatures rise and the stories begin and Summer dreams, ripped at the seams. Bu-hut... OH! Those Su-um-merrrr Niiii---hights.

TT - "Change"

I looked around. The meadow was full of brilliantly colored wildflowers and golden grasses which were bowing in the gentle breeze. The noonday sun was brilliant and warm, causing the grasses to appear white at times. The southernmost border of the meadow was embraced by a lush evergreen forest and, to the east was a cozy cabin with an inviting porch. To the west, somewhere beyond where I could see or hear but sensed innately, there was an ocean.

When I turned to the north, I was curious to see a building materializing beyond the aspen grove. I walked toward it, holding out my hands at waist height to brush against the grasses. I relished the tickling sensation, the smell of damp soil and decomposing flora, the feel of the wind on my face and blowing back my hair, and the sound of my feet walking surely upon the ground.

“This structure,” my guide said, “Is you.”

I balked for a moment, silently arguing in my head and wanting to yell at her. “That’s ridiculous! How can this building be me?”

I felt a stirring rush through the room and mused that others were having the same sort of reaction as I. For a moment, I struggled to make the building look like me until I eventually gave up and decided to allow this 36-floor building which was sorely out of place in my meadow to actually be me. Steadying myself back to center, I breathed with concentrated evenness and allowed myself to fall deeper into the meditation.

“You notice a door high up on the structure...” Yep. There it was. “That is your ear. Go there...”

I teleported there, not needing any escalator or ladder. There was no need to fuss with old fashioned means of transportation, I just suddenly found myself there and walking around inside what I was soon to be told was my head.

I was interested to see that inside the building was cool, calm and peaceful. It was decorated in velvets and satins the colors of the richest red wines. The woods were solid, expensively glossed and the carpets were thick and lush. Everywhere I looked there was luxurious elegance. The floor I was on – thirty-six floors above ground – overlooked the city with a limitless perspective. The details were indistinct and there was a cloud of smog draped along the horizons, yet I felt as though I could see forever.

We ventured to our heart via an elevator through our throat, where we paused to discover what we would hear. My guide kept prompting us to listen to what we heard and offering up one suggestion after another about what we could possibly hear until I only could hear my brain screaming, “Shut up already so I CAN hear myself!” In that moment I wondered how often I had other people’s words cramming my throat and ears, how often do I not speak my own words because I am allowing others to talk instead, how often do I keep myself quiet.

On to the heartspace we went. It was beautiful there. Mine was full of pink and gold sparkling, flowing satin. I was stunned by the beauty there. I felt safe and sacred and loved. I reminded myself I was in my heart and felt in my whole body the impact of the fact that, at my core, I AM LOVE.

“You are here, in your core. Your body has all the answers you could ever want. Ask your body what it is you want to know about the complaint you have brought with you today.”

I paused taken aback by the question that appeared. I had thought it would be something like, “How can I get skinny and sexy?” or “How can I get wealthy?” Instead, what showed up was, “How can I live in this space all the time?” I breathed into it and had to wait only a moment before the answer showed up...

Move and Breathe and Love and Believe.

Movement, breathing, loving and believing. It is who I am. It is what I am here to do and my body understood.

“Thank your heartspace...” my guide went on to say and I realized that the material from my heart was wrapping around me in a luxurious spiral. It flowed around me and through me and filled the spaces. My elevator headed back up to the ear and passed my throat where there was the same spiraling, flowing material from my heart. And now there was symphonic ecstasy accompanying the ribbon dance.

Back on the 36th floor, I discovered that the décor felt more opulent and lavish. The view out the window was clear and precise, uninterrupted by smog or clouds. I could see distinct details for forever in colors as luminous as new acrylic paints.

“What do you notice now?” She asked. “Do you hear any sounds? Is anything different?”

I stopped in the center of the room turning this way and that. I was aware that I wanted to explore beyond the dividing walls of the space I was in, but only because I was curious what was on the other side. I was aware that I wasn’t seeking anything or anyone. And then everything in me stopped for a moment and a subtle shift changed every aspect of me.

The only sound in that space was me. The only person in that space was me.

I was completely and utterly alone and, for the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly at peace with that. I am alone. I can do this. I am alone and it’s okay.

“I feel,” I shyly shared with my friend afterward in surprise, “rich, luxurious and sexy.”

Not one thing had changed in the 90 minutes I had been there and, yet, everything had.

TT - "In Your Room"

I dreamt of you last night and I realized, for the first time in my life, what it really feels like to be found.

I recognized the pull of energy, that sensation that whatever I am looking for is nearby. My skin prickled with recognition waiting to be realized and I raised my eyes in the direction of the pull. There you were. Your eyes met mine and lit up, just as I imagine mine did. You wended your way toward me, exuding such confidence and self-awareness that those you passed could not help but stop to gaze at you. You, however, were oblivious to them. You had your mark set and that was your only focus. Your mark was me.

You stepped before me, there amongst the crowds of people milling about in the lobby of some arena, and greeted me with assurance that it was your rightful place to do so. It seemed so natural, this meeting, and I knew from the first moment that my search, your search, our search was over.

Together we laughed and talked as if we had done so for lifetimes. We knew one another already, even though this was the first time we had laid eyes upon one another.

The crowds moved and we were swept up with the current of humanity. We were separated and I began the search with longing to find you again. I searched for hours, wandering the fair grounds, the parking lot, the hundreds of buildings and coloseums and auditoriums. Everywhere there were thousands of people, laughter, loud voices and, yet, inside me was silently still, focused. Everywhere I searched, I could feel you searching. I could feel you had been there, just before me. The sadness of separation tugged at me and continued to push me forward. Exhaustion. Sadness. Can't go another step.

My father found me sitting upon a bench, staring forlornly at the dying roses beside me. I imagined those rose bushes were once very stunning, but now mirrored my sadness with their wilting death, the petals dropping in a sprinkling of pink and yellow.

"He found us," Dad said. "Don't be sad. I know where he is."

I followed my dad feeling the sad longing turning to hopeful yearning. He threw open the gargantuan double doors of the building where you and I had first met and said, "He is over there. Go ahead."

He left me to find you on my own, certain that I could do so. Each row I tried to venture down led me to a dead end. I felt frustration mounting as I continued to go forward and then had to turn around to go back to where I started. I was in a maze. There was no cheese. And the noise? It was escalating. I covered my ears and closed my eyes. Silence. Darkness.

Then there was a light, not visible but magnetic. I moved toward it, weaving in and out of the crowd, ducking under the upraised arms of waiters holding trays loaded with full champagne flutes. I scooted around shuffling brawls and tipping barstools. I ignored the sound of the sportscaster blasting through the room announcing, Daddy's Pride is first by a nose!

And then, I found you. There you were, watching me find you, smiling broadly and sitting amongst my family as if you had always been there. Your blue eyes met mine and I knew that I was willing to be with you in your room forever.

TT - It's Weird ("Day in the Life of My Pet")

It's weird when I leave my house under clear, blue skies and drive towards town, toward a darkened sky. As I neared town, the dark clouds seem to continue to blow westward, bringing their gloom over the lake and clearing the sky in the east to the glorious morning sun. And everywhere I look the ground is wet and glistening, puddles gather in the gutters and the air smells of rain. I know a wicked storm has this way come, but I missed it all together.

It's weird to see, as I near town, police vehicles and officers at every turn. It's weird to see brigades of army helicopters perusing the skies from east to west. It's weird to think that The President of the US of A is here, practically within spitting distance of me and I won't even be able to catch a glimpse of him. It's weird to think how scary it must be to be him.

It's weird to call a friend, one of my best friends, actually, after not talking with him for almost two months and having it be a disconnected talk that felt like pulling teeth. It's weird, especially, because we have been friends for over six years and I have never had to pull teeth with him. It's weird to think that we may be growing apart because I had never been able to imagine my life without him, until now.

It's weird to know exactly what I want to do with my life, who I want to be and, yet, have no idea how go about either aspect.

It's weird to want to be in an intimate realtionship and, at the same time, not want to be in a relationship.

It's weird to work so closely with my former husband.

It's weird to be training my replacement while, at the same time, to be freaking out that I am not going to be able to pay my bills when she takes over.

It's weird to be able to put my hands on someone and know their truths before they do.

It's weird to be in love with someone that is miles and years and lifetimes away. It's weird to have him dance with me in my dreams and feel so close to him that when I wake, his warmth is still surrounding me.

It's weird to have my truths blurted out before me by one of my mentors, "Angie, you are running the belief that you cannot do this without a man." And to know that she has hit the nail so visibly on the head. Am I that transparent? No. She just knows me well and listens underneath my words. It's weird to think that, after tomorrow, that pattern could be interrupted and reprogrammed. It's weird to think that she may have found that one key I have been searching for.

It's weird that I don't have a pet so, Shin-Shiggy, this will have to do... the day in the life of my pet is weird. :)

TT - "Behind Those Eyes"

As I have mentioned before, I am a Reiki Master, trained in the art of facilitating others in their healing. Just after I completed my internship and Mastered, I took on a regular client in a business trade arrangement. We have been working together for almost two years now. When we began, she was in the beginning phases of her third battle with cancer.

She lost her right breast first to cancer about thirteen years ago. Five years later, she was diagnosed with a much more aggressive and completely different cancer in her left breast. They said they got it all. Five or so years later, she started feeling ill and went in for a check-up. That visit revealed that the aggressive cancer was back. It had settled in her hips and skull. Since then, it has spread to her legs and spots have shown up in her liver.

In the beginning of our work together, we were able to eliminate her pain and drastically slow the growth of cancer. Her tumor markers dropped to astoundingly low levels and her oncologist kept saying, "Whatever you are doing, keep doing it." She continually expressed her gratitude that she was completely without pain. I was grateful to be working with a client that was so firm in her resolve to get well and to live. I appreciated watching her physical and spiritual presence grow and her voice become strong. I loved hearing her stories and feeling her energy and supporting her on her journey. Our intention was clear from the very first session when she stated, "I am going to beat this cancer. I am determined to live my life as a healthy person."

Last fall, she took on a huge project of moving her aunt into a rest home. This entailed cleaning out her aunt's residence of many, many decades. For a month straight, they toiled and labored to clean out the home. I noticed that she was showing signs of fatigue. She accepted responsibility for not caring properly for herself and for working too hard on the project. Just as her project was wrapping and her energy level was at its lowest ever, I got bitten by that bug and ended up wading through the West Nile for over six weeks. I was unable to work for almost three months.

When we got back together just before Christmas, I was startled to see the stark difference. I felt tears burn my throat as she whispered, "I can't beat this cancer. It's not going to go away. I have accepted that." Her entire outlook had changed and I felt the desperation run through her body. She was so tired of the battle. So tired of the struggle. The pain had escalated. Her markers had shot up. Her energy level was completely drained. Her life force was strained. Her body was being ravaged by a weed that had not been properly tamed.

I reverently placed my hands upon her body that day, praying that I could do something to bring her back. The rhythms of her soul were so slow, they were almost undetectable. I wanted to pull my hands back and yell at the universe. I wanted to be angry with her. I wanted to hold her here, make her live.

At the beginning of this year, she came into my office for her first Reiki appointment this year with tears streaming down her face. This beautiful, 5'10" warrioress stood before me defeated and deflated. A physically diminished woman, her clothes hanging from her shrinking frame, her eyes haunted. And, behind those eyes, the message of the warrioress was clear: the journey has taken a turn we were not prepared for. I watched her and intuitively knew it was time to help the warrioress lay down her sword and shield and prepare her to be laid to rest. My heart sank to the floor and I cried with her. I wasn't ready to let her go. I wanted to hold on for forever. I wanted my beautiful, strong friend to be with me throughout life. I wasn't ready to release into death another one of my deeply-loved friends.

In the beginning, our appointments were every other week. This year, though, I switched her to every week because her life force was so weak. She had things she wanted to finish before she walked off the earth. She wasn't ready to go either. Our sessions were about refilling her reserves so she make it from week to week.

She started chemo again, as per her doctors assurance that "this will help you feel better." This morning she called me to say that she wouldn't be here for her appointment. She was going back to the doctors. After one dose of chemo, her system is completly shot. She went in yesterday and they told her they would need to give her four rounds of stuff (I don't know what) to boost her system before they could even get her strong enough for the next chemo dose. Something has gone seriously wrong.

I feel sad to know that the world is going to lose this amazing woman. I feel sad that I am going to lose a best friend. I feel sad that cancer is rampaging through humanity at alarming rates and we are seemingly at its mercy. The problem with that is, cancer has no mercy. It is not a respector of class, race, education, age or sex. It takes where it can. There are gifts in cancer. I know this. She has taught me this, as have several other people in my life. The sadness, though, of knowing that I am literally watching my friend die is intense beyond belief.

TT - "Through the Eyes of My Beloved"

I have mentioned before that, when it comes my time to pick the Talk Thursday topic, I usually pull it from the air and without any prior notion of what I will write. Such is the case with this week's topic. I sat in front of my computer, staring at a blank screen, wondering what on earth I could suggest for the ring of talented writers. I was completely devoid of brilliant ideas.

Hmmmmm... what should the topic be? WHAT should the topic be? What should the TOPIC be?

"My Beloved Looks at Me and Sees..." my fingers typed of their own volition.

I grimaced unattractively at the computer, as if it was the violator. "What the... I don't even have a beloved! Why in the hell would I write about a beloved?! Besides, that word 'beloved'? It's so... cheesy!"

Without editing myself - a new policy that I am struggling with - I pressed send. And then the fireworks began accompanied with wretching, writhing and anarchy. I laughed for most of the day as the comments came through, realizing that I was reacting as violently to my own topic as the people in the group. I eventually pitched in with my own taunting, calling them all "pussies," and adding a "LOL." I never stopped to think that the name calling would turn the entire interchange to a sour accord.

It's all fun and games until someone gets peed on.

I sat back and watched it all, attempting (rather poorly, I admit) to not take things personally. This is not the first time I have caused group upheaval and chaos with my ideas (once to the point of being kicked out of the group, no ifs, ands or butts [yes, that extra "t" is intentional]). In fact, this is third time this year alone (that I am aware of) that a tornado has been caused by my written words.

None of the experiences have been pleasant. This one was no different.

For awhile, I pondered changing the topic title, but that seemed weak. So I left it as it was, picked myself up and dusted myself off and after the entire ordeal, I was still completely blank on what to write…


Beloved... I hear that word and I am instantly transported to another century and country. With the etymology of this word being around the late 1300's, early 1400's, it is easy to understand the romantic feel of it as it rolls off my tongue. It embodies another time when romance was, seemingly, the most important thing to society.

Closing my eyes, I try to imagine what it would feel like to have someone call me his beloved. I attempt to picture the look upon his face as he gazes at me, how he would touch me, how he would hold me. I wonder how I would feel about him.

I looked in the mirror just now, to see what I would see when I looked at me. Of all the people in the world, I am supposed to love me the most. Therefore, I guess that would make me my own beloved. I am still trying to grasp this whole "love myself" concept, so I stared in the mirror for some time, wondering when I would feel beloved.

It was too much. Staring in the mirror spawned all the thoughts that jump to the surface out of self-defeating habit. Too fat. Too short. Getting old. There's a new zit. Need a hair cut. Where did that gray hair come from? Eyes look tired. Shirt doesn't fit. Pants too tight. When did make-up become laborious?

On and on went the thoughts ad nauseum. I stopped myself and stared into my own eyes, knowing without a doubt that someone who considered me to be his beloved would see beyond all that. He would see into my soul. He would look at me like I look at others - focusing on the beautiful aspects of their humanness.

Why am I not able to offer that to myself?

Two weekends ago, when I pulled myself into my essence, I discovered that love is who I am. When I am in my essence, I feel love flowing through me, around me and surrounding anyone within a five-mile radius of me. When I am in my essence, I am graceful and easeful and I flow with gentle graciousness. When I am in my essence I am Love.

Remembering that, I then knew what I will feel when my beloved looks at me and I look upon him. I have a body knowing of what my truth is and in that truth, there is only grace and beauty and infinite forgiveness. In my essence, I am beauty and warmth and sexuality and a tender embrace. It is there that I no longer have to worry about "how" to love myself. It just happens. When I am breathing and moving, I am alive and I am love.

It is in that space that my true beloved will meet me and I him. And we will see one another.

image: "Endless Love" link: http://www.arsgeek.com/?p=2806

TT - "Breathing"

In my work, I have discovered that most people do not breathe. Now, I realize that sounds ridiculous because, if they aren't breathing, how are they alive??? Thing is, there is a difference between inhaling-exhaling and actually...

B R E A T H I N G.

As I have my clients practice deep breathing and, specifically the "Yes Breath" technique that I share with them, there is one of three things that happen:

1. They burst into tears.
2. They immediately freak out, feel scared and want to run away.
3. They get so seething mad that, at times, I fear for my life.

What I have discovered is that really breathing unlocks all the emotions my clients have blocked or stuffed or ignored. It is the fundamental building block of our life and the one thing that we are born with. Generally, in a healthy baby, no one has to teach that baby to breathe. It just happens. If you have ever watched a baby breathe, you will know that a baby breathes with their whole body. Their bellies fill to the maximum on the inhale, using their diaphragm and all abdominal muscles.

I have learned that there is a hormone that is triggered as the baby pushes its way through the birth canal, its head opening its path. That pressure on the baby's head, causes the hormone to release which will trigger a massive inhale when the baby's face hits open air. It literally causes the baby to breathe. Babies who are born via C-section are not triggered thusly. They may find, throughout their lives, that actually remembering to breathe is difficult.

As we grow to toddler stage and begin to explore our ability to stand and balance and walk, we begin to change our breathing patterns. We begin to minimize the inhale and exhale because we are using energy to remain upright. Then, that minimal breathing pattern becomes the norm and thus begins the ritual of never fully taking a breath. Minimized breathing is excellent for keeping at bay all your fears, sadness, anger, and whatever other emotion you are choosing to avoid. Minimized breathing - the norm for a vast majority of humanity - is a fantastic route for living without really being alive. Not breathing is a fabulous way to not be present. Your physical form may be there, but your mind and soul are elsewhere.

I remember the first time one of my mentors asked, "Angie, are you breathing?"

I looked at her and said, "Well, duh! I am here and talking with you!"

I imagine that she was expecting my sarcasm. The answer seemed so obvious to me on that day when I was feeling incredibly blocked and numb. The opposite answer, the one she knew, was actually the truth of my situation.

Quietly, she said, "I invite you to breathe really deep, all the way into your belly."

That concept was foreign to me. Into my belly?! What the...

I tried it. Instantly, I was lightheaded as a full load of oxygen hit my system for the first time. Following in lightning speed I was accosted with sadness so deep and infinite that I wanted to collapse. Oh. My. God. I was so sad. I was so angry. And then I was so scared.

The good news was, I was feeling for possibly the first time in my life. And thus, I came to life. Right there before her, I came to life. I began breathing.

Since that day, I remind myself frequently to breathe. I take snippets of my day to breathe deep into my belly, rejoicing in the balloon-effect I have mastered. I use my breath to move with and through my sadness, my fear, my anger. When I begin feeling numb and responding with, "I don't know," I will breathe. The numbness moves and knowing steps in. And then I know... I AM ALIVE.

I am alive. I am breathing. And I am grateful for both...

TT - "My Place on the Internet"

(Cele suggested this week's Talk Thursday topic after reading this post on the blog of one of our mutual friends, Tewkesbury.)

“Hey, check this out,” the email said.

Of course, because the email was from Mr. Millionaire, I followed the link he provided. It lead me to an online article about real life people who were making real life money by "working" in a virtual world – enough so that they were able to quit their real life jobs. I was intrigued and read on. At the bottom of the article, there was a link which I followed into a whole new world.

Thus began my love affair with Second Life.

With more patience than I normally have, I waited a very l-o-n-g time as the game downloaded whatever it needed to download onto my computer so that I was able to venture into Second Life. I was excited – bite my nails, excited. I was going to be a millionaire!

I got my avatar, having no idea what the hell an avatar was but learning quickly. My avatar was the cute little virtual Barbie doll that I got to play with. I named her KaraMat Blankes and she got to be all the things I wasn’t – 6’ 6” tall, tan, slender, stylish. I could change her hair and eye color on a whim. She could go from ivory-pale skin to black skin to orange skin in a blink of an eye. She could shrink or grow in any direction with a slide of my mouse. Virtual plastic surgery without any drugs. It was magic!

She got to do all the things I couldn’t – run so fast her feet disappeared; swing her hips so sexily that it was practically illegal; slam into walls without getting bruises; walk through walls and remain in one piece; fall off of skyscrapers without being dazed, shattering or dying; dance on the ceiling; walk on water; walk under water with the fishes without needing breathing paraphernalia; and, most importantly, she could FLY! all on her own without the equipment one would need in real life.

It totally rocked and I was so hooked that my real life became secondary to my virtual life. I made friends on the first day. Then one of my friends, Trinity, became my sister and we made a family, found a few brothers and some cousins. We built a house. I created furniture and bought oodles of virtual clothes and shoes for my avatar. I got tattoos and skads of bling for her. Then KaraMat had lots of virtual sex with her virtual partners. Hot! And then Trinity and I became high-priced escorts in an exclusive club and got to have lots more of virtual sex. Yes! She did everything in Second Life that I didn’t do in real life. The only thing she did do like me was spend money faster than she created it.

Then – horror of horrors! – my computer system crashed and it spent two months in the hospital getting fixed. I had been broken, cold turkey. Second Life withdrawals were wretched and I decided I wouldn’t put myself through it again. I never loaded the software back on. And, eventually, my credit card recovered.

My adventure with MySpace began about a year after I fell of the Second Life bandwagon. It started as a fluke because I wanted to watch my former husband amass a harem of Wannabe Playboy Bunnies on his page. Then I started getting friend requests of my own. Eventually, I had over 300 “friends” – two-thirds of which were crummy bands and people who had no idea who I was. So I cleaned house and brought it down to a believable number. My MySpace page became a place to talk about what I do and I created it to be a bouncing off place. A place where, when I am famous, my fans can find me. I like my page and visit it regularly, although I don’t live there like I did in the beginning.

I roped a friend into MySpace and then he, in turn, roped me into Facebook. Ugh. Facebook. That social networking site is way too needy. It requires constant babysitting with all of these “fun” applications that could hog up your entire life if you let it. Easily. It annoys me to the ends of the earth.

Through all of that socializing, I grabbed myself some of my own real estate on the web... www.momentsofawakening.com (shameless plug). I created it myself, sweating and swearing my way through and loving every minute of it. Within my website is my most favorite place of all in this electronic web the world has woven... this blog. It is here that I have found a community of like-minded people. I have found connection with friends near and far. I have found people who read what I write, give me feedback, support me, encourage me and love me. It is here that I truly have become the Phoenix. By far and away, of all the places I have “lived” online, here with my blogging family is the place I love the best.

TT - "What if I was 10 years old?"

If I was ten years old, I would be my daughter's best friend. She is the coolest person I know.

We would paint amazing pictures together. We would laugh at silly jokes we would make up. We would sit under the climbing gym at recess and talk about our own world that is exactly as we want it to be. We would invent games and give each other nicknames. She would be LillyLouLouLynzie and I would be AnnieAnnieAbsofab. We would race around the play ground and hug one another with joy every time we see each other. We would share Webkinz and beg to have sleepovers where we would inhale our spaghetti in three seconds flat just so we could get back to playing together because that is all we want to do. We would like the same music and the same movies and we would giggle about the same secrets. We would sculpt with Sculpey clay and color crazy pictures with crayons. We would eat Bit-O-Honeys and giggle because our teeth get stuck together. We would explore museums, finding the joy in the stuff that isn't part of the museum, but rather the behind the scenes stuff that isn't really that cool, but somehow we think it is. We would snicker behind our hands and stare wide-eyed at all the adults who are completely clueless, stifling the desire to roll our eyes at their obvious stupidity. We would have concerts where our favorite stuffed animals are the performers and even, sometimes still, we would play dress ups. We would roller blade in the park, sometimes pausing to swing on the swings when no one else was watching. We would like the boys, but not too much and only tell each other who is the cutest boy of all. We would understand each other. We would be the fiercest of best friends, vowing to be BFF and look forward to the next time we get to be together again, especially if it is to be just the very next moment.

TT - Desire (Come and Get It)

Desire and I used to be intimate partners. She used to reside within the depths of my body, surging forth and meandering through my cells, setting me afire. She used to be a part of who I was and I led forth with her. I gave in to her whenever she appeared - and that was often. She generally enticed me to do things that a Good Girl ought not do and I would give in to that burning, go with that moment and come out on the other side wondering when my flaming ticket to hell would arrive on my doorstep.

Somewhere in the last decade, Desire has abandoned me, or I have squelched her. Desire on any level. I feel dry and empty, wondering where my Desire has ran off to and with whom. Is she somewhere having a good time? A good time like the ones from which I chose to cut off myself? Is she somewhere golden and sultry? Somewhere that the answer to yearning is effortless?

When was the last time I stood solidly, firm in who I am and knowing of what I desired and offered myself confidently? When did I last say, "Come and get it" and that command was fulfilled without a moment's hesitation? Have I ever said that, been that, done that?

Fear swept through my life on wings of acid and sliced through my being. It slashed through the center of me, pruned my essence and left me limbless, a mere stump of who I once was. Fear, brandishing an icy sword, pierced me and oozed into the barren spaces left by Desire as she danced into the silence, away from me - a move of self-preservation. In that moment, I caved in upon myself, holding onto the noxious sludge in the hopes that it would make me whole.

It did not.

It does not.

And I weep with the knowing that I once was vibrant with Desire shooting forth from me timidly and leading me to heights of who I could one day be. I felt the fear of her, standing on the pinnacle and looking into the abyss that would soon be only a crack and knowing, knowing that I was amazing in this Desire. To be safe, though, I collapse inward. I ought to play small and they will love me then.

She is gone.

My desire is gone.

And I fear that she will never come and get me.

Photo Credits:
"Heat" (c) Angie Millgate 2007
"Desire (Day 106- 365 days)" - http://www.flickr.com/photos/itsallaboutmich/509387615/
"Fear" - http://www.flickr.com/photos/ia7mad/1256122287/
"Staring Into the Abyss" - http://www.flickr.com/photos/whatwhat/22181235/

TT - "Once Upon a Time..."

(Why do I do this to myself??? Why, when it is my turn to give the Talk Thursday Topic, do I give one that I have no idea what is to follow? Why don't I just set myself up so it's all nice and easy??? No idea, truly. None at all.)



Once Upon a Time
I cried into the moon-shaped furrow in the pillow beside me
The bed still warm from the heat of you
Although you have been gone for years
I miss the cedar smell of you
And the fuzziness you grew into
Once just a boy
Now a man
And so much more than I imagined you could have ever been
And...
At the same time so much less
I ache with the hollowness in my gut
The place where intuition once resided
The nudge I ignored
And am fighting to return to
Fearing I will never find myself
As my hand claws the emptiness beside me
Seeking to replace the hole within with the whole withinDay in
Day out
I dreamed once that we were happy
That you loved only me
And that the pain in my body
The pain in my face
The pain in my heart
Were all phantoms
And, certainly, not inflicted by the Soul Mate
Whom I had hoped would honor me
Protect me
Cleave unto me and no other
It was me that left you
And left behind the hands that sought to hold
And sometimes to hurt
I know that you see it as me abandoning you
I cry with that knowledge
Wondering if it was me that abandoned you
If, by gaining my soul, I lost it
Burning behind my eyes the grittiness of a lifetime
And particles of dreams shattered
And there is still that furrow
That, once upon a time,
Held you
(c)akm 04/10/08
bed image: http://www.carlschaad.com/blog/heroics/

TT - "Sisterhood"

It's Saturday. I am finally addressing the Talk Thursday topic, Sisterhood "assigned" by Cele.

When the assignment came down the wire, I was decidedly pissy about it and said as much to Cele. I felt so UNsisterish at the time. I still do. I was startled when I felt my hair bristle on end when I read the topic. I was even more taken aback when I realized that I had no idea what "sisterhood" really means.

Sisterhood, for me, has some conotations with which I am highly uncomfortable, stemming back to my religious days. In The Church, men are "Brothers (Elders, Brethren)" and the women are "Sisters." Nobody has a first name. For a long time, I thought that every adult's first name was that and that somewhere along the way there was some sort of stripping of the unique first name and everyone became generic Brother or Sister.

Also, I am of the belief that women, in general, do not play well together. My life experiences have supported this, unfortunately, more often than not. I have very few "real life" female friends because, plain and simple, I don't trust them. I have experienced women throughout my life as being petty and bitchy and willing to do just about anything behind my back. Women have proven to me time and again that they are not here to support me, but rather to tear my hair out strand by strand, douse me with gasoline and set me on fire.

Nowadays, I am still very limited in the number of close friends whom I allow to really begin to know me. And, honestly, I think I still am guarded enough that there is no one single person that really knows who I am. In that limited number of close friends, there is one woman. She is someone who has known me since I was 11 and, even with her, I keep her at a distance.

In the one relationship where the terminology "sisterhood" should most directly apply - with my sister - I am unclear. My sister is five years younger than me. When she was born, all I could think in my five year old brain was that there had to be something much more special about her than there was about me. That was the only way I could figure out why she was seemingly more important than me. That feeling has carried on throughout my life - this sense that I am less than my baby sister. She's a college graduate. I am not. She's married with two children. I am divorced with one. She has her own home. I am living in a petite guest room. She is near to debt-free. I am drowning in debt. She is running her own highly successful business, bringing in five figures in some months. I am struggling to stay afloat. This less-ness is purely self-imposed and, frankly, insanity. I am just so different from my sister.

All of my life I have had this part of me that seemed to be missing. A hole. I have sought to fill it with stuff that didn't fit. Men. Food. Knowledge. What I mistakenly thought was love. In the end, I was (am) still left wanting, aching and wishing for this Norman Rockwell painting of a life where my Sisters gather around me and hold me up. Where they are beside me, cheering me on and wanting me to succeed. Where the women of my world want me in their presence and are women who I want in my life.

I have this sense that, as I journey ever further into the depths of the power of Me, I am growing farther away from the possibility that I will be a part of a Sisterhood. I feel a desperation of aloneness that calls to me from the darkness. A sense that, as I grow in my divine power, I become less able to blend with the humans, I become more alien. I feel scared that I am to find myself forever in a life wherein I am alone, without a pack or a tribe and without a partner.

And then I feel sad.

Yeah... Sisterhood... what is it, anyway?

TT - The Real Post

A letter to my thirteen year old self...

Dear Angie,

Thank you for choosing life in those moments when you are deciding if you want to stay or if you want to go. I am grateful, forever, for how brave you are and that you did choose to stay.

I invite you to look at the miracle of you, the woman that you are. I know it’s difficult to grasp that concept right now, when you are in the middle of trying to figure out how to be graceful in your developing body. You are, though, an amazing creature! You are beautiful and loving and gentle. Your body is your vehicle to becoming the gift that you are for this world. The next time you look in that full-length mirror on the back of your bedroom door, smile at yourself. Hug yourself. Notice how beautiful your eyes are and your hair. Appreciate those curves and strong legs. Turn sideways and take note that your belly actually is flat. Release all thoughts of “I’m too fat,” because those thoughts will eventually materialize in saddening ways.

You have a group of friends who are outcasts and, in a short while, you will have an opportunity to make a choice: be mean to these friends in the hopes that the “cool” kids will like you more or stick with these friends who have always stuck beside you. I invite you to stick with the friends. The other choice will leave you lonely and alone and creates irreparable damage in the hearts of your gentle friends.

Next year, when Ben kisses you, enjoy it. Allow yourself to marvel in the new wonder of feeling sensual. Know that you are still a Good Girl and that this boy is someone you can trust. Know that he will not hurt you and there is no need to run away.

Cherish every moment you spend with Tommy. He will be your greatest ally, best friend and first “real” kiss. He is a good man with the courage of a lion and a heart a mile wide. Memorize his laugh; it will be a sound that feels like home. Look often into those chocolate-brown eyes; they see you as you truly are. Hold him close and tell him you love him. Do it often because, all too soon, he will pass away and you will miss him desperately.

Cherish your moments with Grandma Faye. Create more time with her as she will be gone too soon. And Grandpa Vic too soon after her.

When Mom and Dad decide to get divorced, it will feel like your world has ended. I invite you to forgive Dad as soon as you can, rather than carry it on for decades. Even though it will seem like what he chooses to do is completely wrong and goes against all you have been taught, remember that it is his choice and he will have to bear the consequences of that choice. He will go away for awhile and he won’t fight for you children. All this, I share with you because I want you to be ready. I have come to understand it now, but I certainly didn’t back then. The journey of understanding you will go on will be beneficial for your growth. Hold him in your heart with love until you can forgive him.

Your mother will lose herself when he leaves the family. You will not be able to save her. The losing of herself will be integral for her journey. All you will be able to do is to love her, from a distance, and trust that she will come out okay on the other end. Even more than okay. She will be a miracle.

You are an emotional girl, quiet, shy and introspective. As a woman, those attributes will serve you well and become part of your life path. And while it may feel uncomfortable or unpopular now, I promise you it will pay off in the future. Hold on to that knowledge for strength in the moments when you being “different” is all that others can focus on. One day, that difference will be your greatness.

It is perfect that you choose for yourself to stay drug-, alcohol- and smoke-free. It is more than just a health issue. It is a part of who you are becoming. I appreciate that you have a sense of this already and that you are choosing it for yourself, rather than because you have been told to do it.

I know you are curious about the male body and have very little education in that department, never having seen a naked man – even accidentally. The male body is beautiful and exciting and you will first be exposed to it when Tommy invites you to go tanning. Remember, you are safe with him. You are always safe with him.

Listen to your teachers and find the courage to begin to really listen to what you are learning in Church. Be open to your intuition. You will one day be a great lady in the ways of magic. When God asks you to step full in your power, you will leave The Church. That may sound scary now, just know that, when that time comes you will be very ready – and the world will be waiting for you.

Be loving of all who come your way. Each of them brings you beautiful lessons and gifts. Sometimes it is hard and sometimes you may feel sad. Remember, honey, it all will pass and the boy who says that to you one night, “Tomorrow is a new day, baby. Go to sleep because this too shall pass...” that boy will be one of your greatest loves.

I know you are wondering if you will get married. Yes. I know you are curious if you will be a mother. Yes. And you will love both roles to the ends of who you are.

Take risks. Be brave. Stretch often – physically, mentally and emotionally. Make sure you finish that hike with your father. The hike where he keeps saying, “It’s just around the next bend.” The views at the top are indescribable!

There are many incredibly beautiful and wondrous, seemingly miraculous things in store for you. There are also some incredibly difficult and painful experiences as well. Know that you make it through each situation brilliantly and exactly as you need to.

If there is anything I could give you, it would be to learn to love yourself just as you are. Even now, as an adult, that sounds foreign to me. I imagine that if you understand that now, your life will be so much smoother later on.

Know that you are loved and life really does move quickly. Soak in each moment. Hold your chin high. Make eye contact with others. When given the choice to dance or stop, please continue dancing. Always. Therein is your joy. Laugh often. And most importantly, remember to breathe.

I love you.
~Angie

ps... While being a cheerleader seems cool, it’s just really a lot of yelling and stupid Spirit Fingers. You will laugh about that one day.

Talk Thursday?

So, it's Friday.

My Talk Thursday piece is still sitting in my laptop. Nice. I am aware that I broke a commitment to myself. After a 40-minute drive home last night, I pulled into the garage and popped open the trunk to grab my laptop. What's this?! No laptop?!

Shit...

Apparently this particular topic is more difficult for me than I previously surmised...