we always have something to give...

In helping, we grow. It's impossible not to. And even when we think we have nothing to offer, with our near-empty pockets and our bare cupboards, there is always something we can give. Always. Often, it's without knowing "how" that our giving has the most impact. This is a beautiful thing...and it can leave you feeling like you're the wealthiest person alive.

I got a call today, from someone who is both brilliant and caring. He's a very smart fellow, full of grand and unusual ideas. He is well educated, and uses that knowledge to help others. He's also very creative, although he's not so sure about that (but I am!). And so, he called today with questions and doubts and fragmented thoughts that were leaving him confounded. He reached out because, for whatever reason, even though we don't know each other all that well, I was the person he felt would be able to help him navigate the very murky waters he found himself struggling in. I was (and still am) deeply touched.

After he shared where he was and how he was feeling, he asked if there was anything I could offer that might help him see more clearly this "place" he's stuck in. As he'd been speaking, I'd said a little prayer, asking for some guidance to help him. "Give me the right words to help. Let me be the conduit. Keep me open so I may pass on what he needs." Simple words to help me so I can avoid delivering a 'sermon' (ICK!) or making someone feel "less than" anything.

I do this a lot.
It works. (cool stuff)

When it was 'my turn' to speak, I began by asking this question:

"Why do you suppose you look at all the new ideas as weeds?"

(he's used this phrase several times before, and I'm always surprised when he does. How can your brilliant thoughts, that keep branching out and bringing more new thoughts, be referred to as weeds???)

He was quiet for more than a few moments. He finally said that he'd never really thought about why he used that word, or even realized that he did. "It's just a figure of speech", he said.

Oh no it isn't.

It's the way you feel about it. It's the way you perceive it. It's the way, deep down without realizing it, you are viewing this "thing" that's causing you such frustration and angst. It is not "just a figure of speech...it is an EXPRESSION of how you feel!"

BoyHowdy! Sometimes, when stuff like that comes outta my mouth, it even blows MY mind. (and then I say a big 'thank you'...for the words I've asked for...)

So there we were...sitting in the silence, both digesting the feelings that were flying around. I could tell he was trying to find words. I could feel his relief. And his surprise. I could tell that this was language few people used with him. After all, he's the smart one. He's the one who does this kind of thing for his "living". Nobody talks to him that way.

And then....

Then he said that he was so grateful to have met me. That I'm the only person who ever says these kinds of things to him. Not even his girlfriend talks to him like this.

"You have no idea how great it is to have you in my world."

And I thought I had nothing to give.

HAAAAAAAAAAA!

take a load off

I wonder why Sundays feel so different from all the other days? What is that? I mean, I can see how they can feel different when you work a 'normal' job; you know, the Monday thru Friday, 9 to 5 thing. But when you live as I do, there's really no distinction. I work every day, or most days, because I LIKE to work, not because someone says I have to be there. Of course, there are some trade-offs. Like the "steady paycheck" thing. None of that in my world. (not yet, anyway...but this too shall pass...just as soon as those royalty checks start comin' in!) But for my dollar, I'd prefer it this way to that.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, it just seems weird to me that Sundays always feel so different from the 'other' days. Maybe it's about other people and the energy they emit (or not) on Sundays. The cars leaving the community during the week are in their driveways on Sundays. People sleep in. Even the ambitious ones, who use Sundays for some around-the-house chores usually wait until after 9:00 to crank up the lawnmowers and other gadgets. There's this sense of "shhhhhhhhhhhh" about Sundays that none of the other days have. Don't you think that's weird?

fly now, angel

He was my first love. I was 12 years old when I saw him the first time, and I was hooked from there on out. I'd never seen anyone dance like that, or heard a voice that tickled my belly the way his did. I was utterly smitten. It was the very first record album (remember those?) I bought. That Christmas, I got a portable record player (all the rage back then) and carried that thing around with me, so I could listen to that record, over and over. When they were going to appear at Madison Square Garden, I begged my mother to take me. It was my first concert. I saw him (well, all of them) 4 times after that. Smitten.

Even after I graduated from High School, I remained a fan. I bought every album he ever put out, and followed his career with the devotion of a disciple. Even when all the nastiness started, I knew he was innocent. There was NO WAY this man could ever hurt a child. Not in a million years. Yea, he was strange, but why wouldn't he be? He'd been so horribly abused by his menacing, greedy father, and he was just too fragile. This was a man who just couldn't bear reality as 'we' know it. It was too much for him. So he withdrew, further and further into his own world. Surgeries to mask the face that too strongly resembled his father's. He tried for decades to erase all that had tortured him for so long. So terribly sad.

I heard someone say that this was a day we'd all remember...like when Elvis died. People remember where they were...and the feeling the had when they heard the news. I had just gotten in my truck and turned the radio on when the news came flying out of the speakers. I thought it was a joke. I sat there, stunned. How could this be? Wasn't he just rehearsing for his new tour? Just last night he had the best rehearsal of his life. How could he be dead? I kept switching the radio stations, hoping against hope that it wasn't true. But at every turn of the dial, there it was. Michael Jackson was dead. At 50.

I'm still stunned by this news. And saddened. But there's also a feeling of relief. Maybe now this kind, gentle spirit will get to be the child he never got to be. Maybe now he'll find some peace. I don't know what lies on 'the other side', but it's GOT to be better than what he had to deal with here.

Call me sentimental. Or naive. I don't really care. All I know is that this was a man who touched my WHOLE life. In more ways than I can even describe, even now. It's sad because he was such a giving, caring soul. So misunderstood. So horribly mistreated. But he left me with his music and all those memories of his incredible moves. He inspired me to allow my own creativity to surface. And he will always be remembered, by me, as my very first love.

Fly well, Michael. Now you get to be the angel you always were to me.
You shall be missed.

fugm

It's easy to get all twisted when things come flyin' in at you. Regardless of what those "things" are, the trick is to look 'em straight in the eye and ask right then and there... "what can I do about YOU right now?" If the answer is 'nothing'...then why not just let it go? Why do we always torture outselves on this crap, worrying and fretting and carrying on about what we coulda, woulda, shoulda done. It just makes no sense! It's that whole "worse case scenario" mentality. It's enough to drive ya crazy.

I had some dumb crap come up just yesterday. I got some 'news' in the mail that was NOT to my liking, and I immediately felt my Self get all tight. That icky feeling in my gut. That flash of "OH NO! WHAT NOW???" By the time I'd walked from the mailbox back upstairs to my house, I was all a-twist. And then...

I walked by a mirror, saw the look on my face, and had to laugh. OH BROTHER. THERE YOU GO AGAIN. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??? STOP IT. RIGHT NOW. JUST STOP.

That was it. In less than 3 minutes I'd managed to toss that crap out the window, with a belly full of giggles behind it. There was only one thing I could "do" about that little piece of mail, so I picked up the phone, made the required call, and threw the paper into my 'tomorrow' basket. This morning, when I made my way into my office again, I made another call, left the required message, and tossed it back into the basket again. No anxiety, no pressure, no worries.

It's one step at a time. Deal with whatever ya gotta deal with and then let the shit go. Why make it more of a problem than it is? Cuz ya know what? More often than not, (at least in my experience) all the "shit" gets handled WITHOUT the worrying part. One way or another, it gets handled. And since I have no crystal ball to see the outcome beforehand, what's the point in trying to figure it out? NONE. No point whatsoever. So...as my roommate is fond of saying

FUGM.

have to share this, because it just seems so....timely.
my dear sorella sent it to me, just because.
and it brought a smile
instantly.
so here you are.

Shine ~

Is it possible that the reality I am experiencing is not real?
It is the soul that encourages this question.
And now comes The Answer to everything. Here it is...
ALL CHANGE IS FOR THE BETTER.
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS CHANGE FOR THE WORSE.
Life says for me to tell You This:
Nothing needs fixing;
Everything desires a Celebration.
You were made to bend
so that you would find
all of the many miracles at your feet.
You were made to stretch
so that you would discover,
your own beautiful face of Heaven
just above
all that you think you must shoulder.
When I appeal to God to speak to me,
I'm feeling just as small and alone as you might be.
But this is when, for no particular reason at all,
I begin to shine.

Em Claire
© 2007

so you wanna be a cowboy?

I saw this article the other day, and the guy said that one day, he was gonna be a cowboy. I thought it was pretty funny, given that he says he's a "successful Indie Films maker". I'm not sure why that struck me as funny, but it did. I guess it's cuz when I hear people say "I wanna be a cowboy", I'm pretty sure they don't have a clue what that means. I mean, have you ever met a real cowboy? Have you ever seen what they do on a daily basis? Do you have any idea how much work it is? Not to mention the toll it takes on your body. Those guys are tough cookies. Tougher than football players. Tougher than karate masters. Tougher than John Wayne (OHHHHHHH! DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?!) I'm talking about the kind of tough that most people would consider Godly. I know. I used to have one of my own (a cowboy, not a god)

Movies make cowboys look pretty romantic. They're all soft spoken and gentlemanly, with their easy manners and their "yes, ma'am. no ma'am" stuff. They don't say a whole lot. And when they do, it's always some kind of profound thing that makes everybody stop and go "wow...that was deep." Yep. That's what the movies do for cowboys. Hard not to wanna be one.

In 'real life', cowboys aren't quite all that. At least, not many of them are. In real life, cowboys can be pretty hard to take. Their single-mindedness can drive a person crazy. All they care about is their belt buckles and their Skoal. And let's not forget all that beer. Cowboys LOVE to drink beer. They're also quite fond of big trucks, shotguns and brawling. On any given night, you can mosey on down to the local Honky Tonk, set a spell...and just wait til the band takes their first break. You can pretty much count on some asshole pickin' a fight. Next thing you know, chairs are flyin', bottles are breakin' and the gals are runnin' for cover. (and so are the guys who aren't cowboys. Pansy asses.)

Okay. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little. Not all cowboys are that way either.

Truth is, being a cowboy is a tough way to live. And, to be totally honest, they're among my very favorite people on the planet. I've never actually met a cowboy I didn't like. They're mostly good ol' boys who try to do the right thing. They'll open your door, pull over and fix your flat tire, and even drive you home when you get too drunk. Cowboys are a fine breed. A dying breed, sadly. But a fine breed of men who oughta be honored for all the things they do, without glory, without motive, and with nary a "thank you" most of the time.

So next time you think you wanna be a cowboy, go take a look in the mirror. Ask yourself how kind you can be. How selfless. How gentile. Because being a cowboy is more than just wearing a cool hat and a pair of boots. Being a cowboy is a matter of heart.

If you enjoyed this missive, maybe you'd like to buy Baby some feed! Just click on the pic.

The Muse is in the house. She seems to have found a comfy little spot and she's not budging. And I couldn't be happier about that. I used to think only "special" people got to have a Muse. Then I realized that either that's a bunch of malarkey, or I AM special. (HA! Who knew?!) Elizabeth Gilbert says that you just have to show up. And if the Muse doesn't do her part, then it's on her, not you. I kinda like that. I'm here. I'm showing up. I'm doing the work. So don't go blaming me if the Muse doesn't show up. Makes me laugh every time I think about it.

Here's the thing: it doesn't really matter what your "art form" is. Creativity is not something that you can go buy (one of the few things, huh?). Creativity is a part of each and every one of us. And it's not really hard to tap into it either. All it takes is a little patience, a lot of trust and a boatload full of playtime. Ya GOTTA play! I didn't know that...until very recently.

Turns out, the more I play, the more that Muse wants to stick around. Apparently, she likes to play too. Cool. The other thing I just discovered is that it doesn't go away. The creativity, that is. It's not something you can lose. Really it's not. Lots of folks are scared of that part. They think that if they don't do this or that every day, they're gonna wake up and POOF! just like that, their creative juice will be gone. That's just silly. Where the hell do you think it's gonna go? What...you think it's like all those socks that disappear when you wash them? Like maybe they have some secret island they go live on, where nobody wears socks? Silly.

I'm thinking that all the time I spent worrying over silly stuff like that was really just my way of hiding. I was scared. Of my genius?! I don't know. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. What's done is done. All I know is, life is terrific. Even when you're down to $4.37. It's still terrific. Cuz when it's all said and done, even that $4.37 isn't going to help when your ticket's up. Might as well enjoy the ride, ya know?

pshhhhhhhht....it happens

I'm gonna keep this one real simple....just click on the link, crank up your speakers, and let the music move ya. This is my FAV-O-RITE song (at the moment) and I gotta tell ya..no matter where I am when I hear it, I hop around like a loony bird...and sing at the top of my lungs. Yea. It's that good (well, to me anyway!)

"It Happens"

why do they call it a funny bone?

you know how when you whack your elbow, and you get that super-icky tingly thing that shoots up your arm and down to your fingertips? and you hop around like a loony bird, holding your elbow until that super-icky tingly thing stops? is that funny to you? i mean, does it make you laugh?

didn't think so. me neither. for the longest time, i wondered why they called it a funny bone, cuz it sure didn't feel funny to me. although, i admit, more often than not it's funny to anyone who might see you hopping around after you've whacked it. sadists! anyway, i'm not sure why it took me so long to find out why they call it a funny bone, but i finally did some research. (can you imagine? research on the funny bone? yep. my brain does weird stuff like that sometimes.) so i went to wikipedia to see if there was actually a posting about it, and sure enough, there it was. (ya gotta love that site. man. you can look up pretty much anything your weird brain can think of. cool stuff.)

turns out there's a nerve in the arm, a pretty big nerve, called the ulnar nerve. it runs near, yep...you guessed it...the ulna bone. seems this nerve is one of the largest nerves in the body that's unprotected. meaning unprotected by any muscle or bone. so anyway, there's another bone in the arm called the humerus. so some madcap scientist must've thought it'd be funny to make a pun outta that: humerus...humorous...funny bone. get it? zany scientists!

well anyway, so now i know why it's called the funny bone, but i still don't think it's funny. which then led me to another course of research...(i told you, my brain does stuff like that.) so i started looking for research about laughter and all the hub-bub around it's healing affects. now there was some fun reading! (what can i say? i'm easily entertained.) it seems there's a bunch of research on the topic of laughter and medicine. and from most accounts, laughter actually DOES help heal us. in lots of ways. now we're gettin' somewhere...

just a few of said benefits are:

~lowering of blood pressure

~strengthening of cardiovascular functions

~reduction of stress hormones

~improved circulation

~increase of muscle flexion

~oxygenating the body by boosting the respiratory system

~boosting immune function by raising levels of infection-fighting T-cells, disease-fighting proteins called Gammainterferon and B-cells, which produce disease-
destroying antibodies

~triggering the release of endorphins, the body's natural painkillers

~producing a general sense of well-being

whew! who knew???

well, apparently there are a boatload of people who knew...and they're spreading the word. in fact, it's becoming a pretty popular "prescription" by many a health practitioner these days. yea. doctors are actually telling their patients to laugh...a LOT...to reduce pain and to shorten their recovery time. whether it's heart surgery or cancer treatment, it seems laughter can cut recovery time by almost HALF!!! can you imagine?!

so i thought i'd share some of this with you. just in case you're not feeling all that terrific. give it a try. for more than 30 seconds. if you're feeling less-than-stellar, stop what you're doing, take 30 minutes and find something that makes you laugh your butt off. see if you don't feel better.

i dare ya.

cerebral sips

Sometimes it really cracks me up how people take themselves oh-so-seriously. Particularly when it seems (to me, anyway) that the best thing one could do is step aside and laugh one's ass off. I mean, COME ON...is it really that big a deal to have broken a window? Or spilled red wine on your white blouse? Or had to let some bonehead cut you off so you wouldn't crash? Really?

Maybe one of the reasons folks get so easily tilted is they're really not using all their "tools". Because, near as I can tell, we've got lots of them. Not "tools" that you can hold in your hands. I'm talking about tools like your intuition, and your past experiences, and your brain. Yea. Your BRAIN. You know, that mass of goop inside your skull where all sorts of magic happens?

We've been told, over and over, that most of us only use about 10% of our brain's capacity. And, from what these so-called experts tell, that's a high estimate for most. It's not hard to see where they may have come up with that data. Look around. It's kind of scary sometimes...just how utterly mindless people are. People who toss trash out their windows and scream obscenities at strangers and say horrible things to their kids about how stupid they are. All these things, and so many more (which I shan't go further with cuz it makes my stomach hurt) are just little signs of the mindlessness of too many people.

And then...there are the Super-Cerebrals. The ones who spend their lives in academia. The pursuit of more knowledge, more creativity, more ways to use their brains to help humanity in one way or another. These folks are the other end of the spectrum (in terms of brain usage), but can also be quite humorless. Well, that's been my experience anyway. That's not to say there aren't some really funny geniuses out there, because there are. But for the most part, humor seems not to be held in such high regard, as compared to solving a problem or inventing something new.

Regardless of the broad spectrum of "thinkers" and "robots" (oh. that doesn't sound very nice, does it? oops.), it seems to me that if we, as a species, are ever going to evolve further, we're going to have to use our brains a little more, and our emotional guidance systems too. As in emotions. We've got so much capacity...so much more than what we actually use. Yet, so many seem content to just go through the motions...without a thought to what those motions are. It's kind of sad, really. To see all that potential and have it go unseen by so many others. Such a shame.

Well, the reason I'm off on this tangent with is because I recently met someone who is among those who DOES stretch. He has all these fantastic ideas about how we can evolve, using the tools we've always had at our disposal, and growing those ideas into actual physical form. It's not really "new" realms, but rather, new terminology and new means to access all this potential. It's really fun stuff to read, and the more I do, the more excited I get about our evolution.

If you're into such 'stretching', you may want to go have a look at his site. It's worth the read...and you may just find yourself looking at your current M.O....and wanting to take a few more cerebral sips of your own.

The Qualiadelic Experience

yessssssssssssss

Oh... doncha just love it when the sky opens up and all those silly things you were all freaked about...just disappear in the ether? Yep. That's the good stuff. And every single time it happens, I'm reminded (again!) of that whole trust thang. I swear, you'd think by now I'd have it down. You'd think. But noooooooooo. I have to go through allllll these changes and sweat the small shit...which doesn't ever seem small when I'm sweating it...and then, when what happens happens...and it's all good and groovy...then I remember. JEEEEEEEEEZ.

I'm the one who's always saying "you gotta trust. you gotta believe. you gotta KNOW that everything is as it should be. It's all working perfectly. Trust. Trust. Trust." So, when I get myself into these little froths, it makes me crazier than usual. Because this is ME! I'm supposed to know better. I'm supposed to be going with the flow and all that jazz. Yea. Right. Liar liar pants on fire.

But the truth is, it's not that I'm a liar, it's that I FORGET. And I think I forget because those old tapes...the ones that have been playing in my head for so long...they just don't want to stop sometimes. They just keep rewinding and blaring their nasty noise. Try as I do, I can't seem to figure out how to erase those suckers. Not yet, anyway. But that doesn't mean I'm not still working on it. Cuz sooner or later, I WILL erase that crap...and it'll be gone forever.

For today, I'm thrilled to have made it through this last little escapade. I'm here. I'm smilin'. And life is AWESOME. Yep. Today...it's just as it should be.

got no idea...but don't need to ~

boyhowdy! it's been a zillion years since we had a thunderstorm 'round these parts...but today's was a DOOZY! it went on for hours...and the poor koda dawg was having a fit. buddy didn't flinch. in fact, didn't even seem to notice it was going on. walked around the whole while with a toy in his mouth, trying to get someone to play with him. koda, on the other hand, was trying to shrink himself into the size of a toy poodle so he could fit in my pocket. thought he was going to come right out of his skin. so, i sat with him on the floor, using my most soothing voice, stroking him so he wouldn't have a heart attack. i swear...his heart was beating so fast it scared me!

well now the storm has passed and everything is all sparkly bright. koda is still lying here, like he's not trusting it's really gone...and buddy is still sitting down in the den with the toy in front of him. big goof. chella, of course, is cool as a cucumber, sleeping on her favorite chair without a care in the world.

which leads me to this whole..."got no idea" thing. (ok. it's kind of a weird segue, but look who's writing.) yesterday, as we were sitting out on the patio discussing all the odd events of late, i said something about how i really didn't know HOW i was going to get it done, just that i was. i had this really huge 'knowing' in my gut...and while i wasn't really trying to convince him of anything, i could tell he was on board the whole way. which was really cool, since it wasn't too long ago when he'd have rolled his eyes and walked away. not now. now he seems to be inspired by it all. like he's decided he'd rather adopt my modus operandi than stick to his old "doom and gloom" stuff. and THAT is a pretty cool thing.

so anyway, there we were, talking about all this...and somehow or other we got to talking about thunderstorms. about how much we missed them. and how rare it was to have them here. he's from canada and i'm from the east coast, so we're both familiar with them and both have a real appreciation for the "shows". we told stories about this storm or that, and the dogs we've shared them with...and all those silly little details you remember from when you were a kid. by the time we moved on to other things, both of us had this kind of longing thing going on...like, "boy, wouldn't it be cool IF...."

well! you can imagine my utter delight when i heard that first thunderclap today. i mean...it was just yesterday we were talking about the 'rarity'...and WHAMMO! there's all this huge thunder and lightening going on! and the moment i heard that first clap, i got this enormous smile on my face. talk about the U responding! i mean...GEEEEEEZ! really? just like that? it made me stop and think, all over again, about how mindful i need to be with what i think about for any length of time. because, more and more it shows up. think it, focus on it...PRESTO. there it is.

seems like a piece of cake, huh?