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The party was amazing tonight! I felt grateful to be back amongst my friends... my crazy, crazy friends where anything is possible and anything goes. I have missed that energy in my life. Desperately. I felt happy to be able to cuddle and talk and laugh and touch and be... just be me. I didn't realize how much I missed the energy of that group until I walked in and found myself surrounded by it again.

I am grateful I went, even though I had misgivings about going alone. I am grateful, especially, that I went alone. Come to find out, almost everyone came alone and I was grateful that I did not have anyone that I needed to make sure they were "doing okay" in a crowd of strangers.

I am grateful I was there to witness with my eyes and ears all that is happening for my friends... one friend is flying out on Monday to spend two weeks with her son whom she adopted out 18 years ago. Another friend has just landed a monthly column in a local cool publication. Another couple of friends have gotten together since I last saw either of them - it is an amazing match. Another couple of friends chose this night to do an official "divorce" ceremony in front of us wherein they burned their marriage knot and consciously chose to leave the relationship in love. It was a breathtaking experience to watch a break-up go so... lovingly.

The friend who landed the column also realized she is completely in love with the man she has been with for several years. She had thought she wasn't... she had been all caught up in her stories of why he wasn't good enough for her and why he didn't love her enough. Suddenly, she discovered that it was simply that... her stories and now she has come to know that no matter what it takes, with him is where she wants to be. She said, "I realized that my soul is happy when I am with him."

Listening to her, I found myself longing to feel that. I wanted to have someone in my life whom I could say my soul feels happy when I am around them. I became aware that, after almost 10 years post divorce, I am really ready to welcome in love.

I have spent the bulk of 2007 getting to know myself and understand who I am. I have found my anger - by god! I have so found my anger - and I have come to discover that I can actually feel my anger and that is a good thing. I have learned that a lot of what I am carrying around with me in the form of over-excessive weight is my anger that I have held onto. And I feel sad about that.

The amazing thing is... everyone with whom I spent time one-on-one with tonight said these exact words to me, "Angie, wow! You look amazing!" One of my friends actually said, "I can see in you that you have changed so much. I look forward to watching the rest of your transformation and I feel that it is coming around the corner... it's next year! I can see that you have really stepped into who you are. You are beautiful, radiant, ready... you!"

I stepped in front of the mirror tonight, before removing my makeup and taking down my hair. I studied myself closely and let it all sink in.

I am ready!

Feet up

Today is a day where I would like to lean back, kick up my feet, eat chocolates and, perhaps, watch a marathon of weepy-girl movies or feel-good Christmas flicks. Today is a day where I could be doing that because there is nothing to do here at work, yet I am here... making a show of it and watching the fog roll by my window.

Today is a day where I am thinking about all I am blessed with...

I am blessed with a job that allows me to sit here and watch the fog roll by, although I would rather be cuddled under a blanket at home with some hot chocolate and a DVD.

I am blessed with a beautiful daughter who grows more beautiful every day from the inside out, who is healthy and witty and a bright light in each person's path she crosses.

I am blessed with a close immediate family that is healthy and generally happy and with whom I love spending time.

I am blessed with improving health and a body that keeps on ticking no matter how I abuse or neglect it.

I am blessed with a safe, sheltered place to lay my head, food to eat and clothing to keep me warm.

I am blessed with a few good friends - some of which have been with me for decades, some of which are brand new additions to my life.

I am blessed with the ability to heal myself and others, to see through the eyes of God and to find the divine within us all.

I am blessed with the Gift of Words...

Which reminds me... several times within the last two weeks I have come across written feedback from others - some even strangers - as well as receiving the feedback live and in person. All of the feedback says... when will you be published?!!! You need to be out there! NOW!

I am so blessed. So very, very blessed.

Excited...

I am doing the final edits of my book Above the Clouds and I am feeling really excited to be coming down the home stretch. I am confident about this book, although I haven't always been. I have been scared because it is a creative non-fiction autobiography so I have been wound up in this story that it is "me" that I am putting out there to be rejected or accepted. And, really, it is my story, so why would it benefit anyone?

I finally, recently, realized that what I have to say - and the way I have to say it - is beautiful and there is someone out there that needs my words. I feel good that I have eased myself into this realization. And I am excited to get it out there. Soon I will be posting some excerpts and it will go up online as a presale option. Watch for it, if ya would! :)

Time

A wisened friend whispered to me the other day a fact that I had forgotten...

Now is now.

Now is not yesterday. It is not a moment ago, nor tomorrow.

It is now.

More importantly, it only lasts for now.

And my present state of being... which looks like illness... is only for now. It won't last forever. And soon I will be able to look back on this moment and it will be the past and I will be well.

I need to remember that.

Don't Ask. Don't Tell.

Been thinking about being Rich lately. And when I say “rich” I mean MONEY. I know that I am blessed richly with all things non-monetarily related. I am, however, experiencing scarcity in my MONEY department. To this point in my life, that has been par for the course.

I have several men in my life that are geniuses with money. I have yet to discover a woman that I would categorize as such. And, that could be because I am choosing to not seeing the few women that I judge as “could be” financial wizards as actually being such. I don't know. It could be because those women don’t speak about their money life in explicit details. The men will flat out tell me how much money they have created this year, how much money they have brought in. They are willing to give actual amounts. The women don’t do that. Perhaps it is because I don’t ask the women... conundrum...

At any rate... Last night, I was speaking with one of these money wizards and discovered he will be bringing in lots of money by year end. I was blown away when I asked him flat out what he would make this year and he told me the actual amount without even blinking. For some reason, I thought it would be too personal of a question to ask or, if I had the balls enough to ask the question, he would be iritated by the invasion and not answer. Not so. He explained to me the difference between “bringing home and spending money” and “making money.” Two totally different realms. Who knew?!

The interesting correlation I am discovering in these men is that they operate under a “Don't Ask. Don't Tell.” sort of policy. For me, I judge that to be dishonest, as if one is hiding something. To these men they judge it as “it is my business, no one elses, thus it is none of their business and they don't need details.” What I am curious about is this: they trust ME enough to answer my direct questions and they DO tell me. Hmmmm... that is an awareness that just hit me in this moment. I am really curious about that...

I have thought about “don't ask, don't tell” a lot since he and I talked last night. In fact, I actually dreamt about it last night. I have wondered... is that what it takes to be wealthy? A don't ask, don't tell attitude? Is that the line of thinking I need to adopt? Can I even do that? And is this blog already a violation of that theory??? Eeegads... conundrum, indeed!

Last night, our conversation went something like this (and I am fairly certain that this IS telling so I am already blowing it! Sheesh!):
Money Man, “You can make good money too, if you want.”
Angie, “really?”
Money Man, “Yes, of course, but I don't think you want to. You were taught that money is evil, and that it doesn't bring happiness, so you don't pursue it. By the way, it does bring happiness.”
Angie, “Actually, I have discovered that it is more along the lines of me being not worthy.”
Money Man, “You are not only worthy, you live in country that expects you to be rich. It’s called the American Dream.”
Angie, “Which is easy for you to say because you believe that and have that.”
Money Man, “I don't believe it, I live it. It is not a belief. It is as simple as wanting to buy an apple, and going to the store and doing it. If you don't go to the store, you will never have the apple. And if I don't have the money for the apple, and want the apple, I still go to the store. Why? Because then I find out how much it costs, if it is important to me, and then I find a way to get it. You have to play the game to win. Think rich, act rich, become rich. Really.. I'm not just blowing smoke... it is true.”

And on it went. According to this man who I judge to be rolling in money, there is something to thinking rich, acting rich and then, POOF! I will magically have wealth. It is the Be/Do/Have psychology that we have spoke about in my trainings. Yeah. I hear you.

My question is... how does one THINK rich?

Leaving...

I am leaving and it is reminding me of a previous time when I left. In light of that, I feel inspired to post an excerpt from my upcoming book, Above the Clouds...

****

I tried, really, I did! I tried to be good. I tried to be everything “they” thought I was supposed to be. I made sure I sat in church every Sunday – even after moving to Salt Lake, away from the pressure of the religious standards set by my father. I was there, with my beautiful baby, every Sunday, sitting alone with just her. No one talked to me. And why would they? In a church [the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints] that preaches Families are Forever, where did a recently divorced mother of one daughter fit in....

I no longer fit within the confines of that religion. When I was younger, I had been able to fake it well enough so that I did fit in, but I couldn’t fake it anymore. I felt as though I stood out like a glowing neon beer sign mistakenly hung over the sacrament table.

I kept at it, though... I was bound and determined to get back in to God’s good graces. I straddled the fence for a long time. One foot in the safety zone – The Church. One foot on The Other Side. I was afraid to let go of all that I had known because it was all that I had known. But, no matter how hard I tried, it didn’t feel right anymore. It wasn’t me.

I began to stretch and question and that was frowned upon in The Church. I had once been told that whatever I was seeking, I would find the documentation to back it up. Whether I was looking to support or refute The Church, I would find what I was looking for. Therefore, it was an unwritten – and spoken only under everyone’s breath and from behind their hands – that, if I did have any questions I wasn’t supposed to go looking.

One of the most often quoted scriptures within the Church states, “Now I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it.... And now as I said concerning faith – faith is not to have a knowledge of things; therefore, if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.” (Alma 32: 18, 21)

So, you see, I was simply supposed to have faith. Blind faith. There was to be no questioning. No knowing. Only faith. Plain, simple faith. And any question that could not be clearly or logically answered through the scriptures, those were the questions I really needed to have faith about....

Then I had a memory. I had once heard in a childhood Sunday School class that, in the end, those who were straddling the fence would be judged the most harshly. That memory was the deciding factor. It was time that I made a decision for myself. It was time that I took a stand for who I am, what I believe and why I am here. It was time that I put my faith in God, instead of religion, and find Him. It was time that I find the answers for myself, on my own. So, I took my foot out of the safety zone and set it firmly on The Other Side....

****

I shared that excerpt because I am, yet again, in another place of "leaving." For several years, I have been involved with a community wherein I have discovered a lot about myself, who I am and who I want to be. This community has given me many forward-thinking philosophies and tools for interrelating and communication. I feel blessed to have been a part of this group.

Now, however, I am standing on that same precipice... straddling the fence of what was and what will be. I no longer fit in this community and find that I must, again, strike out on my own. I am scared that my life may be a continual string of "striking out on my own." I fear that I will be alone for the rest of my journey... that there is no community in which I fit... that there is no partner brave enough, strong enough, compassionate enough to stand beside me... that I will be an outcast forever...

Looking back, I realize that I survived when I took both of my feet out of religion. More than surviving, I have lived. I am proud of who I have become. And I remind myself that I am only who I am because I made that decision. This decision too will have it's consequences and rewards.

Have faith, Angie... because you do know.

*sigh*

Sarcasm

I was raised in a family that chose to use sarcasm to express their every meanness. As a child, I did not understand why my heart hurt when someone would say something with a chuckle at the end. I didn't understand why I could hear the meanness, yet the person was saying it in a tone that belied the words and with a smile upon their face. As I grew, I began to recognize the weapon that my family wielded with such stealth that, often, victims would have no idea they had been hit. The victim would just be going down for the count, without any clue and wondering why they were face down on the mat.

The realization of the inherent wickedness of my family member's tongues dawned on me in my late teens. My eyes began to open at one of our traditional Labor Day wilderness camping trips. In my earliest years, this trip was one we all counted the days to - aunts, uncles, parents, siblings, cousins and the entire kit-and-kaboodle. Year after year, we would gather in remote areas around our home state to practice "living and worshipping in the wilderness." The heads of the family wanted us to learn how to survive together for the day when the saints would be forced into hiding. As the years rolled on, however, the "Sisters" of the family began to complain about the conditions of the wilderness. There was no shower. There was no comfortable bed. There was no bathtub to soak in. Yes... that is the point of the wilderness, my dear Aunts...

Oh, but I digress. This post is not about the quirks of my weird Aunts or the religion in which I was raised. It is about the tongues of those weird aunts and the rest of my family members...

Around my eighteenth year I became fully conscious of their meanness. At the campout that year, I began to hear the under-rumblings of excitement going around the gathering about "The Roast." People were anxious. They were actually counting down to it. At first, I didn't know what the whisperings - or not so whispery whisperings - were about. The Roast? What is that?

I was sad when it hit me... The Roast... the time each night that everyone gathers around the campfire to speak meanly about their siblings, their children, their parents, their neighbors, their childhood and each other, all the while laughing and smiling. Oh... my... God! Something is wrong with my family! They delight in hurting one another. It was so unlike anything I had ever learned in church...

That year I did not join in the fun. I didn't laugh, as I could find nothing funny to laugh about. That year I made a commitment to myself to avoid sarcasm and to speak words authentically... to make sure that the words I speak are truly congruent with the laughter that joins them.

At times, I find my innate acid tongue taking over and slinging wicked, wicked insults laced with venomous smiles. I feel ashamed when I hear it. I want to take it back, immediately. However, there are some things that a sorry cannot undo. Wounds inflicted through sarcasm are usually such things that cannot be undone.

I never receive sarcasm well. A young man whom I thought to be my dear friend used sarcasm on me the other day to couch his own feelings and fling them at me, projecting his stuff onto me in a way that, unfortunately, he had no idea I am well versed in. Previously, I would have flung back with equal ferocity. However, I feel sickened when I activate my sarcasm skills, so I chose to step aside and let the dung he spewed in my general direction to land with a splat on the wall behind me. And, then, I quietly turned about and have decided to avoid interacting with him again.

I will have no sarcasm in my world. It is unfair... to me and to the one who is employing it. It does not get your truth out and therefore I cannot hear it. It only serves to wound me without, some seem to believe, wounding your own soul or smudging your book of permanent records. Which, in reality, is only a false sense of security.

Why is she on this rant, you may be wondering.

I am ranting because my father's wife, with whom I now reside, is a Master of Sarcasm. She takes terms of endearment like Sweetheart and Honey and laces them with such corrosive acid that it sounds like a damnation instead. She is wicked good at it. She says the word behind gritted teeth and a forced grin and I watch my father roll it off his back. He has always let "it" roll of his back. No anger there. None. Ever.

While I have lived with them these past three weeks, I have become particularly perfectionistic about everything being in its place. It's a weird quirk that I picked up somewhere between my last place and here... or while I swam in the Nile. I make sure my stuff is never left astray in places which are "theirs." Even in the guest room, where my daughter and I sleep, everything is put away. I clean up after myself. I put my dishes in the dishwasher. I wipe the counter and the table top. I leave the place as I found it. Of that, I am certain.

This morning I washed my bedding. When it was done I took them out of the dryer to make the bed. In that process, I inadvertently dropped the Bounce sheet on the floor between the laundry room and guest room. I would have seen it when I went to exit my room and, at that time, I would have most assuredly picked it up and disposed of it. However, his wife happened by long before I was ready to leave. She bent to pick it up, held it out to me with that gasping chuckle that she uses to begin all of her sarcastic statements.

My guards went instantly on defense. I actually felt my back stiffen. And, instantly, I wanted to strike back and she hadn't even said anything.

"Leaving your stuff everywhere," she said and chuckled again, that sarcastic-full-of-shit chuckle.

And I am angry for resorting to sarcasm to meet her, "Yep. Leaving a trail of my stuff everywhere around the house so I can find my way."

She chuckled again, I think subconsciously jubilant that she had found someone to battle with because my father does not play on that battleground. She turned and walked away victorious and I steamed in the room, snapping the sheets extra hard as I placed them upon the mattress.

Now, after finishing this blog, I am imagining that what she really wanted to say is: I feel uncomfortable having you in the space that I used to use as my storage room. I feel that my space is invaded and my space is no longer my own. I feel scared that you will never leave and I will never have my home back the way I like it.

Yeah... me too.

I spy...

This morning, on the way to work, I turned my stereo up so loud that I could not hear myself think. I did it on purpose. I have been thinking too much lately.

Having my ears and head numb opened up my eyes. As I drove, I spied...

-A man smoking and drinking what I assume to be coffee while he drove. Not unusual I know. However, it was the manner in which he did these things that struck me as noteworthy. Whenever he would swill back his morning drink, he would close his eyes in ecstasy. It was as if each drop was precious, to be cherished. His left arm hung out his opened window, holding the specialty cigarette wrapped in distinguished russet-colored paper. When he would take a drag, he would inhale deeply, eyes closed and then he would hold the smoke in his mouth, savoring the flavor, I imagine. When he would release the smoke into the atmosphere, he would lean his head out the window and slowly exhale, watching the little clouds float away.

-A horse eating soggy grass.

-A dead raccoon on the side of the road.

-Snow covered mountaintops to the west. Cloud covered mountaintops to the east.

-Two geese flying southeast.

-A billboard that always disturbs me by the headsup.com campaign. It shows the outline of a child on the ground at a crosswalk and reads, "Children should be seen and not hurt."

-A metal headless horseman on a metal horse at a local haunted house attraction sitting still in the morning dampness and looking worse for the wear after last night's storm.

-A youthful woman with hair so white and long, from behind I thought she would be an old crone. The color was that color I admire on elegant women who have aged so gracefully. When I pulled in alignment with her, I realized she was a young woman who was applying mascara while gazing in her rearview window. The contrast was startlingly attractive.

-Silver-gold linings on the eastern clouds that hid the rising sun.

-A plastic owl perched upon the sound barrier wall along the highway which I traveled.

-A homeless person pushing all of his belongings in a shopping cart.

-A police officer rocking out in his marked vehicle, drumming on his steering wheel.

-A sign upon a marquee of a church which read, "Eat your pride – it has no calories."