tanyamg1

[tanyamg1]

Breath work

The music begins, and I feel the frequencies tickling and gently touching my body. The voice comes clearly, “Use the breath as the anchor.” I try to focus on my breathing, only through the mouth, filling my belly, connected to my body. The music allows a small path to open, the opening the size of a keyhole, where a thick and sturdy wall stands as a protective barrier. Thoughts are not linear. I feel my hands eventually start tingling, and the desire to move the energy through my body there and present. My body knows what to do. Trust my body. The music continues to crescendo, drums sometimes, melodies other times, crescendo upon crescendo. Climbing and building. Giving me permission to do that too. And the music together with my breath allows for the opening that my body needs. That protective wall that I’ve had up since I was a child momentarily being relaxed. Almost like a damn that is all of a sudden moving after decades of just protecting, immovable. And just like that…now that it is finally time, that the damn does open, and the emotion flows, flowing through my body, all of it all at once. And as much as I was scared that it would be too much for me, it is not. My body does know. It does remember. And I do trust it. And I let it flow and I let it release and I let it out. The wave a tsunami, but one that exits not destroys. “Yes,” the voice that is my anchor floats through my consciousness. “It is time,” the voice says. And it is time. All this work of the last more than decade leading up to this point to where I can safely and gently let go. As much as it is to do just that. And I feel it, all of it, coursing through my body. It is anxiety, it is adrenaline, it is pain, it is emotions, it is energy, and it has been suppressed all this time, so as to best protect me. And here the visions do come…taking me to key moments - cliff jumping, skydiving, swinging, the top of Lanikai, el temazcal, kambo, the sweat, ceremony after ceremony of wisdom and healing flashing through my mind, or maybe really my body. I remember. I am re-membering. I have never forgotten. Peace washes over me. Groundedness. And I feel my body, clean, strong, unencumbered, not weighed down. He tenido una limpia. And yet…the emotion is now one of bittersweetness…beauty and pain all intermingled. And that is ok. I was able to excavate what needed to be uncovered. The music closes with a single saxophone. I smile to myself. I remember.

[tanyamg1]

Air on G String

So the thing about the process of letting go is that there is also a holding on, and sometimes even a clenching. And it’s that tension between clenching and letting go where the magic lies.

The music gently flows and all of a sudden, I am climbing stairs. But the stairs are very apparently in the sky, and I am climbing, up, and up, and up, and the energy is one of lightness, of anticipation, and of calm. I’m a little confused because letting go implies that something would probably fall, if gravity were to take over. But here the energy is going up, and even up into the cosmos.

But there’s no time to think because then the scene changes again, and I see water, a river, rushing, flowing, moving, the energy, moving faster than I can even write these words. And the energy now is one of movement and action, and it is horizontal. Again confusing because there’s still no gravity. How does a letting go happen if there is no gravity?

At first I was witnessing the river, as an observer, but then from one second to the next, I am in the river. In it, facing up at the sky, but my body flowing now with the water, moving, moving, and I couldn’t stop it, even if I wanted to, but I don’t. I still feel calm, safe, right where I need to be.

But the energy can’t be contained, and so the scene shifts again, and this time I am in that swing that I know so well, legs pumping up, higher, higher. These are little legs, though, as I am tiny, maybe six or seven years old. I am determined to get as high as I possibly can. My goal being to jump out of the swing, into the air, and landing gracefully on my feet. The epitome of letting go. I feel strong, determined, energized.

As I get ready to leap into the air, the scene shifts yet again, and I am back on that mountain top in Lanikai, Hawaii. My favorite spot on this planet. The mountain that I had tried three times to climb up and couldn’t, until I did. The mountain that previously shook my soul to my core because it was there that I truly felt my aloneness on this planet. But I was finally able to stand back up and make it to the top. I didn’t give up. And what was waiting there for me back then? …but a rainbow.

So there I stand now, breathing, feeling awe, feeling beauty, taking in the beauty of Mother Earth. Standing there in sheer testimony, witnessing again.

But then another shift comes. And I feel it. The complete entirety of Mother Earth‘s pain. Swelling up towards me like the ocean. It is the ocean. I feel it coming up through my body, through my blood vessels, through my soul. I hear a gentle voice saying, “allow just a little bit.” Such wisdom. I know that I could not ever handle the entirety of this pain that I am sensing that Mother Earth is carrying. So I do allow just a tiny little bit to come through and I feel it and I feel the pain in my body, and it’s weight, and I feel the tears being born from my eyes, excruciatingly. But I am safe. The scene shifts again.

All of a sudden, it is her, Mother Earth. Comforting me, and hugging me, and I feel her nurturing, beautiful mother‘s love, Mother Earth’s love for me. Unconditional love. Reciprocity. And I am comforted. Oso comes to my mind in that moment. My other example of unconditional, reciprocal, love. Mother Earth and Oso. And as the final melody begins, I am back on that staircase, but this time it is even higher in the sky. And it is an escalator, so I’m moving more quickly up and up and up. But I am also climbing the stairs as well. Moving myself and being moved. And I see ahead of me only light. I pass the earth’s atmosphere and I am in the cosmos. I see the stars, the planets, the meteors. I feel the divinity. I feel the peace. And the final thought, as the melody ends is whispered to me from there. You are divine. I respond to that voice. I am divine. And I unclench. I was ready to let go.

[tanyamg1]

So Now What?

For the last few years I have reflected towards the end of the year, and looking ahead to the next, have chosen a word as a focus for the new year. My word for 2024 was agua/flow, and I experienced both tsunamis and droughts this year, as well as amazing waterfalls. A lot more there to unpack, but the luggage will stay closed for now. My word for 2023 was fuego/blaze, and, in fact, so much burned that year both inside and out. Good thing I am a phoenix. My word for 2025 came to me back in October of this year, and I embraced it then. I felt joy at my chosen word. I felt motivation and inspiration in thinking about this word through part of the fall season. And then the election happened. An anxious shift to preparation for what may come. An urgent refocus on getting ready to fight and defend, as much as I can, as much as my health will allow me to do, as much as my sheer exhaustion will allow me to do. So the little voice of guilt also came – how can I pick a word that requires me to focus on myself, that brings me joy and even pleasure, for this year coming that I know will be very difficult for me and for so many people that I love? How can I seek joy in the midst of so much suffering, including my own? For a couple of weeks after the election, I reflected on this, as well as so many other things. And I realized that I will fight, I will hold space for the suffering that may happen, AND I CAN ALSO hold on to those moments of joy, as challenging as that is for me to do, amidst all the pain in the world. I can cry in pain while smiling through the tears. In fact, I think my survival will depend on me being able to do just that. So my word is the original word of choice for 2025 – exquisite. As in seeking exquisite beauty during every moment that I can. As in searching for exquisite clarity for myself and my future direction over the next few years. As in embracing exquisite vulnerability so that I can continue my journey of self-discovery, trying to honor both my light and my shadow. As in experiencing exquisite joy every chance I get. As in exploring levels of exquisite pleasure into infinity. As in creating moments of exquisite peace consistently for myself. As in honoring and alchemizing my exquisite pain, when it does come forward, every single day. As in striving for exquisite focus and exquisite determination in moving ahead in a year that I know will carry many important decisions. As in never giving up on my hope of an exquisite love, so in the meantime, I will give that exquisite love to myself. As in taking exquisite care of myself. Exquisite –extremely beautiful, and typically delicate. A beauty that is more beautiful than beautiful, but that needs to be held with tenderness. This is the energy I am intending for my life in 2025. And the photo shows the exquisite me, beautiful and delicate, before the world got in. I hold her with tenderness.

[tanyamg1]

Welcome, 2024

For the last few years I have selected a word or phrase as my word or phrase for the year, to try to emulate that energy during that time.  I usually reflect for a time in choosing the word.  For 2023 my word was fuego/blaze.  Little did I know that I would be the one that burned.  But what comes out of a fire?  Steel.  A phoenix.  Hotness.  And, all of that is a story for another time.  But what soothes a fire?  Agua, water, flowing, streams, fluid, liquid, the rain, the ocean.  So for 2024, I choose agua/flow with intention.  Water, that can slowly drip or can angrily flood.  Water, full of a deep wisdom and intuition in its flow and strength.  Streams, that can nourish and that can glide along.  Waves, that can whisper and that can crash.  Waves, that can soothe and that can break. Crystal clear agua, and muddy water.  Water that can shape mountains and move land.  Lao Tzu says, “the supreme good is like water, which nourishes all things without striving…it is the softest thing, yet it can penetrate mountains and earth.” Flow, that moves freely, gently, calmly, without hesitation.  Flow, that embodies movement, a current, motion, and advancement.  Flow, as in being open to the flow with presence and strength, releasing into that flow.  Water, that I can tangibly access and commit to on a daily basis – being present in my shower, while washing my hands; going to natural bodies of water, ocean, river, streams; getting into water and moving my body, swimming; listening to the sound of water’s movement; watching how it moves without effort.  Agua/Flow for me in 2024.

[tanyamg1]

The Last Ten Years

July 2023. My ten year anniversary of my healing journey that started July 2013 in Caux, Switzerland. And what a journey it has been. All the highs higher than high and the lows lower than low, and everything in between. I don’t regret one moment of it, and I am better for it. I have put in the work, and as witnesses God, the universe, and all that is good, know that I have. These witnesses have seen all the beauty, the sanación, the grief, the pain, the awe, and the progress. And this anniversary just represents another point in the journey, as I truly believe my healing will never “arrive” at any particular place, it just enters the next phase. I think back, on my physical and health journey, my illness, my internal work, my shadow work, all of my spiritual work, my heartbreaks, all of the challenges, the things and people that have fallen away, the parts of myself that have slowly bloomed and broken through the surface and continue growing, the forgiveness, the love, the deepest love ever for several human beings that are still out there in the world, but most of all the deepest love for myself. I can recognize key moments, I’ll mention a few – July 2014 when I jumped out of a plane for the first time, December 2014 when I went on my personal pilgrimage to Hawaii, July 2016, when I changed jobs and took on the most impactful and difficult assignment of my career to date, December 2017 when I completed my master’s degree, February 2018 when I was diagnosed with Lyme disease, October 2018 when Oso came into my life, September 2019 when I realized I needed to fall head over heels in love with myself, March 2020 when the global pandemic became the catalyst for my life to explode, May 2020 when my life did explode, May 2021 when I bought my house that is now my sanctuary, November 2021 when I returned to Centro Holistico Luz Azul in Mexico and was right where I needed to be, September 2022 when I had the opportunity to go to Kripalu, after again being put through the fire during the summer of 2022. It was at Kripalu that I was reminded, as I learned in Caux, that my natural state, away from the weight of the world, is to take care of myself. So many other key moments over these last ten years that I will not list here. And now, at the start of July 2023, I have plans to jump again, later in the month, for the first time since I have navigated my illness. The nerves do come in – can I still do it? But I think of the freedom, of the adrenaline, of the aliveness, of the return to my essence, that I feel every time I have done it, and I know I can and will. And I have a faithful certainty that this month marks the next phase. I am ready for it, with my heart and soul open. What that next phase will be will still unfold, and I walk the path, connected to nature, unafraid of where I will end up. Feeling only gratitude for the path, my path.

[tanyamg1]

Fuego/Blaze

For the last few years, I have picked a word for myself for the year. To try to bring that particular energy to that year. For 2022, my word was stretch. And I am proud of myself because I did stretch daily approximately 340 days out of the entire year. And my body is better for it. I created a simple daily stretch routine, and I am more flexible, my knee injury continues to improve, and overall my body feels better. I also stretched in other areas, both professionally and personally. I don’t have the bandwidth to share more about that here in this space. But just know that I stretched in both of those areas of my life the most I ever have. The most.

Just because the year is finalizing, that doesn’t mean I will stop stretching. This is a core foundational word that has now become part of my own core.

So as I reflect on the coming year, and consider words for 2023, I pause and reflect on the fire of the last few months. Yet again, a fire through the summer and into the fall, as it happened for me as well in 2020. And again I am blown away by the beauty and pain of life. By my magnificence in dealing with it all and in seeing the breadth of it all, the complexities. And now, feeling like I have gone once again blazing through the fire and am again coming out of it, just like the phoenix that I bear on my chest. Again, transforming, emerging, reimagining, rebecoming, rebirthing. Yet again. I’ve lost count what time this is. So many times I have said again. For that reason I am infinite, as the tattoo I also now bear, on my left arm.

So as I think back over 2022 and look ahead to 2023, I’ve decided that instead of seeing the fire as something negative or as something that will destroy me into ashes, I need to embrace it. With this in mind, my word for 2023 will be bilingual – fuego/blaze. Fuego, in Spanish, meaning blaze. Fuego & blaze, signifying heat, light, energy, that are produced by combustion. Fuego & blaze, that are an element, and significant to many rituals and ceremonies. Fuego & blaze, that can destroy, yet can also temper metal. Fuego & blaze, burning very brightly and intensely, yet can also ember and sustain.

Fuego & blaze, symbols of transformation, change, purification, sacrifice, magic, passion, divinity, eternity, and much more. So my hope for these last few days of 2022 for each one of you and for me, too, is for abundance, enjoyment, peace, and joy. And may the fuego of 2023 arrive for me, just as it should – blazing.

[tanyamg1]

The Next Phase

Friday was the two year anniversary of the pandemic being a pandemic. Two f*cking years. The anniversary of us shutting down our building at work is this week also. Whoa. So much heaviness over these two years. So much difficulty and so much beauty. What a deep emotional toll. And what a freedom as well. My life is totally different. The way I walk within the world is different. The way I see myself and care for myself is different. The way that I do my work is different. The people I call my people are different. My faith and spirituality are different. I have once again risen from the ashes. The phoenix. And now, the next phase is to lean into my infiniteness. To go deep into the magnificence that is me. Not in an egotistical way, but in a way that involves an unconditional love for myself. Because who else will give me that? No one else but me. Maybe Oso too. In a way that honors my worth as a human being, that honors my right to take up space, and to shine. That is my next phase. No longer healing, but now alchemizing. I feel like I need to write something to reflect on these last two years, but I think about doing that and just feel a deep exhaustion. It is too raw to look back for too long, still. Every so often I do sneak a peek back, but I find myself wanting to look ahead only. Ahead to spring, ahead to this next phase, yes of the pandemic, but more of myself. In 2019, sitting by myself on the top deck of a ferry off the mainland coast of Belize, I had an epiphany. That all knowing voice that sometimes speaks to me said, “you need to fall head over heels in love with yourself.” And that journey did start right then and there, through the rest of my romantic relationship at the time, and even more so since it ended in May 2020. Through all the pain and difficulty of the last two years, my inner work has been the constant. And now, I can say, without a doubt, that I am head over heels in love with myself. The road to arrive there has not been easy, and I honor it, as well as the road ahead. I honor all of the moments that have led me here, to this next phase. To infinity and beyond.

[tanyamg1]

A New Year

As the year comes to a close, I find myself reflecting once again towards the coming year. For the last few years I have chosen a word for the year, as a personal focus. To be honest, 2021 was so complicated, difficult, and challenging, that it is a struggle to even reflect on it at this time. To assess how I did with my word from that year. I am not quite there yet. And I am ok with that. For now, I am ready to look ahead to 2022. And I have chosen the word “stretch” for 2022. Stretch my body more, stretch my self more, stretch beyond. I will strive to stretch my muscles every day in 2022. As I continue to get older, I realize that flexible muscles are one key component to health, and I know that I don’t stretch my body enough. So the physicality of the word stretch is important to me in choosing this word. The other layers of this word are important also. Other definitions of stretch include: to reach out; to extend; to amplify or enlarge beyond natural or proper limits; to go beyond; to be capable of being made longer without tearing or breaking. It is both an act that one can do, to stretch, and that one can have done, a state of being stretched, and it is a noun, a stretch, and a description – how stretchy is it? Stretching externally and internally beyond my natural limits. So I will stretch, be stretched, and be stretchy. Stretch my wings and fly. And, most of all, I do hope that I am in the homestretch. For me, 2022 will be about stretching.

[tanyamg1]

Another Step in Healing, continued

We continued to walk down the steep trail, slowly. My frustration at myself began to get to me, and the tears fell, as we walked. Clara in front of me, and me, right behind with my hands on her shoulders. I found myself asking myself, Why am I struggling with balance, with body pain, with my footing on the ground? Why am I struggling with trust in myself? I wanted so badly to be able to walk confidently down that mountain. Clara continued to gently nudge me, saying in Spanish, breathe, relax, we are not in any rush. And then she said, God only gives trials and challenges to those that can handle them. That means you are so powerful, if you are receiving those challenges. And look at getting through them as the gift that it is. I took a breath, thinking of all the challenges I have navigated recently, and I really began to cry then, releasing all the pent up emotions. So often recently, I have wondered, why me? When I should have been saying, yes, me. Because I can get through it with grace. We continued to slowly walk. Eventually we got back to the point where the huge rocks met to make a portal. The door we had gone through, and were now coming back out of. The trail was less steep from there on. I was back in peace. The gratitude I feel for Clara’s guidance is infinite, something I will never forget. Clara said, the energy of the mountain on each side of the rock door is different. I could not have agreed more. I needed the reminder from that powerful hike that I can get through anything, that I am always on my healing path, and that somehow, there will always be amazing people that will appear, who will allow me to rest my hands on their shoulders.

[tanyamg1]

Another Step in Healing

I am in Tepotzlan, Mexico, seeking sanación y apapacho. Healing and apapacho. Yesterday I went to present myself to the sacred mountain that is here. It turned out to be a three hour journey that reminded me of my pilgrimage up a mountain in Hawaii. There is something about me and climbing mountains and freaking out. Clara, our guide, led our hike with me and and a young German couple that I met when I arrived. We did a ritual to request permission to enter. I saw a hummingbird at the entrance, giving me permission. We women were wearing skirts to show respect to the land. We arrived to an area with beautiful trees. We were instructed to pick a tree, hug it, feel it, then scream - Te amo, and your name. I love you, and your name. Te amo, Tanya. All of us took turns hugging our trees and screaming. It was lovely and powerful. Clara instructed us to walk mindfully, slowly, paying attention to our steps, our breathing, the sounds around us. We walked in silence. It was a bit rocky, and a narrow trail, but not too strenuous. We saw a few cows and several dogs, who she said were the guardians of the trail. Tons of butterflies. Tons of beauty. The sounds of birds singing and wings humming. Eventually we got to the amazing rock, a root tree, and an altar, a sacred space. It was really a rock door. We spent some time here, with our third eye to the ground, and walking around barefoot, connecting to the earth, the energy, the place. She asked if we wanted to keep going up to try to make it to the lookout, and we said yes. She said it would be more treacherous. I was feeling ok to try. We made good progress towards the top. It was definitely steeper, with some leaves and sort of slippery, from the recent rain. We got to a place where it was pretty much a sheer scaling up. The trial we were on just below that part was very narrow, and wet, with a drop off right there. We were at the edge. Above us on the rocky area were some people that had climbed up and were now trying to climb down. And five dogs, the guardians. We stopped where we were, Clara, then me, then the couple. I was right at the drop off, my back to the drop. The dogs started sliding down from the rock above us, towards us. In my mind I saw them sliding down and losing control, bumping into me, and knocking me right off that cliff. That vision was right inside my head, like a movie that was about to roll. I said to Clara in Spanish, whose head barely meets my shoulders, I’m worried they will knock us down. They know this trail, she said. Don’t worry. One dog passed by me on the narrow path, and I grabbed Clara’s shoulder, knowing full well if I fell holding on to her, I would only take her with me. That gave me more anxiety. Eventually the dogs all passed by, none of them losing their footing and none knocking me down. My anxiety stayed high though. Just like that, I let my fear of falling, of hurting myself, of being in a place all alone, get to me, yet again. We decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to continue up, so now it was time to go down. Even though internally I was freaking out, triggered by past challenges on other mountains, this time I was not alone. Clara, of the Pueblo Indígena Popoloca, small, fierce, and mighty, was there with me. She said, vamos con calma, no tenemos prisa, respira y escucha tu cuerpo. Let’s go calmly, we are not in a hurry, breathe, and listen to your body. She instructed me to put my hands on her shoulders, with her standing right in front of me. I said in Spanish, Clara, but if I slide and fall, I will definitely knock you down. She said, that won’t happen, don’t worry, bear down on my shoulders. We walked, slowly, her guiding me, her talking to me, her asking me to breathe, her telling me to calm myself. She said, I can feel you so nervous. Step by step, we walked down the slippery trail, and I did not slip, I did not fall. Continued in next post.

[tanyamg1]

My Guides

I see her, my spiritual mother guiding me through the jungle, the air thick with humidity, and her saying over her shoulder, with compassion, “sígueme, mi niña”. I follow her deeper into the jungle, listening to the sounds of the insects and birds, amazed at the green all around me. We pass a waterfall that showers droplets of water, refreshing on my skin. Eventually we get to a small clearing, and I see them – a group of beings, waiting for me, in a circle. I feel their energy, welcoming, and they all smile as they see both of us approach. My spiritual mother takes my hand and leads me to the very center of the circle, and then melts behind the others. They begin chanting and swaying, and I feel electric energy on my skin, and jolts through my arms and chest. And I am not afraid. If anything, I know that I am right where I belong. The beings, with caramel brown skin and wearing white clothing, continue to chant and sway, with their arms intertwined into each other, closing the circle around me, smaller. Their messages come through clearly – “tú perteneces aquí”. “Estamos contigo”. I feel a jolt of electricity through my body, this time much stronger, and all of a sudden I am in the air, flying, a bird, with wings outstreched. I turn my bird head and see the beings behind me, also now birds, in formation. I am the leader and they are supporting me in flight, as we glide through the air and over the beautiful land. I can see the land rolling below me, as we fly, faster than my imagination. I feel free and liberated. I feel calm and at peace. Suddenly I am back in human form, this time walking up a mountain, in the dark. Once again, the beings are with me, still behind me. I am again leading, but not alone. We climb up the mountain together, to the top, to meet the sun. Once we arrive, they encircle me, again with me in the center, in a group embrace. I feel the mimos that have neglected me almost my entire life, flooding me through their compassionate touches, many hands caressing me gently, as a mother caresses her child. I feel apapachada, safe, supported, and cared for. The beings engulf me with their beautiful energy, and I know in that moment, I am not alone, I have never been alone, and I will never be alone.

[tanyamg1]

A Year Later

The last year has brought more joy and pain combined than all 44 other years of my life.  I look back and reflect, and am in awe.  Of my team, of my community, and of myself.  I remember the moment that I had to decide to close the doors of my community center, with a tsunami of uncertainty, fear, and anxiety barreling towards me; not sure how we would get through things, not sure if I would have the strength and wherewithal to lead, not sure of my own health and safety, that of my family’s, that of my love’s (at the time).  I remember the first Saturday after the shutdown, when I went into work and stood in the dark, empty hall of our building and just wept.  I wept for all that were not there.  I wept for what would come, even though I had no idea the gravity of it at the time.  Ninety days later I had worked with my staff to reimagine ourselves, which is still ongoing, and to begin to offer crisis response services in addition to moving all of our existing programming to virtual and remote options.  We focused on feeding people, on informing people, and on helping people pay for their housing.  We focused. During those first ninety days I also went through a devastating and unexpected personal heartbreak, which included having to find a new place to live for myself and my puppy in the middle of a pandemic.  Shortly after was also the summer of 2020, when everything seemed to be on fire, and many things rightly so.  Through it all I continued.  Six months into the pandemic I had moved into a new home, adjusted somewhat to working mostly from home and to staying away from people as much as possible.  Adjusting to the idea that I was on my own again.  By myself.  Building new self-care routines, spending as much time as possible outside, enjoying music and laughing when I could, finding beauty wherever I could, and trying to keep my fear and anxiety placated.  And the losses continued to mount, as did the beauty around me, through the fall and winter. The depth of both pain and joy simultaneous and interconnected that have passed through my mind, heart, and soul over these months cannot be spoken into plain human words.  Just close your eyes for a moment, take a deep breath, and you may be able to get a sense of what I mean.  I was able to plan out December such that I had most of the month off, a much needed break, and I took a vacation with only Oso (my puppy), near the ocean.  There I continued to weep, but for different reasons.  I wept to heal.  I wept in awe of the natural beauty around me.  I wept at the fact that I have the privilege of accompanying my community during this time. I wept at the responsibility of it all. I wept at the flame of hope that was never once extinguished inside of me.  The new year, spent quietly by myself, brought more hope.  And now, approaching a year of surviving so many pandemics, and at the same time being surrounded by blessings, I am grateful for every difficult moment and for every beautiful one.  I am grateful for the people that I work with and for my community. I am grateful for what we have done (fed close to 20,000 meals over the last few months and distributed close to 1 million dollars to keep immigrant families in their homes), and I am grateful for what we have left to do, which most days is overwhelming.  But most of all, I am grateful for myself.  This year I also etched on my body a phoenix.  Symbolic, yet real, a reminder, and yet a foreshadowing of me. Yes, when I am burned into ash I will continue to rise.  And so it has been and so it will be.  And not only will I survive, but I will thrive.  I do thrive.  That is my promise to myself, today, a year later.  

[tanyamg1]

Target Practice

Recently I decided to shoot a gun for the first time in my life. I had made the decision months ago to try it, probably shortly after the pandemic started, but life had gotten in the way. After the new year, I decided that it was time, plus I needed a new adventure. I made the appointment for a private lesson at a local gun range. I was a bit nervous; I had never even touched a gun in my life. I consider myself a pacifist, and have never understood why people own guns. But I realized, especially over the last few months, that at least knowing a bit about these weapons is important, and I also wanted to try to understand the attraction. I walked into the place and felt like I was in another world. Weapons everywhere, and I felt somewhat intimidated. I was told to wait for my instructor. He was Charlie, a nice older man, that, I was to learn, was very passionate about teaching people how to safely shoot guns. Charlie first talked to me for a while, explaining the tenants of shooting. Being relaxed is key, as is keeping both eyes open to look at your target. Charlie also said that for some people shooting a gun is relaxing. From there he talked me through the thought process of deciding what kind of gun to buy. He suggested that the most important first step is taking your time to decide what you want a gun for. Shooting targets? Self-defense? Home protection? Depending on the use, the type of gun that you should consider will be more apparent. He also recommended trying various guns before deciding which one to buy. Take the gun in both hands, lift it up and close your eyes. Then open your eyes and see if your arms are in the same spot. If they are, that is a gun to consider buying. If not, keep looking. I listened intently. There was a lot more he shared, but it was also a little overwhelming. He finally asked me if I was ready to shoot. Yes, I said, starting to get excited. We walked into the range and got set up. He had an S&W 22 for me to try and then a revolver. He set up the target and explained the steps to load the 22. I tried to pay attention, but I could feel my adrenaline rising and I got a bit confused. He was patient and guided me to load the gun. I started with one bullet. I tried to breathe and relax as I pointed the gun with both eyes open. I pulled the trigger. I felt a powerful explosion and could see the air in front of me expand and contract; it moved with energy. It was loud and kicked a bit, but not as much as I thought it would. I felt powerful. I laughed in delight. Much to my surprise, I liked it! I continued to shoot for a bit, and Charlie said I was doing excellent for a first timer. I actually shot the bullseye a couple of times and many of my shots were in clusters. After a bit we went to the revolver. A little more complicated, but I loaded it with ten bullets and was able to move the hammer and then the trigger. By the time those bullets were gone I could feel my arms and fingers starting to get tired. We reached the end of the time of the lesson. I realized I could now understand the attraction of shooting. I am not sure about actually owning a gun or having one on me, but I definitely enjoyed target practice. Charlie shared with me that guns right now are in high demand and that for many types there are waiting lists because the manufacturers cannot keep up with the demand. I listened, fascinated and a bit disturbed. He shared that since the start of the pandemic, 7 million new gun users have purchased guns. Those numbers are people that did not own guns prior to the pandemic. I wondered to myself, will I be safer if I am the only one without a gun? While I am not sure about my own future with or without guns yet, it may be time for me to at least be comfortable around them. And, for me, now I know that shooting targets is a fun activity. Nowadays I need all the fun I can experience whenever I can experience it. So I may try shooting again sometime.

[tanyamg1]

Looking Ahead

Around the corner is a new year.  What will 2021 look like?  2020 was such a paradox, a year of pain and beauty.  A year of stripping down what needed to go.  A year that I did not think I would see the end of.  A year of the phoenix.  A year when I did not go anywhere, but when I had more growth and went further than in the last few years all put together.  A year of solitude and loneliness, of going inward, and a year when I was more outside than ever.  Such a year of anxiety, and my anxiety flourished while I tried my best to navigate it and what it was telling me.  Such a year of paradox, contradictions, extremes, opposites, juxtaposition, irony, enigmas, conflict, disparities, and fire – everything burned. And from the ashes comes newness, new life, a rebirth.  Last year’s word for myself was actualization.  While it looks very different than I thought it would, I do think I became more actualized this year.  I do think I became a better version of myself, and more myself.  It was forced on me, but I did it.  So now what?  What should my word for 2021 be?  

After some reflection and listening to myself, my word for 2021 is self-possession.  Self-possession – to possess oneself by knowing oneself to the deepest core, and to accept oneself fully and completely, which is my interpretation of the phrase. Self-possession – to possess oneself wholly and completely because no one else ever will; in fact, they will not.  Self-possession –  possess myself so deeply that I have no doubts, no fear, and no limits.  According to Merriam-Webster, self-possession is also “a state of mind or a manner marked by easy coolness and freedom from uncertainty, diffidence, or embarrassment. Self-possession stresses confidence and faith in oneself and one's powers without any suggestion of conceit or arrogance.  Self-possession means assurance in oneself, allowing for a stronger implication of certainty and in assessing one's own powers.  Self-possession implies an ease or coolness under stress that reflects perfect self-control and command of one's powers.  Self-possession implies a manifest aplomb in trying or challenging situations.” I will focus on self-possession in 2021, all the layers of it.  I will focus on myself.  Alright new year, bring it. 

[tanyamg1]

The Significance of Ticks

How can something so small wreak such havoc on my mind, body, and spirit? Since early 2017 I have been battling Lyme disease, a disease transmitted through the bite of a tick, and most carry more than one infection. After almost four years of my health struggle, I have recently only begun to feel that my Lyme is in remission, that I am almost fully myself, that I am back to close to 100%, that I am back to being fully alive. And then, just when I was leaning into that feeling, enjoying it, relishing it, I wake up, on a very enjoyable trip out in the woods, with a tick embedded in between my two fingers. The terror that I felt in that moment seeing it, that black dot, fused with me like a parasite, one with my body, imagining it sucking out my blood, my very life force, while it was passing on God knows what to me. I understandably started freaking out, first trying to dig it out with my car key, then taking a large knife to my own hand, until my friend let me know that she had found a splinter remover in her first aid kit. She was able to get it out, and the pain that I felt when it released my skin was excruciating. It was so stuck to me, attached and hungry. It had enmeshed with me, become one with me for however long it was attached there. It left a small hole in between my fingers and no blood, and also a lot of anxiety, fear, and what ifs. I spent the rest of the day in my head, thinking through various scenarios; my anxiety in full control. What if I become sick again? How can I survive that again? What if it was worse this time? While I was very bad at my worst, I know plenty of people that it has impacted even more than me. I have already lost so much because of my fight with Lyme, what else would l loose? All these thoughts whirled through my mind as I hiked down the mountain, and the tears came. Why did another tick come into my life again? It dawned on me that I needed to pay attention to this last question. This week I also learned that my puppy, Oso, has Ehrlichiosis, another tick borne disease. He is being treated for it and should be ok. I believe that things happen for a reason, so the fact that I found this out, and now I was bitten by a tick just a few days later, AND that now we are both on the same antibiotic, does not seem like a coincidence. It seems like the universe trying to send me a message. What might that be? I do not plan to stop living my life because I am scared of a pinprick sized animal. I will not live in fear and not do the things I love to do. But I also need to make sure that I take care of myself, that I enjoy the ride. These last few weeks my stress levels have been increasing, which is apparent by my growing anxiety, that Tasmanian devil that does not allow my mind to rest, that awakens me at four am, that puts me into high gear even when I am exhausted. That is where I was before, at the end of 2016, when I first began experiencing symptoms. Maybe the tick is reminding me: Tanya, what comes, comes. Go with the flow. Take it easy. Take it slow. As difficult as that is for me, I will listen. I have to. And even if I do begin to experience symptoms, I am not where I was before. I am stronger, both inside and out. And I plan to transform my anger towards the tick to forgiveness, as difficult as that is. I will also forgive myself for being bitten yet again. I will listen to the tick, as much as I don’t want to.

[tanyamg1]

Balloon Aeronaut

After four years of waiting, today I became an aeronaut. In other words, I flew a lighter-than-air aircraft – a hot air balloon. I will admit, I did have a pilot, Gilbert, who has life figured out. So much so that he invokes Peter Pan and pulls it off. Also, the crew, Aaron and James, did a great job of keeping us safe. It was an amazing experience, full of serenity, peace, beauty, awe, and wonder. I arrived at the hanger at 6:30 am and went inside. Gilbert was full of energy and ready to explain things, which is always the best kind of guide. We got ready to go to the take off point, where I would be flying with two sisters. The morning was beautiful and cool, the sun was just coming up, and the basket looked pretty small for the four of us. Gilbert explained that the balloon was about 9 stories tall and once it was full of hot air it would be about 9 houses in volume. We arrived to a field and they set everything up. The balloon looked huge and bright, flat on the wet grass, and in just a few minutes it was full of air and in the air. It was ready for us to climb into the basket. We hoisted our legs over the top of the basket, got in, and we were off. It felt sort of surreal to see the ground get further and further away. As compared to sky diving, the adrenaline rush was lighter, and more about feeling nothing in between me and the view, other than the basket. The sensation of going up in the air was definitely different than going down towards the ground. The landscape of rural Hanover was beautiful and the morning was quiet. The sun highlighted the fog in the distance. I had a couple of minutes of getting my bearings in the basket that would sort of tilt and move, and then I was fine and just taking it all in. Gilbert took us higher, and eventually we could see downtown Richmond, off in the distance. Down below we saw trees, fields, highway, people’s back yards, deer, horses, a few people waving. When we came down to the tree line we could even hear people talking. One car on the highway was so surprised that they stopped in the middle of the road, unsure what to do, but Gilbert had it under control. We went up and down, up above power lines and up above trees. He skillfully would take us up just before the trees, only occasionally hitting a branch. That was the best part, scaling the trees and just missing them. Finally it was time to start thinking about landing. This ended up taking some time to find the right spot. Eventually we landed, in some sort of food distribution center parking lot, right next to a building that had one way mirror glass windows. It was a pretty good bump, and a perfect landing, with us looking at ourselves in the window in astonishment. Incredible. The building was so close and the balloon was still inflated and up in the air. Aaron and James were right there, having chased us for the last hour. They dragged the basket away from the building, so that the balloon would not hit anything as it deflated. We got out of the basket, took the air out of the balloon, and packed it back up. Gilbert shared, “When I teach about flying I tell my students to have at least ten possible landing spots scoped out, for safety reasons.” I asked him, “What number was the one that we ended up landing in?” He responded, “Number eight. There were two other options if we had not made this one.” Impressed, I said a short thank you to the universe. Landings for me are always the scariest part of any air adventure. The lesson for today that Gilbert showed me is to be ten steps ahead, and at the same time, have patience and unwavering faith in your own judgment. Back at the hanger, we gave a toast to becoming aeronauts and Gilbert shared the Balloonist’s Prayer with us. The winds have welcomed you with softness. The sun has blessed you with his warm hands. You have flown so high and so well that God has joined in your laughter and set you gently back into the loving arms of mother earth. May your skies always be blue, your winds gentle, and your landings soft. Here is to soft landings and to laughing with God.

[tanyamg1]

BAILNDO

I have recently been going through a lot in my personal life. Things and people being stripped away from me by the universe, signaling yet another deep transformation, although the destination is yet to be revealed.  The latest was my car.  Una aventura sin querer.  If you have read any of my prior blog posts, you know I do love an adventure.  

One recent morning I walked out with my puppy Oso to take him for a play date to his best friend’s house.  My car was gone.  I was in shock.  Did I forget that I parked it somewhere else?  It had been in a private lot next to a church and someone decided to steal it. I felt small and defeated.  I felt raw and exposed.  I still don’t understand how it happened.  I know it was locked.  There was no glass anywhere, it was just gone.  I was so angry with the universe, upset for it stripping me of everything; it felt that way in that moment, at least.  

I spent the morning dealing with police, insurance, EZPass, car rental.  All inconveniences in the middle of trying to get through my work day.  I somehow got through my live radio show that same morning and shared what happened on the air. The support of my community was incredible; people offering to keep an eye out for it, offering support.  That meant a whole lot to me in the throes of my despair.  By the time the afternoon came around, I was just tired, just done.  I tried to get ready to rest.  But then, a response from the remote start company.  I had emailed them in the morning asking about GPS tracking and the possibility of using it to find my car.  Neither the police nor the insurance had said anything to me about using that function when I told them my car had that feature.  I followed the instructions in the email and activated the GPS in my remote start on the off chance that the car would show up, and poof, just like that, there it was on my phone.  Not even a mile from where it had been parked overnight.  What was this?  My mind whirled.  I had expected the car to be in another state by now, already in parts.  I could see the car in motion on my phone; it showed the miles per hour and it was moving away from me.  I felt powerless, seeing my item that belonged to me and that I needed to live life in Richmond slipping through my fingers.  I started freaking out.  I called the police and they told me, call us back when the car stops.  Omg so frustrating.  I could not just sit there and wait.  I had to do something.  In that moment, I knew I was going after my car.  I walked outside and saw Alfredo Arreola, my friend, coworker, and colleague.  I told him I was tracking my car.  He immediately, no hesitation, exclaimed in Spanish, “let’s go get it!”  No questions asked, he was right there with me, in the passenger seat.  I drove the rental car; he tracked my car on my phone.  For the next two hours we chased it all over south Richmond, into Richmond’s east end, then into Henrico.  

I was on the phone with the police, communications, talking to so many people I lost track, they called me, I called them, driving, screaming, jumping in my seat, plotting with Alfredo, trying to decide what to do next, going back and forth, do we run the red light, we need the car keys, the phone battery is almost dead, we need a charger, what if we pop the tires so they can’t drive it anymore, let’s get a knife or scissors, can the remote start turn off the car, we need to confront them, what if they have a gun, get pictures, get video, we have to wait until the car stops, what the hell is that?!!

The scariest was when we pulled into the gas station and saw them, three guys, getting into my car.  Alfredo wanted to jump out and confront them, but I told him, what if they have a gun?  The one kid saw me and looked straight at me, pointed at me with his finger, and he had a big wad of cash in his other hand.  He looked at me and I at him.  I wondered, what are their stories?  My car looked ok.  Did he know who I was?  And Alfredo did get some video.  I felt literally out of my body for most of the experience.  So we continued to chase them, in spite of the RPD’s lackluster approach that resulted in nothing.  One officer had even come into the Boys and Girls parking lot where my car was, with the driver in it, and then gave up any pursuit, so he got away again.  It was Henrico PD that saved the day, more specifically Sergeant Alley, the salsa dancing cop.  When he walked across the street to talk to me after they had my car I realized I knew him from the viral videos.  Me habló en español y me ayudó a salvar mi carro BAILNDO.  Estoy muy agradecida por eso.  Who would have guessed?  And I was so rude to him when he first called me, my frustration with the other officers and myriad people that I talked with bubbling over.  I did apologize later, and he understood.  So many phone calls and time tracking and trying to find the kids that just wanted to go for a joy ride and party inside my car.  And then, we were there, sitting across the street, watching as they handcuffed the young man.  What do I do now?  The car seems ok, other than smelly and dirty.  I do feel some kind of way with the entire experience.  I do feel violated.  But the trajectory of this kid’s life continues on pipeline that is set up to land him in only one place.  My car has been cleaned, will be checked out, and I will be able to continue to drive it at a time when I really need it.  The items that were taken can mostly be replaced.  There are a few CDs that are special and irreplaceable.  Stealing music from me does hurt my heart.  But the rest?  I now need to make some decisions.  And the transformation continues.

I want to publicly thank Alfredo Arreola.  This act that he did for me I will remember for the rest of my life.  Alfredo, in me you have a friend for life.

I also want to publicly thank Sergeant Alley and Henrico PD.  I will admit, and I already did to him, my feelings about police overall are complicated and difficult.  I have my own prior traumas and negative experiences that I cannot get past.  But the fact that the salsero officer saved my car with the license plate BAILNDO is just too much of a coincidence.  The universe does have a sense of humor.

And after all of this, all the difficulties and beauty in the chaos, I say this.  Ok, universe, I am ready for whatever is next, whatever that may be.