Calling all Grapplers!

Ahhhh.  That first cup of coffee.  There is nothing like it.  Actually, the perfection is in the first sip of the first cup.  Yum.  I could not, would not, live life without coffee.  Today we head south – to southern Colorado, that is.  We pack up Flame for her maiden voyage with us – she was born in 1967 so has been on many trips with many people over the years.  We only know some about the trips with her previous owners.  They shared photos of Flame in front of mesas and great vistas around the desert.  Their love apparent through the multitude of shots. I would love to know of all her jaunts around the country.  What sights has she seen?  Who have been her passengers?  What were they like?  What were their hopes and dreams as they took to the open road? 

Yet instead of packing up, I am sitting here.  David knows that I need to write before anything, so he will begin packing and I will join him after.  After how long, I don’t usually know.  Typically, I sit for about an hour.  Settling back in bed, hair in a pony tail, pillows propped up behind me, coffee cup to my side, I position my laptop opening the lid with anticipation of what’s to come, never quite knowing what I will say or who I will be.  I have tales to tell and they seem to keep coming.  I am going with it. 

Writing is my practice and my therapy.  I won’t skip more than a day in a row and don’t skip many days at all.  It’s my quiet time.  For so many of the early days, being quiet was a bad thing.  Being alone with my brain was not something I wanted to do.  Yet, by beginning to write about it, I had an outlet.  I could write the confusion, the darkness and the angst and not feel alone while doing it.  I was speaking to you, you were listening.  I am still speaking to you – and you tell me you are, in fact, still listening.  This means the world to me.  It is what matters most in my life – writing this journey and writing about ALL of it. 

This has been the place where I formulate who and how I am being about all of these changes.  I can vent the yuck here, share the moments of beauty, cry and rail, laugh and write my truth.  This process has cemented something that has cried for formulation for many years.

Another well-meaning friend offered wisdom as I walked through the doors of Fox news to be on live TV – in the studio, next to the anchors, watching the teleprompter – all of that.  I have been on TV a few times during this adventure but it has been taped interviews that are later picked over for the nuggets and my lengthy narrative has been reduced to short moments that illustrate a story.  This was different.  And, they had read my blog and knew about my book, so I was going to be able to speak about that.  My friend said, “you can share how you are dealing with this so differently after writing your book about not waiting”.  I felt myself brace, “No. That’s not true.  I want to share how it’s messy and not linear and unpredictable and doesn’t have to be anything other than it is, and yet, still, there are moments of beauty.”  I think I went on a short rant about expectations of how we should be, our cultures discomfort with grief, how we celebrate the empowered, etc. 

I am about the messy these days – and may be forever.  I bare my soul, share my ugly and angst as well as telling you I can see a flash of green on my tree, or a hawk flying low, or when I pat the velvet forehead of my dog my heart breaks with love.  It is ALL of that.  The concept of a straight line where you neatly move through stages and emerge victorious – is bull hockey.  The idea that you create an empowering context and always, unwaveringly live from that.  Gag me.  I am not going to say that, no how, not ever ever. 

And by now you know, I am not purporting that people stay in the muck forever either.  If you know what I am talking about, you know what I am talking about, capiche?  Let’s just embrace messy, write it raw – disrupt the ordinary in that way.  I am committed to not knowing, to letting myself not figure anything out, to be where I am and not come to “the other side” a moment too soon.  I will not emerge from the cocoon before I am ready.  The permission I have given myself is freeing.  On some deep level of my psyche a small, quiet voice whispers, “finally”.  It’s a full deep breath and a level of acceptance I craved before but never quite knew.  And, when I am completely in an obsessive loop of negativity, it’s strangulating.  But if you dance in your darkness, you know what I mean.  You know the paradox – the relief I of letting yourself be in it yet not always of it.  And, you know equally that “this” state is not a fixed state.  It changes too – with the wind, with the bumping up against another angsty human or even with a bad case of gas.

Some might label this as a lack of choice.  Not at all, I say.  I am choosing to be here.  I am choosing to ride the wave as it carries me to a soft sandy beach to be bathed by the sun. Or as it tosses me against a jagged rock jetty and I am bled dry.  I will see where this ride will take me.  This ride where if I truly let go, and can stay in this place, and not try control the outcome – where might I end up?  I’m not even describing curiosity; it’s more like plain vanilla willingness.  Nothing fancy, just wanting to see. 

Did I communicate any of that live on air on Fox news?  I hope so.  I spoke what was there to speak.  I spoke from my heart to the hearts of those who are beginning to ride the ride in the High Park fire.  Now, I speak it to you, perhaps a little more lucidly since cameras are not rolling and I can go back and edit a bit for more clarity.  Yet, as I re-read my words, I am not sure I am communicating what I want to say.  I think if you know, you will know.  Otherwise, it might not make sense.  Part of being willing to be in the unknown is the challenge of recounting it.  And, I can’t be separate from it right now, so I am describing the experience from down in the trenches.  I am telling you about the blood and the guts and the mud and the bullets whizzing overhead with glimpses of the blue sky.  I am not telling you about the battle that was fought 20 years ago and the wisdom I gleaned and now want to pass on from a place on high…  No.  I am not doing that.    

What I want to provide is peace of mind and heart for those who grapple with life.  I want ease for those who struggle.  Not to get to “the other side” but to embrace being in the midst.  Then we can meet each other there with knowing looks and a warm embrace.  We will see the flotsam and jetsam of darkness and recognize a fellow traveller.  We won’t brush things over but we will know what deserves our grapple and what doesn’t. 

Are you a grappler?  Well, then I write for you.  Do you thrive when you see the rich fabric of the world?  Then, I call to you.  Do you scream to know you are not alone in your angst?  Then, I scream back.

Let’s grapple together – grapplers unite!

The Wisdom of Dr. Suess

And when you're in a Slump,

you're not in for much fun.

Un-slumping yourself

is not easily done.

And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed!

(98% and 1/4 guaranteed.)

From Oh, the Places You'll Go

Ahhhhhh.  The timeless wisdom of Dr. Suess.  He continually reminds us – in the most friendly of ways – of the ups and downs of life.  We silly humans promptly forget and wonder why it isn’t roses all of the time.  What happened to the roses?  Weren’t we guaranteed roses?  Where are those stinkin’ roses!  We want our money back!!! 

Life is what it is, and for sure, it ain’t always roses. 

Early on in this newest adventure in my already adventure-filled life, I was warned by a veteran fire-survivor of all the silly things that people would say in response to our tragedy.  At the top of her list was any sentence beginning with the words, “At least you… (fill in the blank)”.  I could comprehend then – and now I understand completely how this is absolutely not a good way to begin a sentence with anyone who has gone through a recent trauma.  It lands as an insistence that we “should” be grateful at a time where either a) we know that already, or b) we definitely are not ready to hear that, or c) we want you shut your pie hole (and you know I mean that in the most loving of ways…).

I quickly learned to brace for the relatively frequent barrage of “at least you _____” statements.  I smile and nod, or I say nothing, or I change the subject… quickly.  My closest and dearest have transformed this overused retort into something funny.  "Well, at least you are hot.  Or at least you don’t have to worry about anybody reading any of your childhood journals.  At least you don’t have to worry about who will clean out your stuff when you die…”   

In my debut as a stand-up comic last week (yes, you may laugh now at the mere thought), I riffed on the ripe material that emanates from the well-meaning yet clueless folks who utter these words.  Then to my surprise, yesterday I received an “at least” statement with an open heart as it came form the lovely man who, with his crew of two, spent 3 backbreaking days constructing a beautiful flagstone patio for us.  Javier is the epitome of hardworking.  Over the time we had together, we learned a little about his life.  Moving from Mexico to Colorado as a small child, his family owned a large ranch in the Southern part of the state for many years.  Married twice and supporting a family, Javier works by day at a landscaping supply yard and by night (and all weekend too), at his own business of installing patios as well as remodeling and finish work on houses.  Busy doesn’t begin to describe it.  Early mornings, late evenings, non-stop work, who knows when this man sleeps.  Vacation is probably not in his vocabulary.

On Saturday, after finishing most of the patio, Javier and his crew posed for pictures in our driveway capturing the vast vista behind them.  He returned for a brief stop yesterday morning as he had run out of “Breeze” which fills in the crevices between the stones and our patio seemed to grow larger than originally planned.  Driving all the way up here for a 15-minute job, he didn’t miss a beat and generously brought a chainsaw, as he knew that David wanted to take down a small tree that was shading our solar panels.  At one point, I asked his age and he said, “44”.  A bit surprised due to his gray hair and weathered face, I said, “Oh, we are older than you are.”  He, without spite, responded, “yes, but you don’t do the kind of work I do.”  I heartily agreed. 

As he was preparing to depart, he took one last gaze at our panoramic view, the burn not registering as a detraction in any way, and these words came out of his mouth, “At least you…”  I, in turn, watched my heart open to this man as he finished, “… have this land and this view.”  I, again, heartily agreed with Javier. 

Yes, at least we do have this land and this view.  We are quite fortunate.  We have freedoms that many don’t.  We live in a beautiful and serene place even with its most recent scars and destruction.  Herein lies the rich fabric of life that Dr. Suess points to.  I can realize my blessings and still have my slumps.  I can be grateful for how relatively “easy” we have it compared to so many others and I can let go of needing to experience that gratitude at every moment.  

Yesterday at my 12-step meeting the topic was “letting go”, a common theme of conversation around the rooms.  It’s always interesting to hear the many different perspectives on this topic.  Some are short and sweet, others are a tall order.  Many parables were shared to illustrate the simplicity of letting go coupled with our innate ability to complicate and resist anything simple.  Letting go really does sound easy.  And most of us know that it’s not.  It is simple; it is not easy.  We can let go – and then a few minutes (or seconds) later, pick it right back up again.  For many of us, like a ravenous dog with a bone, we gnaw away until our teeth chip and our gums bleed. 

After one particularly moving share, I reconfirmed my knowledge that I will ultimately let go.  I will do it, it will happen, this too shall pass and yadda yadda.  This is the big picture view.  In the small picture view, where most of us live, I need to be where I am.  It goes like this:

Let go, pick it back up, let go again…. Ahhhh space and freedom.  Trigger trigger trigger.  Shit!!!!!!!!!  Breathe.  Let go.  Ok, got it.  I am letting go.  Peace.  Wait a minute – what did you say?  Spiral spiral spiral.  Oh, you didn’t mean “that”?   You really love me?  Ok, I understand.  I feel happy!  We really are ok.  What, the septic is leaking?  Again?  Fuck it all.  God does hate me.  What’s wrong with world?  Why is there so much suffering???  Wow, that’s a beautiful flower.  Ooooh, did you see that baby deer.  Boy, I love my dogs.  Oh no, I have a sore throat, maybe I am getting sick.  Shit.  God does hate me.   There isn’t even a God anyway.  Nothing makes sense.  I am sleepy.  I love my cozy bed in Flame.  So glad to have my feather pillow.  Ahhhh.  Life is good.   Right now.  In this moment.  I hope nothing happens today…

The monkey mind is our constant companion.  Some have an easier time keeping it in its cage and remembering that it tells us a pack of lies.  Others have what we call in 12-step rooms, a “built in forgetter”.  In 1989, I learned this simplest of explanations for the insanity.  I simply forget.  I forget over and over and over and over again.  And, then I remember, when I remember.  Sometimes, I remember more quickly, sometimes it takes me a while.  With a long-term dedication to a path of personal growth comes the experience of having walked through many fires in our lives.  Once we walk through enough fires, we begin to know on some higher level that one day, we will be ok again.  And one day, we will see the gifts.  And one day, the event will recede into the distance becoming part of our history but not informing everything we think, say or do. 

One of the most important things I am letting go of today is how letting go should look.  For this human, letting go is a process not a one-time event.  I am like the weather – sometimes sunny, sometimes cloudy.  Sometimes blowing stink, sometimes pitter-pattering cool drops of rain.  I will open my heart to those like Javier and allow myself to view my world through his kind eyes.  And, sometimes I will wake up grumpy and argue with my husband for no apparent reason.  I will then back up and remember that he is my favorite person in the whole wide world and all I really want is for him to be happy.  And, I will pat his head, offer more coffee and make my amends.  Later, I may moan and groan on hold at customer service.  I will pat my dogs and be elatedly grateful for their presence.  I will celebrate the small amount of “old” things I carried out of my house like my wool turtle neck sweater and hand woven blanket. 

I will forget, then I will remember, then I will forget again.  And, one day, I will remember longer. 

Just don’t push your luck by beginning any sentence with “at least”.  At least for the time being, unless your name happens to be Javier, k?  

Getting my funny on

Last night I leapt into the unknown. In the form of a stand-up comedy routine, 8 other brave women and I took to the stage to test our mettle.  In a nutshell, we rocked it.  The crowd was rooting for us from the beginning.  The majority of the packed house (about 100 strong) were friends and supporters with a few complete strangers sprinkled in.  It was a night to remember – and already I want to do it again.  For us brave souls who leapt, the last two weeks have had their ups and downs to say the least.  We came together for the first time on May 20th for a 4-hour workshop lead by the brilliant Kristina Hall.  A veteran comic with over 25 years experience both live and on TV, Kristina created a flagship program to help women step through fears, find our own unique expression and get our funny on.  The level of power and accomplishment in the room did not lesson our shared anxiety.  Would we be funny, would we remember, what if we froze, what if no one laughed and you could hear crickets???

I said “yes” to this opportunity after interviewing Kristina on my radio show in early March  All during the interview, I was feeling the pull to jump yet I resisted committing.  Aware of the contradiction between this and the premise of my show, I knew that to do anything but leap would be contraindicated.  The opener clanged loudly as I considered my options,

Through interviews with luminaries and leaders in the field of leaping, the “What Are YOU Waiting For?” show will coax you out of your comfort zone as you stand teetering on the edge of transformation. Whether you are at the edge and ecstatic…flying mid-air and freaked out… or waxing poetic as you plummet, tune in to the show that has you jump!

I know I know I know, I told my inner-leaper.  But, really, now???  Do I need to put my fragile psyche through this?  Is this the right time?  Will I be perceived as insensitive for making jokes about my experience with the fire?  Will this affect our legal stance?  Regardless of my screaming concerns, I recognized a personal edge.  Seeing Kristina perform a multitude of times and admiring her genius, I knew I could learn a lot.  Never called to be a comedian, my desire came from the challenge and the extreme level of comfort Kristina consistently displays on stage.  I haven’t seen too many people as “at home” in front of a crowd as she.  Given that 1/4^th of my career involves public speaking, I craved the ease she wears so effortlessly.  So I jumped – and immediately wondered what I had done. 

During the course, I vacillated between seeing the beauty in my material and wanting to run for the hills.  Kristina stressed memorization which has never been a strong suit.  When I speak, I have an outline.  Typically, I know how I will begin and end but fill in most of the contents from what occurs in the moment.  I have a concern that (1) I can’t memorize it and (2) that to memorize will separate me from my authentic expression.  Add attempting to be funny on top of this and it seemed a recipe for disaster – or at least me as stiff as a board and oh-so far from funny.  So, I didn’t try to memorize, then time sped up and the big event approached, and I began to develop a mighty concern.  I always sweat before speaking.  My first “real” gig in front of the general public was in 2009 where I launched into the stratosphere with an opportunity to share the stage with many legends in the field of personal development.  Prior to that, I had spoken in recovery rooms for many moons, but this was different.  I had to create a speech that spoke to a broader audience.  After many sleepless nights, I had a coaching session with speaker superstar Mark Sanborn who gave me a basic formula and helped me craft a beginning, 5 points and an ending.  Now with a framework from which to hang my material, I had some peace.  Though, I still spent many sleepless nights in the month that lead up to the event. 

I thought that the more I spoke, the less I would fear but it seemed that any speech that was the “next” level brought waves of anxiety with it.  Last September, I was invited to speak at a local TedX event.  The month leading up was one of the biggest roller coaster rides of my life.  The angst extreme, I threw myself into my spiritual work.  Some moments during that month, I will never forget.  There was a richness, a beauty and I was a little difficult to be around – to say the least.  On the day before the speech, I threw out my opening.  My topic: “Being a Fierce Disruption of the Ordinary” had begun to feel ordinary.  In a moment of bizarre inspiration as I hung laundry on the line, I made a promise to not decide how I would begin until I began.  Seeming like a great idea at the time, as the day went on, I questioned my sanity.  What the heck was I thinking?  Yet, I knew this was my next level of growth.  I did just that and felt freer on stage than ever before. 

A couple months later, I had another invitation to speak on a TedX stage coupled with much less nervousness than before.  Yet, I still sweat each time.  For my comic debut, I slept better than my typical M.O.  Last Friday as I planned to spend the day preparing, and yes, attempting the dreaded “memorization”, I suddenly developed a severe case of vertigo which lasted all day and into the next.  A few days before that, I thought I had an ‘out’ in that I hadn’t cleared my appearance with our attorney.  I was sure he would not approve, yet after telling him about the course and the opportunity, he gave me the green light.  Damn it!  No way out, unless I quit.  After two days of vertigo, I began to feel the heat of the approaching evening.  Certain that memorization was out of the question; I didn’t spend much time with my material until Monday.  Then a good case of self-preservation kicked in and I rallied, re-typing my material a couple times, reading it a few more, and yesterday going over it as much as possible before the event.  I had the gist – and it was all real-life tales. 

Discovering I was to take the stage first brought another level of angst – and also some relief.  I wouldn’t have to sit in the audience anticipating my time.  I could get it over with, then re-join the crowd and actually be present.  My assigned handler, Jessica, spent time in the corner with me going over my bullet points to attempt to remember the flow.  She intercepted as well-meaning people stopped by to wish me luck and offer their condolences.  I couldn’t converse with anyone prior and continued to beg their forgiveness, as I needed my Zen space.  Finally, the show began.  Kristina warmed the crowd with her brilliance and beautifully set them up to receive us with even more love in their hearts than they had already. 

My moment came… I fumbled with the microphone and was blinded by the lights which truly prevented making out any faces in the crowd.  And, I began.  Laughs came quickly and easily, surprising me utterly.  My system was in rev mode until a few lines in and then all of a sudden, I was there, present – and alive.  A particularly loud gremlin kept telling me to worry that they might not continue laughing as boisterously.  I kept going anyway, slowing it down, remembering to wait as people laughed, recalling that pauses are actually funny in themselves and can create a new level of laughter as the joke settles in.  As Kristina coached us, it’s not so much what we are saying, it’s how we are being.  And, slowing it down and bringing expression makes the words shine.  She also insisted we remain vulnerable – and shared how on the comic stage you can do anything, be anything. 

In my “normal” gigs, I don’t tend to bring edginess but last night there were no holds barred.  Edgy was present, anger was expressed and the crowd ate it up.  At one point, they cheered so loudly that I thought I should just end right there on the spot.  Not wanting to leave the stage, and still having a few more tales, I continued on.  It was over in a flash and I wanted to ride the ride again!  One by one, the rest of the group took the stage.  Everyone was brilliant, gorgeous and hilarious.  For real.  Absolutely none of us had ever done that before – and at least one had never been on stage before, ever.  Each woman shared real life stories with perspective and glorious wit, admitting challenges and vulnerabilities with ease and grace.  We were all unique yet connected by our spirit of leaping into the unknown.  The crowd loved it and cheered us on for the entire show.  We all returned to the stage for a final bow and to pat each other on the back.  We each knew what it took, what we had to deal with and overcome to be there that night. 

Kristina’s talent was unmistakable in the fact that 9 novice comics were actually quite funny.  Even the slight mishaps that some of us had flowed naturally.  Under her masterful tutelage, we all shined so brightly.  Extraordinary to witness and to be a part of, we triumphed as a group.  Early on, when I first got wind of the course, I was drawn but thought I would “help out” vs. actually participate.  There, I could watch from the wings, live vicariously and definitely not stretch myself in that way.  I am so grateful I was willing to leap, fragile psyche and all. 

Big gratitude and admiration to Kristina Hall!  Huge acknowledgment and lots of love to my cohorts (in order of appearance): Charis Charistopoulos, Sabrina Fritts, Jane Wood, Juliana Gregory, Robin Colucci, Elaina McMillan, Laura Lee and Patti Sommer.

And to those of you who supported us along the way and attended last nights show.  We couldn’t have done it without you.  Muchas gracias from the bottom of our hearts and the  funny in our souls.