Ravings of a BiPolar Gothic Witch
     Occasional commentary, observations and tidbits as well as other random thoughts

Memory is such an interesting thing. Everyone has read or knows about how 3 people can witness an act or accident, and all three people will tell a similar version of what happened, but none will tell the exact same thing. We’re human and all experiences, including those we just witness are filtered through the file cabinets of previous experience, identified, labeled and categorized for storage. Recall of those memories depends on the relative importance, the imprint, of that experience. And further, if that experience led to negative feelings or actions, the more the memory might get bent to fit our vision of what might, should, would have happened if we had been in charge. This is part of the human condition. We are not computers. We are not perfect. In fact, I would almost reverse the last statement and say that perhaps what makes us perfectly human and wonderful is that very quality. Our unique version of the world as seen through our own eyes, the memories and the thoughts and actions that are a result of that cummulative experience.

In my experience this perceptual way of being (and there truly is no other way to be, no one can step out of their skinsuit (thanks again Debra for coining that phrase) and look “objectively” at something. It just doesn’t happen. No one is completely objective. Not judges, lawyers, impartial bystanders… no one. Once it has gone through our eyes and ears it drops into the funnel and from there it becomes subjective. We can try very hard but it just isn’t going to get there.

As I’ve walked my path I have seen that for the most part there are 2 ways this perception is used. The first, and in my opinion, the best, is to recognize it for what it is. I try to do this. I validate everyone’s right to have seen, heard, felt, thought, smelled, tasted (on and on) something different than I did. I mean be real. Can you really say that the taste of that water you drink tastes for you just like it does to someone else? Maybe we have different likes because the foods taste differently, not because we have different “likes”. I don’t know. I do know there is no way to find out. All reality filters through our consciousness. Once that happens it is impossible to compare to other’s. Oh we share similarities, and there are certainly lots of places many people come together. But it all boils down to this. How can another person possibly judge what another is thinking/feeling/wanting/fearing/seeing (again on and on)? You might think so but it is truly impossible.

And at that point we have 2 choices. We can empathize with them, using common ground in our own experience to realize we might have something to use to reach out with as a way of comfort. Or we can project our own experiences on to them and state emphatically that we know just what they are going through. People who’ve been wounded and have not healed those emotional scars seem to be more likely to do the second. Why? I don’t know. I’ve just noticed it. Maybe because they need to in some way validate something that they went through that felt horrible and that makes it easier.

I think that in some ways it is easier to realize this subjective version of reality with other adults. But I know so many adults who don’t hesitate to enforce their reality on their (or anyone else’s) children. Our children are not our clones. They don’t live out what we did, no matter how close it may seem to be to us as adults. They have their own unique filters to use. As parents, and as “the village” to other children, it is our responsibility to teach them how the filters work. See the world acting upon you instead of you having choice and you will spend your life a victim. That is a choice. Take a chance and fall on your face. That is a choice. Stand up and try again and succeed, yet another choice. How we perceive the world, what we chose to do with the tools and knowledge we are given, how we love and relate to others and the rest of divine creation. All of that is defined by our choices. And our perception of how those choices turn out (and maybe even whether we see our life as an ongoing set of choices) is all about the filters.

We do not own our children, we do not control them. We help to guide them for a while and hope for the best. We help define their filters. I want all children to have filters that see the world as a positive loving place, where miracles happen and nothing is impossible. It seems to be working with mine. Maybe if we can do that, the world will be a different place for me to grow old in.

I stepped out on the ice again tonight. I am learning to ice skate in order to help my youngest son feel good about his ice skating. In the last 15 weeks as I have laced the skates onto my feet, and ventured out onto that slick surface, watching kids barely up to my hip zipping around me at the speed of sound (not light since they would not then have any matter, and clearly if one of them happened to glide into me instead of past me I would be knocked unceremoniously on my ass), I have learned what my personal definition of courage is.

I have never ice skated. And as a physicist I am amazed at the actual physics of the situation. An ice skate melts just the tiniest bit of ice directly under the blades which is the cushion on which the skates can glide, and is so thin that it instantly freezes again. The blades are so thin because it allows the weight to be centered directly on the smallest surface area possible. I am painfully aware (sometimes literally) of just how small that area is.

I roller skated growing up and was pretty good. Even after my oldest daughter was born, her father and I spent a lot of time (and I lost my baby weight) skating in Audubon Park pushing her along with us in her stroller. It always seemed effortless. Of course that has been 19 years ago now. The next time I put skates on my feet was a few short years ago, when I tried on my son’s roller blades. I sat down and laced them up. Then I stood up and promptly, quite cartoon like had one foot go up about knee high in front of me, my other foot follow to about waist height, and finally both feet defied gravity and my toes pointed directly at my eyes as I fell on my back. Total time on my feet was about 6 seconds. While still on my back my son and exhusband unlaced and removed the roller blades from my feet and declared that I was never to wear them again.

Knowing that roller blades are close to ice skates, I bought a pair, and my son got some for his birthday. Except for rocks in the pavement, the experience is much easier on my backside. Again from my physics, I’ve learned a great appreciation for friction. It makes all the difference in the world. And it was tremendously fun for me to skate to my son’s house last night to take him back his bag from spending the night (Mark rode/walked his bike). Well maybe not the skating part. I realized we’d bit off more exercise than we could tolerate when the half way point (his house) was actually what needed to be the end of our road. But the fun part was to have my older kids stare at my feet like I’d grown hoooves. They couldn’t believe I actually had roller blades on my feet.

Back to courage. I have always believed that we live here as physical beings to over come our fear. And ice skating has elements of true terror for me. The first 10 minutes on the ice I keep my feet moving at the same time I am trying to deep breathe through a panic attack. By the end of 1/2 hour or so I actually manage to skate without the constant fear, but my heart still leaps into my throat every time one of the skates wobbles or I misplace a foot. I haven’t actually fallen for a while (I fell three times my first time on the ice) but I have done it enough to know it really really hurts. No matter how much my brain tries to override it, my body remembers those falls to each bone jarring crunch of my 43 year old body.

So to me, courage has become my decision to face my fears in order to make things better for my son… and it does. The smile on his face as he passes me in the rink are priceless. It shows him that he is better than me (always fun for a kid) and also that it is never too late to learn something new. Those are worth facing my deep seated horror of gliding on thin ice and defying what clearly is meant to be our protection from killing ourselves… friction.

Today is the longest night of the year. At the end of the night, the glorious sun will be born again and we will start our way back into a world of longer days and more light. This is a holiday season all around the world, with everyone having different traditions, different beliefs and different ways of expressing them.

We will celebrate both tonight and Christmas. Tonight is for us since we follow Wiccan ways. I would like to be able to greet the sun, but unfortunately, I work tomorrow at 7 am, and so need my sleep. But we will be having a lovely dinner, and will come home and open our gifts to each other. Christmas will be special as well, because Santa comes, and I will have my 2 oldest here with me, and because we’ve been invited to spend time with Melissa’s family and will join them for dinner and games afterwards.

In spite of the madness of many this month, I have held onto my sanity, and managed to pay our bills. Thanks to people who love us and know our struggles this year, we were adopted and the boys have wonderful presents. And for the first year in many this lengthening of nights has not wrecked havoc on our family. While we still may struggle for some sanity at times, we are all doing well and for the first time feeling happiness and joy instead of anxiety and dread.

Welcome Sun!

Last night I was talking to a friend about how I feel about dance, and artists in general. There are those who take all the classes, learn all the techniques, execute the art with precise perfection, and still, their performance, or particular piece is missing something… lacking some essence that is essential to the spirit of the art. Mechanically perfect yet missing the feel of art.

I was speaking in particular of my own experience with dance. I’ve danced all my life; ballet, tap, jazz, modern, hula, tahitian, and now the latest love is belly dance. I danced my way through school starting in kindergarten through HS. I took it again in college as it was required for a theatre degree. I danced the summer between HS and college in the same jazz class that the then popular Solid Gold Dancers did much of their learning and work.

Suffice it to say that I’ve danced my way through life, and when I look back at periods in my life when that was missing they seem to be darker and less joyful. Belly dancing has been wonderful. I’ve been working on it for about 2 years now off and on, have taken classes, been a member of a pro troupe (and hope to rejoin again when things settle down) and dance on my own to music of any genre that has the appropriate under beat, and love doing so.

But, before belly dancing, it was the mechanical dancing I am talking about above. Knew the moves, but in replaying them across the floor, my mind was in control, not my passion. There was one brief moment that will always stand out in my mind in the tiny little studio where I got to be in the company of the SGD (real pros in my mind) where I guess being around them, as well as really good teachers, I was able to let go and let the music come through me. I truly danced. That was the only time in the 14 years of dance I had felt that.

And I can remember the feeling of being free, being primal, being beautiful and wonderful. Class continued and as things moved faster, and became more complex, I never again reached that. But the memory has stayed with me all these years. Now I belly dance, and in some ways it is the toughest form of dance I’ve encountered. At first the mind has to comprehend the breakdown of the movement. But it is absolutely impossible to force the body to perform what the mind knows. Belly dance, for me, and for most of the women I’ve talked to, is intuitive. The body understands the move, and until you disengage the mind, it will not work. It is the true form of “just do it”.

Clearly this is leading to the fact, that for the first time, this form of dance goes back to the artistic rather than mechanical. In fact in the first solo I did, which I also (loosely) choreographed, I found that it was indeed not possible to choreograph more than having an awareness of where I was in both space and time, and to just dance. It was back to the freedom - the flying if you will, of true communion of spirit and movement.

After the conversation last night I found myself pondering the connection to dance and life. I think they have great similarity in that one can walk through life mechanically (i.e. I do this because I have to) or with the ability to let go and live in the moment. Just like in dance, it is, however, the letting go that is the hard part. If we let go, will we crash and burn on the highway of life becoming road kill for all that surrounds us? If we let go, will we go anywhere?

I am reminded of one of my favorite songs by John Lennon:

People say I’m crazy doing what I’m doing
Well they give me all kinds of warnings to save me from ruin
When I say that I’m o.k. well they look at me kind of strange
Surely you’re not happy now you no longer play the game
People say I’m lazy dreaming my life away
Well they give me all kinds of advice designed to enlighten me
When I tell them that I’m doing fine watching shadows on the wall
Don’t you miss the big time boy you’re no longer on the ball
I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go Ah, people asking questions lost in confusion
Well I tell them there’s no problem, only solutions
Well they shake their heads and they look at me as if I’ve lost my mind
I tell them there’s no hurry
I’m just sitting here doing time
I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go
I just had to let it go
I just had to let it go

- John Lennon, Watching the Wheels, The John Lennon Colllection 1982

While I love a lot of his songs (along with half the world) this one fits. So do I let go and watch the wheels go round, here in the moment, the great dance of spirit and wholeness? Or do I pray to the mechanical god worrying that I have all the correct steps and perfect technique? I hope for the former, and will watch for when the later creeps in…

There are two ways to look at life. One is as though nothing is a miracle; the other is as though everything is.

-Albert Einstein

Everything depends on point of view. Our perception of life comes from the way we look at it. Brain chemistry, environment, genetics can all determine what and how we experience in the world around us but what we chose to see is totally up to us.

I think the challenge is in overcoming all that of the crap, to live each day as if, as Albert Einstein says above, it is a miracle given to us. After all, even if you don’t believe in a deity that had purpose in creating us, the fact that we are no more than animated mud is pretty spectacular. Or to put it much more beautifully, we are no more and no less than the stuff of the stars. It gives us a connection and symmetry. It is remembering that each day that can help us to face the challenges of that day, whether it is a traffic jam, or a death of someone close to us. Each day is a miracle. Accept that and live as if the miracle is a personal gift; because it is.

Now that is quite a tall order today. Happy Endings… haven’t even had my happy beginning yet. So the secret is finding what i CAN be happy about, even if I can’t feel that stuff. < !more...>

I am happy we moved to Denver. It is a beautiful city, there is good education, we live in a beautiful house, and good neighborhood, and eventually there will be tons of opportunity again.

I am happy I had the job at Relera. I learned tons of things and met some wonderful people.

I am happy I have the contract work in the Springs. It will help pay some bills, and also it is refining my Access skills again.

I am happy that my kids are happy. They like their schools, they have friends, they are part of something and feel good. They know they are loved, and I love them very very much. I am happy they are a part of my life.

Ok, so these things can make me happy just for today. So how can I celebrate and really feel them?

I am going to M’s rodeo at school. I will not think about jobs there, but only what is happening at his school. Maybe this weekend we can drive into the mountains and enjoy the beauty of them.

Finding friends. Reaching out. These things will make me happy as well.

What beans have I thrown today? My proposal to CC went well. I didn’t get an immediate go ahead, but she wants to think about which things she wants done first. I am taking her at her word; I didn’t get the feeling it was a brush off. Talked to EP who has the flu. We decided to do the collaboration thing again with the story. That will help my creativity skills some.

Back to topic, What are talents I could “plant”? Technical skills (database, application, network, pc, operating systems)
Writing/communication
Singing
Compassion
- ok, compassion is probably not a skill of mine that I currently have

Moon - 4 days away from FULL
This is the start of the burgeoning time - last resistance of solar energy against unfolding female fertility

This is a good time to start a new job, a new venture. This is also a good time to focus on the strengths of being female. Instead of working to become more “male” in my chosen profession, I will try to develop the positive sides of female power. Not only will this develop me more as a person, but it will also distinguish me as a professional. So in concert with finding a new job, I must find a job where that will be fostered and appreciated. I do not wish to have to have power “over” but power with. (more…)

Alder is full of questions and change. Have you asked all the questions you need to ask?

No, I don’ t think I have. But I’m not sure that is a bad thing. In my life I am constantly questioning, constantly revising my view of the world and the people around me, and even myself. I don’t think I could possibly get all the answers I need for the rest of my life in this moment… However, have I asked all the questions I need to ask, today? (more…)