The hard stuff: Show it or hide it?

I got two emails today that stood out from the rest. Both written in response to having read my blog-utterings as of late. Both from women. Both in their 60's. The first to arrive was from my mother in Denmark, the second from a dear friend here in the States. What's curious is that they arrived within moments of each other. But had the exact opposite message.

The one from my mother was one of deep concern that I'd be so emotionally open and raw. In public. Shouldn't I be keeping this kind of intimate information private and only share with a trusted friend or two. Might it not be used against me?

The other one, from a dear teacher friend, was encouraging me,  'I feel so appreciative to have a friend who wanders deeper into her life, and shares it...' she said.

It made me think for a while today about what we find appropriate to share; with whom and how. I have been getting a lot of reactions in the last weeks; and aside from my mother they have been mostly to the effect of, wow, you are just like me, we have parallel lives, we should get together soon, call me, I'm here. I know how you feel.

But one other friend, did just tell me, that she'd like to share more but then 'people will know I am not perfect.' Wow. Is anyone perfect? Do any of us really think that the others have it all together and if we do think that, how does that make us feel? Inadequate? Small? Lacking?

I have been in enough sharing groups to know that everyone is hurting about something. The lucky ones are able to transform the hurt into empathy and love and wisdom but everyone is hurting about something. If we all knew just a little more about each other's pain we'd be busy hugging and loving each other all day long.

At a recent coaching training in L.A. one of the trainers said, 'people, owning your shadow is the new sexy!" Ok, let's not get trendy about it but I get it and I think many of us are weary of the old school way of hiding it, and stuffing it and hoping that no one knows how uncool we are. How insecure we are. How much we just want to be loved and accepted by each other. How much we fear rejection and being alone.

I know I am pushing the boundaries of my own culture and the family line with my openness. Maybe I am even risking repercussions in court this summer. Maybe my ex or his team of two power attorneys will find my blog and say, See! She's all weak and feeble and unfit.

The truth is I have never felt stronger and more okay. Sad and small sometimes, you beat, but mostly okay with myself being human and even more okay with the never-ending supply of Divine Light and grace that pours over me and each of us when we scream for help, and often it happens through our dear friends.

Aren't we just here to help and love each other every step of the way on this earth. When I am in the pits my friends will remind me of love, and when my friends are in the pits, I will remind them of love. We just slip into darkness sometimes and forget about love.

Thank you to my mom, for her warm and motherly concern, I know the sweet heart from which is springs -- and thank you to my dear Viola friend for taking the time out of your day to write to me, for seeing me and appreciating me.

And I don't think I'm done being open and raw. I think I'm only just beginning.

To pedicure or not...

I got a pedicure today. The first of the season and I think the last. I don't really like the whole someone-sitting-at-my-feet situation. It's probably the socialist, or the Dane in me, we always did our own nails growing up. In fact, I don't remember ever hearing about a place where you could get a pedicure in Copenhagen back then. But I'm sure they exist now. It's gotten so worldly.

I went to a place at Har-mar run by Asians, I didn't recognize the language, not that I would, but I'm always just a bit offended when I walk in and you see a line of white women (just like me mind you) in big lazy-boy-type-pedi-thrones with small, brown people industriously working at their feet. I get colonialism vibes or something.

Nevertheless, I decided that with yesterday's insult to my peace of mind, I deserved pretty feet. I also have that wedding coming up in a couple of days. The person doing my pedicure was, to my surprise, a man. In his 40s I think. He was missing one finger on the left hand and his arms were full of tattoos. The most prominent on his left arm, it was a pair of hands joined in prayer. His left hand was missing half a finger.

Midway through the pedicure he did a foot and leg massage. He had nice strong, wiry hands and it felt great. Suddenly, I saw him flinch. He had to stop and adjust the joints of two of this fingers including the finger that was half size. I asked him if he was okay, he didn't speak much English but just said, I have problem. I said, please don't continue the massage if it hurts. He said, it's okay. I repeated, please just stop doing the massage part if you are hurting. He said, thank you. I watched him from behind my magazine and he continued quietly. Then it looked like he was about to cry. I was so filled with empathy I thought I was going to cry. What happened to this man. What or who hurt his hand? Did I offend him by addressing his pain?

I didn't get any polish. It's just too stinky. I kind of like my nails just clean and bare. I gave him a good tip and I was relieved to leave the chemical stench of the small shop. The place is in serious need of better ventilation. I think it's hazardous for the workers to be in those fumes all day.

Maybe I think too much and effectively ruined my own little treat to myself today. But I can't stop thinking about this man, his fingers, his prayer tattoo and his life spent in chemical fumes to make white women's nails pretty. What are we doing?

Retraining the braining...

I love this coaching business, I really do and I'm over my subtle, ok not so subtle since I did blast it to the world, resistance to my coach shining her sharp, little torch on my problem. The time thing. I completed the first part of my time assignment and it was basically an essay asking you to define your relationship to time.

One thing that became really clear to me was how out of sheer survival these past three, mostly dreadful, years, I figured out a way to live so completely in each moment with minimal planning and maximum just-maintaining-the-basics. There simply was no energy to plan beyond keeping it together, I was in complete survival-adrenal deficit mode most of the time. So, this unplanned living became a habit over a substantial period of time and now I have to rewire myself, my brain I think, to do it differently.

And it is so hard! Sitting down and making lists of what needs to be done, and what it would be lovely to get done, and what it would extra amazing to have done and then simply allocating time to get it done. One step at a time.

One of my number one avoid-what-needs-to-be-done methods is to pick up my recorder and play, yes, right in the middle of a project, I just want to be in my own little world. I don't know how to read music so I just play what wants to be played (mostly Danish hymns) by ear and it puts me in this wonderful Spirit-flowing-through-me space where I am safe and no worldly demands can penetrate; at least as long as I am playing. My kids know better than to interrupt me mid-song or, God help them, try to grab the recorder out of my mouth when I am playing (in an effort to get mom to listen to something they consider important at that time).

The whole point is, I can still play. Yep, I just have to schedule it into my little plan for the week. What a concept. I can still do all the things I love. Like tune out and be with God, go to yoga, be outside. I just need to put it into the PLAN and be super conscious about how much of my day, week, LIFE is spent doing these things and make sure that the big things are still getting done and I am doing my part in manifesting my dreams, being a clever little co-creator.

In spite of getting a good nights sleep (still on the balcony), I felt deeply and profoundly tired to the bone after my call with my coach. I basically passed out -- on the balcony. Just woke up, have NO desire to make anymore spreadsheets with goals and promises and daily plans today. But let me say this before I sign off -- about every single item on my list yesterday: THEY GOT DONE by the end of the day. I swear, there is something magical about writing it down.

Now I am going to the beach with my dear friend. She will take pictures of me doing yoga poses for my website and brochures. So that's kinda like work. Hee, hee!!

Time and how I need to manage it...

Ok, here's the thing. I am trying to do (Yoda says there is no try only do!) my time assignment. Yes, I am doing this coaching program and I think my coach rather quickly realized where my problems lie...time management. ACH! Even the phrase 'time management' conjures up images of uber sharp yuppies in the 80's with their fat, leather-bound time managers and their effective lives managed down to the last minute, exercise at 7, eat at 8, drive at 8:30, work at 9, snack at 11, meeting at noon, lunch at 1, snack and blah, blah, blah...I can't take it...my inner brat is screaming in self-defense. Don't make me look at my time managing skills. Because they are so lacking, I am going to feel so incompetent and I don't want to feel incompetent...!

I have a friend whose step-mom is a writer, a famous and prolific writer. Apparently she gets up every morning and writes for a set amount of hours and no one and nothing can interfere with that time. That's how she gets her work done. She could have been a brilliant writer and artist but with out the discipline to schedule her time and actually WRITE, she would not have published many, many highly acclaimed books. I know it, I know, I know it.

So here's the assignment. I have to plan, not just my day, but my whole fucking week! It can't be a to do list - which would already be a grand step in the right direction, no, no it has to be down to the event and the hour for everything, like eating, sleeping, checking email (WHAT!? You mean I can't frantically check my email whenever I am frustrated or bored, which is often), and more, showering, getting dressed, pet care, cooking, spiritual practice (I want that all day long whenever I want it), making contacts, checking in with so and so..., snacking, chores, delighting in my children. You get the picture. It's all of it and I am dying here.

I don't want to do this assignment. But I paid good money for this coach to fix my life. And she took her little flash light and pointed it straight where it hurts, right past all the 'good stuff about me' and shone this nasty little light right into my under-developed sense of, GRRRRR, time management. OK, I can say it nicely: Time Management. Smiling. With my teeth (gritting them) -- Ok, no gritting. Just developing healthy, enthusiasm for my assignment that should have been completed two weeks ago.

Anyway, there is not time like the present (ya, ya pun intended, I may not be a time manager wiz but at least I can write sorta funny). So, as soon as I get done complaining to the blog world about this task. Then I will, I really, really will. Go make a warm cup of tea and then, I will, I really, really will eat a roll with butter and then, I will, I really, really, really will sit down and write a schedule of the things I intend to accomplish today, and when I have finished the one for today, I will complete one for the whole week. I am not going to enjoy this. It's not how I want to live my life. But it is how I want to live a portion of my life. I do want the ability to plan and be focused and I know that this assignment will help me do it.

Uh, and did you notice how I didn't even have TIME to complain about my love life or loss of same.

Sleeping outside

I slept outside on my balcony again. It's becoming a need, I am thinking about getting a simple platform for a 'real' bed out there. For some mysterious reason mosquitos don't bite me so I am able to sleep in the open. I am on a second floor balcony at the exact height of the tree tops. I swear it's like sleeping in an adult sized tree-house; and I sleep like a baby even though I am sleeping on a pretty slim pad and side sleeping isn't an option. But I'm a back-sleeper anyway so it works. I did pick up a mosquito net yesterday at my favorite thrift store - the one on Rice and Larpenteur - now I have to figure out how to mount it. You know, with out a handy man in the house. How hard can it be, buying a hookie-screwie thing and getting a ladder up here.

Last night we went to Fraconia Sculpture Park with friends. We went for a Shakespeare in the park production. I didn't mean to do it but the moment I laid down on my (newly acquired also at thrift store) blanket, I fell into a deep sleep. There was something so safe and cozy about falling a sleep outside in the middle of a big group of people. Tribal or something. I don't know how long I slept but I woke up with the sun beaming straight into my face. I could feel the firm support of the earth beneath me and the encircling of young trees around us. As the play ended we all just wanted to stay and stay. One dear friend, then another and then another joined and we all snuggled on blankets on the ground as we talked about life and healing and Spirit and listened to the band that followed the play. We talked about wanting to camp together. Maybe in one friend's yard, soon. We all just want to be together, hang out, talk about life and love and how we understand the pain and the joy and how we are there for each other. It's so nice not to feel alone.

Today, we are going out to the Solstice celebration at Philadelphia Community Farm in Osceola. Join us! They have an actual, gorgeous waterfall on their property, woods, animals, barn. There will be a fire and there will be a potluck and there will be a play. Maybe I will bring my new blanket and lay down on the ground somewhere, allow our generous and ever giving Earth to imbue me with her healing powers, listening to the voices of other wonderful souls communing, children running and playing and exploring. And basically, just being outside. As much as possible. With friends and children.

Good morning World, how beautiful can you be! I'm on the second floor and all I see out every window is trees bathed in sunlight.

What a difference half a night can make. I was awoken at 2AM by my little guy who crept in next to me as I was sleeping out on the balcony to stay cool, "I'm so cold, mama, I'm so cold," he said as he snuggled in close. But his little body was burning hot and I stumbled out to the bathroom to find that darn, elusive thermometer that's never where it should be. Not in this bin, not in that.

Half asleep I called out, "runners help me find the thermometer!" (my runners are my little invisible friends who help me find stuff I can't find, they are really good at it too). I looked up at the bin I'd already put back on the topshelf and lo and behold there was the thermometer sticking out.

Sure enough, 102.6F and climbing. The fearful shadows of the night settled on me as I imagined the worst. He's not vaccinated what if he contracted something terrible that I could have prevented if I'd just  done what the MDs told me to do. I started praying, every memorized prayer in my repertoire. Then we both slept. He's still running a high fever, little sweetheart but he had a smoothie with out getting sick so that's good.

He won't be going to Colorado with his dad tomorrow as planned and he's upset. Knowing him, he thinks it's all his fault, in his little mind he's going, "I'm so stupid, I'm so dumb". Kids take it all on don't they? Especially this one. He's so quick to internalize anything less than great that goes on around him. My response is to shield and shelter but that's probably not have you develop a strong man. Oh, the woes of a being a single mom raising a boy.

I just googled Maria Toso to find some pictures of myself for a brochure about some upcoming workshops in Denmark, when I stumbled upon this very blog. Written and completely forgotten by me. The most ironic thing is, I just talked to someone about adding a blog to my website but thinking, "oh I don't really know how to set up a blog", well, turns out I did know how to set up a blog in the the middle of the night upon waking up from some bad dream over two years ago.

So, here I am, sitting on my balcony of the beautiful duplex, I would have been so delighted to know I'd end up in that haunted night in April 2010. Still don't have it all together but at least, I am moving in that direction...not just with determination but with some heartfelt enthusiasm -- and that enthusiasm has  been long in the coming. 

In fact, in a recent coaching workshop, I had to come up with my own personal antidote to my tendency to 'check out' and distract myself from the obvious tasks. The antidote that came to me was enthusiasm and you know what's funny about that? Even just naming a quality that is lacking and needed somehow brings it about. Which brings to mind another coaching tip that I was given, write down the numbers. I.e. if you have a number you want to reach, say as a monthly income stream. Write down the budget that would make that happen. In fact, write down three different ways in which that could happen. Sure it'll be a bit of a stretch and you'll need to throw some juicy dreaming in there alongside the facts and figures but how fun...it's supposed to work. I am going to try I will keep you posted or shall we say blogged.