not so grounded

Heart of the Matter

The cardiologist doesn’t know why I collect fluid around my heart. Pericardial effusion, mild to moderate accumulation. Breathing gets hard when it spikes. I also turn sort of gray.

Echocardiogram, EKG, abdominal ultrasound, chest x-ray, screens for lupus and other auto-immune disorders, 3 rounds of blood work … Fortunately it’s all normal, yet the fluid risk remains. It’s from Inflammation, they say, though they don’t know what causes the cause.

“It’s probably no coincidence this happened right after the election,” I joke to my doctor.

“Oh, that could be a new diagnostic code,” she jokes back. Though neither of us is really joking.

I have yet to decide if Donald Trump’s election made me unable or unwilling to write, though I suspect the latter. I have always preferred vulnerability, a commitment to honesty and self-reflection made public. I’ve mostly assumed most others – whether known or strangers -- are mostly curious and compassionate, even if they believe my ideas are stupid or my delivery sucks. I’ve mostly chosen to believe we’re all mostly kind.

But when 63 million people believed Donald Trump would make a viable president of the United States? No way. On November 8, 2016 I turned my back on my optimistic belief that others are trustworthy. Mine was a petty, immature, and arrogantly stupid response, to be sure. But I took my ball of faith and went home.

My friend, Lou Murrey, declared 2018 the year of reckoning, the courage to own and be accountable for, once and for all, our full truths, desires, and actions. I’ve been okay at that over the years: living my values, making hard choices, acting on those decisions despite my terror or shame. And like millions this past year I’ve joined more organizations, supported more causes, subscribed to more media, contacted more legislators, and marched along more streets.

But since November 2016 I haven’t risked enough that’s real or audacious, and I know it. I pulled my heart out of circulation, stashing it behind my disgust and my grief and mostly my privilege, until it suffered crushing congestion. Until I couldn’t breathe.

I know Lou means we should take our reckoning up a bunch of notches:

• Demand for real what we’re apt to dismiss as utopian, whether global, national, communal, or personal.
• Put our whole hearts on the line.

So I’m bringing my heart back out into the light, which for me means writing in public. This next year I’ll riff on hope and transformation, on the profound difference between governance and politics, on radical momentum, on why cultivating wisdom and knowledge matter, on things fueled by compassion and strength. On love.

As always, read, subscribe, unsubscribe, respond, or ignore anytime.

(PS about my physical heart: acupuncture is miraculous; when that first needle hit the exact right point, breath rushed in so deep, so satisfying I felt like I had broken through from drowning. My acupuncturist also warned nightshade veggies can escalate histamine, so I cut back on those luscious local winter potatoes and summer tomatoes I’d been devouring daily. There were other treatments, too: some energy medicine and some supplements. All combined, I haven’t had a physical symptom in months. And I appreciate every full breath I take.)

Causal Celebration

Apparently I've been really pissed off on the causal plane. 

Went to see Joanne Williams, my dear powerful energy healer, to clear up a curious fact that my financial shape stagnates despite increased earnings.  John came, too, figuring they're family finances, plus we thought a joint session would be fun.  I laid on the mattress in Joanne's Spartan living room as she pressed a sore spot on the upper left part of my chest. And Voila, she found an image of me, standing alone in the causal plane.  Really pissed.

According to Joanne, the causal plane is where manifestation begins.  Desires, intentions, ideas, passion, purpose ... they all happen elsewhere, but once coalesced, they actually leap into reality from the causal ledge.  

And evidently my leap has been stalled, and I'm none too happy about it.  I'm a Fixer, wildly enthusiastic (and pretty damn competent) at cleaning up the aftermath, helping to envision and fuel a brand new life.  But we're dallying too much, wallowing in our broken existence instead of letting it go to start fresh.  There isn't a shred of credible evidence that says oil, coal, and "natural" gas extraction and use will sustain us ad infinitem.  Yet we stay dependent, in our daily habits, our political choices, and even our anger when inevitable disasters strike.  We haven't had a "productive" war in 65 years, either (or in millenia, depending on the definition of "productive"), yet we continue to invest the majority of our financial, intellectual, cultural, and emotional capital in our war zeitgeist.  Americans have some of the worst health care outcomes and highest costs when compared to our global peers, yet we ignore simple and effective alternatives.  We enjoy less and work & dread financial peril more than almost everyone on the planet, yet collectively we don't walk away from a bankrupt system of credit, finance  "investment," employment and productivity. 

I came here to support wind farm cooperatives and wide-scale solar energy legislation.  I have been waiting eons to help build monument upon monument honoring peace, tranquility and beauty, creating eternal flames of compassion where those war statues once stood.  I was born to facilitate universal systems of universal health, uniting doctors, hospital administrators, patients, therapists, and "althernative" folks in new paradigms of well-being.  And I know with every breath that we are supposed to find joy each and every day, laughing with our kids, roaring at a soccer victory, painting a canvas, hiking a trail, curing a disease, building a home, sharing a meal ...

Instead, I was languishing on the causal plane, awaiting an unrealized reality, and furious with the delay. (We all laughed pretty hard when John suggested my angry impatience might have leaked some into this plane, too.)

So Joanne cleared away the pissed part, said Good never comes from the vibration of anger.  And reminded me that reality and action emanate from our internal selves, not necessarily from external circumstances.  I feel subtly lighter, my surprising new patience oddly blended with self-permission just to go ahead and do what I came here to do. 

Which I've decided starts with a really great party on that causal plane.

Vision Alignment Project

This is cool.  Enough said.

Denial

I should write something heartfelt about Maddy's recent (finally!) high school graduation, considering I've been blogging on & off about it the whole year.  But I don't wanna.  A moment this big deserves all the procrastinating distance I can muster, thank you very much.  That it previews my encroaching fiftieth birthday, all the more reason to skip right over events that so rudely carve impenetrable monuments to the passage of time.

So instead, I'm writing a book.  And not about Maddy or Time or the Universal Truths we mid-life women share. 

Nope, I'm writing a book about psychics.  Cause it's fun and different and 'cause it successfully replaces empty nest realities with best-seller fantasies.  And denial works for me. 

Okay, I confess, it's also a goal, since I figured a goal might make my 50th more exciting.  I've never written a book, and previous stabs have been pretty awful.  So what the hell.  Trial-by-error I'm figuring it out.  It's fun, too, since a book has so much more room than a magazine article.  It's like jumping from an expedition sleeping bag to a California King. 

But since that borders too close to uncomfortable metaphor (passing my adventure torch to Maddy while I begin my 2nd half between luxurious, spacious Egyptian cotton ...) I shall return tenaciously to my distractions.

The Most Perfect Day Ever

Awoke early for a glorious long canter (Elise does not walk ...) across More Mesa bluff and then down along the Pacific.  Magnificent gray swells and kelp, seals lounging on jagged rocks, timeless fog against eroded cliffs, warm sweatshirt against the cold.  We met another friend, 5 dogs between us, and glided through wide empty swaths of low-tide beach. 

Returned to prepare for the workday, suddenly stopped heavy by an overdose of global overwhelm,  confusion on top.  Dusted with a little frustration, or maybe that's sadness?  Probably woven with fear.  Not a specific person, thing, circumstance, client, or item in the news  But every organization I work with, everything I observe, so much that I encounter ... folks are burning to a crisp.  Somber and weighty. 

I know I'm supposed to help my clients accomplish measurable business objectives, but, quite honestly, I'd rather wrap them snug in star-kissed silk, serve them warm chocolate chip cookies, and tease out something worth a belly laugh.

I cleared my head with a hot shower, stepped onto the back deck just as the sun appeared in full, and took a deep breath.

What if we all got out in the sun?  Stepped away from the responsibilities, to-do lists, and frustrations that prop up illusions we don't even like?  I know how to shift my vibration - a moment of gratitude for sand between my toes, my closest friend in the next room, the scent of fresh eucalyptus, laughing for no reason ... I'm so there.  

I just want everyone there.  I want everyone to awake every morning knowing this will be the most perfect day ever, the 6+ billion different ways that might be defined. 

Is that too much to ask?

Pretend He's Reasonable

The soft-spoken executive in my recent training seemed reasonable, intelligent and even-tempered.  While role-playing scenarios, he shared a real-life story about wrangling with a top executive that was clearly upsetting him. 

When I was first hired and asked to prepare my department budget, I was told I couldn’t have any data or authority over several line items.  Everyone said off-the-record it was an irrational decision, a power move by a brilliant, yet overly controlling leader.  They said he perceived me as a threat and wanted to “put me in my place.”   They told me just to live with it ... 

Clean Water Experiment

Check this out.  Nothing to lose & it could be really cool.

From "To-Do" to "I Want"

It's been a really weird couple of weeks ... my nephew is on his 3rd distinct hospital stay in less than a month, first with what turned out to be Crohn's, then 4 days in a cardiac unit with an irregular (without discernible reason) EKG, and now 103-temp without infection.  Oh, plus, recurring panic attacks.  Yet he says all these incomprehensible ailments seem to force him to do exactly those things that have always been most tough for him.  He's texting me insights sometimes hourly.

My best friend's Dad secured an unclear lung cancer diagnosis, had questionable surgery which prompted post-anesthesia dementia, spent two weeks at a completely incompetent rehab, was sent home without any instructions (her Dad signed something forbidding her from asking Rehab any questions), and died five days later.  She was reeling, but at the same time we both said when this whole thing began ... her Dad was making weird medical decisions as if he wanted to get worse, not better.  As if he wanted to die.

My dear sweet golden retriever was having an increasingly tough time hiking.  I sensed something was wrong, but ...  A trip to the vet became a four-day stay and, despite momentary improvement, all her organs shut down and we put her to sleep Friday before last.

At the same time our little nucleus is humming along just lovely.  In the big scheme John, the kids, and I seem to be happier than ever. (Good solid crying about Jenna, notwithstanding.)  And there's great stuff among my circle, too: a dream job secured, new kiln fired, work-transforming insights sparked & connections rooted firmly.  Some of it really huge and exciting.

Things seem to be intense.  The good, the bad, the beautiful, the painful.  It's all just BIG, one way or another.  And swift. It's like the universe has lost its subtlety --you got an issue or illness you've been ignoring? Yeah, well, we're gonna get your attention!  Ambivalent about something?  Forget that -- time to make a choice.  Have a dream you've been working steadily on awhile? Yeah, well, hang on 'cause here it comes full force. 

My best friend said she hasn't had a normal day since March 5th, yet I'm not sure what normal is anymore.  I used to define my to-do list each morning, assuming my rational step-by-step activities prescribed my fate.  Lately I've been writing down what I want instead -- everything from a quiet productive morning, a restful night's sleep for my ravaged nephew, a peaceful transition for my suffering dog, and some relaxing weeks for my friend.   That seems to be the only thing I can genuinely affect.  These days a good loud "I want ..." seems the only way to get me safely, sometimes even joyously, to the end of the day.  

Reality's Overrated

I've come to believe reality's overrated.  

Admittedly, my grasp has always been tenuous, but I threw out the line in a recent management training, went public. Upped even my own ante.  And surprisingly learned I'm not the only one thinks we're more productive if we quit being so realistic. 

A thoughtful, intelligent senior manager was regaling a typical work horror -- powerful, egomaniac colleague priding herself on hoarding information, shucking blame, pitting folks against each other, and wreaking general havoc and mayhem.  He'd dug his heels deep into the office carpet over a particular battle with her, and while absolutely justified, intransigent & pouty were not his nature.  He was unnerved as much by his own behavior as by her's.

So I suggested he pretend like she was a normal person, just engage as if she was the most rational, easy--to-get-along-with colleague imaginable.  Act normal and expect she'd do the same.  Then see what happens.  Worst case, she'd still be a jerk, but at least he'd maintain his integrity.  And feel better.

I'm not sure he took my advice.  (He's a psychiatrist; flights into imaginary fancy are kinda frowned upon in his business.)  But I got lots of other head-nods.  

Seems many of us are weary of reality's game.  Screw it, we're saying.  And not with muffled voices buried in the sand.  But with a fledgling recognition that we -- the good, honest, compassionate, kind, decent folk -- actually outnumber those who are greedy, mean, violent, and power-hungry.  They've been louder, richer, and sure get more prime-time attention.  But we outnumber 'em.  By a lot.  

So let's pretend -- better yet, imagine & intend & assume -- that our values run the world's show instead.  Telling that crappy co-worker, lousy teacher, rude sales clerk, or even the Guantanamo torture-memo authors, the encroaching Taleban insurgents, the Burmese junta, Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir & his Darfur genocide, the pesticide executives harassing Michelle Obama about her organic garden ... I'm sorry, that's not how we play this game.

PS check out the 5 Congressmembers arrested yesterday for civil disobedience.