direction · maturity · recovery · relationships · spirituality

The Life of an Asparagus

There is a story I’ve heard about bamboo once, and about
asparagus once, and because they were intended as metaphors, I’ve never
bothered to look up their validity, as that wasn’t the point. It goes something
like this:
Asparagus (and bamboo) germinate under the soil for years, months.
For quite some time, on the surface of the earth, it looks as if nothing at all
is happening. The land looks quiet, unproductive, fallow. Then, as if by
miracle, overnight, the asparagus sprouts up through the ground all at once in
a burst of growth and joy. (“joy” added by literary license) 😉
The metaphor’s intended lesson is that, sometimes, when it
looks on the surface that nothing at all is happening, when you begin to lament
that nothing is growing, will grow, that the land itself is bunk, suddenly,
sometimes overnight, suddenly there is the evidence of new life. The point is
that “nothing” has not been happening; there have been great somethings
happening, we just haven’t been able to see them in the way we’ve been looking.
But in fact, a great amount of life, growth, germination, determination, and
nature have been happening all along.
This story occurred to me this morning, having come home
from my annual New Year’s women’s meditation/spirituality retreat yesterday.
What I felt is that this is going to be the year perhaps
right before the sudden overnight growth, or the year I begin to see progress.
In all likelihood, it’s not going to look like “by the end of this year, my
name will be in a playbill,” but it will look like something. The beginnings.
Forgive me if this sounds vague or oblique, but it’s sort of
hard to concretize what’s beginning to feel like satisfaction. The last several
years, according to the above metaphor, have been a lot of laying of groundwork. There’s been a lot that has
been happening under the surface. And sure, it’s looked like a ton of busy-ness
above ground – moving, jobs, school, relationships – but, in reality, there
hasn’t been as much movement or change above ground as you might think. (Being busy and changing are two different things, I realize.) A lot
of it has been happening internally, subtly, and slowly.
I’m also just coming back from this intense, sort of
un-summarizable weekend, so honestly, I’m still getting my head around what new
knowledge, support, direction, I’ve gotten. And, truly, I imagine that a lot of
what’s happened this weekend will take months to settle. And that’s cool. And
that’s what I like about them.
The retreats become this sort of psychic wisk, stirring up
all kinds of stuff, and it takes some time for the pieces to settle enough to
examine and integrate them.
What I can say for semi-certain is that I am feeling more
confident than ever about who and where I am and am going in my life. I had a
sort of montage-y thing happen in one of my meditations where I was
fast-forwarded through all the work I’d done since I’d sat in that very circle of redwoods around that very fire 4 years ago. It’s a lot. I’ve done a lot of work. I’ve excavated a lot, I’ve healed a lot,
I’ve been presented with some of the most frightening aspects of my past and my
fears and my blocks. And I was brought up present to what I have to do next.
It’s not surprising, and in fact, I’ve been preparing to head here, but it was like pieces falling into place. In order to move forward, in order to begin doing the work I want to do, this is what needs to happen next. It’s a very “If X, Then Y” scenario. I must address a very particular series of old and rather severe
wounds in order to really come out from the
side-lines of my own life — I have to address this long avoided and discounted pain. In order to “own
voice,” have voice, allow my voice to be heard, via song, performance,
presence, I have to unblock this constriction. A constriction which is and has been very
clear on saying, demanding, and indicating that I “shut the fuck up.”
Brightly, what was also indicated to me, and what I felt/feel
very strongly, is that I have allies. That I have the community to draw from
which I will need to get into, through, and out of this painful mutedness. And,
too, that any teacher or mentor I don’t yet have will become available as
I need it – and as I ask for and accept help. That’s been a theme for me lately
– about not being as isolated and fiercely independent as I’ve been. That I
don’t have to do this alone. I’ve begun walking into part of that process, and
it’s a lifetime thing.
So, asparagus. This will be a year of rubbing my hands over
the soil, brushing some of it back, and revealing the incredible tip of the
asparagus bounty that is about to happen.
I am grateful for the women who have helped me to come to
this place – and I’ll be reaching out to you for your wisdom, experience, and support as I move forward from here (if I don’t, text me) 😉
acting · action · courage · direction · faith · intuition · letting go · maturity · performance · poetry

Just Row, Darling, Just Row.

So, I’m feeling both immensely relieved, and a bit of an
emotional hangover from all of the worry and intense “gotta get it done”ness of
the school semester. I finally finished
my paper for my Shakespeare class, and emailed it to the teacher last night at 9pm.
Granted, it was
only six pages,
but this whole working plus school thing really walloped what I was able to
give to school, and squished everything else into weekends that wasn’t school
and school sort of got shunted along every day, moving down my calendar like a
shuffle board disc – I can do it tomorrow, I can do it tomorrow. Like Scarlet
O’Hara – After all tomorrow is another day.
Which may be true, but tomorrow has been another day of
intense activity, and not in any way better than the day before it.
So, the paper is done. My third out of 4 semesters of my MFA
degree is done. And again, relief but… a big dose of “uhhhhhh….???” aka now
what. I’m familiar enough with situations like these to not have to worry too
much about the “now what”, but rather to just show up for what’s next, even if
that’s do the dishes (which, duh, I do have to do), and also, as I’ve been
doing more of lately, follow my little internal nudges, cuz they seem to have a
better idea than I do about wtf is going to happen or is meant to happen, or
which way I should row.
It’s funny. I had mini-epiphany a while back which went
something like the following: I only need to row. I don’t need to know which
way the boat is headed, I’m not steering, I’m not making the waves do their
thing – I only need to row, and I’ll get there.
But that didn’t quite
sit right with me. Sure, I agree, do the next indicated action – which for me
at the moment is to wash up and get ready for work (I’ve decided – for now – to
do my blogs in the morning – I procrastinate them at night, and then end up
past my bedtime – plus one thing I really did learn from all this paper-writing
pushing was that I really do write better in the morning. I’m a morning person
– sort of. I’ve already had one cup of coffee! – I’m more of a “mid-morning”
person – catch me at 10:30 or 11, and I’ll be ON IT… perhaps that’s also cuz
the other two cups of coffee will finally have kicked in…).
In any case, rowing is great – I can row, and sit backwards
and still question where the hell are we going. But I also do believe that it
is sort of my responsibility to have some vague idea of which ocean we’re in –
to extend the metaphor beyond its bounds! Maybe that’s still just me wanting to
have some control, some idea of control if I know where I am, where I’m
heading, and more about what I need to do to get there. Maybe that it doesn’t
sit comfortably is just all part of the action and practice of this thing – to
sit in the discomfort of not knowing, but to do the work anyway.
I don’t know what will happen at auditions. What will happen
after school. What will happen tonight, even! I want to know – especially the
“after school” part. Somehow I’m way more willing to let the audition stuff be
how it will be – I’m way more que cera cera about it. Because I really know that I can’t control the outcome, I can only
control how I show up and prepare for it – how I do or do not do research, take
action, practice, and look for an acting coach, like my acting friend suggested
to me. Somehow, letting go of the results of this is easy. Partly because, to
me, it also feels fun. It feels like an adventure. Like trying a new ice cream
every time. Like, I wonder what this flavor tastes like. So, of course it’s
easy to show up more lightly to those. (But I will say, I’m sure I wouldn’t
have always felt that way – which is why it’s taken me so long to even get here
to stage zeropointone or wherever I am.)
But, “after school,” the looming deadline of “you ought to
know.” More lies. I don’t know. I know that school has been the best thing I’ve
done for myself in a while. Not cuz I get to study and write poetry – that’s
cool, but it’s not where my passion is – but cuz I get to have this time to
discover all this new stuff about myself. I said when I arrived that I wanted
the two years of school to offer me time to “solidify my foundation within
myself.” And I think I’ve been doing that. Concretizing who I am, how I want to
be in this world – to have the time to become someone who can show up to
auditions with a sense of fun.
I am uncomfortable not knowing. I am uncomfortable feeling
like I’m not taking the “right” actions (not writing a sample syllabus, not looking at
teaching jobs, not knowing where I will live or want to live). But, I also don’t
want to teach. … So, that’s leaves me with a WIDE field, and too many options
feels a little like none at all in my fear-brain.
So, before I talk myself out of the awesomeness that is my
ability to show up and let go of the results, out of the awesomeness that is I
FINISHED my semester, I’ll go get my second cup of coffee from my microwave and
pray that all this rowing is better for me than I can possibly see. 
action · balance · finances · integrity · letting go · maturity · responsibility · school · self-care · spirituality

Suddenly Seymour

I did it again. I agreed to a job that I didn’t stop to
consider whether I wanted to do it, but rather whether I could do it.
At about 3pm yesterday, I get an email from a woman I’ve
babysat for before saying her sitter cancelled, and could I sit for her
tonight. Almost immediately, without pausing to consider one way or the other, I
email her back and say thank you, but I have my final paper due for school
tomorrow, and I really need to concentrate on getting that done. But think of
me for next time.
Then, my brain starts in. Couldn’t I finish the paper before
I sit for them? Sure, I’ll barely get home, scarf down some food, and rush out
to BART where she’ll pick me up, but I could do it, right? I mean, I want her
to know I’m a reliable babysitter, someone she can call on to pay me x amount
of money. If I don’t take this job, she won’t think of me next time. If I don’t
take this job, I’ll be out a handful of cash, and I could use it.
So.Many.“Could”s. I could do it. So, I email her back, and
say, you know what, I think I can do it. Let’s meet at this BART station at
this time.
Then, all of the reality of my over-commiting sinks in.
Really, Molly? I’m actually back at home, jacket still on, sitting on my floor with my
Shakespeare paper open on my laptop when I realize that I’ve done it again.
(Oops) 😛
And so, now, at the last minute, I text her and let her know
that I thought I could do it, but I really can’t, and that I’m so sorry for
accepting a job that I couldn’t really take. She texts me back to say No
worries. But, it stuck with me.
This is one of those death-rattle behaviors. These are the
last vestiges, it feels to me, of a behavior that is on its way out. But, as is
usually the case, the Universe will give me a few more opportunities to see if
I’m really willing to let go of accepting things I don’t want to do, can’t do,
feel I “should” do. Am I ready to stop chasing the crumbs?
Cuz that’s part of what it comes down to. If I don’t show up
for this thing you’ve asked of me, you won’t give me love, esteem, validation.
If I don’t show up, even in a resentful, exhausted, crippled manner, you will
forget about me and I will be invisible.
Obviously, to a rational observer, these are lies. As more
likely, when I am rested, refilled, and available in mind and body, then am I more able to give anything at all.
People are not asking me to give from the dregs of my well to them. They’re
asking normal questions. And I’m offering them my dregs. That’s not fair to
anyone involved, and certainly, then, when I flake.
I had a situation this weekend where a woman had agreed to
meet me at a time and place, and I made effort to get into the city to do so.
While I’m on BART, she texts to say she can’t make it, and I’m furious. Way
more pissed than the situation calls for – and I know it’s because it’s the
same behavior I dislike in myself. Why agree to something when you know you
can’t do it?
My flakiness is a result of agreeing to stuff that I can’t
show up for. I agree to stuff I can’t show up for because I maintain a system
of belief that you will only love me and care about me if I’m Super Molly. I am
willing to let this go, because it’s just not working anymore. Super Molly is a
flake, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I’d rather be human Molly, making
commitments I know I can, and showing up to those fully and without resentment.
I’d rather be human Molly who doesn’t need to feed on the approval of others
for my sustenance. As human Molly, it means that I am equal to
you – no better, no worse, and I don’t have to prove I’m either.
Finally, in meditation this morning, I had the song
“Suddenly Seymour” from Little Shop of Horrors come to me (yes, sometimes my meditations are weird). But what
occurred to me about it is that the song’s “Seymour” = my Higher Power. (fyi, i get tons of puns and sight gags in my dreams and meditations. my mind/heart is one that would cook something like this up with no problem!) My HP is “here to provide me” with
everything I need. My HP, “treating me kindly” with “sweet understanding.”* I don’t need to depend on others’ approval for my
self-esteem, I don’t need to depend on my fear-based thoughts when I answer
requests from others, I don’t need to dig from my dregs to be a member of this
world. We’ll see how willing I am to let go of all of this when the next
opportunity comes up, but (I hope) for today, Seymour’s my man. 

*and because I can’t resist… “I’d meet a dollar/approval, I’d follow it blindly – A job snaps its fingers, Me? I’d say sure!”

humilty · letting go · maturity · recovery

The Buddha says hello first.

It’s a good thing a friend of mine told me this yesterday in
regard to another situation, as I ran into a woman today who I have some discomfort with.
Earlier this year, I was attempting to make Oakland
friends and so was having lunch with this woman who I’d begun to pal around with a little. She was telling me about a person who’d offended her, and began to generalize about people who were “doing it wrong.” I got a little defensive at her blanket statement, and thought that her
thinking someone else was doing it wrong was wrong. Of course, I did not see
this irony at the moment.
Instead, at the moment, I pulled a Molly, and began to give her my own
bit of unsolicited advice. I am a Queen of unsolicited advice. It has so many
different disguises, it should own a costume shop. Sometimes, it looks like me
telling you what I’ve done, so as to
insinuate what you should do. “Well, I know when I was in a similar situation,
I did xyz,… [pregnant pause, where they’re supposed to get the hint of what I’m actually
telling them to do].”
Sometimes, my unsolicited advice looks like me telling you
what other people have done who I believe have done it the “right” way. “Well,
I know when my friend went through a similar situation, she did xyz,… [pregnant
pause, where they’re supposed to get the hint of what I’m actually telling them to do].”
“I’ve heard about this book/website/meditation/ointment that might be
helpful…”
“Have you considered…”
“I used to do that, but now I…” (ha! that’s
always a good one – people loooove that)
Cuz F U, Molly D. Who the hell am I. I don’t know what’s
“right”. What’s right for you – even what’s “right” for me. Places where I
get mired in the “right way” to do something are usually places where I’m
scared to let go of my perceived control. If I don’t tell you what to do, you
won’t survive. If I don’t figure out what the right way is to do this thing,
I’m not valuable.
All of these are crap.
I dated a guy once who had a gluten allergy, and when we’d
be out at restaurants, I found myself making sure he knew what had gluten and
what didn’t … as if he hadn’t lived for 30+ years without my help ordering from
a menu. I caught myself on it eventually, and laughed, but yeah, the idea that without
*me*
people are not going to “be okay.” I
know where this comes from – there were years when I did have to take on doing things “the right way” to ensure that things got done at all, that shades got drawn in the morning, that hair got combed. But,
I’m not 10 anymore, and the situations are entirely different. 

And most importantly
of every single thing, these people
are not asking me.
That’s something that’s pointed out to me regularly – “Are they
asking you?” Hey Friend, so you’re telling me about this situation in your life
(housing, job, money, love, family), and obviously I’m a guru about this shit,
so why don’t I tell you precisely what I think you should do.  …. No. 99.9% of the time that they’re
not specifically asking me my opinion or my advice, they’re not asking my
opinion or my advice.
Actually, it’s
probably more like 100%, but I still want to get my wedge in there somewhere! ;P
So, anyway, back to the woman I ran into today. We haven’t
really seen or spoken to each other since our mildly combative lunch date
several months ago, when I began telling her her perspective was (perhaps) skewed, and she told me very directly that she was not asking for feedback on
her perspective, period. So, I saw her today. And sure, I still have my
opinion, but she’s not asking me, and really, it’s none of my business. (Mind
my own business and have business to mind.) And I remembered that quote from
yesterday, that “The Buddha always says hello first.” And so, I said hello, she
said hello, we were cordial with superficial pleasantries, and said goodbye.
I don’t need to be “right” here. And I would really like to
stop telling people what I think about what they’re doing when they’re not
asking me. As, no matter what costume I dress it up in, I end up looking like a
witch. 

adulthood · courage · direction · maturity · recovery · sex

Undoing Betty Crocker

Almost finished with week one of the end of school insanity
shuffle. Tomorrow i do my friend’s fashion show. Sunday I have my audition in
SF. and today I did my teaching demo for my Creativity and Spirituality
workshop.
It went really well – my professor almost cried as another
girl was sharing – and this all about a 20 minute collage. I felt really
grateful to be able to share that work with these women. It was good – I did a collage too –
and this one also had someone at a microphone. (In the spring when I
co-facilitated this workshop, I pasted a rockband mick jagger
cartoon yell/singing into a microphone).
But, to get heavy for a minute, that’s not really what’s on
my mind at all. If you’re not in the mood for heavy, read yesterday’s or check back tomorrow – I’m
sure I’ll regale you with something fun about the fashion soiree.
But, for now. This Calling in the One thing. An exercise of a few days ago was about
making peace with our bodies, the next was about peace with our sexuality.
I’ve used the terms before “Betty Crocker” and “Vixen” – I
vacillate between one and the other. Most of my Vixen happened when I was drinking.
It was like the side of fries. The cigarette with a drink. It was just known
that if I drank, I was going to sleep with someone – or at least make out – and
likely in public, to everyone else’s discomfort.
It was a continuation of “just fucking make me feel better.”
The more anonymous, the better, because then I never had to face the shame I
actually felt, or the reason I was running with scissors in the first place.
When I stopped drinking, it was like – well, not to be
crude, but if you put a plug in the jug, I sort of put a plug in me otherwise.
I had a friend around that time who used to be a male prostitute and he told me
that he didn’t have sex for a year after he got sober because it was just
associated with all kinds of other things. So, I became Betty Crocker again.
Here’s the heavy – add in to this damage and abuse I’m
already doing to myself the fact that like one out of six American women I’ve been raped and sexually assaulted, you can imagine the chiasma of all this creates a rather dark
misshapen understanding of what sexuality is, or what sexuality can be.
In CITO, she does say
that for people who have particular trauma to seek help around this as we move
forward, and I’ve been back with my SF therapist for about two months now,
since I started keeping track of my money and knew I needed it, and could now
afford it.
So, yesterday, I’m in her office, and loathe as I may be to
bring this up, I start talking about my feelings of ambivalence around sex – how I dissociate, or how my sexuality, locked in a box, comes striking
out in a ravenous bolt of acting out, and then quickly retreats before I can …
stop it? question why it…I…need to treat my sexuality like a, well, sin, i
suppose. Something you indulge in secretly, silently, shamefully.
We’d been talking about other things, my audition, my new
headshots, and then as soon as we begin on this, my body tenses, I stop
breathing (or breathe so shallowly, it’s like I’m not), and she says, well,
Molly, you have sexual trauma.  —
My brain goes SO WHAT. So do most people walking around. So What?? They don’t all suddenly go all fight or flight.
Therefore, today, when thinking about singing this song I
haven’t rehearsed for class – to prepare to perform in one of the most
vulnerable ways there is – to sing – there’s no hiding in that. It’s just your voice, your breath, what you are able
to pull out from your soul, and sorry lady, my soul is just a little too
rattled for that today.
I asked her if I could sing next week – and lovely woman,
she said yes. (She asked if I were well, and I said, “Physically” – she
understood immediately.) I’ve been a mess all day, the dragon at the head of the cave having been poked wide awake and sensing impending approach. So, yes, I rented a zipcar to
get to class (and to get, finally, to the grocery store and get much
yummy food) – but I needed the cocoon. I needed to not feel more jostled by the
world today. 
So, why tell you? Why “reveal” all this? All this hard, and
yucky, and “nobody wants to hear about this stuff” – Because that voice is the
voice of my pain and fear, and it has kept me a wounded antelope for years. Repression,
denial, they’re our natural responses, but this has outlived its usefulness. So
I’m seeking help; I’m giving voice.
I don’t want to be Betty Crocker, nun of the knitted socks
and rom-coms. I don’t want to be the Vixen, fly-by-night assassin of self-esteem.
I want to be Molly – human – with scar-tissue – but
preeminently, whole. And available for the wonderful thing sex can be.
abundance · creativity · fear · joy · maturity

T.I.M.E: Twisted Ideas Miraculously Erased

Feeling decidedly better today. And I realize that “decide”
is the key word there.
I awoke this morning, early, again (although, yes, I do
realize that 6am is not that early for some people!), and as I was writing my
Morning Pages, and staring at my clock, and writing “I have to figure out
how to manage my time better, I spend 5 minutes grumbling out of bed, and 2
minutes heating up my coffee, and 15 minutes on my morning pages – though
really they take 30, so I scrimp on days when there isn’t time…”
And I sort of went off on this vein, but somewhere in the
middle I decided to simply take the full time it was going to take and write all
three long-hand pages of my morning pages. Somewhere in there, I was struck
with the thought that I have been treating time like I’ve treated money – addressing it from
a place of scarcity instead of abundance. As something I have to struggle for and will never have enough of. When I was done with the pages, I
stood up, and although technically this would be the moment in the morning
where I would bolt a shower and stream out the door with wet hair, I said
aloud, “I’m hungry.” … then I answered myself, “Then you should eat.”
And so I did. I cooked my eggs, like I’m known to do, and I
sat and ate them and drank my cup of coffee, not at a brunch-y leisurely pace,
but not shoveling them down either. Something had unlatched in the region of my
guts, and I was consciously reminding myself to breathe, and that I was giving
myself this time. “There is enough time, There is enough love, There is enough
money” are some affirmations my little financially savvy friends use 😉 (They also use “I am enough, I have enough, I do enough” – crazy notions, huh??) Then I
took a shower and it took as long as it took. I had my clock in the bathroom,
but at this point, I was past the time I would usually catch the reliable bus,
and had somewhere inwardly agreed that I would take the unreliable bus and
whatever happened would happen.  ~
I even blowdried my hair – I haven’t done that in the morning before work in …
a while. It’s a luxury of time (but also helps to keep me healthy in winter months). Then I did my makeup and got dressed, and got a
snack ready for work, so I knew I’d have something to eat and not starve again.
And I walked out of the house – two days ago, I literally
(well, not literally I guess!) flew down
the stairs and nearly knocked into the person also going out the front door at
that moment. But this morning, I walked. In my purple coat and teal scarf and
green bag, and warm hair and world-ready face. And you know what? I ran into a
friend as I was walking to the unreliable bus, and I asked him if I could get a
ride to BART, and he said it was about time I took him up on his many offers
for a ride.
And I got to work 10 minutes late. Only ten minutes late. But the difference between how I
walked in made all the difference in the world. Sure, maybe next time, I’ll get
there in better time, but somehow, the minute yet
immense change in my attitude toward my time – how I was
spending it – addressing it – and now hopefully making it work for me, instead
of breathing erratically in the face of a ticking clock – hopefully this will
turn into change. Not feeling like I’ve got a vice on my heart and being
preemptively guilty about not being “where I’m supposed to be, when I’m
supposed to be” feels like a good start.
And, by the way, I got let out of work early (for a work
errand, so I was told I can still bill my full time), and I went to BLICK art
supply store and bought envelopes for my holiday cards – because under the
decreased pressure in my temples, I get to be creative. And give myself time to
be so. 
Holiday card #2: watercolor&embossing on paper 🙂