The Shattered Mirror of Unforgiveness

I was laid off a few weeks ago but am just blogging about it now. I guess I had to let it all sink in and have the seething feeling simmer away.

“We’re having cash flow problems,” She said. “She” being in caps as an off-handed way to refer to the Filipina owner of the company sans the use of her name. Like Elizabeth Edwards, the betrayed wife of John Edwards, failed vice-presidential candidate, I don’t feel like using the business owner’s name. Not for the purpose of protecting her identity… Oh, no…

When Oprah interviewed Mrs. Edwards, her condition for appearing on the show was that Rielle Hunter’s name, John Edwards’ “other” woman, would not be spoken on air. I “get” that. Even though Mrs. Edwards’ “higher self” intends to project forgiveness and resilience, there’s that human part of her that rears its imperfect self and refuses to acknowledge the existence of the woman that brought shame, pain and anguish to her seemingly ideal marriage.

I was pissed to get the news of my lay off, quite understandably.

But more pissed because just the day before I’d made a successful presentation to a potential big client, a client that would’ve been a rich source of referrals for her in-home health care company for seniors. This client would have been unreachable and inaccessible to “Her."  “She” is incapable of articulating her business services in grammatically correct English. Can you feel my derision?

I was pissed to get laid-off yet again, twice within the past year. I can’t take any more of this. I’ve gone through enough already.

I was even more pissed because the week before I did a bang-up job giving a PowerPoint presentation to the Case Management department of a huge Napa hospital, a task she could never have accomplished on her own because of her deathly fear of public speaking. Couple that fear with her cringe-inciting English, why-a, that would’ve killed any future business referrals, for sure. Am I oozing bitterness?

Ghandi said that and he was right.  Why do I think that pointing out the shortcomings of another would boost my own stature? 

All I’m doing by demeaning someone else is painting an unflattering image of myself.  It gives me momentary pleasure, for sure.  Like loosening a valve and letting some steam escape.  It may relieve the pressure but the heat could sear my own skin.   How can I bear to look at this image of me spitting bile?  Might as well walk around with snot and saliva dripping on my chin, wear tattered clothes and dirty underwear.

I’m glad I recognize the taste, smell, physical discomfort and ugliness of these human emotions.  It serves as my internal guidance system for what I need to work on spiritually. 

If truth be told, I’m more pissed at myself for having taken the job out of desperation.  I have only myself to blame for selling out and giving my services away for “free.” From a six-figure income I allowed myself to accept a nothing-job so I could pay the rent.  My anger towards her is nothing more than unforgiveness of self turned outward. 

I forgive myself and resolve never again to diminish my own worth.  I forgive myself for getting pissed off and externalizing it.  I forgive myself for sounding ungrateful, however fleetingly.  After all, the experience has opened my eyes and cracked open my heart. Sometimes the work of enlightenment means having to see your wholeness through the shattered glass of unforgiveness. 

 

I Owe, I Owe…So Off To Work I Go!

I recently took a position as Marketing Director for ComForcare Senior Services, a private duty home health care agency focusing on elder care. While the title sounds hoity-toity, I suffered a severe hit in salary, with scanty potential for monetary rewards. But the upside is unquantifiable.

We can choose to experience the downside of the situation, or enjoy the upside. Traffic on my commute…




We can choose to focus on the withered tree, or see the beauty of the scenery…





We can bemoan the crushing bane of life, or praise the blessing on the vine…





When life looks like it's hurling one thing after yet another, we can always choose to see blessing after blessing. And so it always is.

"People do not seem to realize that their 

opinion of the world is also a confession of character." 

~~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Open Letter To A Friend

Hi Rox! My dear, dear Rox…



Take two. From the top.

How are you? I've been thinking about you all these years and wondering where you are, what you're up to, and so on. You know. Life. Stuff.

But first, I apologize for my delayed response. You must be a little p.o.’d. I mean, there I was, leaving a message at your company’s investor relations mailbox with a seemingly urgent message for you. A quick exchange of emails and then pfft! I disappear again.

I just started a new job and all my energies have gone into adjusting to a new schedule, a new routine, new responsibilities, a new industry. Hectic! I’m wiped out at the end of the day. And to be perfectly honest, facebook has pre-empted most of my free time.

Everyone's on facebook now. When I say everyone I mean all my friends from PWU, Maryknoll, UP, IMC, CCAC, UC, and every company I've worked. Elena, Kathy, Marlina, Reijoo, Tessa, Pompeii, Porge, et. al, and some of my PWU friends started posting things like, "Hey, where's Rox? Somebody find her."

Two high school friends actually started the buzz about you, and before I knew it, Chris had googled you, found you on linkedin and said, "Hey, Maya, I'm not connected with her so her email is not visible to me. Go find it!" Something like that.

So, my dear, you are terribly missed by everyone and much in demand! Needless to say, they were all disappointed when I told them you don't do facebook. They say someday you’ll see the light.

Congratulations on your great position, by the way! Vice President of GMA Worldwide, Inc. Wow! What an accomplishment. I always knew you had it in you to rise to the top (even though the first time I met you you had just dropped out from med school ;*-D ) Only good friends are allowed to tease each other that way, right?

Perhaps your job has travel perks and might take you to the bay area soon? Please come and let me know when you plan to be here. You're welcome to stay at my place.

Remember Sandra? She's been over a few times. I hear she's coming sometime in the summer. I'm sure we'll see each other when she's in town. Bob came over with Vicky sometime back (five years ago, maybe?) and she hasn't changed a bit. OMG, it's like she's stuck in a time capsule or something. Still obsessed over Vicky after all these years. OMG.

Are you in a relationship? I don’t know why I even ask. But of course you are. I've been single for what seems like a lifetime now. I guess I'm not into relationships after all. I've discovered that I don't have the patience to negotiate the highs and lows, peaks and valleys, freeways and crossroads of a joint journey. I like flying solo and don't have room for anyone’s baggage.

Sad? No. Sad only if one gets lonely, but loneliness is a dis-ease of disconnectedness, and I feel I'm always connected to friends, family and God.

God? What the fuck!?!?? Yes, Rox! God. But not in the Catholic sense. I’ve long since lifted the foggy veil of religiosity and discovered the bright light of my own inner divinty. I find bliss in spirituality and solitude.

So what the fuck happened to me, huh? ;*-)

Your turn. And don't you dare text me back with acronyms from your blackberry! C U S, BFF. Like that.

Love and everlasting friendship,
Maya

Mirror Of The Heart (2008 Remastered Album Version) - Lyle Mays

Anonymous Woman

(Author's note: This blogpost is a draft, a work in progress. I wanted to write down my thoughts about Anonymous Woman before the experience, emotions and impressions fade into oblivion. By posting this draft, I am signaling my intention to memorialize her.)

I had seen her once or twice before, sitting on a green canvas folding chair, the kind with armrests with scooped out pockets for beverage holders.  Once in summer I saw her under a skimpy tree seeking shade from the scathing sun.  She was a passing blur in my peripheral vision, old and obese, and black as a prune.  Her ashy gray calves as big-around as tree trunks left a dent in my memory.

 

She is anonymous to the world, a homeless woman, living on the sidewalk under a tree or the eave of an abandoned building.  Cars drive past her without slowing down, the same way I drove past her once in the summer and again in the fall. 

 

On Christmas Day I saw her right smack in front of me as I turned on Tennessee Street towards the 80 freeway.  It was a beautiful winter day in the bay area, sunny and bright, beautiful but bone-chillingly cold.  She sat in the sidewalk on her folding chair like a lump of overstuffed trash, covered by a dirty gray fleece blanket from head to toe, except for slits for her eyes.  

My heart broke. 

 

No, I thought.  Not on Christmas Day.  Not on a day when families were cozy and comfortable in their homes, opening presents, feasting heartily, heavily, indulgingly. But now I was running late for lunch and a movie date with my closest friends.  I headed out to Oakland with a humbling sense of gratitude.  There but for the grace of God go I.  I told myself I would come back that night and get her, feed her. 

(To be continued..)

 

 

From Dawn To Dusk

“However long the night, the dawn will break.” 

-- African Proverb

“Too low they build who build below the skies.” 

-- Edward Young

"Let the sky and God be our limit and eternity our measurement.” 

-- Marcus Garvey

“Only from the heart can you touch the sky." 

-- Rumi

"Thank God men cannot fly, 

and lay waste the sky as well as the earth." 

-- Henry David Thoreau

“When you realize how perfect everything is 

you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky." 

-- Buddha

"I thank you, God, for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, 

and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, 

which is infinite, which is yes. " 

-- e.e. cummings

“Beware of the man whose God is in the skies” 

-- George Bernard Shaw

“Dusk is just an illusion because the sun is either above the horizon or below it. 

And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are; 

there cannot be one without the other, yet they cannot exist at the same time. 

How would it feel to be always together, yet forever apart?” 

-- Anonymous

“What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, 

and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, 

all in the same sequence.  The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned 

and you with it, dust of the dust!'  Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, 

'Never have I heard anything more divine'?” 

-- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Excuse me while I kiss the sky."  

-- Jimi Hendrix

Arnold's Walk In The Hood

It's a joy to walk Arnold in my neighborhood.   We love the giant sycamores lining the streets. The walk is as much for me as it is for him.  In fact, without him I wouldn't walk as much.  

I often hear myself saying, "I'm taking Arnold for a walk" instead of "I'm going for a walk."  It's more fun with him.

Arnold looks to his left before crossing.

A well-manicured front lawn and facade...

Amazing color!

The first poem I ever memorized was "Come Little Leaves" by George Cooper.  I was 6 or 7  in Grade 2 at the International School of the Sacred Heart in Tokyo, Japan.  Even now I still mumble the words to myself when I see brilliant fall color...

"Come, little leaves" said the wind one day,

"Come over the meadows with me, and play;

Put on your dresses of red and gold;

Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."

Pit stop!

This blue door always catches my eye.  

And this majestic Tudor commands attention.

"Sit, stay," Mom says, as she takes photos.  I would normally keep walking to the

 nearest bush but by this time I'm too tired...

I love this white-picketed Hansel & Gretel house and its side yard...

And rounding the curb is this nice tropical red hot chili pepper house...

Homeward bound... 

"Look, Ma!  No hands!"

A Brand New Day

“Hey, c’mon over and share a glass of champagne with me,” my neighbor Michelle said the minute she heard my voice on the phone.

Looking up at my wall clock, I said, “Now!?!?!”  It was a little past 6 PM, a long way to go before the ball drop.  

“Why not?”  Michelle said, matter of factly, “It’s new year in some part of the world!”

“Okay! I’ll be right over!”

 

I stopped vacuuming and bungie-corded the fridge.  Arnold, my five-year-old newfy opens my fridge and eats everything on the shelves while I’m away.  I had a box of Omaha steak defrosting in there, a special gift from my friend Jonie, and I wanted it for myself when I got back.

The vacuuming and housecleaning is a family tradition leftover from childhood.  The idea is to welcome the new year without the literal dust and figurative detritus of the past.  My mom always instructed our domestic help to clean every nook and cranny of our house every year in preparation for the new year.  As midnight approached, all the lights were turned on to help guide good spirits into the house, and all the windows were opened wide to cast evil spirits out.

How silly and superstitious, right?  Nevertheless, I still observe the practice to this day and by now it has hardened into a personal ritual.  I guess throwing the old pages of a calendar outside building windows holds the same symbolism.

It was an impromptu celebration.  I thought I was just coming over for a quick toast but Michelle’s friend Bill came over shortly and pretty soon we were all settled comfortably in cushy, cozy sofas chatting around a  roaring fire.   

 

Thirty minutes before midnight we switched the channel on to NBC to watch the ball drop.  Times  Square was aglow with neon lights.  Celebrities were clad in their holiday best.   Crowds were cheering and rocking to the sounds of Ting Ting and Ludacris.  The camera panned to people wearing funny hats and glittery 2009 glasses.  It looked so festive! 

 

I was there last year.  I had watched the ball drop from Times Square for decades.  When I had the chance to fly to New York last year, I made sure I would be at Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  The experience was not what I had hoped.   I blogged about it here.  

 

When the countdown started Michelle and Bill poured the champagne and I filled my fluted glass with the last half of my diet coke.  We stood up and clinked glasses, toasted, screamed Happy New Year and hugged one another tight.

 

It was a sincere heartwarming moment.  We were cozy and comfortable by the fire.  We forged new friendships.  We were where we were meant to be --  living and loving the now.

 

Look to this Day!

For it is Life, the very Life of Life.

In its brief course lie all the 

Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth,

The Glory of Action,

The Splendor of Beauty;

For Yesterday is but a Dream,

And Tomorrow is only a Vision;

But Today well lived makes 

Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,

And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day!

Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

--Kalidasa

  

Mau, Always In My Heart

Anecdotal Woman

Even though I’m between assignments at the moment I’ve been busier than I’ve ever been. When I’m working full-time I do nothing but work, and everything else falls apart. Laundry and dishes pile up; dog and cat hair turn into furry tumbleweed on the floor; resumes, books, magazines, and receipts are strewn everywhere and cover every flat surface.

Now that I have the luxury to decompress, I find a gazillion things to do. I often wonder how women ever get anything done. It boggles my mind to see women juggle work, family, household chores, and all the other things women do.

Sometimes when I see a mom at the supermarket with an infant strapped on her chest, a kid in tow, a toddler on a stroller, bags of groceries hanging from both arms and stroller handles, bags piled on top of the toddler, I shake my head in wonderment. And Sarah Palin thinks she can do all that and be VP? Well, I guess if you a have a staff that you can fire at will, then anything is possible.

I’m starting a series of posts that I’m calling Anecdotal Woman about women I’ve met along the way who have left an impression on me (good, bad or indifferent). They will all be called Maya because Maya means illusion. The illusion is that of separation. But the truth is there is only One of us. Your triumph is my triumph. Your failure is mine. Your joy is my joy; your sorrow, mine.

There but for the Grace of God go I.

Schadenfreude

schadenfreude \SHOD-n-froy-duh\,
noun (German): A malicious satisfaction
obtained from the misfortunes of others.

Forgive me, God. I thought I was above all this. I thought my heart was filled with nothing but compassion. Last Friday I watched The McLaughlin Group (like I always do), and the pugnacious host John McLaughlin ticked off the declining fortunes of some famous billionaires and fallen CEO’s. I could not help but chuckle with guilt-free glee.

From the transcript:

Henry Paulson, former CEO, Goldman Sachs, current secretary of the Treasury, from $809 million to $523 million.

Daniel Mudd, former CEO, Fannie Mae, $26 million to $476,000.

Richard Syron, former CEO, Freddie Mac, $11 million to
$130,000.

Martin Sullivan, AIG, $3.2 million to $173,000.

John Thain, Merrill Lynch, $28 million to $16 million.

Richard Fuld Jr., Lehman Brothers, $827 million to $2.3
million.

John Mack, Morgan Stanley, $225 million to $80 million.

Charles Prince, Citigroup, $89 million to $33 million.

And get this -- James Cayne, Bear Stearns, $1.1 billion --
that's "b" as in "boy," billion -- to $61 million.

And get this -- Maurice Greenberg, AIG, $1.25 billion -- that's
"b" as in "boy," billion -- to $50 million.

How ticklishly delicious to imagine the misfortune of those greedy assholes! How fun it is to type "greedy assholes" without moral misgivings!

As the German proverb goes:

“To feel envy is human;

to savor schadenfreude is devilish!”

Cartoons courtesy of The New Yorker

Atheists In The Foxhole

Yesterday I got an email from a recruiter friend announcing his availability for a new position and directing interested parties to a website where the company’s resume book would be available. Blah-blah-blah. There was the euphemistic “company restructuring”, “impacted employees”, blah-blah-blah. My heart bleeds for him. Really. I know how it is.




Out of loyalty to the company who just axed you -- mind you! -- you put the best spin on the situation, not just as a face saving mechanism and for your own psychic wellness, but just as much for those candidates you’ve ushered into the pipeline of the hiring process. It’s an ethical dilemma.

His email was quite a surprise because just the week before this recruiter friend gave me a shout out – “Hey! Know any scientists with skeletal muscle biology experience?”

Now this. News of his lay-off. I guess it was inevitable.
Even before the NYSE opened on Monday morning the cable news channels were already abuzz with the crash of Lehman Bros., the imminent buy-out of Merrill Lynch, and the looming failure of AIG. Employees with bankers’ boxes packed with their personal belongings where shown leaving the building at midnight. Needless to say, Elvis had a golden parachute.



600,000 out of a job in the last eight months alone! I’m not even included in that statistic because I haven’t applied for unemployment. How many more are out there like me, holding off on EDD, with faith in God and the eternal flame of optimism in their hearts that the next gig is just around the corner? What’s the real unemployment number? I got two weeks severance for a job well done, taxed at 25%. Whoop-tee-doo. Carly Fiorina got $42 mil for a job badly botched. I was finding work for people; Ms. Piggy in lipstick was offshoring them.



My inner sense of justice tells me that the Church of Greed and the worship of the Almighty Dollar are on the wane. I pray fervently that this financial Armageddon drives the atheists out of my foxhole.

Step down, Joe… Step up, Hillary!

I had a vision during my early morning meditation today. In the same way that Hillary Clinton backed away with grace and class to nominate Barack by acclamation, I saw Joe Biden abdicate his VP slot to Hillary for the highest good of taking back the White House.

Why not? It would truly be a revolution, and it seems that that is what’s needed now to storm the Bastille and free the American people from the ravages of the last 8 years. “Enough!” would be the battle cry.

Seriously, why not? I’m just a laid-off worker from a sleepy town in Northern California. I don’t know the arcane and archaic rules of the DNC, but what’s to prevent Joe Biden from stepping down on his own? Debbie Wasserman Shultz can make a hasty nomination for Hillary as VP and Nancy Pelosi can just as quickly gavel it to order.

Imagine this – Hillary Clinton debating Sarah Palin on foreign policy, national security, universal health care, the economy, jobs, stem cell research, choice, and so on. Sarah would Palin comparison. Indeed, the hottest governor would most certainly melt from the heat. Why play phony lipstick politics when we can have the real deal? This would stare sexism down, give women a real choice, and truly make this election herstoric.

“Change is coming, change is coming, change is coming,” wags McCain. I bet this is one change he would not have seen coming.

Let’s shake things up one more time. Step down, Joe… Step up, Hillary!

The Conviction of Things Unseen

I haven’t posted in a while. Life has been too full, too hectic, too fast, quickly wheezing by. Every time I remember to write, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have to sift through in my own mind to find that which is blog-worthy.

Last Saturday I accomplished so much in just one day that I felt I had to memorialize the moment. That night I sat in front of my laptop but the deluge of ideas quickly overtook me. I slumped back in my chair, exhaled and released the urge to write. It was the path of least resistance. Sitting and sifting would’ve been the harder thing to do.



I have deep respect for authors, literary and otherwise. I now understand the absolute discipline and drive to do the dang and dirty deed. Incidentally, when I was growing up my parents, who were both writers, never seemed to lift a finger and appeared to my young eyes like people of leisure. I never saw them sweat over a typewriter. To write a book is still my absolute, ultimate goal, and I know someday I will. I cannot escape the on switch in my genes. In the meantime, living day-to-day is the book I write in invisible ink.

Yesterday our guest speaker Rev. Robert Collins spoke about moments worth remembering – moments of joy, moments of sorrow, moments of consequence and impact, moments of limbo and nothingness.

Rev. Robert reminded us that summer is nearing its end. He invited us to observe more closely how a leaf just gently detaches from the tree at the end of its season, and ever so slowly and gracefully drifts with the wind without resistance, softly falling and landing wherever fate takes it.


Two weeks ago I was given notice that the economic slowdown had taken its toll on my company and five of us were being let go at the end of the month. There was soft mention of project re-assignment but no cigars.

My first thought was, “Oh, no.” I felt the physical reaction of my gut turning inside out. I just moved into a new house two months ago, and there are inescapable recurring bills, necessary expenses and unforeseen emergencies. A lay-off now couldn’t have come at the worst time. As a recruiter, if companies are slowing down and hiring is frozen, what need is there for my expertise?

But looking back on my life, no matter how difficult and seemingly crushing certain circumstances have been, I’ve always come out stronger, wiser, whole and at peace.

I may be feeling a little resistance about giving up my job and holding on to the "safety" in it, but the metaphor of the falling leaf reminds me that God, the forces and resources of the universe – call it what you will -- are present in this circumstance. I have learned that one end is merely the beginning of another. I have learned to roll with the punches, to gently blow in the wind, so to speak, and I know there is nothing to fear in the landing.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things unseen.” – Hebrews 11:1

Garlic Ice Cream, Anyone?

The 30th Gilroy Garlic Festival was a hit again this year. The empty Green Lot, one of many giant parking fields, filled up in minutes. If you build it, they will come...

It was a food fest of mega-proportions! 10 tons of beef, 4 tons of pasta, 2 ½ tons of garlic...

...4 tons of calamari, 2 tons of scampi...

...Pollo y mas pollo…

Garlic ice cream, anyone?

Pyro chefs at the cook fest...

Siesta time!

Shop until you drop! How 'bout some garlic haberdashery?

Garlic head!

What’s a California fair without the tie dye?

And what about a tat?

It’s not just the garlic roasting… at temperatures nearing triple digits, we need rain!

That's it! Time to call it a day...

Woman Unbecoming

I went to a plant nursery recently with one of my girlfriends who knows nothing about gardening, and cares even less about homemaking. She sat in the car and blasted the radio while I went in to shop, aisle by aisle, looking for aquatic horsetail, drought-tolerant groundcover, and bamboo.

While I was looking around, a tall, fairly good-looking, athletic guy in tan jeans and faded t-shirt came over and asked, “Are you finding everything alright?”

“Yes,” I answered, adding enthusiastically, “I love your selection! Are you the manager?”

“No, I’m the owner.”

“Wow! You’re so lucky! I’ve always fantasized about having my own nursery!”

“No!” he protested good-naturedly. “This isn’t luck! I work damn hard,” he declared with pride.

“Oh, I know. But luck comes to those who work hard,” I said in a tone meant to honor his hard work.

“Luck comes to people in casinos. This is pure hard work,” he said with a tone oozing with pride and a palpable passion for plants.

“I’m so jealous of you! This is the kind of hard work I wouldn’t mind doing.”

We talked as we walked, and as we did so, he stroked the leaves of his plants fondly and called out their names – Australian Tree Fern, Canna, Coleus, Hosta, Pennisetum…

Finally, he asked, “Can I help you find something in particular?”

I told him I was looking for horsetail for my little pond area, bamboo for my Zen garden, and some sedum with variegated leaves. He pointed me over to the area where they were and said, “Well, I’ll leave you alone. I’m sure you don’t want to be bothered.”

“Oh, you can bother me. I like people who know their stuff.”

He followed close behind me, poking the back of my upper arm with his finger. When I turned around with a quizzical look, he said, “I’m bothering you. That’s what children do when they want to bother you. They poke you with a finger non-stop.”

When he mentioned the word “children”, I thought of my girlfriend in the car and I lit up with the thought, “Oh, my God! I should introduce them!” My girlfriend -- let’s call her Lakisha -- loves kids. I decided to play cupid.

“Come with me,” I said waving him forcefully to the front of the nursery. “I want you to meet my girlfriend. She’s in my car.”

Surprisingly, and without hesitation, he followed me to the curb and headed straight towards my girlfriend, who was singing along with Stevie Wonder on the cranked up radio. He started poking her shoulder with his finger through the open passenger window.

I was a few feet away and could see them laughing together. They looked good together, like a cute couple with sparks flying. They exchanged a few words and then he excused himself to attend to a new customer.

I walked over to my girlfriend and before I could say anything, she said, ‘Girl, who’s the brotha? I been lookin’ at him since you pulled up to the store. He’s damn fine!”

I told her he was the owner, and she said, “What’s his name?” When I shrugged she quickly ordered me to “Go back in there and find out my future husband’s name!”

The nursery manager was busy with another customer so I picked up my selection, paid up, and we left. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Lakisha called out in a flirty fashion, “Heh-hey,” making it sound like a two-syllabic word. “B’bye! Peace!”

The nursery manager smiled and waved us off.

I was as excited for Lakisha as I was for myself. This could work out, I thought. Of course I had no idea if he was married or not, but Lakisha wasn’t worried. She found him hot, he knew where he spent his time seven days a week, and she thought he was good “husband material.” She joked that she wouldn’t mind being a Valle-ho’.

“Well, Lakisha!” I chirped happily. “He might just turn you on to gardening! It’s tru-ly ve-ry soul-satisfying to put something in the ground and watch it grow!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it is…” Lakisha agreed.

“It’s a very creative activity…”

“Did you find out his name?”

“We can go back tomorrow and pretend I need more plants. You can come in to the store with me, and you can tell him we’re looking for a specimen plant, like a cotinus coggygria…”

“Say what?” Lakisha exclaimed. “No, sistah, I’ll say to him, ‘Um, what do you call that thing you stick in the ground… ummm… the thing with roots… and it’s green…?”

I glanced at Lakisha to see if she was teasing me like she usually does.

She caught my eye and said, “Men like women who play dumb, you know. They like it when they know more than you.”

I jammed my foot on the brake and snarked, "Oh, really, Lakisha?”

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

-- Marianne Williamson

*Painting of "Women In Red" by Wolfredo Alicdan

Woman Being

Dear Jun,

Mayita came to visit me this past spring and stayed for a couple of months. While she was here we reminisced and relived old times. One night we listened to the songs Papa and Mommy used to play on the “hi-fi” and 8-track cassette. Such technological dinosaurs! One of the songs we both remembered as background music during our childhood was “Sabor A Mi.” We looked for it in youtube and played it over and over. I just pulled it up again and you entered my mind.

I find it amazing that you’re still such an important and vivid figure in my life’s continuing, unfolding story. Maybe it’s because our relationship is tinged with such bittersweet memories that I find it hard to delete you completely. Every now and then you pop up and I’m compelled to say hello.

Hello, Jun.

Sabor a mi.

Woman Thinking

"Cogito,
Ergo sum"
-- Rene Descartes

Western Philosophy bored me. I couldn’t get the point of all the speculating, cogitating, reflecting, wondering, debating and philosophizing about existing and being. I existed, and was sure I existed, so I didn’t think I didn’t exist. I daydreamed during class.

Growing up I used to look up at the clouds and imagine Jupiter with his characteristic beard lording it over us mortals here on earth. I imagined Jason with the Golden Fleece slung over his shoulder. Just last night, on the flight down to Newport Beach from Oakland, the marine fog was so thick I imagined it was peppermint cotton candy ready for picking, pulling apart, and melting on my tongue. When a mountain high enough poked through the clouds I imagined it was the hump of Nessie the Monster breaking through the frozen waters of Loch Ness.

It takes very little to spin me off into daydream land. When I read a profound and pithy quote my mind starts to scramble the words to make up my own. When I want creative inspiration all I have to do is open a page in a picture book or magazine and it would immediately spark my own creative juices flowing.

My favorite thing is to stare into space and let the ideas just start flowing. Then when I stare into space long enough, I realize it isn’t me doing the thinking anymore, some “thing” else is thinking for me.

Eckhart Tolle, in The Power of Now, states quite strongly that the greatest fallacy in western thought is Descartes’ assertion of “I think, therefore I am.” Tolle gives an example of a crazy person walking down the street talking to himself. That crazy person would be just like any one of us, with a mind constantly chattering, except that the crazy person is thinking out loud.

And yet, the crazy person’s thoughts do not make him who he is. With or without those crazy thoughts, his essence is still pure Spirit.

I got an email from a girlfriend recently who was in the midst of a psychotic break. Her email was a meaningless inedible word salad of a call to revolt and threats to kill politicians, sprinkled generously with crackling cuss words. Her psychosis does not make her who she is. I know who she is. She is pure in Spirit.

I’m thinking… and so am I.

I am.

I AM!

Woman Doing

In My Garden of Infinite Possibilities

Spread out remaining lava rock around existing plantings
Divide Mexican sage and plant around existing plantings
Divide society garlic and plant around existing plantings
Create garden vignettes around existing plantings ala freestanding container plantings
Order 1 cu. yd. planting mix/topsoil

Around Phlomis fruticosa:

Burgundy coral bells
lime green heather or ipomea or variegated sedum
campanula
society garlic

Around Lavatera:
?
Around Sarsaparilla:
Society garlic
?

In Garden of Gratitude

Plant iris on base of roses
Dig up umbrella plant and transplant behind bench
Transfer fan palm to large clay pot for loggia
Transfer fan palm to red glazed Asian pot for dining room

Create Garden of Well-Being

Plant Japanese blood grass around edge of water feature
Divide calla lilies and plant around water feature
Plant sago palm
Buy horsetail plant
Buy Irish moss groundcover

In Zen Garden

Cover ground with landscape fabric
Put up reed fencing
Cover ground with pea gravel
(Order 1 cu. yd. of pea gravel)
Plant bamboo along fence
Create burbling fountain in oriental pot


Miscellaneous…

Paint clay pots talavera style
Start mosaic projects (mosaic bird bath)
Give Arnold a bath
Pack for travel
Take before and after photos
Pick up prescription
Get dresser and chest of drawers from storage
Order tray of lumpia for Sunday brunch
Cycle 2 of Weight Loss for Idiots
Do expense report
Manicure
Pedicure
Meditate
Blog

"Mission Accomplished"

In a peaceful oak tree-studded hillside near downtown Lafayette, CA, lies an impromptu reminder of war.

By today's count: 4071

"Can anything be more ridiculous than that a man has a right to kill me because he lives on the other side of the river, and because his ruler has a quarrel with mine, although I have none with him?"

-- Blaise Pascal

"I've been to war. I've raised twins. If I had a choice, I'd rather go to war."

-- George Bush

"There's a graveyard in northern France where all the dead boys from D-Day are buried. The white crosses reach from one horizon to the other. I remember looking it over and thinking it was a forest of graves. But the rows were like this, dizzying, diagonal, perfectly straight, so after all it wasn't a forest but an orchard of graves. Nothing to do with nature, unless you count human nature."

-- Barbara Kingsolver

"Naturally the common people don't want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."

-- Hermann Goering

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron."

-- Dwight Eisenhower

"All we are saying is give peace a chance."

-- The Beatles

"Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy."

-- St. Francis of Assisi

Flesh, Blood and Beyond

Rev. Ray Anderson, our guest Minister, gave a profoundly personal and engaging sermon this past Sunday. I can’t help but refer to these talks as sermons, a relic from my old ways. In a new day, a new earth, and a new consciousness, these talks are more like “shares”, a sharing of divinely-inspired aha moments, spiritual eurekas or enlightened realizations. There is always a refreshing absence of “Thou Shalt Nots” in these talks, an acknowledgment that whatever missteps we’ve taken, mistakes we’ve made, or sins (Self-Inflicted Nonsense) we’ve committed, it’s all a part of our life’s journey.

The title of his talk was “Remembering Who I Am.”

The philosophy that Rev. Anderson espouses is that our essence is divine. All of us – not just popes and priests, saints and sinners – but all of us, whether we realize it or not, are borne of divinity.

There is no bone of contention there. The bone that supports the framework of all spiritual traditions is that there is an Invisible Power back of all things, underneath all, in all, through all. It is this Invisible Power -- most often called God, sometimes Father-Mother-God, this “No Thing” (in Buddhism) -- that created us. As a creation of this Invisible Power, we are a part of it, animated by it.



As we become more and more conscious of this fundamental Truth, then we cease living as humans with only occasional glimmers of our own God-beingness, and begin to live more like fully-aware spiritual beings with only fleeting moments of human difficulties.

Not to be airy-fairy, of course. As our Muslim brothers like to say,

“Praise Allah

but tie the camels down.”

Rev. Anderson shared his story about the death of his daughter, an all-too human event, this past Valentine’s Day. According to the Reverend, his daughter’s quick and untimely transition from the physical realm to the “other side” was cause for grief and profound loss, but it also presents an opportunity for him to develop a different kind of relationship with his daughter on another, deeper level – the spiritual level.

I was in rapt attention listening to Rev. Anderson when my seatmate at church started weeping. Her mother had just died the month before and the talk broke her. I hugged her close as her tears ran down my shoulder and soaked my arm.

I don’t know why the talk didn’t break me. Instead it fortified me. This Sunday was the 29th death anniversary of my father who I love and miss with every breath of my life. I don’t know if time has healed the wound. But somewhere over the years I had learned to develop a relationship with my father beyond death.

When I need help and cry at night, I cry out for my father. I cry out for my mother, too. They made manifest to me all that I believe now to be God qualities – unconditional love, generosity, joy, compassion, creativity, courage, power, abundance, prosperity, forgiveness, faith and mercy. They gave me everything I ever needed and wanted during their lifetime, and I feel blessed and grateful. Even now, when they are no longer in this physical plane, they are present in me. In my heart they will always be, my Indwelling Father-Mother-God, beyond mere flesh and blood. My deeply felt connection with them is the springboard for my conviction of our spiritual essence.

“The personal life deeply lived

always expands into truths

beyond itself.”

-- Anais Nin

The Conscious Village

I recently helped my bestfriend and soul sistah Donna “Medi” Tate start her blog, The Conscious Village.


Medi is all about kids. Her life’s passion and fascination is child development. Every moment of her life is spent thinking about how to make children’s lives better – not in the grand gesture of an attention-grabbing, limelight-hugging politico, but more in the quiet, behind-the-scenes inner-city activist. She is a saint.

I’m not going to steal her thunder here but know that she has majestic and magnificent plans to improve the lives of kids. Her grand mission statement and the reveal of her vision is coming soon to a neighborhood near you.





I know I have regular readers, and accidental ones. I invite you all to bless The Conscious Village with your presence. Let us congratulate and encourage Donna “Medi” Tate for her ego-less dedication and wish her the very best in the pursuit and unfoldment of her sacred purpose, passion and plans.


As her favorite child advocate & role model Marian Wright Edelman likes to say,

"If we don't stand up for children,

then we don't stand for much."

Study In Blue

I have a vivid, indelible memory of watching my mother painting this still life of her perfume bottles.

I can still see the canvas resting on the easel and Mommy working the palette knife thickly with cobalt blue and white oil paints.

Even as a mature woman it is impossible for me to give up the term of endearment "Mommy." When I first came to the States, it used to shock me to hear
some people address their mothers "Mother." It seemed so impersonal, detached, unloving, unpleasant and rude. I guess it all depends on the emotions and memories you attach with your mother. I no longer have those judgments. I now feel a sense of amusement about it.

I don't remember how old I was but young enough, I guess, for this snapshot in time to leave a lingering good feel. It feels like love, a feeling that blossoms into joy, and gives me a sense of comfort, home, belonging, security, wonder, awe, and peace. Such lasting influence! Cobalt blue bottles always get me.

Blue and white is the backdrop of my childhood. I remember window shopping one day, many years after leaving home, and seeing our family china displayed in the window of a home decor store. I burst out in tears. It was a feeling of pure nostalgia.

I remember restful Sunday afternoons with Mommy pouring thick Spanish chocolate into demitasse cups for us to enjoy some quiet time together. It was a graceful and charmed life being under my parents’ care. In the busy-ness of daily living and the challenges of growing up and getting older, I hold fast to my “anchor” memories, memories that keep me securely tethered to home, family and love.

Hold fast to your anchor memories,

memories that tether you
To the Truth of
Home, Family and

Love.

Discovering The I Am

“All manifestation of life is from

an invisible to a visible plane,

through a silent, effortless process of

spiritual realization.”
-- Ernest Holmes

In living from day-to-day, I face challenges and come across obstacles big and small. If God were living my day-to-day life, God would merely raise His sights, move aside the challenges, step over the obstacles and move forward, always growing, forever expanding, creating infinite possibilities for greater and greater good.

Nothing is an obstacle in God’s eyes. Aligned with Spirit, I merely lift my sights and look beyond the transgression, to the invisible good that is yet unseen by my physical eyes. With the same ease and grace that God created our manifest universe, so I shall co-create my own new universe.

This is my Second Coming:

Discovering The I Am.

Let Go, Let God

Can I just let go?

If I can let go the darkness will fade

If I can just let go there's a light all around me

But the pain in my thought has kept me holding on

But I feel like letting go

I'm ready to run and I'm ready to leap into what is real

I got a sweet invitation, a mandate of ecstasy

Let go of your will, drop your tools, and follow me

I am the life within you, it's time to be free

I feel like letting go

Let go, let God

Let go, Let God

Let go, I feel like letting go

Let go, let God, let go.

If I can let go heaven's at hand

Right now new life is awaiting

While I'm rearranging these old facts of mine

Said I'm tired of holding on

My heart is making an authentic appeal

It's such a sweet invitation, a mandate of ecstasy

Don't hold on any longer, drop your tools and follow me

I won't abandon my vision, it's time to release

The power of God is guiding me

To surrender to what I've got to be

And deep within God loves me so

Let go, I'm letting go

With God

all things are possible

With God

all things are bountiful

And deep within God loves us so

Let go, I'm letting go

If we can let go the darkness will fade

Pray to let go, let go, let go.

"I Feel Like Letting Go" from the CD In The Land Of I Am

Music and Lyrics by Rickie Byars & Michael Beckwith

Photo of Medi Tate

My Bestfriend & Soul Sistah

TGIF

"I've been thinking, Hobbes..."


"On a weekend?"


"Well, it wasn't on purpose..."


-- From Calvin & Hobbes, fictional characters from the comic series created by Bill Watterson.

Thank God, it's Friday!

Time to kick back and relax!