Category: growth

growth · humilty · maturity

Judgy McJudgerson

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

or “Spiritual Arrogance”
Through some inventory work I’ve been doing lately, digging
out the past-prime labeled items in my psyche, and assessing what I’ve been
holding on to long past its due date, I’ve been getting to see that I am spiritually
arrogant.
Now, no one likes to admit this, certainly not me, but it’s
been coming up more lately, much more front and center, and I thought I’d try
to parse it out a little bit as I (hope to) come to a place of letting this
character defect go.
It takes one of two courses: I happen to know you’re not
doing the same arduous work that I’m doing, and therefore when you complain and
bemoan your troubles and your life, I get to sit in moral superiority, knowing
that if you were only doing what I was doing, you’d get better.
Yummy, isn’t it … More like sour, I tell you.
Or, it looks like well, no, basically, that’s it. It just
takes several more devious forms from that.
For example, you have success in your field, but I happen to
know that you’re not tending your spiritual garden with regularity. I feel
affronted. And self-pitying. Why do YOU get the goods without the work??
Or, Why
do YOU get to go on vacation to Barbados when you’re still so messed up in all
these other areas that you don’t even see how messed up you are??
Basically, it’s another form of jealousy. And laziness. I
want what you’re getting without doing the work. But when I don’t do the work, I get all kinds of cuckoo from
it. When I rest on my laurels, or feel, hey, you know what, I’ll keep my
internal stockroom filled with rotting fruit, I’ve got a good job now – well,
it usually turns out badly. The fruit turns nuclear.
The other side of this spiritual arrogance toward others is
the idea that I have any idea what the
path is for other people. When I sit in my head and judge others by their
continuous and bile-vomiting cycle of pain, it’s not doing them, or me, any
good. It’s none of my business if someone is attached to their pain cycle.
It’s my business that I
am.
It’s been said that anything negative we think or say or act toward
others, we are 10 times as harsh to ourselves. What we
say or feel toward others is just a reflection of the internal dialogue we
have.
So, when I’m sitting in judgment of others, I do know that I
use the same sword to bludgeon myself. Why aren’t
you doing better in your field? Why aren’t
you going to Barbados? What is so wrong with you
that you have to do this continuous daily work?
Sounds pretty shitty, doesn’t it?
It’s not always that vocal. It rarely is. Moreso, it’s the
undercurrent – the underground stream that runs with poison, and I drink from
that well.
Spiritual arrogance – the belief that I’m somehow better
because I do the work, but at the same time, must be worse because I need to do the work.
Perhaps … as I read yesterday: Humility makes us whole.
Perhaps, I am no greater or less than anyone around me. Perhaps I don’t have to
mark my situation against someone else’s like the height marks on a doorframe.
Perhaps I can simply keep my eyes on my own road, and let other people’s paths
be their paths. If I’m jealous, go do something about attaining what they have.
If I’m judgy, remember the times when I’ve been a screaming sobbing pile of
self-pity. If I’m arrogant, remember that, truly, we are all fucking equal, and
the lessons that I would have someone learn in this lifetime are not necessarily the lessons they’re here to learn.
So, for today, instead of wielding this double-edged sword,
perhaps I can have compassion for others, and a bit of action toward my own
lessons and goals.  

action · authenticity · fear · growth · jealousy

Just Dessert.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So I literally don’t know if I came up with this, or read or
heard it recently. I’ve tried going through the last few pages of the books I’m
reading, and can’t find it – but, no matter.
“It’s like putting our gifts up on a shelf, and then saying,
alright G-d, what’s your will for me?”
That’s what’s occurred to me. No no no, not those old things – they couldn’t possibly have anything to do with what I’m supposed to do
with my life. Those are just, well, hobbies, or qualities I have, or secret
things I like to do – they certainly aren’t Worth While. They certainly don’t
mean anything with regard to a Life Purpose.
Hmm. I like it – the simplicity of it. I’m a fan of
believing I can pause things till I get a handle on them. I’m also a fan of
half-finished projects, trouncing from one interest to another, so as to not
get too invested – and therefore (fear)
disappointed by the end result.
The problem with any of the things I consider as gifts or
interests is that I do abandon them, and
then have very plausible reason for saying I can’t pursue them, or that they’re
not a viable option. Of course I
can’t sing in a band – I quit taking voice lessons. Of course I can’t play in a band – I quit taking guitar
lessons. Of course I can’t use my
writing as a stream of income – I haven’t submitted anything.
Oh, clarity. How my fears hate the light of day. And,
granted, it’s just the light of today – likely, I’ll forget all this sometime
later today or tomorrow – until I’m once again presented with the pang of
jealousy toward people who are doing the
things I want to do.
You sing in a band? You edited a published book? You sold a
painting? You went on a vacation? You traveled in Europe? You live in a warm
climate? ;P
That last one – well, we’ll leave that alone for now. Although
I will tell you, my Magic 8 ball tells me that I won’t be here in the Bay Area
at the end of the year. … Truth be told.
One of the great things about some of the folks I’m now in
with is that I watch and hear how they turn jealousy into action. That’s the
thing about jealousy for me, at least. If I say to myself, “I could do that
[better, is implied],” then what I’m really saying is I want to do that.
I remember back in college, I would feel visceral pangs of
resentment and jealousy when I would walk into an open mic night to watch other people play. Sometimes I
had to in fact leave because I was so pissed that I (as I understand it now)
couldn’t let myself try.
So the phrase sparks something new – a new awareness of the
patterns of my dream abandonment. I have these nudges, but I discount them and the qualities they could bring to my life as not valid. I thereby stand at the
smorgasbord of life and say nothing looks good. Basically, I say that the cake
and cookies are for other people – not for me. I need the limp kale to get
along in life.
As a metaphor, I would like the cake and cookies. I would
like to understand that anything that I consider “play” is actually a way in
which I’m informing myself of where I’d like to go and what I’d like to do.
Instead of discounting my interests, maybe I should follow them. Instead of
turning back, or judging others, or dismissing my desire for the fun – maybe I
should let myself sink into the gifts and interests that I have.
After all, as they say: Life is short – Eat dessert first. 
authenticity · cool · courage · growth

Stay Cool, Boy

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

“Cool.” It’s something I want. Something I want to be, but
it’s not an acquisition piece.
Cool and Brave were the two things that came up in some
writing yesterday – qualities that I want to be or have more of. Both require
similar levels of self-assurance and self-acceptance.
I went into the word “cool” for myself – what did I mean by
that? What does it mean to me? Well, cool, to me, means being calm, confident,
not boastful, involved in a variety of activities, engaged in the world, having
a sense of ease about oneself and place in the world. Cool means knowing you
have a right to be where you are. Cool means a lack of self-consciousness. And
a lack of worry or fear.
Similar to brave, I imagine.
A few months ago, I fell in desperate infatuation with a
black leather jacket. This is how I want
people to see me. This is how I want to see myself. This piece will make me cool.
See, but it doesn’t work that way. I didn’t buy the jacket
on the spot, and instead received it for half the store price from an online
site as holiday present from my dad. I got the jacket in the mail in December,
and it sat in my closet.
I was scared of this jacket.
What it would mean of me, or of what I projecting into the
world. Can I own this jacket? Not in the
possession way, but in the dominate way? Instead of the jacket wearing me, can
I wear it?
The jacket stayed in my closet until earlier this month. I
would take it out occassionally. Fawn over the delicateness of the leather; the
instant cool it gives. But was it me, or was it the jacket?
Finally, I wore it. I felt both impostor and proud. I felt
both seen and the desire to not be seen – can you see through me as I wear
this? Do you know that I don’t have many tattoos or a Ramones album?
Over the last month, I’ve worn this jacket a few more times.
And each time, it does for me what I hoped it would – it’s helped me to embody
the coolness that, somewhere, I do believe I have – if we define “cool” as I
have above – as a calm sense of self-assuredness and place in this world.
The jacket is becoming a tool, not a costume.
I struggle with my own feelings of worthiness around many
things in this world, including obviously a black leather jacket. But owning
this piece of clothing, this visible statement to the world, helps me to feel
like I’m approaching a different place in it.
No longer content to hide from it. No longer content to hide
who I am in it. Yes, I am that girl in the black leather jacket. And I might even
have heels on, too. 
generosity · growth · humilty · poetry · school

Back to Basics.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Sorry folks, for the interruption in my daily musings. I
have been under the weather, and yesterday morning slept in right until I had
to run out to do ‘first things first,’ and then over to school. This morning
was similar. So, thanks for your patience 😉 and for reading. 🙂
Yesterday, I had to run over to school in order to get my
painting professor to sign my “drop form.” Yes, I am dropping painting. A
number of things contributed to this decision. One of which was that I was
unable to do my morning practice on those Monday and Wednesday class mornings – the commute to class
was at an ungodly hour to me.
Another of which was that it wasn’t fun. It came as a
surprise to me to realize that I was feeling pinched by the instruction and
parameters that the class was offering. Surely, part of it was that my work wasn’t being “well received” and my ego was being hurt. But
part of it was that I wanted to do the work I wanted to do – to have fun – and I wasn’t. I was being told things like
“not formally correct” and at this stage of my painting game, I’m not concerned
with things like that. I’m concerned with expression, not correction. When she signed it though, my professor did tell me I have good instincts and to follow them, but that I need some development on my ideas (which I concur, and will do so with more “play”).
Lastly, for dropping painting – the class I was so looking
forward to taking – I have to focus on my “real” thesis. Despite my mental
flights of fancy into ideas for the thesis such as a visual and language art
project, or a 20 minute ballet, my flights have been grounded. For now.

The reality is… that I’m in an MFA program
and that program has certain prescribed requirements. This is not a free-for-all, however much I’d been playing it as such. So, I have
to play within the rules for now.
As I mentioned in the Reluctant Poet blog, I’m going back to
my original school work and am going to flesh
that out. In truth, some of the poetry I’m producing for it now could not have been written any earlier. I wouldn’t have had
access to writing about this a month ago, and certainly not anytime before
that. I’m doing a lot to free my voice and self, and it’s showing up in the
writing… now that I’m being forced to go back to it.
So. It turns out maybe this isn’t such a bad thing after
all. This “having to write a formal poetry thesis” thing. Which is good,
since I’m having to do it anyway, I may not as well see it as torture.
With the graciousness and generosity of the Universe,
yesterday before I went to get my drop form signed by the painting instructor,
I went to see my academic advisor for her signature, and to check in. This woman, is NOT the same as my “thesis advisor,” and
has known me and things about me for almost 2 years. I have a wonderful rapport
with her, and I value her immensely. She’s like a guidance counselor for grad
students ;P
And, that was precisely what I needed yesterday. The first
question she asked was “how’s the thesis,” and although at first I was
reluctant or cagey about the state of distraught I’ve been in over it, it
eventually all came out, tears and all.
She smiled. Kindly. She said that if the work wasn’t pushing
me, if I wasn’t coming up against blocks against it, if I wasn’t kicking and
screaming and being activated by it – then I wouldn’t be doing good work. I wouldn’t be changing as a writer. She
said that this reaction is normal; she
said that she had an all out break-down during her own dissertation. (Which,
btw, she’d shared about briefly at our student orientation, which is why I
then asked her to be my advisor. Her own journey and humanity made her feel
like the right person for me.)
She said that I needed to tell my thesis advisor what was up
with me and the work – why it has been so
hard for me to reapproach it. What’s been going on. And I sort of freeze up,
and say, Yeaaahh….. I know…..
And she says, I’d be happy to write her an email note as to
what’s going on. A short note, just to inform her. The relief I felt was
palpable. I had an advocate. I didn’t even know I needed one, but I said yes.
That I feel tender around all this, and get defensive, and that yes, I’d really
appreciate that.
See, my last interaction with my thesis advisor was that I’d
bring her all my work on Tuesday and we’d see if we can cobble something
together. So, I show up on Tuesday, and spend the half hour before our meeting
on the floor of the hallway with all my poems spread out, and I shuffle them
into an order, and I realize, I really do have a “body of work” that makes
sense – that has a theme, is coherent, and has a message, or a story arc. A
theme that is in perfect alignment with the work I’m currently doing.
And then, at 2pm on Tuesday, I knock on her office door, and
she’s not there. I wait. I fume. I’m all defensive in advance. And she doesn’t
show. … Turns out, she meant next
Tuesday, and I thought this one.
But, it all works out. I get to work through my resentment
some more before I see her; I get to have my academic advisor as my advocate, helping to calm
the waters; and I get to see that I might actually have something to say. In
poetry. 
growth · healing · meditation · sexuality

I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

You know how frustrating that answer was to us as children.
I feel like that’s the answer I’m getting now. In mild-to-moderate panic about
the end of school in May, what I’ll be doing then, what I want to do, and where I want to do it, I’ve been knocking
on the Universe’s door, being like, HEY! Throw me a bone here, eh??
Trouble is, the damned Universe has been throwing me a bone.
I just don’t like the taste.
I’ve written here before that it’s been indicated to me via
multiple meditations that I need to do this work on untangling past sexual
trauma before I can move forward, before I can get any further information.
This, makes me mad. Frustrated. Besides the fact that when
that information was once again given to
me in a meditation about 2 weeks ago, I kicked that information in the shins. I
had a right ole’ tantrum about it. WHY?? (She asks again…) Why do I have to do this shit – this uncomfortable, vulnerable,
honest, and sad shit. I. don’t. want. to. feel. this. I don’t want to feel sad. I don’t want to acknowledge that I am. I don’t want to do this. 
I phoned a friend of mine who knows me well and who had done
EMDR for a whole year before, and I expressed my frustration. I also told her
that this trauma/funky relationship with my sexuality and femininity is kicking
me back… She said that I could take all the acting classes I
wanted, all the music lessons, and painting classes, but that THIS was the real
work. That this, doing this work within myself and with the help of Team Molly, is how I will move forward, and enable any of the rest of that stuff to enter my life, and inhabit it in the way that I really need, and in fact, want, to.
I pout. I say that being sad is for pussies, and I
should be over this shit, or rather that so many other people are walking
around psychicly limping, how come I
have to actually do the work? No fair. 😡
And, yet. I know she’s right. Later in that
conversation I told her, I do have a choice. This is a choice that I’m making to work through this. Not to “get
over it.” To discount it, or to continue to walk as a wounded antelope. My
sexuality began wearing a heavy cloak of shame, guilt, fear, and pain almost 20
years ago. I don’t really even know what it looks like anymore. And so, that’s
what I’m doing.
I have a vision I sometimes use of a table at which all my
disparate parts of self sit. There’s me at the head, and the smart girl, the
baker, the Vixen (who is not the same as my sexuality), there’s the goofball, the artist, and sadness who is a recent invite to the table – now that I don’t believe
she’ll infect everyone with her sadness. There’s gentility. All of these parts
of me and more sit at the table, and I’ve been gathering them from the far
corners for a few years, and there are too those who were never banished from
the table or had to hide or escape.
Then, there’s sexuality. Mired in her leaden cloak, like the
kind you wear in the dental office when taking x-rays. I didn’t actually know
until recently that all those emotions she’s wearing are not a legitimate part
of her. That shame and sexuality are in fact mutually exclusive, and that …
they can part ways.
She’s somewhere outside of the house where the table is at
the moment. Somewhere in the woods perhaps, in this sodden cloak, which she is
now, I am now recognizing is removable.
I look forward to meeting her. I imagine that she has a lot
to teach me and show me. I told another person recently that I believe that
eventually she’ll sit on my right side up at the head of the table – she’s that
important and that potent. That does not
mean that there’ll be rampant sex – that’s much of what saddled her in guilt
and shame to begin with – but that the power that comes from owning my body as
well as my voice. The power that comes from owning my boundaries and my needs – and really really speaking up for them. The power that will come with
the kindness and mutuality and trust. The power that comes from sexuality’s
creative bent.
The chakra that is associated with creation is located in
the area of the reproductive organs. This area produces life in the literal
sense, and life in the metaphoric sense. This is a way in which I have been cut off from my own ability to create,
to own voice, to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with my life, now, after
May, hereafter. Of course I can’t know yet. All the information is still tucked
away in this miasma of trauma and grief.
So, as I was once again
informed this morning in my meditation upon asking, “BUT WAIT!! WHAT AM I
SUPPOSED TO DO??? WHAT DO I NEED TO DO NEXT TO MOVE FORWARD??”, I need to do
exactly what I’m doing: feel sad, have tantrums, cry in my bathrobe, watch Pixar’s entire catalogue, listen to friends, admit what’s really going on, and to let myself become fully and usefully whole. 
abundance · action · growth · recovery

Serenity Moths

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

First off, I’m embarrassingly late to work. My alarm went off early, but since the retreat, I’ve been ddddrrrragggging to get there. Luckily, I’m a temp, get paid by the hour, so, one hour less today…and yesterday…and Monday 😉 But, it’s also just news to me that this phase is coming to an end – both literally and spiritually. My regular temping with them will come to an end this Friday, and then I do have the option of coming in two days a week once school begins, but we’ll see what happens. I’m taking this enormous and uncharacteristic display of lateness to be a sign that this isn’t my gig. That I’m indicating to myself it’s time to try another door. This one is closing. I’m not going to burn bridges – though I suppose being an hour late is a way to do that! – but I am going to begin to place my energy and search into alternative sources of income once school begins.
Secondly, I’m dressed in all black today. My motorcycle jacket-looking shirt, black skinny jeans, and the black slouchy flat boots I bought recently, giving in to the whole slouchy boot look, but actually thinking it looks pretty awesome on me 😉 I began to buy a few pieces of black clothing last year – this was a HUGELY new development. If you’ve seen me, or know my closet, it’s like a colorwheel exploded in there. In fact, someone once told me that I looked like a box of Crayolas threw up on me, I wore so much color. And, I took that as a good thing. My mother wore bbbeeeeiiiigge throughout my early childhood – every shade of oatmeal, sand, tan there was. Eventually, she went black with stark red lipstick and leather pants (this was around the time of the divorce!). And now, she’s come into color, soft pale, kinder colors. Some bright, but for the most part, soft. Obviously, color means a lot to the way women in my family express themselves and their inner landscape.
So, when I began to move away from blinding, bold color, it was a major shift for me. Black. All black today. I’m thinking that for me at the moment, it’s not about goth, or despair, it’s one part blank slate – a tabula rasa period of resetting the color wheel before what’s next. It’s also one part, I’m cooler than I’ve let myself ever be. Black is cool. It’s also off-putting sometimes, but, now I’m rambling a bit about it – but I guess my point is that I’m observing change happening in myself and on myself from a very unconscious subtle avenue.
Lastly, re: Serenity Moths. Last night, I was reflecting about ways in which my life is unmanageable still. I began a list, which started with “Overdue library books.” And not like a day or two late, but like, I returned a stack a few weeks ago, and the amount I owed was over $20. And, last night, I had a stack that needed to get back to school, but with the miniscule amounts of time I have after work and on weekends to take the bus to and from school, these books are starting to accumulate fees.
Serenity Moth 1.
Serenity Moth 2: I have a battery-powered air freshener spray I got when I got my cat, because I am LOATHE to allow my home to smell like a cat lady’s!!! I replaced the actual spray, which had run out, about a month ago, but the battery has been running down. And instead of a firm spray at every 30 minute interval, it has begun to be a sort of sad pthhhhtt… dribbling down itself from lack of power. Every thirty minutes I’m home, I hear it go pthhhhtt… and think, I should change the battery. But I don’t.
It’s not like I don’t have batteries – I do. I just have let the thing wind down for a few weeks now. This is a Serenity Moth. Something which I could easily do something about to make my life work better and which I just don’t need to be thinking about! Wouldn’t it be lovely if every thirty minutes I wasn’t reminded how sad the air freshener was? Wouldn’t it be lovely if my brain didn’t need to have one more thing needling at it?
Lastly as an example (the list of serenity moths, as I’ve termed them, was very long – and included things like, waiting till the last minute to memorize monologues, not going to music shows, … being late to work) 😉 when I came home from the retreat on Sunday, I wasn’t ready to dive back into facebook or rush back into reality, so I decided I was going to cook a hearty winter vegetable stew. And I did. Stew done. Some imbibed. Time for bed. But… I had an entire pot of stew I needed to put away for storage. Problem? I didn’t have enough tupperware containers.
But, that’s not true. I did have enough. I had many. In fact, I had them right here in my fridge. But.
About 5 or 6 containers were in my fridge, filled with food which had been there for lengths of time ranging from a few weeks, to …. a year. Yes. Sadly, Serenity Mothingly, Yes. A year.
How do I know that? One of the tupperware containers belongs to my ex. So I wouldn’t have borrowed or cooked anything there in over a year. My fridge has been full of rotting food. A lot of it for a long long time. And I needed some tupperware.
So, I finally did was I was wanting to do, but could never bring myself to do for a very long time. I emptied out the science experiments. I held my breath, opened the containers, and dumped out all the bad, sad, self-defeating, energy-sapping, brain space intruders. And washed them till they squeaked. And now, I am currently storing my stew (in the freezer!). And I have zero zero rotting food in my refrigerator.
Perhaps that’s entirely gross, and you didn’t want to hear about that – but … the point is that this is all growth. Even the being late to work. I’m not chastising myself around it – which I could – but I’m seeing it as an opportunity to do something different. A chance to listen to what my body and my energy is telling me – which is that I need to be brave enough to try something else, because this option is no longer an option.
I’m willing to see myself as I walk in the world differently, as a woman who isn’t hiding behind color – cuz you can do that too. Distract people. I’m willing to let myself feel cool, powerful, visible, and allow for whatever wants to come next to enter slowly, and kindly.
And, when I got home last night I spent some time in action, and was able to cross about 5 Serenity Moths off my list. These are the holes in the sieve I’m going to need to close in order to hold the grace and abundance I have in my life and I have coming to me in my life.
And now, off to work. In my really hip new boots. 🙂
community · growth · painting · school · spirituality

Spirit Animals & Oil Paint

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, this may be a mini-blog, as I’ve got to run to get ready
for the annual new year’s retreat I’m going to today through tomorrow up in the Napa Hills. I’m excited. I never know
what will come of these, but there’s always something.
I was reminded yesterday of accepting things as they are, not
as I want them to be. And of the phrase, We ask G-d for what we want, he gives
us what we need, and in the end, it’s what we wanted anyway.
I got a text from the Catholic saying he was bummed; and I
admit that I am too. But I let it lie, because there’s nothing really else to
say. It’s a decision I’ve finally made, and maybe it’ll change, but for now,
this is an option I’ve never let myself explore, and if that’s not being open
to change, I don’t know what is.
Another thing on my mind have been creeping thoughts of
“not good enough” as I begin to prepare for my singing and acting auditions
next weekend and the following. But, luckily, I heard myself telling my friend
yesterday that, to quote Julia Cameron’s Artist’s Way, we’re in charge of the quantity, G-d’s in charge of
the quality.
That, and maybe I really do need lessons of some sort. Maybe
I don’t have to do it on my own. And maybe, as this is the consistent nudge
I’ve been getting toward performance, maybe a miracle of funds to afford
said lessons will “appear” or make themselves available, or maybe my ideas of
my priorities will change and the money is actually already there.
I have, however, been thinking “car.” One of next week’s
auditions is for the live modeling guild. It’s reputable and on the up and up,
and you need reliable motorized transportation in order to be a member. So,
that, and the desperate desire for the freedom my own car would provide… I get
my student loan money soon, and will be filing my taxes early online as usual,
and although I didn’t work as much as I’d anticipated this week due to being
sick, I will have some money from this temp gig to throw in as well, with my
January costs all still being covered from the work I was able to do in
December.
I think part of my self-doubt around performance too is that
I have been sick and sort of isolated this week, which contributes to too much
time in my brain – and feeling lethargic is not a good motivator. But, I’m on
the mend – this retreat will help recenter me, I hope, as will getting back to
work, and getting back to school … which begins the week after next.
You know what I’m taking? Painting. Advanced Oil Painting to
be exact. What else? My thesis credit, and that’s f’ing it 😉 I’m so excited to
get back into the painting studio. I’ve tried to use my kitchen as a studio,
and even have a small easel that I got off craigslist, but it’s not the same.
The light, the space, the feeling of being in an artistic venue. I’m so excited
🙂
I will also be taking the other half-credit of my Community
Teaching Project class, which will be the execution and implementation of the
Spirituality & Creativity workshop I created. And to be honest, going to these
retreats & workshops with this woman over the last 4 years has absolutely influenced the
way I see my workshop, and I model a good deal after what she and Julia Cameron
have to offer. I have some great teachers.
Maybe I’ll let myself have some teachers in performance too.
I ran into a friend at the modeling gig I did about a month ago. He was one of
the musicians in the band I sang with about 4 years ago – it was one song, to
be performed in the one performance of one local community play, but I
rehearsed with the band, I practiced my song, and what did my friend have to
say to me last month? That when I finally let myself really let go, I was
great. And, I believe him. It’s letting myself get there that’s the frightening
part.
To shedding that which no longer serves us, See you on
Monday! xo,m. 

faith · growth · recovery · self-care

Vitamin D

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I sit here in the long, angled slants of winter sun, bundled
in my pjs, robe, and two blankets, with a bowl of cinnamon apple I just made. I
was told recently that Vitamin D is a really great healer, and as I’m sick and
had to cancel my plans for today, I’m sopping up this natural resource as much
as I can.
As I’m sick, this blog may not make much sense 🙂 and may
have contributed to the ‘downer’ mood of yesterday’s, but, c’est la vie.
I said a few months ago, around the time that I was preparing
to go home to pack up my house that I felt like my life was “Everything all at
once.” The money stuff was hitting a wall again, family was a beast, and I
generally felt overwhelmed.
A turn came when I also realized that “Everything all at
once” must include the good things too.
Right? If it’s everything, everything, all this drama and hardship and challenge and chaos, what must also
be happening and available is calm, serenity, growth, and gifts.
Perspective is everything.
So, if at the same time that I’m experiencing a profound
bolstering in my sense of inner strength, this doesn’t preclude that there is
also … life, with all its attendant twists.
To take a narrative turn, my only tattoo is on my left
wrist, and it is of the sun. In my senior year of college, the wall opposite my
bed had a filled-in doorway to the next room, but the molding for the door was
still there. When I’d painted the room, I’d left the molding white, so it was
like a frame. Knowing I was inching toward a tattoo of the sun, I decided it
would be a good idea to live with one for a while, to see if I got sick of it.
So, I began to draw on my wall in that frame, an enormous
sun, with each flame around it different and specific, and within the circle of
the sun was the infinity symbol drawn sort of like a ribbon or mobius strip, so
it was three-dimensional, folding in on itself, traveling infinitely.
These two images to me, infinity and the sun, were images of
“constants.” Things that would always be (though yes, the argument can be made
about the sun, but in my lifetime at least, it is a constant!). An anchor
amidst whatever else was going on, these things would always be.
When I brought my design to the artist, my wrist was too
small to take the detail of the drawing, and so we simplified it majorly.
Sometimes people assume that the lines within the circle on my wrist are of a
yin-yang, which sort of bothers me 😉 as I want to say, ew, no, I’m not that hippie, lol. But, I know what it represents.
Along those lines of constancy, for the last … maybe 4
years, I’ve been playing with another tattoo design, but have hesitated because
it would cover the entire right side of my body from top of my ribs to my
hipbone, and part of me feels “bad” or guilty rather to cover the work that is
already there – me 😉 The art G-d already made. It’s like graffiti – you never
tag over someone else’s work. Never.
So, twice, I’ve brought my design in to two different
artists. One was not quite my style, but still has my deposit, I believe! The
other, I found about a year ago, when searching online for someone who would be
good with the design I had in mind – and lo and behold, this guy had just
opened up a shop above Union Square, and I met with him, and we emailed photos
and sketches ad nauseum, and finally, we got it right.
Then, I got into grad school, and was soon to be unemployed,
and let him know, and he said cool, and to get in touch when I wanted to do it.
The design combines the images of the “hand of G-d” and the
“tree of life.” The trunk of the tree would be the wrist of a hand, with the
main branches as the outward curving of fingers. But it would look like a tree,
of course, and that’s what drew me to this guy. I’d seen some work he did where
the trees looked so intricate and phenomenal – it’s hard to do a tree! So, you wouldn’t be entirely sure, or
it wouldn’t be obvious, that it
was a hand, but it is.
The branches would be covered in each of the seasons, moving
from one to the next, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring (so that the sparse branches
of winter weren’t on an end, and also, to indicate that after the death of
winter, there is always spring).
The root system would travel down over my hipbones, equally
as massive and firm as the branches, because the degree to which we flower is
equal to the degree to which we are rooted, I believe.
I still think about this design, and it fits in well with my
first one with regard to constancy – the constancy of a Higher Power in my life
and the constancy of the potential to grow and flower continuously, infinitely.
We’ll see what happens, he still has my deposit too, and I
still have his final design. But I love the ideas I’ve chosen to live with, and
I don’t for a second regret the one on my wrist. And as the sun, here, now,
today, makes it’s slow way from behind another building onto me tucked into my
cozy couch, I am again grateful. For the reminder that it’s okay to be still
and mend today as tomorrow will come too; the reminder that growth is infinite
and continuous; and that there is always, always something to count on. 
action · adventure · compassion · courage · creativity · finances · forgiveness · gratitude · growth · joy · recovery · relationships · responsibility · romance · self-care · spirituality

Wet Concrete.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Today is the last day of work before the winter break. And
although mine is polka-dotted with gorgeous adventures with wonderful women,
what i’m really looking forward to is sleep! And cleaning my apartment.
There’s some kind of shift happening, or a solidification
rather. I feel the cement getting stronger beneath my feet. As though I have
poured the foundation, and it’s looked messy and strange – like getting a
degree in poetry, putting together an art show, cleaning out my childhood home
for sale, getting out of a relationship, beginning to audition for theater. I
haven’t known what any of these pieces have meant as they’ve come up and I
examine them and lay them down, like Indy choosing the right chalice at the end
of Last Crusade, hmm, consider, lay aside.
I’ve just been picking up these pieces with curiosity.
And now they’re all poured into the mold of my life’s
foundation, and I can’t explain to you why, but there is a joy that is arising
that feels so uniquely new and pervasive, that I know these are associated.
With a stronger foundation to stand on, I’m freer to explore, create, test
theories, fail, try. I’m no longer standing on quick-sand, undermining myself
as soon as a notion crosses my mind or path.
I also know that there are likely a thousand more things
that will go in this foundation, that it won’t ever be “complete,” but isn’t
that the point of life? (She says with any idea like she knows what “the point”
of life is!!)
But, I tell you, something is happening. Which is a good
thing, because I can spin out into “I have no idea what’s happening/going to
happen”-land really quickly.
For now, today is my last day of 2011 working at a job I
enjoy. I’ve been asked to come back on January 3rd when the office
reopens, and it has been suggested to pay off my credit cards with this money
I’ll earn, instead of ear-mark it for a car, … but we’ll see 😉 My credit cards
don’t have high balances (no one ever trusted me enough to give me too much
credit! – including myself), but the interest rates are exorbitant, and one of my tasks is to call to ask for a lower
rate. I’ve done this before, and they’ve said no. I’ve done this recently, and
they’ve said no.
But the woman who suggested it said that this is one of
those holes that needs to be closed up. Why pour water into a sieve? In order
for me to hold abundance in my life, there are places where I need to be ready
to receive it. So, this is one of those action places, a place where the
foundation can become firmer. The woman also suggested a script for calling
them, some key phrases and an attitude, that scare the crap out of me. Because
they mean taking true accountability and responsibility for myself and my
finances by letting someone else know that this is not okay. Paying almost 20%
on a credit card, and not touching the principal is (apparently!) not okay. And
I need to close these holes. I also will let go of the results, because they
may still say no, but the action of taking action to care for myself and
respect my own boundaries is the lesson, and the trial.
I get reflective around the turn of the year, and around my
birthday. For all the floundering I sometimes believe I’m doing in my life, the
truth is that progress is being made. It has not been the easiest year, and the
hardships have variously set me to a variety of tasks and new things:
  • the
    breakup caused me to lean on my girlfriends, and have the experience of getting
    through that “slammed by a mack truck”ness of early breakup;
  • the breakup led to
    rebounding, which produced my best painting yet (in my opinion) – lol;
  • the
    japan disaster prompted my friend to host an art show with donation to japan at
    which she asked me to read my poetry, for my first time in public outside of
    the school community;
  • my bitterly harrowing lack of income over the summer
    caused me to get in with a community of people who work on financial security
    and abundance issues;
  • later, working too
    much caused me to come up against boundaries of self-care and are helping me to
    say yes     and no with integrity;
  • packing up my childhood home for sale caused me to root out the sadness and
    grief that lived there, and here in my heart, and to begin to perspectivize 😉
    it with more serenity;
  • having that wonky conversation with my mom over the
    summer caused me to take space to reassess how I am able to engage with her in
    ways that feel mutual, responsible, respectful, and loving to us both;
  • being
    single caused me to pick up     Calling in the One to help foster love and care within myself and help
    to radiate outward;
  • my grandmother, my dad’s mom, is dying, and this is causing
    me to see my dad with more compassion than I have, perhaps, ever, and to listen
    to him as a person, not as “Dad” with all its attendant baggage and
    expectations.
So, there’s just some reflections which come immediately to
mind. There are more. But as the saying goes something like, “out of every season of grief, when life seemed heavy or unjust, new lessons for life are learned and new resources of growth and courage are discovered.” And for me, these seasons of grief were simply filtering out the junk in the pouring concrete. 
compassion · gratitude · growth · healing · love · recovery · relationships · self-care · spirituality

Today’s Lesson: Love. (Don’t Vomit.)

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Today is affirmation day.
Per the last exercise of Calling in The One workbook/coursebook/spiritual revolution catalyst,
today, I’m supposed to affirm my availability and openness to Love and to meet
love, not just in a romantic partner, though that is an aspect, but to meet
love within myself, my life, and in all other people.
When I got sober, I used to hear people say
“We’ll love you until you can love yourself.” At the time, that sentence felt
like I just got slimed on Double Dare.
No way, dude. Get it off me. Keep that gross thing, “Love” you’re calling it?, to your own
damned self.
At the time, “love” to me was a series of fabulously tragic
relationships and an invitation to be hood-winked. I imagined love was like The
Simpsons’ Nelson, asking me to sit in this
lavish chair, and just as I was bending into it, he’d pull it out from under me
with his catch-phrase “HA HA!” I can hear it. Love was not to be trusted; love
was a lie; love was an invitation to be hurt.
So you can imagine, that when people also said that “G-d is
love”, I threw up in my mouth a little bit, every single time. I still think
it’s an extremely gooey phrase, but I
don’t get (as much) acid reflux from it anymore.
For quite some time, I used to say that I received
compliments like one of those lamp-light bug zappers. Compliments, and we can
extrapolate “love,” would only get so far toward me before ZAP! Dead. You ain’t
getting in here, no way no how.
One of the meditations in the workshop I went to this weekend asked us
to envision the light from various teachers and positive sources coming into us, and to then to allow that light to pour out into others. I did this
meditation a few years ago, about 3 or 4 I suppose. At the time, I vividly
remember that I wasn’t going to let these people’s “light” come anywhere near
me. I’ll send light out to those behind me, sure, but keep your light to
yourself. I would send from my own bucket, tap from the (limited) source within
myself. I didn’t need your light – I can do it on my own.
This past weekend, however, sure, I recognized I still was very uncomfortable accepting the light from these loving
sources, but I let it in. It was like slipping into a fur coat that’s been in
mothballs for years – comforting but icky. 😉 That said, to know that I was a)
willing to accept light, and we can substitute the word “love” here, from
others was a huge shift, however uncomfortable I am to receive it, I was
willing to do so; and b) I didn’t have to send my love/light to others by
depleting my own reserves. Instead, I could be a funnel, a filter, a channel,
as is often said.
So, here I am. 30, single, hesitant to believe in a thing
called love (to quote the song with a cringe) ;P but opening more to it.
There’s been a level of conceit which says I’m able to give love and you’re not
allowed to give it to me; a level of conceit which says I know the right way to
love and you’re giving it to me wrong. These have kept me quite alone over the
years.
The reality is that I haven’t fallen in love with an addict,
alcoholic, unavailable, or taken man in a long long time. Doing these things
helped to cause my belief that love was a cruel trick. I haven’t had proof of
this for a long time. Instead, what I’ve been given evidence of as “love” has
been self-less, light, thoughtful, and consistent, and this love has come from many people, not only lovers or boyfriends. I’ve begun to give myself the same
respect and consistency, and finishing this course (and because I mainly just
read through it with lots of underlining(!), and didn’t complete all the exercises, I will now go back
through – there are a bunch which I know want my attention to help sever these
old ties of beliefs) – finishing the course, going on my date with myself, not dating jerks, all of these are helping to firm up
the new system of belief which is that your love (and my own) is not going to injure me, but
rather it is going to bolster me in my climb out into the sunlight.
For all that, I thank you, friends, readers, little secret
gnomes, who are sliming me with the support and generosity of love.