wakatania-blog

[wakatania-blog]

fly

And then she met the full force of the agent of her demise with a bouncing halt.  Silky, sticky threads stuck to her eyes, her wings and her legs. She buzzed frantically in her confusion, anger and panic.  The fly vibrated and jerked violently, up and down trying desperately to open her wings.  The net affect triggered a shockwave that radiated up the network of threads that connected to a lamppost and garage wall.  “Oh my eyes, this hurts, they are so dry!”

She continued to thrash about, which only created tighter confinement.  This is when she began to feel a large vibration radiate back towards the area she was stuck in.  She froze. Tap. Tap. Tap.  Her cords bounced ever so slightly.  Tap. Tap.  The air seemed still. Silent. Violent jerking bobbed her up and down.  Her stringy prison knocked and yanked her about in short violent bursts.  And then she felt the pointy edges of limbs surrounding her body.  An electric current plunged through her body as the fangs pierced through her wings and into the top of her exoskeleton.  For the first time in her pathetic short existence, she lost consciousness. 

Whiteness.  Cold, blaring intense brightness.  Painful.  “Oh no, painful.”  The brightness was more than her eyes could take.  There was no relief to be had, no lids to close, just this barren dessert of piercing white light, enveloped by the black void beyond it. 

Pain.  A growing ember sits where her right major wing once existed.  Now lies an expanding sink hole of liquefied flesh, the poison advances through her bullet of a thorax.  Wave after wave of nausea agitates the pain she feels.. She desperately raises her proboscis hoping to find water that does not exist.  “Why am I so thirsty?”

The spider took it’s first drink off of her when it sunk it’s fangs through her body.  It depleted her fluid volume by half, replacing a tenth of her fluid with it’s venom.  The poison swirled and coursed through the immediate tissues of her body, this further cut off the body’s ability to circulate it’s life giving fluid.  The venom shut down and destroyed receptor sites, making it to unbearable for her to stay conscious. It also further promoted the pain. It also staved off her inevitable death. 

She lay there imagining that she was back on the ivy stem, sponging up the cool clean fluid that accumulated there.  Indeed, the one pure thing she truly enjoyed.  “Why didn’t I stay there? I want to be back there!”  She tried to, bat the right main wing, but didn’t feel anything but the intention of it and another wave of pain.

The prison began to jangle again.  Her battered body bumping and slapping within the confined space of the tangled silk threads.  They ripped across hundreds of her eyes.  Brightness. Pain.  Expanding destruction of her body.  Hairy legs cut through the threads.  From her back eyes, she saw a grey face, with eight round black eyes fixed on her.  The spider crept closer, tapping her thorax with the tips of it’s legs.  It took her into it’s legs and repeatedly spun her around, inspecting her, prodding her.  It spun her back to her original position and paused holding her there for a long while.  She stared into the black eyes making a feeble buzzing noise at it.  A small black hole materialized underneath the eyes. Two white slits erupted and at once were plunged into her wound.  Instantly, the white light was once again, everything.  Her head was pulsing and the wound burned.  She was burning.  Her legs twitched frantically, she buzzed and vibrated with the force of an entire beehive.  Her body pulsed, she felt dry, thirsty. The ache lessened. The thirst persisted.  She still burned.  The pulsing lessened. She felt dull. Heavy.  The light began to blur and dim.  She still burned. And she thought to herself, this creature has the right, it’s got to eat, right?

[wakatania-blog]

body mind spirit

Body Mind Spirit. Body Mind Spirit. I found myself chanting this over and over at the end of yoga class tonight. Why did I need this reminder? Honestly, I'm still not certain, I think I am trying to plant a seed, as they say. In truth, I never really understood the concept that we are not our mind, we are, we are we, I guess. And that the mind and the body are connected. In one hand, I think to myself, no shit sherlock and then, huh? I've never been entirely comfortable with abstract concepts. Yet you couldn't oust me from my head if you tried.  

The mind is where out awareness comes from. Its the seat of our conscience and our consciousness. Yet our body is a partner in our awareness.

The body gives our being structure, it's how we move through the world, how we physically manipulate our surroundings. It's a conduit to what we feel how we feel. Sure the brain plays a part in this experience, but does the mind? Lost on me, I don't know what to say here.

Then of coure, the third factor in my chant, the spirit. Our quality? Our character? What's so different from the mind here? Is it a subpart? I can't believe that I'm even asking the question, actually.

So of course the last aspect I tried to consider is the concept of the mind body. Clearly, there is a connection here, and I circle back to the concept that our mind is not who we are. I also assume that it is in Western Culture that we have tended to separate the two. And I'm not sure why, or how they got separated and back to square one, just what does it mean in the first place?

I'm afraid I could write nonstop for 500 years, and I would draw the conclusion. In fact, I'm not so sure I have many words on the subject tonight. Maybe these are the tiniest bubbles rolling up the side of a champagne glass, popping in the tiny atmosphere above. What's the need? How does one achieve the connection? What is that connection about? Perhaps more time on the matt will bring forth more questions, because I don't see the answers right now.

[wakatania-blog]

the best things in life

I'm in love. Always have been with this person, actually. It's taken me nearly a month to talk about the experience here, as it happened.  Me and O have been close friends for a long time, we have spent most of our time together. Oddly enough, we seemed to beat around the bush when it came to the connection and the chemistry we have for each other. I will only speak for myself here, I was terrified of being rejected. In some ways, the disconnect actually was of great benefit. We continued on as friends and really got to know each other, there was no best behavior to try to keep up. We were around each other long enough to see the real person in front of each other. I couldn't have asked for anything more special.

And now we have that added layer of intimacy and it has been everything I could have hoped for and so much more. Once again, there is a compatibility here that I am extremely delighted about. The trust, the knowing, I have fallen in love with him all over again. I'm giddy at the the thought of him coming home to me, to feel his physical body, to smell his scent, to have him close, I don't have enough splendid words for how I feel about that!

The back story takes place in 2010. I saw him as a new employee, getting his health screen, or rather, a follow up appointment.  I went out to the reception area to call him back and there he was, standing by the couch, tall, really good looking, I was thunderstruck.  Really. I am a romantic at heart, but love at first sight? Come on now, that's nonsense.  But I experienced an instantaneous WOW! at that moment.  And then all I had to do was talk to him, which I am inclined to do with patients. I found out that he used to work in the computer industry and made a total career change, which brought him to where we work. As it happened, I also found out that he spent several weeks at work in my home town.  Apart from that odd little coincidence, I was completely convinced I needed to know him, some how, some way.  And then the appointment was over. That was August 10th. How was I going to pull this off?

Now he would tell you we met earlier. I present my department's information at new staff orientation. He saw me there. Apparently he had his own impression about me at that presentation too. Call it a romantic twist of fate, but I guess he felt that I would somehow be in his life. I'd love to talk more about it, but I wouldn't do his words justice. 

I saw him one more time after my appointment with him, me and my coworker were holding a health event and he came to it. We all said hello, and he went about his business. I asked my coworker if it would be stalker-like to email him and my coworker said, "just a bit". Damn. But what was I going to do? I had to email him, I just needed to find a way to do it without feeling like a stalker! Maybe I was wrong for buying into that belief, I mean, how are people supposed to meet if they don't extend themselves?

Opportunity knocked and I jumped on it. I was headed into work and who should be walking out at this time but O? I said to him that I have been meaning to email him and he said great!  It took me another two or three weeks to actually do it, but in between, it just so happened I was getting lunch and he happened to go at the same time, we made a little small talk and I went on my way. Within minutes, he was standing right near me asking if he could join me. It was one of those moments where you ask yourself, does a bear shit in the woods? Of course I was acting all pleasantly non-challant. Of course I said yes....

And from there, we began emailing each other and then we had our first date, it was at La Carta de Oacaxa, one week before Thanksgiving. We gradually increased the amount we communicated with each other, went on a few more dates and by January of 2011, I was hooked. I wanted this man for a partner, I wanted to truly date him. Only I really wasn't sure how he felt. But it was clear that we were really developing a great friendship. And I had to make a decision. I really liked him, but I realized, I might not get what I want. Could I stand being just friends? I decided it was very worth venturing forth.

By late March, he told me he was going to take waltz lessons and would I care to join him. Waltz? Waltz is an old person's dance. He wants to take waltz, and I am eager to continue doing things with him, so sure, why not? It was the most scizophrenic  experience I had ever had to date. On one hand, I really liked it. It's a sublime dance, as I have said before, it's not geriatric, despite how it looks. But two, I was so nervous about being that close to him, it would almost put me in to a panic! I had to heavily dose myself with holy basil to keep cool. He laughs about this, now that I have told him. :) I had to dose myself up for at least two months, but I did eventually establish a comfort level. But the physical closeness nearly put me over the edge....

But I did grow to be comfortable with him and in the ensuing months, we really shared some very personal things with each other. But in that time, even though I remained hopeful, I grew more doubtful that he had any attraction for me. All I could do is silently hope. And be his friend. By May, I came to the conclusion that I at least had a wonderful friend. And so our dance continued.

We've done so many amazing things together and had many good talks and a lot of laughs. And although I still loved him with all of my heart, I felt I had to let it go, and it was a slow and at times, painful process. I can't go on loving him and not have it seemingly reciprocated, I'm human, with very human needs. And I couldn't go in to a casual relationship with him. If he dated someone else, I would silently die. I mean, I don't know how else to express that, if I were to see him with someone else, it would have crushed me. But I got to a place where it was time to date. I found an arrangement where I was entering into a casual dating situation. But I did not want it to jeopardize the time I spent with O. Now, I am not writing this to expose my love's experience of this or to exploit the person that I was beginning to date. But I guess what I have to say is that in the last couple of months, I was able to let go of some of my fears and gently let O know how I felt about him. And it got to a point that certain aspects of our relationship were discussed, which lead up to the definitive moment, where whatever was between the two of us, well, there was no going back.

He took me to Ama Luna. I was so excited! I've never been to a Cirque de Soliel performance! We were early. We got to talking about buying a house together, we have been talking about this for almost a year. We talked about something else that was so important. He said he thought that we should get married. ERRRRRT! I wasn't surprised. I was knocked in to next Tuesday, in fact. Was this really happening? Granted, I said we have a lot to talk about, he said, he knew that. And then we went in to watch that magical show. It was beautiful and the person that I have loved for so long was sitting right next to me. It was strange and etherial all at the same time. I mean, here was my closest friend, and now we were opening up the door to a new existence, a shift in our story.

That was almost a month ago and we have had a lot to discuss. It didn't take long to feel like a couple either and it's been such a beautiful experience ever since.  I look forward to every moment with him and I really feel 100% open to him now, not that I shouldn't have before, he has always invited it.  I love him so much, I look forward to all of our days together. I feel very lucky that we found each other.

[wakatania-blog]

Zombie apocalypse for snowmen and bliss. 

[wakatania-blog]

Subject to physical or emotional injury

I was watching a TED talk by Brene Brown: The Power of Vulnerability. This concept has always made me squirm.  I've never been comfortable with my vulnerability.  As I listened, she brought us through her journey as a PhD in Social Work, she found out much about vulnerability and as she put it, had a break down, went to therapy for it. Her work began by measuring certain concepts. She started with connection. 

1. Connection. Its what gives purpose and meaning to our lives. It's how we are wired and why we are here. She said, when you ask people about connection, people tell you about disconnection. When you ask people about love, they tell you about heartbreak. When you ask people about belonging, they talk about being excluded.

In her research one thing unraveled connection was shame.

2. Shame and Fear. Shame is the fear of disconnection. "I won't be worthy of connection. "  "I'm not good enough."  In order for connection to happen we have to be seen, really seen.

She spent a year trying to find out how vulnerability worked.  One year turned into six years of study. She divided her subjects, those who had a sense of worthiness and had a strong sense of love and belonging believed they were worthy of love and belonging. The thing that keeps us out of connection is our fear and belief that we are not worthy of it.

So those that believed they were worthy were, Whole-Hearted. What they had in common  was a sense of courage (defined, came from latin for heart,  was to tell your story of who you are with your whole heart). Those who were whole-hearted, had the courage to be imperfect. They had the   compassion to be kind to themselves first and then to others ( you have to be good to yourself first, before you can be good to others). They also had the connection as a result of authenticity, they were able to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they are. The whole-hearted also fully embraced vulnerability, they believed what made them vulnerable, made them beautiful. Not thought of as comfortable or excruciating, just necessary. They talked about it being necessary, the willingness to say I love you first, to do something though no guarantees. They had the willingness to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought that vulnerability was fundamental.

She had a break down from this conclusion.  She spent all this time trying to predict and control, when vulnerability is certainly not about predicting  and controlling. She felt that vulnerability is the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, but also, its the birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging and love.

She spent a year in therapy. Jokingly, she ultimately lost the fight against vulnerability. But as she put it, won her life back. She went back into the research and tried to understand what the whole-hearted did.

She asked the question, why do we struggle with it so much with it?

1. We numb vulnerability: we are the most in debt, obese, addicted and medicated adult cohort in U.S. history. You can't selectively numb emotion, you have to feel all emotions.  When you numb the hard emotions, you numb joy, gratitude, and happiness. We then we get miserable and look for purpose and meaning and we keep finding things to numb ourselves on, it becomes a vicious circle. She posed the question  that why and how we numb, is something we should think about

2. We make everything uncertain, certain: "I'm right you're wrong, so shut up." The more afraid we are, the more vulnerable we are so the more afraid we are.

3. We perfect ourselves and even worse, our children: Which is not our job to keep them perfect,  she says we should take the approach of "You're imperfect and worthy of love and belonging." It is our job is to love and protect them, not perfect them.

4. we pretend that what we do doesn't have an affect on people. 

We need to let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen and to love with our whole hearts, (it's hard)  to practice gratitude  and joy. And to believe that I am enough,  when we stop screaming and start listening we are kinder and gentler to ourselves and the people around us.

I took this talk to heart and if I can spend as much space conveying how I feel about this subject and do just as good of a job, I will. Somehow, I don't think I can, after all, the woman made a study of this concept and went deep into the meaning of it, so much that it affected her on such a personal level that she needed professional help. Think about this, it shook her core. That, in and of itself is not so miraculous, if you ever had one of these moments, you understand. But reconstructing what you think you know about any given deeply held belief is where you peer into that so called abyss. It's terrifying, but can you jump in?

Tears spilled down my cheeks when she talked about the belief in the worthiness of being loved, or accepted, or whatever any one of us chooses to call it. I have struggled with this one at my core. This has always been the demon I face. I have this small voice that says, I like me, why can't you like me? I could argue with myself, well, if it matters so much to me whether "the other" accepts me, then maybe I don't like me as much as I would like to believe that I do. So on the outside, I can behave like I don't give a rat's hairy ass if you don't like me, and sometimes that is the truth. But in those dark dusty corners of my psyche, when something is truly bothering me, something large and fundamental to my core, the demons erupt from the hiding places and they initiate the dance. And I'm left wondering if I am worthy of anything, why am I so unworthy? I don't understand! Oh the defense mechanisms we put into place....

And then I shake my head free and tell myself to snap out of it. In fact recently I began going to therapy because of one of those episodes.  And it was brought to my attention that to my core, I am an optimist (even if it doesn't always seem like it). I am. And that I am loved. And reminded that I am worthy of it.  And that aspects of the world will always remain abundant, verdant and sunny. The dank, musty places in the world are eternally not alone and I am thankful for that.  To make a reference to Brene's talk, you cannot experience and appreciate the full range of good emotions without know the hard ones and it holds true to the inner working that make us who we are. 

So what of my vulnerability? I don't know when it was that I tried to understand it, especially since I think we all face and run from our vulnerability throughout our whole lives.  But I'd say as I have gotten older, I do try to stand up to issues I'd rather run away from. I'm not suggesting that I am always successful, I am terrified of moments that could expose how I feel, based on that deeply rooted shame that in showing the real me, you might reject me, or maybe even worse, that I might have to face myself. That is one of the most painful things to me, but I have to keep trying, right? Otherwise, I don't get the reward of feeling the joy. And sometimes there is such exquisite beauty in pain. Yes, I love and embrace my pain too.  But it's one thing for me to square off with myself, but to yield to another? I'm still learning. I'm thankful for the opportunities that come my way. But I would have to agree with the Whole-hearted, our vulnerability matters. It makes us beautiful, and I'm talking about that inner radiance.  When we are willing to be courageous and take that leap, we get to experience, period, end of sentence. When we don't take that leap, we could be missing out on something wonderful. True, you could fall and get hurt, it's a risk we take. But what is life without those bounding leaps? A life not lived.  I may be afraid at times, but I love taking those leaps.

[wakatania-blog]

so a funny thing happened on the way to the museum

So there I was sitting in my parcel of cube farm. A friend who works down the hall had some work to finish and then we were going to see an exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum.  I had time to kill so I began to perform a search on someone I did not know, my biological father.  Now i would like to set the record straight and say that I have always had a father, always felt loved, it just wasn't by the person who owned half of my genetic code. This is ok, but ever since I was a little kid, I had questions and my mom couldn't answer them. I give her a lot of credit though, she explained to me when I was five that there was this person out there who was my dad, she explained it in a way that could be satisfying for a five year old.  I could go through life know the truth and feel solid about it. It's my opinion that if you want to ultimately give your child peace of mind about this subject, just tell them the truth, and support them if they have questions and feel the need to find out more about the person. In the end, the kid always finds out, and if they are older, it's more devastating to hear this truth. I know because I watched another cousin go through it, the truth was withheld from her and it was painful to watch. In the end, she found out and although things are good between her and her father, there was pain in that conversation. Years of yearning too, because the kid sensed something was different about her.

So there I was, at the computer, perusing google. I started with the LDS website, but wasn't sure I wanted to subscribe to their site, not to mention their are over 1300 people with his name. I renewed my search and of all things, a book review comes up. I read the cover bio and the details about his life in Syracuse, New York were too outrageously close to be coincidence.

That night, I went home and told my sister about my findings. We looked up a video montage he has on Youtube.  I said, well, I think I can see the resemblance. She said, yup, you got his chin!  Apparently pointy chins are a prominent feature in this clan... So, I continued my search by reading part of his book on-line and everything he had to say about Syracuse just further contributed to my agitated state. In this small bit of information and in the course of 30 minutes time, my identity shifted fundamentally. It was one of the more surreal moments of my life.  I found out that I wasn't just English and Irish, I was German and French-Canadian too.  That I have three other siblings out there some where and that they are all brothers, I don't have brothers. The alcoholism is prominent in his family line, both parents and his mother's parents as well as some of his siblings. So I have a few thoughts about nature versus nurture! At any rate, I was a live wire that night and I couldn't fall asleep.

I sat there in the dark with my eyes burning a hole in the ceiling. What do I do? How do I find him? What if he won't talk to me? Back to the computer, it's a great insomnia enabler. I went to Linkedin and found that he did have an account, so I upgraded my account and sent him an email. I think he wrote back in a matter of a few days and we have been communicating ever since. I don't bug him a lot, I want to respect his privacy, but he has been very agreeable. In fact, the first picture I sent to him, his response was, "I see you've got my chin." I think it is safe to say that smart ass must be a genetic trait!

I still marvel that I managed to connect with this person, I had reservations about it for a long time. I had mixed feelings about contacting him, maybe some of it was fear, or resentment. I don't harbor resentment towards him, he had to live his life the way he saw fit and I did not want for anything growing up. And he is unbelievably honest, something I feel can be under-appreciated these days. I wondered if I was going to go my lifetime never having the benefit of getting to know him before it was too late. I'm glad I made the decision to extend myself. It's odd looking at him and seeing a bit of me in his face. He has lived a weird and wild life, there is nothing mediocre about his experience, not one bit.  If I wonder where I get a part of my color from, I need only to look at him.

[wakatania-blog]

My waltz instructor is gone and Seattle will never be the same without her

I found out yesterday from a friend that someone that I have come to know and admire, died from the flu.  I was at work in the powder room when Sharon said to me, "Did you know that Dean's dance partner died?" She might have well clocked me upside my head for the force of that news. I could feel the confusion and bewilderment well up as did the tears. You see, she was my first dance instructor at Century Ballroom, she and Dean taught waltz. 

Susan was an artist, mixed media. She also co-created the Valse Cafe Orchestra with her dance partner. They performed live music here in Seattle for the waltz community to dance to.  According to Dean's email to everyone, she was a close student of philosophy, loved to teach her students about musicality and the dance. She even co-created the Eileen Fisher clothing line. What you don't know about a person until they die.

What pains me the most about all of this is that she was 63, my mom's age.  From what I gather, she fell ill on Monday and died on Wednesday. As morbid as this sounds, I recalled the English nursery rhyme "Solomon Grundy". in this case, Fell ill on a Monday. Died on a Wednesday.  Just like that. And I want to climb up on the tallest building a release a yawp so great that the whole city could hear. I'm part of a team that provides flu vaccination for healthcare workers.  I expect the general public to be ignorant about the flu, but it never ceases to amaze me how ignorant health care workers can be about it. But that's a different blog post. Here is someone I had the privilege of learning from, I haven't seen her in a very long while and if I only knew...  She was a multitalented and intense person. She offered so much, and in a flash she was taken from us. I now can personally say that I know someone who died from the flu and that this is not 1918. And why? Flu is treacherous. For most, not a big deal per se, but when it takes a person down, it's swift and powerful. 

What I can remember about her was her smile, the light in her eyes and the way she and Dean sliced across the floor. They were like ribbons being carried off by the wind.  They were light on their feet and magical to dance with, and magical to watch.  When my dance partner first asked me to take a waltz lesson with him, I had mixed feeling about it. I mean, waltz? Seriously? It's an old fart dance, is he crazy? On the other hand, I'm pretty easily steered into trying new things and I thought, sure that's a no-pressure way to get introduced into partner dancing, right? I couldn't have been more wrong.

Waltz is actually a big challenge; understanding the tempo and the cut-across space that you do in synergy with another human really takes concentration. And practice, practice, practice! I know, that's true with all partner dancing, but I tell you, this is wholly different.  The amount of effort that has to go in to understanding this dance to make it look good takes so much more time than most dances (in my opinion).  And it's not an old-fart dance.  Its powerful. Elegant. Sensual. Yes, sensual. I primarily dance salsa and we all know that salsa has that animal magnetism quality. The sensuousness of waltz is deeper, it's not surface level. I don't want to suggest that salsa's sensual quality is by any means superficial, it's just more readily obvious. With waltz, it erupts from a quieter, deeper place. I equate it to the first time you have sex slow. Exuberant, wild sex is fun, electric!  But that really good sex you have with someone for the first time with none of that super-charged sexual energy is in fact, more penetrating. No pun intended.  I love salsa, it's my main dance, but waltz was transcendant for me. Hands down, waltz gave me a bigger high than salsa ever could. I wish to God I could say it was different, but it's true. Waltz was the first time I ever had sex slowly, you might say. It's a different kind of intimacy.

I wish everyone could see the connection between Dean and  Susan. I'm sure that this connection did not come over night for them either.  But it was very clear through their dancing, that they had a deep knowledge about each other. They were close outside of the dance hall, but their communication on the floor clearly broadcasted this knowing that they had for each other. This is the very thing that me and my dance partner are evolving towards. We are growing with one another and as of late, I have a greater appreciation for our kinesthetic dialogue, I feel I understand him more and more when we dance. It has taken a long time to move out of my own head and in to our space. I still struggle with it and I have many disconnects, but it's getting better. I'm hoping this makes me a better dance partner for him. It's a process with many layers to it. As much as I like to think about it, partner dancing's true philosophy comes from the soul of two people who simply want to connect. Dean and Susan talked vividly about this interplay and it was clear that it was something they understood well. I can only hope to continually absorb this knowledge and bring it with me to the dialogue me and my dance partner have when we're on the floor.  

I will always hold dear to me what Susan had to offer to us in the dance community.  The magic she and Dean created on the floor and the luck that I had in the person who was to become my dance partner saying to me, that he signed up for waltz and would I like to take the class with him? My heart aches for the void Dean must be feeling now, that she won't be cutting across that floor with him ever again. I'm sure it was just three days before she died that they were giving lessons to people showing them how to spin. Place their damn feet! She was a stickler about that foot planting that we do in waltz. But I hope he can take comfort in the beautiful thing that he had created with her. I hope he can find solace in that he knew her, that he had this elegant, spirited and fine thing that he shared with her.  That what they created together is, simply put, magical.

[wakatania-blog]

how do you show and not tell?

I have an idea for a short story, and although it's not going to fill my blog any time soon, the exercise I have in mind is to focus on showing, not telling. Which in my opinion is easier said than done. But this is something good writers do.  What's my topic? The house fly.  

Did you know that their average life span is close to three weeks?  They are presumed to to transmit approximately 65 diseases to humans and whenever they land, they are either defecating or regurgitating. They also constantly salivate. More reasons to dislike the little suckers.  

But there I was, on the way to my garage when I looked up and there was this house fly caught in a spider's web. Not an unusual sight, but what struck me was that is was under the harsh light of my lamp post.  I wonder if it was still alive in some semiconscious state, periodically coming in and out of consciousness under that harsh light. What was it like to be flying along, only to get violently bounced to a halt and to find that it was caught in sticky threads?  Instantly, the preditor comes out and sinks it's fangs into the first part of the fly's body that it come into contact with. And then then venom courses through it's small body, does it liquify body parts? Is this little creature already gone, or does it's life slowly, painfully ebb away under that harsh, persistant light?

See, I can describe this, as unpleasant as it is, but how do I show you this?  I'll try to find a more pleasant image next time around....

[wakatania-blog]

The art of letting go

I just had my annual review on Friday and it did not go all that well. I'll admit, i don't like my job and haven't almost instantly since I was hired. That was almost seven years ago.  Why did I stay? Well, for a very long time, i wanted to make it work, but the fact is, I really don't jive with the culture of this place, I never have. I completely "checked out". In the time I have been there, I have applied to at least 15 places. I have been on 6 interviews. I have either rescinded my application, or there just has been a better candidate than myself for the job.  So it's kind of left me no-where. I also have not been overly aggressive in applying, particularly in this economic climate.

When I saw the review score, I knew exactly where my supervisor was going. I then commented that i will be actively looking for work, after all, i don't want to burn bridges, i simply just want to leave and leave on my own terms. Am I worried? Yeah, a bit, i haven't has success leaving as I mentioned, but more than anything, I felt relieved. Not to be negative and trash my place of employment, but I really hate it there. To say in that review that I can no longer deny that this isn't "a good fit" lifted 40,00 elephants off of my chest: I took a free breath that day. Admitting it publicly was amazing. 

It made me think of all the years i spent practicing self-restraint on so many things, what a waste of time. I'm not suggesting I am cured, but I think I am on a fantastic journey, one that I have struggled to initiate.  

One: it's time for a mid-career change. i have no idea what this is going to look like. For now, i will stay in my chosen profession, but as soon as I have some semblance of what i really want to do (all roads do seem to point to writing), i'll go back to my roots as a nurse that does patient care. Who knows, i might end up liking what I do again if I work with patients again?

Two: I am forever in my head, why aren't I living out of my heart? I don't know how or when it became normal for me to spend nearly every waking moment analyzing everything. What happened to just letting go and enjoying any moment for what it is? Come on, who do you know that often seems a bit care-free? I'll bet they are a happier person. They might not be the smartest or most successful person you know but for better measure, are they happier than most? I think they have something there.

Three: Who the hell am I anyhow? I'd like to figure that out most of all. I haven't had a poignent opinion since.... I don't even know. The Clinton administration? What do I stand for, what do I want, what do I like, all of that. i just want to wake up from this boredom! Yes, I'm bored. Not with everything, but definitely my occupation and we spend a hell of a lot of time doing this. Even in this day and age, I would love to actually like what I do, because it's been nearly seven years since I felt that way, and even then, i think the world was telling me maybe it's time to exit the world of nursing. Why has it taken me all of this time to accept this?

I guess some day in the future they will be a post on how I developed a plan and executed it, that is, letting this shit go. But that isn't today. Today is being able to take an un-jagged breath and accept that it's ok to part ways with my current reality. To create something new, pave a new roadway for myself. Feel the air enter my lungs and feel the promise of a new future.

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Salsa: would you just lose the left foot, huh?

So, in my journey of becoming a better dancer, I have had so many validating moments that I'm improving. I get compliments for my ability to spin and keep time to the music. I'm even getting better at sensing what the lead is telling me to do (aka: just behave like a follow). I've taken third level salsa for the better part of the year and I feel it's time to move on to the fourth level and except a new level of challenge, I'm ready.  And both thursday night at class and friday night at dance, I fell right on my ass.

Now, I get a good laugh despite myself when stuff like this happens, I mean, what are you going to do?  After all, it is pretty funny, perhaps it appeals to the "Three Stooges" side of my personality.  But sometimes a good ass-plant reminds one of what they don't know about the thing they do reasonably well. There are so many things to put in your mind about what you are doing while you are dancing and yet your mind also needs to be somewhat blank, it's a delicate balance.  What do I mean?

Technicality, musicality, dance for dance sake, engaging your core, dancing on the right parts of your feet, as it were... or in my case, was not.

I'm going to a workshop on Ladies Styling today. Lets hope for the best. I'll keep my left foot and my right. Hopefully, they will stay under my ass instead of me landing on it for a change!

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birthdays

I meant to write this a week ago, I turned 42 last Sunday.  It's kind of an odd place, no longer young, but not old. A significant amount of life experience, but no need to truly slow down.  Of course, 42 isn't a milestone year. I don't know if I believe in milestone years, they all have their unique beautiful moments as well as their challenges. The one thing I think most people would agree with me is that as you become older, time sure seems to speed up. I asked myself not so long ago, what fuck happened to my thirties? Much less my twenties.

If I could advise anyone on this matter, I'm not so sure I would offer up any unique advice, just dream big , play hard and fuck up in your twenties (not too hard). Seriously, I wish I wasn't so caught up in figuring out how to be a tax paying law abiding citizen! I should have dumped the boyfriend and traveled. But I didn't. No regrets, I carved out a pretty decent niche for myself and it brought me to this reflection.

I'm still tripping over my thirties, I could have used them up better too. But I will still maintain that they too, were preparation for bringing me to this place. They weren't so bad [my 30's], but I feel I was in a holding pattern of sorts there too.  What would I have done with them that would be so different? Probably nothing. I went back to school, did a little traveling. Explored men a little bit. Maybe I didn't think enough. Maybe I spent a decade groping around in the dark. I sometimes still feel that way, only I've been in a slow, looming clumsy existential crisis for quite some time. I'm really not trying to sound dramatic here, but I think some realizations are, are.... rising up? Coming to a place where I can't ignore them?  Maybe I'm finally growing up?  Sometimes I feel so retarded and at the same time to my foundation, unrepentantly optimistic. After all, I am retarded like that.

Optimistic? Yeah. I regard life in general as an opportunity. I'm not suggesting that I have lived mine to the fullest, but I recognize the potential out there and I have done pretty ok.  Maybe being in my forties has put me in that weird, but not so unique position to question what I've done and perhaps where I am going and how I want to steer the course of what remains of my life.  I'm thankful for the insight and although I struggle with what to do with myself, I feel happy and lucky to have the chance.  How many people fuck everything up for themselves? Plenty. How many people are just plain robbed of it? Plenty. How many remain unaware of the possibility? Plenty. I suppose and that's the bigger travesty.

For years I have grappled with accepting my profession, not the best use of my time as it doesn't define me. Yet occupation is often one of the places that we assign purpose.  I have written about adding writing into my repertoire of skills. And why? Because it was identified as something I had a natural talent for, and I have denied it all of these years? Why? I guess I have been had by that all too common trap of what I should be doing.

In the mean time, I can continue to do the things that bring me pleasure. I can try my very best to dissociate with what pisses me off about work. But what about these 40 or 50 years I might have left? What should I keep, scrap or incorporate into my life that would bring me whatever it is I think to be grand, worthwhile, full of promise and opportunity?

So where does that leave me thinking about my 40's? I think one of the biggest challenges I need to address in this decade is self censorship.  I have practiced the art of restraint in many facets of life for a long time. Afraid to stick my neck out, after all it might get chopped. Afraid to talk about my feelings because I hate exposing the raw, tender underbelly of those feelings, fear that they will be poked at, made a mockery of, negated, neglected.  Weary of making a stand to opinions I don't agree with. Really, it's been a long time since I felt the need or wish to hold my ground when I don't agree. Mostly because I'd like to add the fact that I think you're a cunt-rag to the dialogue. Rather counter-productive, really.  

In all seriousness though, I don't feel in touch my my opinions any more, can't remember the last time I have. This, I think are the very things I have been groping around in the dark with.  Maybe I'm simply trying to redefine who I am and what I got going with the last half of my life. In the end, I'm not so sure so much will change. I hope to be learning, reading, writing, dancing, cooking and loving for all my days.  Maybe if not for anything with a bit more purpose, clarity, and reckless abandon. 

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Do I look happy?!

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getting away is great, but it makes coming home sweet too.

And on the 5th day, I arrived home at 3:14 and it was good....

I went camping with a friend this week and I have to say, I think I'd like to make a habit of leaving town the week of Labor Day, just when everyone is saying good-bye to summer.  The obvious: the weather is still nice and there are by far less tourists no matter where you go.  We were ambitious, we left Seattle at 9:45 Sunday night and headed down to Big Sur, California. With rest stops, gas and meals, we arrived there at 7 p.m., not too bad.  Three nights of camping, there is nothing like sleeping in fresh air. Despite having a sleeping mat, I'm not overly crazy about sleeping on hard ground, but it's part of the experience (i'll admit, my mat sucks, it's no Thermarest).  

I do feel compelled to explain that I really never went camping before the age of 29. My dad was a Marine and had more than a lifetime of humping up some hill weighted down with military gear. For the fact that he had two daughters, I'm believing that it was an ample excuse to not have to do it again. Ever.  Still and all, for me, 13 years after that first experience, it's still novel.  

Cooking outdoors is yet another pleasure to me. I'll confess, my friend did all of the cooking and it was lovely to be taken care of during this whole experience because he's a good cook!  He does his best to cook with fresh ingredients as much as possible and never skips out on taking the time to prepare a good meal. Lots of cilantro, limes, avocados and chiles were in many of the meals, after all, we were in California.  We learned that avocados are truly cheaper there than in Washington, seeing that they grow there. This spurned on conversations about sustainability, the Eating Local concept, but that's fodder for a different blogpost.  We also did a great deal of lying about, sleeping in, catching up on reading books, both of us brought at least 3 things to read.  But above all, what I love about camping is just letting my senses get hit with a full-on blast of camp ground goodness, this can put me right no matter what. Now, I've only done car camping, so I know nothing of packing it in, digging fox-holes, or any other glamorous aspect of that kind of camping.  I'm ok with that. I'm sure it is worth it, but I think I can live with my compromised version.  Point being, it is still a visual, auditory, olfactory treat. It's quiet enough to hear the wind blowing through leaves.  It's the pause from my regular schedule that makes me notice it all the more. And the world is a stage, the main players this time around were jays, crows, squirrels..... and screeching toddlers. You could set your watch to the toddlers, bed time was not popular at the camp next door.  Good thing I don't wear a watch :)  I can't positively say that the animals were working in concert with one another, but they sure knew how to case a camp site, it was suspiciously well orchestrated.  Crows and jays posted look outs, and squirrels were just common sneak-thieves. My favorite was a squirrel who made away with a Cheeto, walked over to our campsite, buried the thing five feet from our fire pit and tamped down on his freshly buried booty for better measure. If he only knew one of the jays promptly dug it up 30 seconds later...

Although I relished just lounging around, we're not idle people. We visited Mission Carmel, Hiked 10 miles in Andrew Molera State Park, observed many wondrous flora and fauna at Point Lobos State Park (didn't see a single wolf, by the way), and visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  

Once our three days were up, it was in fact, time to go home, especially since we were on the road for about 20 hours.  But you know, sometimes these trips are very much worth taking, you get to see your counterparts at their best and maybe sometimes at their worst.  Through and through, it's a shared experience and one you won't forget. And as you sink into a hot shower and a cushy mattress for some well deserved sleep, you might replay elements of the vacation in your head, or perhaps think to the next adventure you go on. But right now, you relish your surroundings, the familiarity of it and regaining the momentum of your normal routine.  Its so cool to get away and visit places, but it sure is good to come back home again.

 And to my friend, the trip might have had some trying moments because we were tired, but I was grateful to just spend time with you playing around at the edge of the earth, thanks O.

Here's a few photos, unfortunately, I didn't take pictures from Andrew Molera State Park, the view was, well, I hope you get there some day, because my words just won't do!

Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park

Mission Carmel

Point Lobos State Park

Monterey Bay Aquarium

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Learning

I've been in this continual agitated space, for the span of at least three years, talk about a rash?! At first, I pegged it as just being unhappy with my job, but that's just an overtone. I'm feeling a huge change coming about and for one, yes, I would like to change something about my career. I have been examining technical writing as a potential career change.  I have a journalism degree I never used and the draw to write is so heavy.

When I get like this, my mind positively bounces off the wall, I mean I get really hopped-up and take huge dives into fact finding. My way of dealing with my un-ease is to devour information, all sources of information I can muster.  Whatever it is.  Hemingway, Pulitzer-Prize wining authors, antique SCUBA gear, the recipe for a Corpse Reviver; these searches are a repository for random fancy that seemingly lead to no-where! So, it's not necessarily productive, to tell you the truth. My lodestone this time is: LEARNING.  Not that two hours of searching is comprehensive, but don't we all have better things to do with our time?  In truth, I came across an interesting blog, I rather like what the guy had to say.

Stephen Downe's blog: Half an Hour had a post entitled "Things you really need to learn".  While I was sifting through information about how to be "well-read" or what it means to be "learned" or what kinds of titles should be on my list of things to read; Stephen offered some pragmatic advice.  His top-ten things apply to life, which of course is bigger than knowledge.  For starters...

1. How to predict consequences

If everyone could tell their child to grow throughout their whole lifetime thinking about this, they would encounter less strife, period.  I'm not suggesting this would prevent, hurt, heart break or harm, but it would surely save them from some big mistakes. I'm also not suggesting that we as humans shouldn't go through the not-so-lovely experiences or feelings-- this is often where we experience character building and significant growth. Yes, I am sure we would rather not experiences some of the situations that are thrown at us, but they do contribute to who we are. These experiences or more to the point, conclusions we draw about how things might pan out could be the difference between life in prison, a humble, mediocre life or even a wondrous, extraordinary life. What would you choose?

2. How to read

Downes is not talking about literacy, more, what kind of writing are you reading.  The Argument is but one example. But in simple terms, are you reading bullshit and can you decipher the difference?  Why is this important? For starters, can you think for yourself? We are in an election year and we are forever bombarded by a barrage of negative campaign ads.  I'm not politically savvy, mostly because I hate the negative campaign ads. Democrats can nearly always count on my vote because of the things that get me emotionally charged.... there is Republican in some parallel universe doing the same thing I do, and so we go on and on in a perpetual circle, possibly getting nowhere. Point being, maybe if I read a little deeper, maybe some of the views I otherwise might oppose, might not seem so sinister. Then again, reading might also strengthen my original opinions too.  Really, do we think for ourselves or glom on to what our friend, parent or influential figure has to say? It doesn't mean they are right.

If that example is too charged up for some of you, how about every time you click "I accept" when you buy something or use something on line? You are waiving rights that you otherwise have if something goes wrong.  It may never be that you are harmed by some product that you buy at _____ or utilize on _____.com, but I think it's important to know what you're doing.

Pick your reason, but at what point do we decide what we believe in, stand for, desire to preserve, communicate? We do much of this by what we take in (not necessarily all by reading). At nearly 42, I'm beginning to wonder if I know at all what I believe in. I certainly don't read as much as I would like.  Part of my desire to fill myself with learning is know what sources I wish to get my information from and then make sense of them. As people, I'd say most of us, myself included, have a tendency to go with the flow because it's easier.  It doesn't make it better.  This isn't about being able to feel intellectually superior, but rather intellectually enriched, actually it doesn't even have to be that. Knowing what you are reading can be protective. Or just an exercise at sifting through the content presented and being able to make an informed opinion about it. This is where great conversation stems from.  The world is indeed flat. Isn't it? Last time I checked....

7. How to learn

Although Downes has 10 lessons in total, I cover three, this isn't a dissertation, right?

As for learning, we have learned to learn by writing it down and memorizing it, or drilling the skill over and over until we "get it right".  I'm simplifying, but the majority of our formidable years are spent regurgitating what our teachers tell us. It has it's place, I guess. For all I know, maybe things are different from when I went to school.  Downes does mention that the memorizing of facts is a type of learning, but talks about repetition as how learning takes effect. He explains that it is in recognition of patterns that we do our learning, seeing patterns as a connected whole, rather than just memorizing facts. Then perhaps we can also do something juicy like think....simultaneously. Whoa.

That being said, I'm coming to believe that perhaps my approach should be to observe the patterns in my own life; what makes me tick? Maybe I shouldn't worry if I remember the words of Chaucer or what a scientist has written in a journal last month..... unless it does turn me on. What do i love?  What do I know about? It lies somewhere between a thimble and the deep blue sea!

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aspiring writer

A subject I have run away from and back to for the whole of my life.....

I want to write.  But one has to write in order to write. Right?  So why don't I?  Confidence. I think.  When I was in high school, my mother was hell bent on ensuring I went to college.  I wanted to go, but not necessarily because I was motivated, in fact I had no inkling about what I wanted to do, nor was I very certain that I had an interest in anything.  So she dropped me off at a Kaplan center and I took a test that helped narrow down what my interests and abilities leaned towards. Being a buyer was one of the things they prescribed. Journalism was another. I think there were a few more, but it was the journalism that I settled on in the end. 

So off to school I went and graduated. In the weeks leading up to finals, I began to develop an opinion about my experience over the last two years at school. I deducted the most brilliant conclusion that I could get a PhD in journalism and that would not necessarily land me a job. For the longest time I thought this was a logical assessment. I have even used the excuse all these years that I am pragmatic (thus have spent 23 years in healthcare). It wasn't a bad segway into what has become my professional life, honestly.  But what a cop-out! I have neglected, hell, ran from something that is inherent to something in me. Why the lack of confidence? After all, that must have something to do with it; confidence.

so think about confidence... 20 years full circle wrote when i was angry as a kid wrote when i need to express some underrepresented feeling, parallels with life?