Fully Now. Fully Here

The question of when will I no longer be in a quantum blur often occurs to me. Like the field of energy around an object, I float, I pulsate.

Every Atom Belonging to Me as Good Belongs to You

Every Atom Belonging to Me as Good Belongs to You

My physic professor explained to the class that a table was not solid and rigid but was in fact constantly changing its shape. I was excited and thrilled to learn. I walked out of class looking at the clouds, at the trees and hillsides knowing I was incorrect in my perceptions. This moment was the first time that I had substantiation for my sense that the three dimensional universe was like a movie set. Facades. Ghost town. Structures build by the Scene crew.

Lately, I have been noticing some major shifts in my life. As I address the issues of flow, I have become more solid. Throwing out, giving away objects I no longer wish to cling to is creating a thick, downy feeling of peace surrounding me.

To be still is to grow

To be still is to grow

I feel driven. I feel like I am being on purpose to sort my jewellery, to throw out past income taxes, to dispose of past prescriptions. Linens which are worn, rings which were never worn all go.

And in the process I am bringing myself into a sharper focus. As I discard memorabilia for my 18 year marriage, I am grateful for the feelings that come up. Like a person checking a wrist which was broken to see if there is any residual damage, I find that I feel nothing but relief and gratitude for no longer being in the deep pain and sadness of that interaction.

Energy Management

Energy Management

So I release objects, I release memories, I put papers in order. My eye is looking around in my environment to see what else I am merely clinging to in order to make myself feel somehow impenetrable, secure, immortal.

Sitting on my freshly sanded and painted deck on a new chair at a new table under a new umbrella I see my blackberries are ripening. I hear the birds in the large Oriental richness tapestry of the 50 year old Maple tree.

I have siliconed the cracks in the water falling surfaces of the house built in 1946; refinished table tops; diamond coated the heavy traffic floor but most of all I have brought myself into the present. My eye is looking for what I can repair, discard, be done with. My eye is looking for what I am done with.

The surprising result is that along with working out consistently, I am feeling stronger. I am feeling that there are more possibilities. I am feeling that I can change the shape of my “destiny”.

Wearing my heart on my chest.

Wearing my heart on my chest.

I have an estimate coming in. This beautiful bungalow that houses me has one wall essentially uninsulated and a kitchen floor that I have been holding down in place with the yearly coat of appliance paint. That area of the house will be upgraded with a new sealed wall and a newly laid floor.

Yes my caution with money for three years has allowed me to pay down a fragment of the large debt my collapsed marriage created. However, in order to go forward, I have chosen to go forward.

I will finish the house. I will continue to get the physical world around me in order. And as I do, I feel stronger, quieter and more full of possibility.

I am not anchoring my Self by my attention to the material world. My spirit is starting to see that I am not living “around” myself. I am not tied by tendrils of objects, paperwork, photographs, jewellery, documents to an association which is done. The past is the past. And now. Well now is about caring for my body, my house, my finances, my family, my friendships. Out of these strong roots a new shape is growing.

Societal projection androgenous manikin and real self

Societal projection androgenous manikin and real self

I don’t know yet what it is and my mind does not go there. Because I do not want to live as a shimmering ghost energy in my life with the past, the present and the future all exchanging places in my mind. I know my body is “all over the place” according to quantum physics and that I am actually living all times at once. I accept that and it is kind of exciting.

The point of power, however, is in the present as I am now perceiving it. And the awareness that I am training my mind, working with my body to create a clarity leads me out of the chaos of too muchness which is where I was choosing to live.

It seems so counter intuitive that the more I release, the more rich my life becomes. It goes against the siren song that our culture teaches us. Even the homeless push carts full of plush toys, car parts, shining objects around with them.

I am enjoying the exploring. I am enjoying the travel in the orbit around myself without the space debris obstructing my journey.

And now. Now I feel full of possibility. For the first time in three years, I am no longer feeling like a patient in recovery. There is something just around the corner, and there is now. The breeze blowing on my back, grapes ripening on the vines in my yard, people coming into my house and saying, “This is an angel house.” There is now. Gratitude for all my lessons.

new growth, tender leaves

new growth, tender leaves

What comes in?

We have all seen the doorway that has served as a place to record the growth of a child though out the years. There is something poignant and universal when we view the ledger of a person thriving. Some years the gaps between marks is very small and then… The spurts are times when the child changes height, configuration and more subtle are the rapid changes in abilities and skills.
The vision I have held in my mind for these last 28 months since my old life fell away, or exploded, or imploded or was surgically removed is a vision of a caterpillar being encapsulated. Within the shell, a dissolving was going on.

The person who was became a formless mush. The sense of purpose was gone, the passion for life, the focus on the future fell away. The form of formlessness was where I floated. One day I had a vision of a self with no centre.

The centre I had held for the last 16 years was held by my concern and love for my husband, my job, and then my art. All of these fell away. So I sat meditation each day holding my grief like my baby and had the vision of a big mush of an entity with no centre.

At times I was almost werewolf frustrated and just needed the bright moon to call out to. At others I was in deep acceptance that what was happening was a process and that one day I would reform, I would feel a calling. What I didn’t know was what I would be after I passed through the process.

In April, it began. I volunteered to care for babies and toddlers at the Women’s Place. Sitting with a warm baby on my lap, having two three year old girls climbing me and touching my bracelets, earrings, necklace and saying , “pretty,” was healing. These open, vibrant souls are so present that each time I finished the session of day care I felt like I had left an acupuncture treatment… for the heart. They offer love like there is no tomorrow.

I joined choir because the director Barbara Samuels said to me, “Lean into it baby. Lean into it.” When I walked into the room I saw radiant, amazing women wearing (hold on to your door handle Kelowna residents) color. Real for sure color. Not urban camoflage that is meant to blend everyone into the same beige-gray. Purples and Golds and Coral and Greens were pure and bold. I was delighted. And each choir practice I was puzzled, challenged, stretched and could feel myself grow.

The writing in the dark experience of forcing myself to spend hours every day working on my voice became a doorway. Accepted into the Naropa Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetry Summer School program spurred me on to go the full out choice. I had given up my M.F.A. in Bellingham in order to protect my then husband from the draft. The dream of completing it had stayed with me. So now I am in the process of winding my way through the labyrinth of entry into Naropa’s M.F.A. program in Boulder.
I have never been to Boulder. I know nothing about the program but it feels right.

The shamanic practices that I have undertaken have helped to heal much of the anxiety and fear based reactions I have carried in my life. Tomorrow I will visit with two African Shamans to deepen my practice.

So as I stand assessing my life, looking at the doorway at the markers I see that April was a growth spurt. All of the work, the intention to live consciously and authentically is starting to manifest a new life for me. I feel taller, stronger, more substantial.

And what I now understand is that the “hole” in the centre of my being is a blessing. It is where all of my strength comes from. It is the garden at the centre of my physical being. It is quiet, empty and filled with silence. I do not need to try to jam another man into that empty place. I do not need to try to move emotional furniture in and make it a crowded room. It is where the divine lives.

The relationship with my body is more loving. I have worked out most days and built muscle, strength and substance. My heart is what I call “more fluffy” because of the children, the choir, the singing, the shamanic practices.

There are times when the patterns of the last 18 years are a source of loss memory. There are times of discouragement and desire for a strong calling.

There are nights when I am deeply sad.

However, I have friends around me who are on a spiritual path and they whisper sweet everythings in my ear. Their presence helps me to walk to the doorway and look at how I have grown. I am about to take what feel like big risks in the world. But I see myself as a fully formed butterfly and I trust my wings and the wind.

I am about to fly.

Moving Up

I have had my ups and downs in the last year. The ups are like an elevator overshooting the floor I want to be on and I either get out for only a short while or just stand waiting for the momentary euphoria to pass.

mating for life, partnership

Reading and studying; meditating and praying; seeking counsel and shamanic practice has moved me a few floors higher up. It has given me a larger view as I look down over my life.
Recently while at an event, the woman who dated my ex-husband on our anniversary, went to coffee with him while we were still trying to get back together, went to dinner and movies with him approached me. I went into shock and lost the feeling connections with my legs. In my head I could hear the question, “What do you want from me?”
It was kind of a report card for me about where I am spiritually and as a person. I felt sick to my stomach, weak and sad but in the moment I understood that her issues involved her sense of self worth. She, wounded in some way, could date and call it not dating. She needed to show her self off in black lace and find solace in a man.
How different is she than the way I am? Not really much different. My self esteem issues around being loveable, of being someone’s wife were huge.
As I stood checking in on my body which is my practice, I felt fear, anger and actual nausea. If I had had any feeling in my legs I might have fled. So instead, I made eye contact. I thought about why she could possibly want to talk to me when I had had friends who had tried to carry on a conversation with her and been rebuffed. She had walked across a very crowded room to stand in front of me. Months ago I had wanted to warn her to protect herself against the known dangers of being in any relationship with this man: health issues, financial issues, mental health issues. But now, I have come so far that I realized that her journey is her journey. Unless she specifically asked me a question, there was nothing I could do.

Fire in the sky sunset

I remained pleasant, made small talk and as soon as I could feel my legs again, I excused myself. My grief was enormous and I went home to crawl under the covers for two days. I cried for my loss of a dream. I cried for the betrayal of someone who would not only go out on our anniversary, but would come to me the next day to tell me. But it was like the returning fever sweat of Malaria. It came and it left.
So how did I conduct myself? What was my report card? I had one negative thought as I was talking to her. I thought, “I could give her some suggestions about that dry skin problem.” Mostly, I just saw how desperate being desperate for love makes anyone.

The perfect love is nurturing

Today the frozen sun is out and I am beginning again. I have come a long way and I am proud of myself. I see where I want to be…. and how I want to be in the world. The elevator is on the way up.

Where do we exist?

The question of where we exist in time and space often occurs to me. At times, such as the weeks when I was recovering from bunion surgery I feel almost invisible. Like the tree clapping in the forest or a ripple of lightened water, I was without witness. The boundaries of self begin to dissolve when movement is restricted and the house is an isolate place.

the self

energy of self

From the time I had the surgery until the day I drove myself to the final x-ray by the surgeon I was mainly alone. Forty days of being unable to drive, to work, to consume and lord knows I like to talk. The silence kept me company.
However, when I begin to drive again I noticed that I tended to go out less frequently. It was easier to maintain a level of frugality and channel whatever funds arrived into my massive line of credit debt. The only distraction/craving which I was swept right back into was sugar. While I ate no cookies or treats for forty days, I am now storing gluten free oreos around me to prepare for the long days of winter.

mending, reforming

Today is the beginning of the new cycle of fruition according to the Aztec calendar. So I celebrated by working ten hours editing and loading in my books to Lulu.com.http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/cheriehanson.
I find it less than pleasant to edit in Open Office which keeps shutting down when it is loaded with my images. Watching the mocking wheel grind its way to no where on the screen feels less than fulfilling. However, I persisted and I have the first anthology Facing It in both ebook format and in paperback book file. Facing In, the more recent short poems that I have posted on Facebook during the year 2011 is loaded up as a paperback as well. This time I put in a request to have all of the books appear in the google search. It is eight weeks before that happens.
So I continue to work toward the goals I have set on my resolution chart that I composed from Gretchen Rubin’s book The Happiness Project. I am walking 30 minutes a day, doing crunches. Today I added a few repetitions with 10 pound weights.
My writing is moving forward and the next project may well be making a book of my blog postings. Gretchen suggested the idea and it really appeals to me.


One of the things my writing teachers and mentors have always said is to respect what you have written. Cherish it. Keep it in a good notebook. And don’t be afraid to publish.
I am teaching myself more about the software of Photoshop Elements after fifteen years of using Paint Shop Pro. The similarity of driving a certain type of vehicle which becomes an extension of your body and then trying to find your way around a rental vehicle comes to mind.
I teach two classes in the coming weeks for UBC-O Continuing studies on painting into a print and on blogging. Teaching is such a joy for me. I have an actual physical reaction in my body. I feel lighter, more energized and excited about life.
Now to try to figure out how to get my television to work again. I put the computer down on the remote and apparently ordered a movie from Shaw which I couldn’t get to go away so I just shut it off. Perhaps, some kind soul will wonder past the house and I will run barefoot into the street to ask for an interpretation of the technology. I often feel like an immigrant to a planet I don’t understand. But I am used to it.

How Do We Live Approximately?

My foot is healing and it will be good enough to drive with either this week or October, approximately. I have another x-ray coming up in two weeks. Today my goal is to finish the application for my ISBN number and to correct an error in my first poetry anthology. Uploading the new anthology called Facing In: Poetry posted on Face Book 2011 will happen approximately in a week or so.

the beauty of sunlight

When I awaken in the morning at around 9 am, I think over what I can accomplish within my limiting parameters. I begin the day by being still and attempting to gather up my dreams as messages. The fragments are like discarded clothing on the floor.
Last night I retrieved a vision of a baby which had silver/blue metallic skin. I don’t know if the baby was something I was meant to nurture or another version of myself. I can only make a vague guess.
Sitting meditation each day allows me to examine my unseen anxieties. I observe what lies beneath and gently work with it. For one, my debt load is so large for my pay out to finish the marriage that I am restricted as to choices. But I know I need to find work, any work and lots of it. It isn’t where I had planned to be as a 67 year old woman but as my friend Val points out, I am in good company. Many, many people have suffered an economic hit. Mine was a bad choice in a marital partner. Theirs was a bad investment or over-spending. It is all the same, approximately.

creamy tulip is delicious

The sun is shining brilliantly and I will go sit in a sunbath in order to let the vitamin D work its magic on broken, swollen footy, footy.
I am starting to feel stronger in my life. The twenty months of deep grief, anger and frustration are being alleviated by my reading. Deborah King and Sonia Choquette are teaching me to ask for what I want and then let go.
When will I be financially stronger and in a relationship that is secure and healthy? Well the divine field will make that decision. I feel it is approximately within two years. But I could be wrong.

delicate structure

What I do know is patience is a skill that is far more important than I ever knew. Sitting with whatever is happening and learning to set intention is my new accomplishment. And what I am desiring will be at the end of my 400 steps. It will arrive approximately when it is supposed to.

How Do We Know We Are Seeing Clearly?

What a day. Last night I started having a light flicker at the left periphery of my eye. Great, I thought to myself. Over a year ago the same thing happened in my right eye when my retina tore away from the rest of my eye. It took 53 laser shots to melt the retina to “glue” the edges of the rip.
I am trying to keep my spirits up, my house tidy around me and the long vision. Another month will find me walking, driving, teaching, making art. Patience. I tell myself. Patience.

The possibility of blindness in my left eye kept looming last night. But when I saw the doctor today, I felt better. The doctor feels if I just don’t bounce too much, it is likely to be fine. Okay. So now how do I get from room to room on crutches without bouncing? Interesting.

The only thing to do with so many restrictions was to sit down today with a sweet, thick drink and eat almost half a package of cookies. Since I don’t drink alcohol, or do drugs, I had a cookie binge. I am laying on the couch with my foot elevated and an ice bag on it. The recent full-face plant involved my foot smacking the floor. So I am in retreat, reclining with a lacy cover of cookie crumbs all down my front. It is my version of heroine chic.

blue sky, brighter day

I have BEING OUR COMPANION by Michael Brown printed out to use as a work book. Gabor Mate suggested that I would benefit from doing the exercises.

Hey. At least I can get some kind of exercise, right? I visualize an honest, healthy man coming into my life in the future. I picture myself standing in front of a group of people achieving financial strength by doing that which I love, teaching. I envision living in a major centre enjoying the cosmopolitan vitality of the Urban centre. I am surrounded by loving friends, the company of my children, being secure in the relationship with my man and exploring the adventure of being alive.
Through out this “down” time, I hold on to my heart’s desire. And my foot is feeling better after the smacking as the ice pack numbs my toes. What if I could be fully awake with no need for numbness anywhere? Wouldn’t that be a serene way to enjoy life.

interior patterns

Learning, Loneliness and Acceptance

One would think that sitting alone in a small house, not being able to bathe, put weight on my foot, drive and seeing no one would basically protect me from making any social faux pas, would give me time to reflect and grow; basically I am on an enforced retreat.

Well the only difficulty is self. Learning to forgive the mistakes that I have made in the past and to forgive the errors that I am committing in the present is on- going.

No amount of isolation can still the inner voice. And how wonderful to have the internet so that I can make graceless and judgmental responses to others. Yes, the shadow self is alive and well no matter how I try to quell the beast, no matter how isolated I am there are still opportunities to go to school.

Images of self

Yesterday was a black day. A day full of sunshine can be a black night of the soul. So much grief was coming up about the stupid choices I had made. Sorrow was my company and tears my shroud. A friend dropped by and I pulled myself together enough to get through a conversation looking fairly normal. She looked beautiful and spoke of cheerful, hopeful things. I warmed myself in her presence.

Yesterday I also took the 83 short poems I posted on Facebook and put them into text files. The first edit took most of the day.

So I am learning, I am grieving, I am clearing my past life and past hopes that were held in my marriage. I am not restless in the sense that I want to get past this stage. Acceptance for the physical restriction, the isolation, the surfacing of deep sadness is inevitable. But I do set out to create new possibilities through my writing and art.

interlocking light and dark

Hay House Radio had a wonderful broadcast a few days ago which spoke to my heart. The broadcast was called Enchanted Love. The statement contained in that broadcast is helping me to understand and forgive myself for my paralysis. “To be cheated on by one you love takes a toll from your sense of well-being and is a life-force injury.” The understanding that came to me when I heard this was that I have lost the steam in my engine this last 19 months. Never before have I been so stalled and felt so lost. I haven’t felt like I had the energy to move forward. So forgiving myself for the situation is where I begin.

Another lesson this session brought me has to do with one of my great weaknesses: “Listen to others without reacting.” My desire to “fix” others, to offer help, advice, a way out is not appropriate. My judging, analyzing etc are wrong- headed. People just want to be loved and accepted for who they are. Rushing in without permission is a boundary violation. So the advice to ,”Listen to others, without reacting,” was something I really needed to connect with.

Another gem from the show is exactly what I was talking about earlier in this blog. “The universe always has an assignment for you.” So be as hermit-like as you will, the lessons will come in. Judge not others: judge not yourself. How can I be loving and compassionate even when I make stupid, bone-headed mistakes.

Another area of discussion was surrender. ” Detox your life by placing problems in God’s hands.” Or for others it might be changed to say, let go and trust that an answer will come. I have always been of a mind that I had to control myself, others and my environment. The horrendous chaos in my childhood was partially responsible for my creating this coping skill.

And, perhaps, my very nature is that of one who is disciplined and demanding.

So there is grief. Grief over my lost dreams and deep, heart-felt connectedness to my husband. Disappointment that at my age I have to find a way to recover my financial strength. And the issue of watching myself in the world with the intention of being loving, failing at times because my very nature is surfacing.
Forgiveness is the answer and the freedom.

I need to feel desire again. I need to feel a passionate sense of connectedness again… to life, to other people and to myself. No matter how imperfect I am, I need to trust that “Your desires become your destiny.

I get my stitches out September 6th and will be able to have a bath, perhaps put my heel down and my world will expand. There is so much to learn. I wonder what assignment the universe has for me in the next phase of my life. Perhaps, I can dance again soon.

Bunion Surgery Aftermath

Twelve days ago I had the bunion surgery on my right foot. The first six days the pain was strong enough to warrant taking the prescription for oxycondon that I was given. My toes were swollen purple bulbs which my neighbour described as red potato-like.
On day six and seven, I came off of the oxcondon and was fine. Swelling was down and the deep throbbing pain abaited. The adventure of trying to carry items from one room to another while using crutches has been an exploration. At first, I could fill my cereal bowl then hop it over to the table. Most of the contents ended up on the floor.
My quality of life increased markedly when I could make coffee for myself in the morning. One of the difficulties that I experience is very low blood pressure. I now time the getting up to wait until the sparkly stars go away before I try to move on the crutches.
The first week I fell frequently. Being stoned on oxycondon, whoozie from the anesthetic and having such low blood pressure lead to me falling fairly predictably. I am looking forward to September 6th when I get the stitches out and see the surgeon.
Because my contact with the surgeon was limited (he was on vacation until just shortly before my proceedure) I had little knowledge of what to expect. So I read blogs. I read bunion doctor’s posting. What I ascertained was I needed to keep the foot elevated for 10 to 14 days to minimize the inflammation. Swelling or smacking the foot could cause it to heal out of alignment. Holy cow chips bat man, I didn’t want to go through this to have it be less than perfectly corrected. So I was conservative and kept my foot elevated most of the day.

So now I am looking forward to the mile stones. Having the stitches out, being able to put my heel down, being able to drive the car after September 21st.
The blogs and comments on line are so contradictory it is puzzling. One end of the spectrum was the individual who had no pain and was back to work in 7 days. Others were six weeks without being able to stand without pain. My belief is that so much of recovery is about having support. I have tried to keep my foot up but self care requires several hours of hopping around. It is exhausting just to do the most minimal activities in hot weather, swinging through the air on unaccustomed crutches.

delicate white

I think it is a good sign that I have begun to think about working toward my goals with the art and writing. I feel as if my head is clearing, I am learning to take smaller steps on the crutches and pay attention to my balance.
And my neighbour tells me my toes finally look like toes.
Who knows how long this entire process will take.

Some have blogged that they had to wear runners and baby their foot up to three months after the surgery. We are all different. Our circumstances and bodies are individual. As always, every journey is about being patient and finding a way to do what can be done without pushing, anger or fear.
I lay here in bed and listen to the high wind bringing in another weather system. Summer is going. Who knows what the next season will bring? I have hope that I will find a new way of being and carrying forward my goals with both feet firmly on the ground.

heart of the flower

Going Cold Turkey

Intellectually I know that my addictions swath me in a cocoon of numbness. But during this last period from August 17th on I have had all of my default survival skills stripped from me.

shadows, silver water mirrors the sky

First my issues of abandonment and being unloveable surfaced big time when my marriage collapsed because of basic bedrock trust betrayal. Working my way through the depression of the separation from one who I believed to be my best friend and love of my life was difficult. I was surrounded by loving friends and went into counseling to work on my issues. Going to Gabor Mate’s retreat in Victoria moved me forward rapidly.
However, on August 17th I had my bunion removed and that entailed restructuring the big toe joint on my right toe. Not being able to walk at all, struggling with what I call stoned crutching ( taking oxycondon for pain) and being unable to drive was difficult.
So the universe has seen fit to strip me of relationship addiction, of work addiction and of the distraction of shopping. How have I fared through this process? Try to guess!!

darkness is an edge and so is sunrise

I have had to face a deep depression. Looking down into the pain that I have carried from childhood is not easy. But I have been sitting with my pain. Because actually, what choice do I have now? Alone each day in my house with the struggle of getting from room to room, I know that it won’t be until September 6th when the stitches come out that I can stabilize myself. Once I can put my heel down, I anticipate greater freedom of movement.
So I sit with it, as Thich Nhat Han recommends and hold my sorrow close to me. I did all that I knew how to do. I worked furiously hard only to be set back financially to when I was in my 40’s. I loved full heartedly in the only way I knew how to love. But I did not care for myself enough. I awake each day with passion for life and sit here now without a sense of calling. I know this is a time of growth. The addictions are stripped away. It is like tearing up the floor boards and seeing that the grief monsters are underneath. And so I cry and grieve once again for those things I have brought into my life because I was too blind to see. I own it all. Studying the inevitable arch of attraction I know that I have indeed authored all that is happening to me. But it doesn’t make the grief any less real, or bitter.
Today I wrote a poem. I worked my new software, I talked to friends. I am doing all I know to do to work with this period of loss. And I am also sitting with it as if it were a baby. I hold my grief close and speak to it. It will get better I say. It will get better. Talking, Time and Tears will help.
I have survived these losses
to the storms, black weather,
sharp rocks scarring deep the very form of me.
Floating lost upon dark waters
with no sense of place or shore.
The harbors that I found were
unsafe havens, jagged rock bound traps
because I could not judge my depth.
I sit in mists of my own making
unable to discern the line of land.
The ship of self crying out the question
“,which way home,” returns
an echoed sound
unheard in gray, vast emptiness.

Rededication Reboot

Every once in a while, I fall off the depression wagon. Yesterday was one of those days. My neighbour phoned only five hours after I got to sleep, then a friend dropped by. The entire day I was in my bathrobe with no make up on. I ate ice cream, I ate watermelon and I watched a year of Better Off Ted on Netflix.
Knowing the foot surgery is next week and anticipating weeks of inactivity, I feel stalled. What can I start? Not much.

So today I begin again. I have the gift of obsession so once things become ritualistic, I am part of the habit. It is mindless and unnoticed. Making my bed, caring for my plants, mowing the lawn, laundry, cleaning, weighing myself each morning, flossing… so many hundreds of rituals of self care and caring for the environment are instilled in my psyche.
However, I have also patterned a habit of grief. When someone asks me where I have gone or who I see, I feel black emptiness. “No. I am not finding anyone.” My response brings with it so much emotion.
Whom can I trust? If I can be duped for over a decade about the most basic of issues in intimacy, can I trust myself? Always, my mind runs back to that.
So what I am beginning to understand is that I am isolating myself in an effort to protect myself from negative associations. And how is that working?
My spirits are lighter when I am with people. I enjoy walking along the river and seeing families. But the feeling of being outside, excluded and disembodied is the stage of grief I am working through at the present time.
My therapist has moved to Israel so I am missing that contact. My thoughts keep drifting to the idea of getting a life coach. I need to kick my butt or have someone to check in with about attaining my goals. It is too easy to drift. It is too easy to say to myself…. just a little while longer. You will feel stronger in a month.
It has been 19 months since I discovered the last straw and had the strength to end the fantasy relationship. Now I am finding that intentions do not overcome inertia. Only momentum overcomes inertia.
I need a direction. I need a calling. Habits of spiritual growth need to be strengthened. The necessity of sitting meditation every day is foremost in my intention to change my mindset and to become a stronger person.
The Nike magazine ad is posted all over my house…”Make Yourself Stronger.” That is my goal. And sometimes that means realizing that I need to spend a day crying for lost dreams, sometimes I need to be angry that I got off the rails 18 years ago and made a bad choice and sometimes it means I need to just lay down in my bathrobe, watch Better Off Ted and eat ice cream.
When the Shaw Cable Interview rotated on TV yesterday, I could see the sadness was still around me. It also refocused me to pay attention to the back of my hair. Sometimes it is not always what we can see that needs taken care of. Sometimes we need a 180 view of ourselves to understand in greater depth. So while I was having my off day or day off, I watched my self time after time. I watched my video clip and observed my self talk. What I needed to do, what I should have done, what if. But basically, I worked myself up to a state of self-compassion. I wanted to say to myself, “It will be alright. It will get better.”
Watching my mind fascinates me. I am saying to myself, “Come on. Give me a break. I am after all only human.” But I also know that re-dedicating myself to my central goal of being a more centred human being means discipline. So I take out my list, go back to training myself. But first, I need a cup of coffee.

Remember to Dance