I hope the stars are right

This is what my tarot.com horoscope told me this morning:

Circumstances have settled down just enough for you to take charge of your immediate surroundings. You have been riding a significant wave of change, but the destruction caused by this wave can clear the way for newer and better things to manifest. Keep in mind an image of the mythological Phoenix, a magical bird that arose from the ashes

Breakthrough

I couldn't decide between breakthrough and uncorked.

Not really able to divulge the breakthrough... it's still too painful to even repeat to those I trust implicitly (god, I almost can't believe that I can say that I am still able to trust implicitly).

So, uncorked.

For so long that I can't remember how long, I have been unable to cry. At first, I thought if I started crying I wouldn't stop and I couldn't be a puddle on the floor. Each day, each month, each year has brought another minor tragedy. I was facing each as the "toughie" who was taught not to cry.

Facing emotions, then, is remarkably difficult without an outlet. But crying always hurt. The tears felt like fire scorching down my face, cutting into my soul. Crying made me feel small and powerless. Beyond vulnerable.

Something happened. Maybe I finally faced the tragedy I thought I couldn't handle, and it shook the cork loose.

It's scary how emotional I have been... how quickly the tears have flowed this past week. But, there it is. Though still painful, there is a relief now that I associate with crying. I feel the tears well, I sigh deeply, and I give in to the crying.

What would a sports bar for women look like??

I pondered this as I found myself at the Victoria Bar and Grill.

From the outside, it looked like an unassuming little restaurant in a strip mall. I didn't want extremely fast food (Wendy's, etc.); I didn't want moderately fast food (Noah's Bagels); so, my only other choice was this restaurant. It seemed like a family sit down dinner kind of a place from the outside.

But I walked in to full-on happy hour, four large screen tv's and a couple of small tv's -- all with some sport or another. Dark furniture, pub-style, and lots of girls in tight tee-shirts who didn't look like they would be able to buy a drink in the establishment buzzing around. As more and more men walked in to join the bar, one party or another, I gave in to the notion that this was indeed a sports bar masquerading as a family sit down dinner restaurant.

Just when I had come to grips with my dining option, ordered a black velvet (at this place called a poor man's black velvet, though there was no explanation for what a rich man's black velvet might be; for those not in the know, a black velvet, alternately called a snake bite or something else equally non-descriptive to the actual drink is Guinness and cider), a giggling gaggle of women walked in to take over a small area with couches. They were women on a mission to get that spot before more people swooped in to steal their designated area. Note to readers, there were no other groups interested in the designated area!

This made me start to wonder what women would want from a sports bar. I mean, sporty women might want exactly what is available here, though with other sport options on the tv's. But, what about non-sporty women? Surely not all men in the sports bar are there for the sports. Clearly, the ones who couldn't stop staring at the tight shirted waitresses were not really keeping tabs on the score. So, would we get tight shirted waiters? Tight pant waiters??? Would there be a lot more mirrors or a big restroom with primping accoutrements? If only women came in, would we be disappointed?? How would we balance the desire to be comfortable with the need to meet available (if only momentarily) men?

Aside: Momentarily available; this is a little inside joke from one of the last times I went out and a friend was asked by the twelve year old who asked her to dance: "Are you single right now?" As in, were you single when you left the house? Or, will you still be single after you get home? Is it just for the weekend?

So... no decisions on what a sports bar for women, if we needed such a thing, would look like, but fun to muse just the same.

what's been going through my head/heart/mind

There is a tangle here to unravel.

Questions I need to answer:
What does power look like and/or feel like?
Why is power so desirable for some people (especially in relationships)?
What does the desire to have power actually do to any relationship?
How does one acquire balance? What does it feel like?

I mean, I understand the desire to protect your heart. At least, I can say that I know that feeling vulnerable is uncomfortable for many people, including myself, so I understand the impulse to protect. I not only recognize the sense of being unprotected, I also remember the many times I have tried to protect myself from feeling vulnerable at all. Usually, though, my way of protecting myself is running away from that which I want most.

Lately, I have been trying to understand what feels like an entirely different reaction to vulnerability: power, control, separation of the heart into pieces. It started with he knows something I don't know. It became, I know what he thinks I don't know, and he doesn't know I know. And it becomes very tangled. As I try to feel the power I imagine he feels, I just get more sad. I don't feel powerful; I feel deceptive.

I believe in a relationship, you either trust, or you don't. It may be the reason I keep imagining there cannot be more relationships for me. I don't know how to trust just enough or not quite enough. I am not sure I want to trust again. I am pretty sure I cannot learn to almost trust.

I just don't understand the power that some people derive from undermining trust.

Maybe I am all wrong about it and this isn't about power and control in the conventional sense. Maybe it is all about insecurity. It is just a reaction to insecurity that I don't recognize.

Star Jones

Ok, it is really none of my business, and I haven't been following the saga, but I saw her on The View by happenstance today. I have to say, I couldn't actually stand to see her on the screen for very long. She just doesn't look like a normal person to me. Her eyes seemed two sizes too big for her face and she seemed extremely uncomfortable with herself. I remember her as a confident, strong woman who was more comfortable in her skin than I had ever seen any woman of any size.

It made me wonder why NOW of all times, after she has "bagged" her man, does she need to mutilate herself in order to be a size 10. Perhaps if she had started a workout routine and new eating strategy and lost weight slowly and in a more gradual process, we could all (including Star herself) have become accustomed to the new look.

It was truly saddening to me to see this woman, cut in half, physically and, seemingly, emotionally for reasons that I could not understand. Is this all there is to life?

Ok...so someone else is worrying about this too

This morning, too damn early, I awoke to this story...

It's not all sweet and roses; no one ever said it would be. But at least they are talking. Once they start talking, they just might figure out that they are, indeed, fighting over that little crumb and decide to ask for an appropriate sized piece of the pie.

At least, I can hope that it will happen that way.

Fighting over the crumb the mouse left

I would like it if someone would take up the challenge of discussing the black-brown fight over the last crumb; you know the one, that itsy bitsy crumb that not even the mouse wanted and left behind. It is so easy for the white pundits to start up the talk; you know you can always find someone the right color to speak for his/her entire race. But who is willing to look underneath this struggle for the least? Who is willing to ask the hard questions like would Americans pay more for fruit? for restaurant service? for buildings being built? Who is going to go to the home depot parking lot and interview the folks who are hiring someone to do their dirty work for $20 a day instead of $20 an hour?

Don't get me started because you won't like it.

I was wondering why there is no Latino commentary on the AP or in the NY Times, but then, I was horrified to see that this is what they print. Linda Chavez is in no position to speak as the Latino commentary on this issue. I like the way she says it might provoke "anti-immigrant" sentiment. Really? Like the House bill, the Minutemen and the new law enforcement imperative in Costa Mesa don't represent significant anti-immigrant sentiment. I like the comment from a young protester in Los Angeles, quoted in the LA Times, two weeks ago people were waiving the Irish flag on St. Patrick's Day and that didn't provoke anti-immigrant sentiment.

Here's one guy who wants you to think about the issue more maturely, and is willing to say so. Unfortunately, if you are not a New York Times Select member, you won't be able to open the link. Let me know and I will forward the text to you. Why are black and Latino pundits unwilling to tackle this issue from the bare facts. Why are we always only willing to talk about the hyperbole?

Okay, anyone else think this is fishy?

I know that it soothes our savage need for revenge to execute this man for the sins of the hijackers, but, honestly, do you really believe anything he says?

Dude is borderline schizophrenic; he hasn't testified to anything we don't know; he points to the one other crazy dude who got caught in the act; and he wants to be important. He also has been reported to say he would rather die than be in jail for the rest of his life.

Do we even know if his reported friend, Richard, was really trained somewhere or if he is just crazy too?

I mean, I understand, that like late night commercials, the terrorist camps appeal to a certain set of crazy, infamy-seeking loners, so the bulk of the hijackers could have been just as wacko. But, will it really make all those families feel better to execute a crazy man who had nothing to do with the deaths of their loved ones?

I cannot say as I didn't lose anyone in the Twin Towers. But, I would like to see some justice/revenge on the FBI folks who ignored the real hijackers, the CIA people who have been meddling in other countries' affairs for years, and the warmongering Bush administration that continues to put American lives at risk with their nasty behavior.

Bitterness is as unattractive as insecurity

Searching my soul for motives, I discovered that ugly emotions are the most easily expressed; in my case, anger and bitterness are the emotions most visible. Underneath, though, a struggle between hopefulness and realism rages.

It might look and sound like bitter reactions to past experience. But, really, I am wrestling with the challenge of moving on with compassion and enlightenment while still figuring out how to protect my heart.

So, when it looks like I have sold my soul to the devil and given up on the idea of the essential goodness of people, cut me a little slack. I am working on it.

Happy Hour Therapy

I know it sounds a little dangerous to be engaging in Happy Hour Therapy, but, honestly, it is much healthier than Donut Therapy.

Let me break it down for you... just because it's happy hour doesn't mean you have to get drunk. One drink, particularly if you are at Luka's where there are no drink specials for happy hour, and good conversation, decent people watching and a lot of laughter is truly good shit.

Then there is the Lucky Hour at Kingman's Lucky Lounge, from 8 to 9 drinks are half priced. Ok, so the decor is a little gaudy and the dj is likely to play weird mixes, but the lucky hour gives you the time to go for a run, grab some dinner, maybe do a little work, and still get your drink on.

Finally, for now, there is the Golden Bear, with its misleading sign and bleacher seating, it is the perfect spot for the serious sports bar crew. And as long as they are buying, who cares what game is on. The people watching here is especially entertaining as these folks are serious sports fans and willing to tell everyone about it. Perhaps my favorite part, though, is that they don't care if you bring in outside food. I mean, the sign says that there's seafood inside, but I didn't even see peanuts. And one day I walked by there, I thought I smelled BBQ. Making friends is key as you want someone to buy you drinks and share his pizza.

Any of these therapies require the right set of willing participants; luckily for me, for the past two weeks, there have been plenty of bar buddies. I guess in some way, all the bar buddies are a little part therapist part patient.

Try it out and report back on the best therapy spots.

15 minutes of infamy?

So, this little article demonstrates why you should avoid getting your real name in the national news if there is an outstanding warrant in that name!

I love the Oregon police department's response: we don't have an investigation on them.

These are the same folks that cry about how much the meth trade has impacted law enforcement??

Happy Friday.

A Window to my Heart

I subscribe to the Daily OM. Sometimes, they pile up in my email account. You can't just glance at them, many times, you need to read them, reread them, process or just recover. Sometimes you can skim and delete. But, more often than not, I sit back and think to myself: How do they know exactly what I am going through?! Am I that transparent? Are my obstacles so universal that everyone is facing the same exact issues? It hardly seems possible, yet, here are these daily meditations that 3 out of 5 times a week hit me like an arrow through the heart.

I am not going to bother wondering anymore...I am just going to accept them as little messages from the good angels who are keeping track of me.

Today's message was about allowing the Universe to just be...TRUST was the subtitle. They do that, title the daily tome as innocuously as Letting the Universe Be and then punch you in the stomach with the subtitle: Trust.

Here's what struck me like an arrow through the heart today (emphasis added):

... at a certain point, when [we] have done all that we can, we must let go and allow the universe to take over. This requires trust. It requires a trust that runs deeper than just expecting things to turn out the way we want them to. Sometimes they will, and sometimes they won't. We develop equanimity and grace as we learn to trust that, with the guiding hand of the universe, life will unfold exactly the way it should.

StoryCorps: Joshua's Questions for His Mother

Friday morning, as I was thinking about getting up and on with the morning I heard Joshua questioning his mother in the StoryCorps booth.

Please go to the link and listen to the interview.

Your Heart's Desire

There is a whole world out there, and if you ask me what I want, I wouldn't know where to start.

There is only one dream I have held onto all these years. Even though I ran away from it more than once, it was still the only want I have ever been able to name. Now that I am coming to grips with never getting that want, I don't know how to name my heart's desire.

That dream is so strong, various sub-wants outlive the reality that the dream can never be... most visibly the dream of having a family. What does it mean to be a single parent? How much love can one person pass on to others? Is it selfish of me to have a family that is less than what I had growing up? Two parents don't guarantee a happy family, but two parents working together can make it easier to get there.

To me, being a parent means sacrificing; making your children and their well-being more important than anything else. I don't mean spoiling children by any means; I mean, giving up what I want for what's best for my family. My father went to work every day to a job that was much less than his dream so that we would have a stable home. But if you asked my dad if he regrets those 40 plus years, he wouldn't know what you were talking about. That's love. That's sacrifice.

I love children. I find them the most fascinating creatures on earth. Even as I have always dreamed of having a family, I have always been afraid that I would not be a good mother. Now, contemplating, no planning, to have a family as a single mother, I wonder what it will be like.

I know I can do it. I believe in my ability to work hard, but I fear failure. It won't be easy. I am not afraid of tough times, but what if I don't have what it takes to sacrifice and make someone else paramount in my life? Is this just a selfish attempt to have a captive audience to love me? Am I manipulating the circumstances to create an insular world where I can hide?

For every logical reason I can articulate why it is a good and right decision for me to adopt that mythical sibling group, there is an opposite emotional construct that makes me doubt everything. Is the sky really blue? If the sun is shining, is it really warmer outside? Will the rain ever really stop? It's a vicious battle with the demons.

So many questions, so few answers. Too much doubt and not enough certainty. As long as I continue to look for the answers outside, I will always be unsure of the responses to these questions.

The Death Watch

Moderately to extremely morbid, but I am on the Department of Defense listserv. Everytime they identify a casualty, I get an email. Partly I am tracking the number of Latinos dying in the mideast, but mostly I am trying to honor their ultimate sacrifice.

In the world we live in currently, we don't get to see the coffins come off the plane. If the soldier isn't local, we don't hear her/his name. Occasionally we get to hear a heart wrenching story of one soldier thanks to npr. But don't every single one of them deserve to be honored for their service, mourned for their untimely death, and sympathy sent to their survivors?

So I witness. Particularly now when it is three years from the beginning of the latest conflict in Iraq.

I don't believe in this war, but I appreciate the service of each and every one of those soldiers, even the ones who have behaved inappropriately.

Rain Rain Go Away

Today, at least, the rain waited until I got home from work/physical therapy and a quick stop at the grocery store. But even though I am inside, dry and safe, I hear the rain outside and cringe.

I just want it to stop. I am tired of it.

Maybe it is just the angels crying along with me, or carrying the crying for me.

All I know is, today, for a short time, I was able to be outside without my rain coat. I felt the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, and I thought, ah, it's finally over.

I know I am spoiled rotten when it comes to the sun and warm weather, but, this is California not Seattle... and all I want is a little sunshine for a few days.

The Ides of March

So, I the ides of March have never been quite as fatal for me as it was for poor Julius Caesar, but as I look back, I realize that these days in the past few years have been trying.

Let's see, last March 16th there was the little incident with Jake.

Two years before that, March 17th, my bank accounts were seized by the IRS; thanks for that Ward.

Neither of these situations really caused me serious pain; I just said no to Jake and eventually he went away; getting my bank accounts seized actually led me to a serious belt-tightening that ultimately has led to me being debt free with a little savings.

But neither of those situations was particularly pleasant in the moment.

So far so good this year; I will keep you posted...

Can you say sour grapes?

I am sick and tired of hearing people belly ache about Brokeback not getting the Oscar. If it is so darned irrelevent, then get over it. Remember when Gladiator got best picture? But that didn't bother you??!!

Whatever.

Crash was a fabulous movie. LOVED IT!

If you haven't seen Crash, rush out and get it!

If you haven't seen Brokeback, imagine Romeo and Juliet 20 years into their marriage, or was it divorce, and be glad you didn't waste time watching the movie.

no turning back

I forgot to check the new horoscope from Rod Brezny's Real Astrology last week. Usually, I check in on Thursday to see what he thinks is coming up for me. I am not sure what might have been different had I read it before the weekend, nothing, I guess. But it was somewhat ironic to note that the picture was a butterfly coming out of a cocoon.

I have been taping the cocoon shut for a while trying to delay my coming out party as much as possible. It would appear that it's not possible anymore. Talking with a friend today about the latest developments and fighting the demon of regret, she said, sagely, you had to do it so you could make room for all the other wants you will be naming in the future. I know she's right, and there are even times when I feel she's right. I am committed to moving forward compassionately and passionately.

Check out what Rod said (I added the emphases):

Aquarius Horoscope for week of March 9, 2006

After taking inventory of the astrological factors coming to bear on you the past eight years, I've decided you're ready to leap to the next octave of your evolution. Therefore, I'll tell you a truth that was articulated by the powerful activist Mahatma Gandhi. It was instrumental in his success at leading millions of Indians to overthrow British oppression. I hope that his demanding, controversial advice will play a central role in shaping your destiny for the next eight years. But beware: It will only work if you're a brave rebel who relentlessly resists the conventional wisdom. Gandhi: "Every moment of your life is infinitely creative and the universe is endlessly bountiful. Just put forth a clear enough request, and everything your heart desires must come to you."

Giving up the other ghost

I know it is time to walk away from this dream. I know that I have used the fantasy of this dream to get me through many dark days. It has served me well until now. Trying to create reality from fantasy exposed the flaws the dream hid with its ability to make me feel understood.

I know I have to learn to feel accepted, love and understood on my own, without the support of the dream.

This weekend has been an enormous battle between the demons (who would have me believe this is not possible) and the butterfly (who has known for sometime that she can fly without wires).

Pray for me. I am stretching and growing and standing upright on my own, but it is a struggle.