I AM, the movie

No, I don't have illogical aspirations of being in a movie.  I recently saw a documentary directed by Tom Shadyac (The Nutty Professor, Ace Ventura, among others) called I AM.  After suffering a brain injury and recovering he decided to go out and ask some of our global thinkers, leaders, philosophers, writers, etc. two questions: What's wrong with our world and how can we change it.  The film, inspiring, and at times a little campy, ends with the conclusion that by asking what was wrong with the world, they discovered, through insightful conversations and applied science, that, in fact, there is a lot quite RIGHT with the world, starting with me, or you or that concept of I AM. 

I AM is a major tenet in Science of Mind philosophy.  So, I, quite obviously was enthusiastic about the film.  It reminds me a lot of "What the Bleep We Don't Know" and even a little of "The Secret".  All three films have a scientific/mystical slant in which the ideas we humans have taken for granted as the basis for science, politics, governance, societal functionality are essentially blown apart and laid out before the viewer as if to say, "what do you see?" 


From this site.

When things are blown apart, the parts are scattered around, pieces shredded and things are left unrecognizable.  I mean, I have never been in war and I don't think I've ever, specifically seen things "blown apart".  Only images on television and movies, come to mind.  But I do have a pretty good idea of what it's like for shit to fall apart.  Science of Mind would assert that it is in this devastation and deconstruction that truth emerges. 

From my own personal experience, I would agree. 

Much of the music I listen to, many of the books I read, plenty of the people I speak with all reaffirm this basic truth: Love is All There Really Is.  When love is missing from the equation, it often means something is amiss.  Someone has run afoul; something has run amok; somewhere has become the reality of now. 

In the documentary, a scientist is filmed asserting science-based research data that shows that our heart outweighs and out-performs our brain in decision-making, reacting to different environmental factors and in the end, living our lives.  In fact, they conducted study after study in which hearts were able to predict outcomes with accuracy based on "feelings" put off by our hearts.  Our heart knows the simple, animalistic fact of nature that we are all united, connected and universally one.  Nothing and no one is against us. 

When things go wrong, and they will most certainly do so, it's not our responsibility to control the course of events to follow our perceived path of choice, but rather be like the leaf on the tree that flits and flutters in the wind of change.   Affixed but flexible, alive and connected but with destiny for other roles and functions.  And what's so darn impressive is that "fixed and determined" nature of Nature at present is the Absolute Truth that the only thing we can count on is CHANGE. 

So, in this influx of permeability, there is an under-riding truth of inconsistency.

Craxy Drunk Po$t

I have had situations where I regretted what I said or did. I, even most recently, have had my "late night blog posts" where I regretted posting what I posted the morning after.  My brother, with whom I seek the utmost respect and approval, has often expressed disapproval for my blog because he feels that personal emotions and feelings should not necessarily be placed out "there" for the total public to read, debate and discuss.   He thinks it's not really my "right to share" this information with the general public because they may find it offending. 

I can see his point of view. But then, my addiction for blogging takes over.  There is something magical for me when writing....  I feel totally connected and alive.  I feel whole and unique.  And I like that. 

Since I’ve started blogging, I've only had positive responses to what I write.   Maybe only supporters are reading my blog. Or maybe I’ve not mass-marketed it enough to receive true, unadulterated criticism. To be honest, I am not really concerned about it. 

In general, I am happy blogging. It serves some kind of need within my soul, whether it be connection internally or a connection to my higher source. Blogging seems to feed some need I have to validate my own experiences.

So, recently I was in a class for Self Mastery.  As a group we were tasked with surrounding one another and giving each other "love bombs" of compliments. 

As I let go and fell into the experience, my classmates seemed to become enchanted and began softly whispering various compliments. They said things like, “you are beautiful, you are an awesome mother, you are sexy and strong, I like your hair, your smile, your eyes, you seem intelligent, practical, etc…”

At first, it was very uncomfortable. In fact, I had a physical reaction where I began experiencing a throbbing sensation in my neck. Then, I noticed that my shoulders sort of curled forward all on their own and my hands were shoved into my pockets.   I felt nauseous.  I had a physical reaction to their comments.   I felt like I was twelve years old.


In a recent relationship class, we were asked to bring a picture of ourselves as children to share.  This simple activity opened up a new insight for me in terms of how I see others and more importantly how I see myself.  We are all still those cute, innocent, perfectly content children in the pictures of our past.  Yet, we all too often forget this when we behave like children as adults.

I've been in other situations in my life where, let's say, someone else has experienced some kind of totally embarrassing situation.  Instead of finding fault with that person, or taking advantage of their vulnerability, I often feel tremendous compassion and empathy for them.  I don't know if they can sense it.  I do it anyway. 

The truth is that we are all beautiful, innocent, smart, sexy, talented, inspiring, loyal and necessary. Without this truth, we’d be nothing more than the dust and rocks that scatter the Earth. We are, after all, human beings as Infinite Spirit incarnate.   We really are as pure in heart as a two year old but we forget it.  The Indigo Girls have this one song in which they say (and I am paraphrasing) "we are sculpted from youth, the chipping away makes me weary". 

We put limits, rules, judgements and expectations on things that need no embellishment.  Only openness and acceptance.  

And that is when I realize that the idea of ‘right to share’ has little to do with actual validity, but more with ego’s limitation of who one thinks they may be.    Ego can limit when there is nothing for which to limit.  I am not saying my brother has an ego problem for which he is limited in his mind and spirit.  I am saying, that for me, personally, sharing my gift, which is me, unabashedly here is all that I have.  

I am therefore, so grateful for the understanding that I am more than what my ego has defined me to be.   I realize I take on certain risks with this affirmation, but, quite frankly, I am open to the Universal Law of YES!  Just as an innocent child says YES! to pretty much everything, I am willing to say YES to life as I experience it. 

Frankfurt to Heildelberg

In 2000 I went to Germany and France on a self-supported bike tour with my a previous partner. We arrived in Frankfurt after a long 15 hour flight. Our bikes were in boxes and we had to wait over an hour for them to arrive in baggage claim. Neither one of us spoke German. Neither one of us had ever been to Europe. Neither one of us had ever done a bike tour. My partner was a strong, athletic, type A personality. He pushed through life rather than going with the flow. This particular trait, at one time attractive, became the major reason that I left in years later.

We sat in the airport re-assembling our bikes. An armed guard came over to us asking questions in German, gesturing to us. We didn't understand a word he was saying. He eventually walked away; leaving us with our bikes, panniers and two huge boxes. Now, what were we going to do with the boxes? Well, in Germany, unlike in many places in the US, rycling is everywhere. Upon exiting the airport we found an outside recycling center and placed our boxes there. No problem.

Out in front of the airport was this enormous parking lot filled with bikes! It was amazing. From there we needed to catch a train to Heildelberg. We knew from our map we could see that it was was the preferred destination for the night. It was about 94 km or an hour's train ride. Walking our bikes through the train station at roughly 'rush hour' was chaotic and exhilarating. We quickly surmised the letter board and schedules. A train was leaving for Frankfurt in ten minutes! We had to hurry (or we could have waited for the next train, but no, we had to hurry...i.e. he made sure we made that train).

We got onto the train just before it was leaving. We couldn’t find a car that was for bikes, so we just stood on the back side of one of the cars. A conductor approached us and again, we just shrugged our shoulders and gave him a smile. The train was packed with evening commuters and people were looking at us like we were idiots.

Upon arrival in Heildelberg the stress faded and our exhaustion took over. 5 km south of town was the campground. It sat right on the edge of the Neckar River, called Haide Camp Haide, it was a quaint, quiet, clean campground. 

We purchased two huge beers. Sat by the river and watched the barges float by. The sun was setting. We were in Germany. We had 20 days, a map and nothing planned.

Probably one of the best trips in my life.

In the twenty days of that trip, I pushed myself harder than I had ever done in order to appease my partner. There were days when I wanted to spring for a hotel instead of camp. There were days that I wish we didn’t have to ride 90 km to get to the next campground. But as I look back on that trip I feel an unabashed sense of pride for having made the journey. Even though it feels like a lifetime ago, I can always look back at the pictures and remember who I was then is always who I’ve ever been. Who I am today is the same person I was then. 

What is more amazing still is that you can actually see the route we traversed from Google Maps!  I can trace my finger along the route that we rode almost 12 years ago, and yet it still feels a million years ago.  As my finger follows these routes off my video monitor, I see a more ethereal connection to my life's path.  The thread of my life clearly leads from there to here and from here to there, yes with diversions along the way, but never disconnected, always, always just as who I am. 

Shadowy Bits

I saw a recent post on Facebook where Oprah says many people are held back from becoming who they were meant to be by shadow beliefs and feelings of unworthiness which distract us from finding our true purpose in the world.   Although, honestly, I have no idea what Oprah's "insecurities" are. I only know what mine are. I do know that my own insecurities have definitely shaped my life; for good or bad.

Even to this day, I see my ex-husband often conflicted from my words, expelling numerous accusations and defenses in what is most likely an outpouring of "insecurities" rather than an actual rational position towards me. This obviously affects him both emotionally and physically to the point of knocking me off balance and subsequently sending me into depression and self-afflicting deprecation where we both fall into old patterns.   Sometimes I call it, the 'darkeness of despair' but after hearing and meditating on this I now want to refer to it as simply, accepting what is.....and I see the shadows of my life as part of my whole life, not something to hide. 

What can I say? I never really planned out this life. I never asked for this, nor have I sought out training specifically to manage it.   I certainly never sought out to "manage" my life as if it were a Broadway Show or some kind of public event.   I never really had anyone teach me that there were certain "rules" or "guidelines" for which one follows to have a "successful" life.  I have friends (i.e successful friends) that tend to "show off" their awesome successes with much admiration and yet it becomes obvious that there too exists ample room to note the apparent shadows of self admiration and denial of truthful contrasts for life as it really plays out.

Shadows, scientifically speaking, are partial darkness or obscurity within a part of space from which rays from a source of light are cut off by an interposed opaque body . They are also considered an imperfect or faint representation of something, an imitation of something. (Webster's Dictionary Online)

Shadows, to the mystics are, the unwanted parts of ourselves or our ideas, dreams or thoughts. It can also represent the darker side of your nature, or the side of yourself that you reject, hide or try to conceal.   As a child, we had a superstition that you should not step on someone's shadow because you would cause that person harm.
In Science of Mind, shadowy bits would basically refer to the parts of the Universe that are unseen, perhaps the “contrasts” for which make the rest of the “goodness” so overwhelmingly good. In fact, the shadows, for Religious Scientist practitioners wouldn’t really be an issue because we see the light and the darkness with the same affinity, respect and acceptance.
Yet, in regular society we are taught, persuaded, maybe even manipulated to tolerate that “shadows” are for hiding.  So, I ask...?
Can you live a successful life with shadowy bits still in the lurk? Can you reveal your shadowy bits and still find the love and admiration of your peers, let alone your closest ally, your romantic partner or best friend? Can you stomach the truth about one of your closest friends or family members and accept them for all parts revealed? Can we, as a society, choose to accept the shadows are part of the truth rather than try and stamp it out or ignore it’s presence? 

We, so unconsciously hide the shadows because we are somehow taught that they are ugly, unwanted or even immoral.  Yet, the shadows are as much a part of who we are as the light. Yet, people tend to choose to exhibit, emphasize, or call attention to the more successful part of their lives, rather than taking a stronger, more accepting, and self empathetic look at your shadowy bits.  Love them.  Bless them.  And pray that that they too are part of who you represent.  It makes us all the more human in the end.

The Love of My Life

I am a dreamer. I have always been. I remember when I was in kindergarten and the teacher rudely interrupted me from a daydream in the middle of class; disgracefully awakening me from my fantasy land of nymphs and fairies dancing around my head to ostensibly focus on math lessons. What a trip!

In my middle school to high school years (as we were a rather rural region of Pennsylvania and things moved much slower in these parts...) I had crushes on boys. My older brother saw fit that they stayed clear for the most part until he left for college. Then I was free to reek havoc. The truth is, I fell in love quite early on and quite committedly to one guy. He, of course, did not want anything to do with me. The rejection was something that I guess I actually sought out (at least, with lot's of therapy, I am able to appreciate that fact).

In college; forget about it. I was too busy partying to have serious relationships. My most devoted ally, a 3' bong named Grimace, was with whom I slept most nights.

It wasn't until my senior year of college I met Scott and I fell madly in love. Actually, I didn't really, but we, of course had a meaningful connection and I mistook that for love. What is true love anyway?

We spent almost 10 years together.  And I now regret having left him because I see how special he was....  I have journal entries where I complain miserably about his OCD behavior or how he's not much of a sensual lover. I felt really comfortable with him.  Maybe a little too comfortable.  He could fix anything but not the greatest lover! 

When I ran off to Argentina and met Andres. Oh, Andres. Well, let's just say that love making is his sort of calling card.   But he was the kind of guy who knew every bouncer at every club in Buenos Aires....a city fo 13 million.  Sort of said something about his type, no?  While he was sensual and romantic, he couldn't stop flirting with every other woman, fix a toilet or drive a car. 

When I met Martin, I pretty much figured that I had been blessed with the two extremes and that with him I 'd find a happy medium. He can fix almost anything, even toilets, but alas, not broken hearts.  Well, funny how life just keeps you guessing. While he was perfect in almost every way, he was a disaster at being. Yes. BEING. He had trouble being present. He had no idea who or what was his priority. He had difficultly organizing. He fled to his mother and sisters for comfort and alienated me. He blamed me for pretty much everything that ever went wrong because he certainly was rarely present (both physically and mentally) when things got decided.    When we finally parted ways, I was at the receving end of a bunch of criticism that wasn't rightfully mine.  I am still, to this day, not sure what exactly he was so angry about.  He hasn't quite let me in on his own insights.

As a single woman again, I finding dating to be tremendous work.  It's not like it was 5 or even 10 years ago when you met someone, you clicked and things took course from there.  Now there is so much more at stake and I find so many of these 'possibles' quite literally impossible to stomach.  With each new failure at love I become all the more in tune with the my own strengths, weaknesses and most impotantly, boundaries.  What I want vs. what I don't want.  I am still a little sketchy on what I want; I am becoming clearer most certainly on what I don't want. 

Well, the one bright side to all of this, is that I finally, after all of this strife and heartache have found my one true love.   I have discovered my son, Ziggy, the most wonderful creature ever created. Yes, he is challenging. He can scream louder than Liza. There are moments when we both need a time out. But he's amazing. He's amazed. He's loving and he's lovable. He's innocent. He's accepting. He's absorbent and learning. He's brilliant. He's precocious and challenging. He's brave and enlightened. I wonder, was I?

I guess, in closing, while Ziggy can be one thing, (i.e. difficult) he is always the other truth to that thing (i.e. brilliant).   He is purely whole and perfect just as he is. He is, in short, the guy I've been looking for. He's my dream come true.  It is like Rev. Bonnie said, Ziggy Finn Santos will forever be like a prayer.  And it is.  How very grateful I am for him being in my life.  He is the most perfect representation of Infinite Spirit.  And for that, I am truly blessed.  And as I look into his beautiful blue eyes, I know that he is created as a part of me and therefore I too am perfect, beautiful and sort of like a prayer.  How cool is that?  To see the truth of your own self in the eyes of the one you love is what we are all searching for...and I have it.  Sure I had to go through shit (and continue to work my ass off) for it, but how very sweet it is.  Blessed be little Ziggy Finn Santos.  Nameste.

Game Night

In rural Pennsylvania where I grew up, Game Night was a big deal. Whether or not it be football or basketball, folks came out to cheer on the local student star athletes. Like my brother and father before me, I was a natural born athlete. I was the 'star' player on the girls basketball team and the 'fastest' girl on the track.

Practice was two days a week, with games or meets two days a week, with one day for rest. Weekends were optional practices, special meets or games for which I was always involved. I lived, ate, breathed sports. It was really the only thing that my father and I could talk about.

You see, my mother had left when I was about 11 or 12 and my father was pretty depressed most of the time. Sports were the one unifying thing for our family. Our grandfather and my brother and father and I could talk sports. Who's in the playoffs, who sucks, who sold out, why was coach so and so such a dip-shit, etc...

My mother, who was going back to school and held down two jobs, was not really into sports. It kind of made it hard to relate to her at the time. I remember seeing her seated in the bleachers before a game. I would be such a bitch to her; ignoring her or casually approaching her like I didn't even care that she was there. She would probably drive at least an hour to come see me and I'd barely acknowledge her.

Worse, my father would work 8 or 10 hours and then drive the hour or two to wherever my game was. He'd sit and watch the game and cheer and cuss out the refs and then drive all the way back to town to wait for me to arrive separately on the bus. I could have driven home with him and made his trip home one hour less but I didn't. No, selfishly, I rode the bus home with my friends and then gave him the cold shoulder the whole ride home. I'd then go into my room and shut door and act like he was "bothering me".

I just passed my first rite of passage with my son. Valentine's Day. I have memories of sitting up with my mother making the Valentine's Day box and filling out the Valentine's Day cards. And here I am doing it for my son. It only signals that some day soon I will be staying up later than I really want to in order to cheer my son on at some game or meet and more than likely he will give me the cold shoulder.

There is nothing you can do at this point to make up for how you treated your parents, huh? I guess that is why kids treat their parents like crap. So that we finally know what it feels like to be a parent. Kind of a sick torture I think. But, for what's it is worth. Mom, Dad, I am sorry I was such an ass. I love you both. Thank you.

I Release and Let Go.....

There has been something that I felt that I have not been quite honest with you about. And for that I apologize. The truth is, that I've been hiding something from you for some time. It is not because I don't trust you. No, not at all. I think I held back out of embarrassment.

It is a deeply held, tightly guarded, lovingly protected secret which I know that I implied in some of my posts, however, it wasn’t fully forth-coming; instead it was sort of passive and for that I seek your forgiveness. Some of you know what I am talking about; those of you who saw me in my absolute worst.

So here it is: I am a survivor of domestic abuse.

And yet, why did I hesitate to name it outright?

Abuse, domestic abuse, is a silent disease that affects more than 74% of people in the US whether they know someone or are a part of the abuse. It directly affects roughly 25% the US of population.

I never, ever, ever in my wildest dreams would have suspected that I would become a victim of domestic violence. I mean I run triathlons and climb high Sierra peaks, I traveled abroad and speak two languages. I have a good education, a high-paying professional job. I mean, how did this college-educated, sassy, world-traveled, strong, independent woman become a victim of abuse? How did I allow it? What is wrong with me that I allowed this to happen to me?

The women I met in my group counseling sessions were just as flabbergasted too. They all seemed capable, smart, well-meaning young women. How????

Well, the simple answer is that, it's not that easy. The circumstances for which I entered into my relationship have little to do with the final series of outcomes. When he was in his particular state of rage, I was in my own particular state of lack of self-worth and dis-equilibrium.

There are a number of “reasons” for our stress. Citizenship status, financial needs, pity, mutual desire for something other than another Tahoe winter season, unplanned pregnancy, house remodel, unplanned c-section, post-partum depression, paternal resentment, debt, bad economy, historically bad fight with best friend, loss of our one functioning car, his family‘s pure dislike of me….the list goes on.

It was if “God” were against us. And I used to cry aloud to God, screaming how I hated him and that he had left me alone in this pure tragic misery of pain and regret. I used to say that I would never again be duped into believing in the supposed powers of universal spirit. What had God ever done for me?

It is in the absolute moment of despair that one can finally see the truth. There exists only one truth. If then, there is darkness, such as what I experienced, there must then also be light. For without one, the other cannot exist.

So, out of chaos, I found peace. Out of poverty, I found prosperity. Out of hatred and judgment I found unconditional love and acceptance. Out of pain and suffering I found joy and patience. Out of loss I found gratitude. Out of disaster I found strength and perseverance. Out of loneliness I found community.

And I know that I would not have ever appreciated any of these without having lost pretty much everything. I am like the Job of Ventura. Ha!

If you are a victim today, I urge you to take the necessary steps to get yourself to a safe location and begin to rebuild your life. Take it from me; it can be done. It isn’t “impossible”. Yes, it isn’t easy. And from experience, the services from the County or State are scattered and confusing at best. But, here are some resources that can help you get out of your current situation and into the life you were meant to inhabit.

It's time to let go of that story that you deserve this and begin to accept the truth that you deserve so much more...all that the Universe has to offer and more.

Cal Lutheran Community Counseling Center http://www.callutheran.edu/community_counseling/

Ventura County Project Understanding http://www.projectunderstanding.org/

Ventura County 211 http://www.icfs.org/211ventura.org/