I'm a big fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Road trip planning has led to enthusiastic re-researching of her life so I can make sure to see some of the places I so vividly imagined while reading her books as a child. But I am slightly disillusioned to find out that SHE NEVER LIVED ON PLUM CREEK. There might not even BE a Plum Creek, much less a home that was ever dug out on the banks of it. And that was my favorite book of all, although maybe tied with the one where Almanzo courts her in his horse and buggy. AND the one where they live in the Big Woods, which is in Pepin, Wisconsin, which exists, and which I will go to to pay homage.

New vision taking shape, one that has always been there in my heart, one that pulls together all the very many different realms of my creativity and interests. The challenge, however, with this vision, is that involves patience, and sustainability, and not freaking out and running away. But the Universe is telling me I'm ready to build. The album was not the be all end all I made it out to be. It was just a brick in the foundation. And a huge, necessary learning experience. So, feeling better, and feeling the craving to head up this new path into unknown territory. The territory of balance and being grounded in my body and learning business. I don't like any of those things. And that's why I have to take the path. :)

 

Hello! What a day. Today was a day was a day. I didn't think it was going to be that sort of day. I thought it was going to be a medium sort of day. But first thing that happened is that I went to Whole Foods, and I got all caught up in reading the Origins magazine with Alanis Morissette on the cover. It was exciting. I wrote about it in my last post. It was exciting because I felt like I knew everybody in the magazine. They are people I've met. Friends of mine. People who have had a direct impact on my life. And THEY all know each other. I don't know how to explain it, but it was cool. It was life-changing. I realized- I want to be- and am already sort of making my way into becoming- that crowd. NOT the Hollywood crowd. The "conscious" culture. Which can be cheesy in its own way at times, but is still, in general, the place where one would want to be. 

And THEN I flipped a page and saw that ALANIS MORISSETTE, ANI DIFRANCO, AND EVE ENSLER are all going to be at the same workshop in Colorado in October and I got really excited and didn't know how quite to handle that information because I wish I could go. They are three of my idols. I want to be doing what they are doing and have done in the world. 

So then I was all in a tizzy about that. And thinking excited, grandiose thoughts. And then I went to what I thought was going to be Kirtan at the Palace of Fine Arts Theatre, only it wasn't, because it's a month from now. 

Only I didn't know it was a month from now, because I double-checked every detail except the date, and so I went stomping around in typical fashion, getting increasingly grumpy, and spiraling into despair as I circled the premises without finding any sort of life or concert-ing going on. 

I was hungry, I was cold, it was windy, and I had geared my entire day around this event, only to have it not, actually, happen. I walked, not towards where I had caught the bus, but towards the ocean, thinking that I could maybe at least find some nice ocean-side cafe with coffee and snacks to make me feel better. 

But there was no such thing to be found, just the ocean, and more wind and cold, and I walked along it, thinking disgruntled thoughts to myself. 

The Universe is inundating me with loving guidance, and I am listening. I used to be obsessed with celebrity culture. I wanted to be Katy Perry. Which is a purely ego, not heart path. I used to read celebrity magazines as a guilty pleasure, but the stories are stale and ridiculous and there's no way I would ever even be able to stand being in that world.

The past three months have been such a turning point, and I've begun to identify new role models and value. For example, Alanis Morissette. I picked up THIS magazine at Whole Foods today, about "the conscious culture," and as I read through it I realized that after all this time in San Francisco and at the Omega Institute, I know half the people who are in the magazine. I've met them, hugged them, danced to their music, been to their workshops, had conversations, developed friendships. In essence, I'm already a part of that world. Not only in knowing it but in resonating with the same values. So anyway, that seemed like the Universe giving me a loving knock on the head. Stop striving for something that's not realistic, and which would never suit you, anyway. You're already here. You're already where you're supposed to be.

:) And on that note, I'm off to a Kirtan/Seva at the Palace of Fine Arts with Jai Uttal, Snatam Kaur, and emceed by none other than Wavy Gravy! In two weeks I go to Shaktifest in the Joshua Tree Desert. To continue the path I started with the very teachers and trailblazers featured in this magazine. Transmuting the anger, healing, shaking it out, making it beautiful. Jai Bhagwan!

 

This is Lalita, a Hindu gopi. 

Lalita is known for her playfulness, charm, and pure, loving rage. : )

Special Talents:
(1) The leader of all the sakhis of Srimati Radharani
(2) Very magnanimous like her father
(3) The instigator of most pastimes
(4) Always displays contrariness to Krsna's suggestions
(5) Frequently becomes angry and speaks outrageously insolent retorts to
increase the intensity of the loving affairs between Radha & Krsna.
(6) Brilliant in composing and and understanding riddles
(7) Unparalleled in fashioning things with flowers including awnings,
dancing arenas, umbrellas, couches, bowers
(8) Expert in performing magic tricks and juggling.

Last night at Bazaar Cafe. 

I am so proud of and grateful for Julie Mayhew for doing this series of concerts on suicide awareness. It is so beautiful and brave of her, and also, I believe, what the world needs. Forums where we can go and create together and express and bare our souls and have it be a safe environment. I previously only found that at Omega, where I made so many amazing friends and healed so much of what was at the root of an eating disorder that pretty much defined my life for 10 years. 

Now, even more is coming up that makes it all even more clear. And it is all connected. Food is about nurturing our bodies, our souls. But many times when people get together to eat it is more like a show. Everyone is talking small talk and putting on appearances and trying to impress each other. Meal times were traumatizing for me at boarding school because I didn't relate to anyone, I didn't talk the right way, I wasn't cool enough, there was no table where I fit in. That's where I became bulimic. The only place where it felt safe to eat was by myself. Still is, most of the time. 

But I can eat around people, in situations, where I feel authenticity. When people have seen me break down and cry, when they have acknowledged and loved me in my messiness, and vice versa, I can eat around them. And the reason I'm sharing this right now is because with my own shows, like Julie is doing with this series, I want them to be a safe space. A space for authenticity. A place to go to dark places along with the light. There is no pretense, no way you are supposed to talk or supposed to be to be accepted or cool. It is the surprising, whacky, wild places inside people that are the most interesting. Those are what I want to see, rather than some tape of conversation or jargon that's been played a hundred times before. I don't want to talk to you about the weather. I want to talk to you about your soul, and how THAT's doing. 

And my body, perhaps, being very sensitive, has just been acting like a weathervane, tensing up when there's a lot of pretense and ego at work, and relaxing where there is authenticity. 

Last night at the show I opened up about all of this to everyone. It was probably the first time I've talked about being bulimic in front of so many people where it was not a workshop or healing center. But I noticed something else. Every time I do talk about my eating disorder and then I start to see that I am now identified with THAT, I become resistant again. Because it is deeper than the bulimia and the laxatives and the obsessive exercise and the fad diets. Those were all the behaviors that came out of it. The thing that I am really talking about is anger at the world and not being able to deal with it. Internalizing it. And that is something I'm still struggling with even if it doesn't work its way out through food. The anger is still omnipresent, but after five years of healing, it has a much looser grip around my neck. But I want to be active in changing the world. No longer internalizing my anger at what I see are injustices. I want to be a warrior. But a warrior for hope and healing. 

And those moments like last night in Bazaar Cafe, feeling the love and healing energy of the songs, just letting it course through me and reach the completely silent and receptive and appreciative audience, our energy working back and forth in a dance to create that healing moment- that. That is why the songs came through. They healed me, and they are not stopping there. They are on a mission. They are taking me on a journey. They are opening me up- my entire self, my personality, my energy field- making it safe for me to express what has been hiding all along under what were once layers of pain and anger and shame and what I perceived to be fat- and later, sparkles and wigs and fuzzy legwarmers and banter. Without the pain, and without the sparkles, it's just.... me. That wonky, empty, no-man's land that I don't identify with hardly anything because I'm so used to disassociating. 

But if I learn to see "me" as the rich, fertile soil from where all of the songs, the creativity, the expression is born, nothing more, nothing less, then I can begin to like "me." I can begin to respect "me." I can see that that soil is producing things that make people happy, that make a positive impact in this world, and therefore I should take care of it, I should nourish it, and that has nothing to do with ego and self, in fact it is in a spirit of selflessness, because I am no longer attaching my stories of how awful or how great I am to "me"- I am rather just making room, tending to the soil, so that the spirit can move through whatever needs to be moved through and grown and fed to the world. :) 

I'm enjoying the fact that my job at the hostel involves all sorts of random tasks, including decorating this birdcage. Our manager is on a decorating kick and this was his latest acquisition. We went on a trip to IKEA and I felt like a little kid again, as I trotted around gathering seashells and potpourri to bring back to the cart, pleading "Can we get these too, PJ? For the birdcage?" 

I've always wanted to own my own business, my own space, and I feel like the Universe is giving me an inside look and a bit of guidance towards that goal, hopefully. And not surprisingly, I always envisioned that space, my little House of Dreams, being in San Francisco!

But that's not for any immediate future. Right now, I am feeling happily recharged and optimistic again (although I suspect that that is a direct correlation with having started drinking coffee after a month cleanse, during which I literally wanted to die). I kept waiting to start to feel a natural enthusiasm for life without any sort of stimulant, but I didn't. I need coffee, wine, the Liz O persona, or some combination of the above. And there are worse things to be dependent on, is what I decided, so I have decided to re-introduce them with a recognition of the fact that they are crutches to help me get through this reality as is. I do want to cleanse again, and keep healing and balancing, but to go cold turkey off any of the crutches right now would mean a total change in lifestyle. And I like what I have going on. It just needs to be balanced so I don't go so high and low all the time. 

I was going to say that has nothing to do with a birdcage, but perhaps it does. I have actually always thought of my depression, my lows, my anger being the wall I hit before truly going anywhere. It really is like being stuck in a cage. And this cleansing is a purposeful exploration of why those walls are there. And how I could perhaps, perhaps- learn to finally let them fall, and break free. 

By the Grace of Kali

 It's getting to the point now where none of the things that I feel are epic and unfolding in my life feel appropriate to post on facebook. One, because they might make people uncomfortable. And two, because they are somewhat sacred to me. I say somewhat because I am posting it, still, in the blog. But that's because I want to keep track of this time as it is unfolding. And blogging challenges me to summarize it better. 

This is how my life works. Earlier today I posted that segment about dedicating myself and this new phase of my journey to finding the dark goddess. And what should I discover, oh, 5 hours later? That there is a TEMPLE IN SAN FRANCISCO DEDICATED TO KALI MA. Who is Kali Ma? Keep up! She's the Dark Mother, Hindu goddess of death and change and destruction. Destroying old patterns to give way to rising Shakti, to the new. Kali has been present in so much of my life. Burning, tearing up, throwing up, scratching myself, changing location, running away. I saw all of these as bad things. They were done, after all, out of anger. I have worked so hard on being light and good and pleasing, but those dark, angry, spirited urges are still strong, raging, under the surface, and now I see them as something beautiful, something to be honored, for they are striving for release, freshness, rejuvenation, authenticity, healthy rage that catalyzes change. Maybe terrifies others into healthy change when complacency no longer works. This is absolutely a huge part of me. The wild woman, the demon, the rage, the irreverence. And to be able to channel it in a way that is constructive, that is beautiful, that is impactful, that is inspiring- and at the same time, scary enough to shake up the stale belief systems that have done such destruction to our world and our psyches- that is undeniably my role. 

My other favorite dark female energy is Lilith, the supposed original wife of Adam, who refused to subordinate to him and flew away to gather an army of demons. She had red hair. She was VERY sassy. I love Lilith. And just at the moment I was thinking of her, as the only other energy I feel that is as important to me as Kali, there were their names, next to each other, in a sacred chant of this goddess temple. I almost burst into tears, I was so excited. 

It's true. It's not all sparkles and ponies in the Liz O Show. I love vengeful female goddesses just as much as sparkles and ponies, if not MUCH more. And if you can't understand that, you have probably not had a life that provoked an adoration of vengeful female spirit. You are probably not a curvy woman with a symmetrical face in an obnoxiously misogynistic world. Misogyny, perhaps, does not affect you or bother you all that much. Or maybe you don't even know that it bothers you. Maybe it is so engrained in everything that you find it easier just to swallow it down. 

But I don't. I am in full support of the dark goddess rising, emerging, shaking shit up. I believe I came here on earth to be part of her doing just that. On the website for the temple, they write that Kali is returning, the dark female energy is rising, she is emerging in the unconscious, in dreams, and of course I believe that since I am a fine example of one who heard the call and is heeding it. And now I am led to this temple, and I don't think I've been so excited about a place since I found out about the Adelaide Hostel, and I can't wait to call them tomorrow and go to KALI PUJA on April 28th!!

Kali Ma, Kali Ma, Kali Ma. 

xoxoxxoxo 

Embodiment

I have strained my back and can barely move and so I spent today working on my website, going back through old blog entries. I found a blog post from exactly four years before I released the album. In that blog post, I was talking obsessively about my body and exercise, because at that time I was still totally consumed and paralyzed by an eating disorder. 

It's sad and painful for me to read but at the same time, amazing, because it makes me realize that I have completely healed from something that lasted almost a decade, and something I thought I was never ever going to be able to get myself out of. At that time, I wouldn't have been able to imagine what it would be like to feel consistently at ease in my own skin. It would have seemed like a miracle. But now, four years later, I am here. In that blog entry, I declared the beginning of the very journey to get to this place. The beginning of following my heart instead of obsessive mind-chatter. 

So, I recommend blogging. Keeping a journal. Setting intentions. They are powerful. They actually will take you where you truly want to go. While the songs and music are important to me, the most important part, I realize, is the healing journey they took me on. And I hope in whatever I do, be it songs, writing, comedy, art... the result of my work will be that I am seen as a source of support and inspiration and hopefully even a catalyst for girls to take steps onto a new path, a path of reclaiming personal power. 

In the blog, I said I had an infant goddess who I realized I had been starving throughout the entire eating disorder. I said I wanted to finally start to feed and nourish her, through wandering, exploring, listening to my intuition, so she could grow strong. 

And boy, did she ever! Only, this journey is only halfway complete, as I realized after my cd release. I went up, up, up, into the persona, the potential, the light, but I still haven't gone down, down, down, into the roots, the real nature, the darkness. It's a place I've always been terrified to go! But I know a very potent goddess lies within. I am determined to reach her through cleansing, yoga, martial arts, meditation, giving up caffeine, simplifying, dreams. The Other Side. Ereshkigal. I have a song called "The Other Side." I have LONG since wanted to have an album called Ereshkigal. I have always had a Persephone complex, always known this phase of the journey was coming. 

And I am happy to be here, and I trust where the goddess leads me, and I am so touched by having come across this blog entry from my younger self. So happy and grateful I have fulfilled that intention of healing. And I know, I trust, that my true path is to be a healer, and that this is the exact journey I needed to go on to fully embody that role. 

So thank you, Universe. Thank you, Goddess. Thank you, Spirit. 

The darkness is a terrifying place for so many, but I would much rather step into the unknown, than whir again and again in circles on an elliptical, a treadmill, berated by the same hollow thoughts over and over and over. 

No- I want to climb mountains, and wander alongside the ocean, and eat nourishing food, explore, be daring, give things up easily, set out on new cycles and quests, be forever fresh and free. 

THIS post is a dedication to a new phase of the journey--- to true embodiment. To following my body. Clearing and cleansing my root chakra so that all parts of me are in alignment with my highest self and potential. Listening to the wisdom of the body intuition in every moment. Getting to know what that intuition even feels like. And once I learn, teaching others. 

Here I go, up the new mountain. Aho! No matter what, the journey is always rich.  

Into the Labyrinth...

I spent half the day crying today. Not, initially, because I was emotional. But because my back was in so much pain. Now, I am emotional AND my back is in pain. So it goes.

The root of the cause of the back pain is a series of what I feel, in retrospect, were bad decisions, concerning what computer to buy and what handbag to buy to put it in. I spent a lot of time on each decision, but now I feel I should have gone smaller, lighter, and less expensive with the computer, and larger, lighter, and more expensive with the handbag. Had I done so, the the two things would have evened each other out. But now I am stuck walking to work every day over the hills of San Francisco with a computer that is too heavy, and a bag that, apparently, sits on the wrong part of my body, because today I woke up in dire pain which only proceeded to get worse by the hour.

As for the root of the emotional pain, it is a whole lot of things. It is, primarily, anger at myself. Anger that I can never seem to make good decisions. That I am immature. That I am self-involved. That I go way, way, up into mania and way, way down into despair. I have always had a very difficult psyche to live inside of. Even when I was about 5 years old I would throw temper tantrums and scratch myself, as hard as I could. When I was older, I developed bulimia, and made myself throw up. I loved making myself throw up. It was a triumph, that I could successfully punish myself, make my throat burn, make my stomach empty and hollow again, without anyone knowing. I also loved to exercise, obsessively. And now that I have gone through the long healing process of that disorder, when anger rises I still want to take it out on myself. I've slapped myself in the face repeatedly. I've destroyed things that are important or valuable. Sometimes a switch really goes off inside of me when I tell myself how stupid I am, over, and over, and over.

It's crazy, yes. Insane. But the truth is that I just do not know how to exist in this world. I do not know what I am seeking, or, even if I found it, how to make it happen. I don't understand this world or its values. I have no desire to live in the way that everybody else seems to be living; get up, go to work, get money, put food on the table, socialize, travel sometimes, but mostly, get up, go to work, put food on the table, go to bed, and do it all again. Nothing in me seems to be conditioned for that kind of existence, and indeed, I don't believe that existence is what I was put here for. I firmly believe I'm from some sort of fiery fairy realm, and was recruited to come here to shake things up, to question belief systems, to make art, to leave something lasting behind me.

But the problem is that when you go against the structure, you have to make a structure for yourself, and it is exhausting. On days like today, with my strained back, or when I have a cavity, or when I wish I just had enough money to take a trip or rent a car or buy a nice bag to put my computer in without having to agonize about it, those are days when I wish I had a "real" job, a good job, a job with insurance and stability. I wonder, could I have a job like that and still be true to my rebelliousness, and creativity, and rabble rousing, and art? Could the job even fuel all of those things?

I am at a total crossroads. It's really hard to even express the extent of it here. I have been so burnt out by my creativity, that I've been attempting to be more normal. Walk the normal walk. Talk the normal talk. Make money enough to be comfortable. Wear jeans. I've even been taking birth control pills with the sole intention of evening out my crazy hormones. It seems like it would be so much easier to be a normal human being, because being a human being is hard enough, without all of this extra pressure of "I have to be amazing! I have to be creative! I have to be a STAR!"

But then what happens is, when I'm at the bank or coffee shop or work or wherever and trying my darndest to make normal conversation, and I mention something about music, and they go, "Oh, you play music? WOW! What do you PLAY?" Like they are so surprised, like just playing an instrument is sooooooo craaaazzzzzyyyyyy, and that's when my inner fiery pink haired rebel wants to yell "YOU DON'T KNOW ME?! I'M LIZ O!!!!!!!!"

And that's when I get sad and feel like I'm losing momentum, because there was a point where I felt like everybody in this city was getting to know me and Boppity Bear.

But at the same time, on the opposite side of the coin, there's the feeling I have when I look to see if anyone else has bought the cd, and they haven't, and I tell myself I should promote it, but I can't, because I hate it, I hate that goddamn cd, I hate every moment of it, I hate every moment of the journey of making it, I hate who I was when I was making it, I hate my illusions, I hate that I got other people involved, I hate that I ruined and botched my precious songs, I hate other people's reactions to it, and I basically wish I had never have made it, had saved the $3,000 I personally spent on it, and had spent that money on ME. On buying nice things. Getting a nice apartment. Doing yoga, drinking kombucha, going on a meditation retreat. Oh, how about that, I'm crying again as I write this, and I didn't even realize until tears started dripping on to the keyboard.

I know I'm being melodramatic. But all those feelings are true. I exposed myself to the world with this project. I exposed my naive optimism, and everyone supported it. Because of my stupid, fairy tale way of thinking, I ran off into the dumbest situation I have ever gotten myself into. It's like when I went to Europe with a gigantic suitcase, and tons of books, all because I had some romantic notions of my time there, and it ended up being way too much stuff and I looked like a complete idiot every time I went anywhere, and I spent half my time in Europe sending things home, and then bought a smaller, cheap suitcase that fell over on every block because the wheels didn't work right, and so then I got rid of THAT, and by the time I reached southern Italy I had everything stuffed into an empty guitar case, and I was down to two pairs of pants, one of which got ruined because of my period, and on that day I literally wanted to kill myself, somehow, in Rome Termini station. But I didn't, and now it all seems kind of funny in retrospect, just as, I'm sure, this stupid crazy venture of a cd will seem three years from now.

So anyway, if I hadn't have made the cd, I would still have my illusions left. But now I have no illusions. Everything that once excited me is now hollow. When I hear a new song in my head, I think of all it took just to get these 8 songs recorded, and I just groan.

"Go bother someone else," I almost want to say. "I don't know what you think I'm going to be able to do with you, song."

When I meet a new, technically intriguing guy, all I can think of is what a douchebag he will probably turn out to be, and that I shouldn't bother wasting my time. In the past, I would have thought this, but I would have had a small glimmer of hope simultaneously, like, surely there's at least one who is not a douchebag. And I'm sure THAT'S true. I'm sure there are several, at least, on this planet, who are not douchebags. I just still haven't met any, and by now I've gone through a large enough cross-section to feel that the odds are too slim to waste any more of my time.

The third thing that used to excite me is food. But now, after cleansing, and seeing how good I FEEL when I am not using food as a crutch, it just seems stupid and hollow to go back to the unhealthy food, and it makes me feel gross afterwards, and I realize that I didn't want it to begin with.

So what would I do instead? What would I do instead of binge? How could I react to a guy and be present with him in the moment, and trust my intuition, instead of spiraling off into fantasyland? How do I honor the music authentically, instead of pumping it full of bad and immature and naive, ego-filled decisions and ruining it for myself as well as others?

This is the journey I need to take now, and if the cd release prompted that realization, the cleansing solidified it, and now the bad back is making it an urgent realization. That I need to take care of mySELF. My body. And in fact, I need to be more radical than just taking care and being healthy. I need to actually become embodied. To act out of decisions that serve my body, rather than my mind and ego. Develop a body mind. Interestingly enough, it is through the body that I am most psychic. I can sense things in my aura, through feelings, through energy, rather than visualizations. I think I am in fact extremely psychic which is perhaps why I built a layer around myself of food and caffeine and fat. And even illusions. To protect me from stark reality. To give all of that up is to become, in essence, naked to the world. Just me, as I am, vulnerable, and real.

And what I realized during the cleansing is that to live a life according to what feels good to and serves my body would be ENTIRELY DIFFERENT than the life I am living now! What an overwhelming, scary thought! But I realized I rely on caffeine to get me into manic surges to send out all the emails, get all the STUFF accomplished that I think I need to. I rely on chocolate as a fix when the world has hit me too hard and I need to wallow. Because- well, I haven't developed any other structures, like a boyfriend or companion or suitably soothing replacement to turn to.

And as for music, performing is something that really shakes me up. I need alcohol, or wigs, or anything that will help me dissociate from who I am (because who I am is BORING, or too serious, or just, generally, a scary, un-fun place).

And ironically, I believe a huge bag of my props was thrown out today by a co-worker. Hats, wigs, petticoats, stuffed bunnies, the works. But doesn't that just seem appropos? Haven't I been working on shedding all of that anyway? Am I not trying to work on cultivating someone who is just as interesting and dynamic and confident without ANY of that?

Anyway. I'm glad I wrote this tonight. Because I wanted to die. I really did. Just like in Rome Termini station. Just like two months ago when I decided to go on birth control to even out my emotions because I couldn't have myself wanting to throw myself into the Pacific Ocean three weeks into every menstrual cycle. It's cyclical, the despair, but surely this wanting to die is just wanting some ASPECT of me to die, some aspect that is no longer serving me. And feeling that it is actually easier to contemplate suicide than to deal with that aspect, to fully see it as it is.

But that aspect of myself that I want to die- it must be the self who is so hopeful and naive. The self who is manic. I am so addicted to that self but in the long run it is too painful, and costly, to keep feeding that self. Instead I need to start to feed whatever part of me is balanced and logical and rational. I don't even know if I believe that I have such a self inside of me. But I think that self resides in the cleansing, in the abstinence from caffeine, abstinence from alcohol, abstinence from props, embellishments, pomp. She resides in meditation, yoga, green food, kale, kombucha. I'm trying to get to her one bout of cleansing at a time. The purchase of the very bag that threw my back out was an attempt to get to her, because I had thought, at the time, that the bag was practical. And along the path to this self a huge bag of my props has been misplaced.

It's ok. I trust her. I want to meet her. I will continue on the path through the labyrinth, father into my roots.

Next week I will, back willing, do yoga on Tuesday night on the labyrinth of Grace Cathedral. INSIDE the cathedral whose golden doors I went to every so often to pray for good, great things for my cd. The cd was called Golden Gate 8. The doors, I later learned, are replications of The Gates of Paradise. And the cd was symbolic, the completion of it, signifying to me the opening of some internal gate.

So, amidst all the cleansing, the anger, the regret, the new perspectives, the simplification, the shift from external to internal, I full believe that gate has opened and everything that was divinely meant to has happened. It just didn't look the way I planned.

And I think about suicide, I think about experience, I think about the ego, and I think back to that trip through Europe with the gigantic suitcase full of all the stuff I thought I needed, the stuff I sent home, until it was just me and the essentials, traveling easily around, I think about how I wanted to commit suicide on that trip because I felt so lost and pointless and lonely, which is such a frequent feeling for me in this existence, but really I only felt lost and lonely when I was thinking too hard about where I should be going! And since there was never a right answer, and I would spend money and take trains and never get to anywhere that felt perfect, and so I would beat myself up about it.

But then there was the day that I was sitting in a little Italian town eating a delicious sandwich in the sun, in a little empty courtyard, and I was reading a guidebook, and I chanced to see that there was a castle, up in the hills, and the path to the castle started only a few blocks away from where I was sitting.

And so I finished my sandwich and scampered through the alleyways until I found the path, and went scampering up the stairs, up the hill, past an old monastery, and out into the open fields where it was just me, and the rocks, and the breeze, and the countryside of Italy, far as the eye could see. I sat perched on a rock for the longest time just looking out over the towns, seeing a train winding around the side of the hills far away, the pastel colors of the houses, the winding rivers, and of course in that moment there was no "me," it was just all of this beauty, the beauty of nature, the wind, the mountain, the town, and "I" made no impact on it whatsoever, except that I got to experience it, and for that I felt very lucky.

This post may not make a lot of sense to anyone reading, but it certainly makes sense to me. I think the true value of anything in this world is to let go of ego, analysis, over-thinking, illusions of power, control, and instead stop resisting and sink fully into the appreciation of body, feelings, nature, spirit. I mean- so many beings know that is the answer already, but I am just now arriving at my own personal true embrace of it, particularly the body part. I have always found my ideas of what COULD be or SHOULD be much more compelling, than the reality of what IS. But were I to structure my life in a way that provided more beautiful moments regularly, such as walks in nature, delicious, gigantic salads full of kelp and avocado and seasoned kale, the ocean, surfing, dancing, meditating, reading, writing....

well, my god. That's a reality I wouldn't need to get out of. But for some reason I have put hardly any time towards constructing THAT reality for myself, and instead have been cultivating a reality of performing, props, and persona, with hardly any real relationships, or connection to nature, or structures of emotional or financial support.

No wonder when I come down from the highs, I come down hard!

Anyway, this may seem like one long ramble but it is a ramble that has made sense to me of a very dark and difficult place I was in about two hours ago. And with all the work my dear friend Julie is doing on raising awareness for suicide these weeks, it seems like an appropriate place to visit. Not that I was truly, truly suicidal, but I was certainly starting to venture into that emotional place where everything seems bleak and overwhelming, and like there is no ultimate satisfaction to be found anywhere.

But I have family, I have friends, I have this blog, I have two new journals that I bought tonight, I have Boppity Bear, I have a roof over my head, I have a job, I have art, I have goals that are shifting to perhaps become more healthy, and I have resources all around of psychologists, yoga, meditation, movement, martial arts, and places to buy kale and kelp and avocado. Those are the areas of my life I will feed, instead of the mania. Instead of the overstimulation. Instead of the props and ponies. : )

And I will keep you updated along the journey! I hope it leads to a clearer, simpler, more embodied place.

That is all. Thank you for reading.
xoxo

The Descent of Inanna

The people of the city of Uruk take Inanna, Queen of light, for their monarch, accepting her gifts of agriculture, irrigation, astronomy, and mathematics.  Inanna revels in her glory. She proclaims her power, wisdom and sexuality and establishes Dumuzi as king of Uruk by selecting him as her consort.

At the same time, her people banish Inanna’s elder sister Ereshkigal, the earth goddess responsible for fertility of the grain, into the unmentionable Underworld, the Dark City.

In time, they also capture and kill Ereshkigal’s consort, the Bull of Heaven, who was responsible for thunderstorms that bring rain and  then fertility to the grain that feeds the people of Sumeria.

Ereshkigals cries of mourning at the death of her mate reach Inanna, who resolves to travel to the underworld to attend the wake of the Bull of Heaven and to be reunited with her sister. Before her journey, however, she asks her trusted companion, Ninshubur to seek help for her if she does not return in three days.

At each of the Gate of the Underworld, Inanna must divest herself of some aspect of her glory. Finally after passing the seventh gate, she is taken into Ereshkigals inner chamber. But Ereshkigal is driven by fury, rage and grief at her abandonment and is maddened by Inanna’s glory in the Upper World. She wreaks her revenge by slaying Inanna and hanging her corpse on a peg in the underworld.

Hearing no word for three days, Ninshubur travels to the sacred temple to plead Inanna’s case. She is rebuffed twice and told that no one returns from Ereshkigals Dark City. Finally Ninshubur supplicates the God of Wisdom, Enki, who fashioned tiny spirits to slip under the doors of the Underworld. The wisdom spirits meet Ereshkigal and express their compassion for her anger, her agony, and her rage, crying with her instead of judging her.

When Ereshkigal finds she is not alone in her suffering her heart softens and she offers a boon to those who cried with her. They request the release of Inanna, the queen of heaven. She grants them this boon according to the Laws of the Underworld, which balances the living and the dead, the light and the dark, by claiming a death in return for those it releases to life. Then Inanna is reborn and the sisters of light and dark, are re-united. Inanna takes to herself the dark, powerful, and knowing eye of Ereshkigal. And the once-reviled Ereshkigal receives her rightful homage with the title: Holy Ereshkigal, great is your renown.

Tonight I finished up work at the Magic Parlor, where a man in the audience had had qualities distinctly  similar to the qualities I envision for my future husband, "Mike," and thus I left in a happy state of daydreaming about Mike and I and our future idyllic existence in the hills of Monterey.

Mike is a character I have been building, much like Boppity Bear, in my head for as long as I can remember. And I manifested Boppity Bear into reality, so there should be no reason why I can't manifest Mike, when the time is right.

Mike has an energy and look very similar to Paul Rudd. He is fiery, spirited, and we banter. A lot. He is very well dressed, of course. He wears nice shoes and collared shirts and leather jackets. He is outdoorsy and rugged. We go hiking a lot, me and Mike. He can cook better than I can. He's spontaneous. But he also is driven and passionate about his career, which he is probably working on right now, just like I am working on mine, and I think it is something in the general realm of architecture, or maybe geology, or archaeology. Perhaps Mike's passion is some synthesis of the three.

Of course, it is not a deal breaker if Mike is not an architect or archaeologist. He also does not even have to be named Mike. But I will know him when I meet him, I am sure of it. Because I will recognize the Mike energy.

Ideally, Mike's family will own a sailboat, or together we will buy one, because I envision Mike and I sailing all over the place, when we are not hiking, traveling, taking convertible rides down Route 1, or at our idyllic house in the hills and forest.

These were all the wonderful things I was thinking about as I trekked up Nob Hill on the way back home.

I was going to turn to take a flat street home, but some little urge inside of me directed me instead up the steep incline toward the cathedral. As I approached those old stone pillars standing tall, three quarters of a moon shining directly overhead, I was so grateful for that urge.

And as I walked the stairs up to the labyrinth, pausing a moment before continuing on through the flower gardens, the fountains, looking up at the moon again and taking in the silence, the stones, the incredible stillness of the courtyard amidst this bustling city-- the gratitude came in yet another wave, bringing sudden tears to my eyes.

Listening to the water bubbling, looking up at the beautiful moon, I couldn't believe I could have this moment, for free, just like that, on my walk home. I couldn't believe the luxury I take for granted, of getting to visit one of my favorite places on earth anytime I choose. At the very peak of San Francisco, surrounded by parks and old Masonic buildings, with a birdseye view of the city, I have made mini-pilgrimages to the cathedral hundreds of times since arriving here two years ago. It feels as sacred to me as any far away castle or church or garden of Europe.

And in that very moment, alone, feeling that familiar connection with the stars, the moon, the elements, my spirituality... staring up at the night sky, saying hello once again to the great mystery... I pondered how at that moment, at 10:30 on a Saturday night, I was the only person in all of San Francisco to be at the cathedral.

The city is home to almost a million people. Thousands of which were at that moment crowding themselves into bars and nightclubs on all sides of the hill down below.

To me, what I was experiencing at that moment in that courtyard was infinitely more magical and worthwhile and satisfying than anything that could ever be found in an interaction in a loud, dirty, bar, and a far better buzz than ever achieved by alcohol. But, I thought, if there were crowds of people flocking to the cathedral, to walk the labyrinth under the stars, I wouldn't be getting to have this precious moment all alone.

And before I left the courtyard I had another thought; I remembered all my earlier daydreams about good old Michael and our idyllic future home in Monterey. I accepted that my daydreams might very well be silly, but at their core was a very serious yearning for the very feelings I was experiencing at the cathedral. Because in creating a life for myself, in creating a home, and a base, the most important thing is that feeling of space, and sanctuary, and grounding, and spiritual connection. I want a place to live that creates that vibration for me. And I want the same in a partner.

And so, it was with clarity, and a craving for potato chips, that I headed out of the courtyard and back down the hill. I swept through my regular market to get chips and hummus and avocado, and not a block after leaving the store I ran into a group of men, one of whom I have seen around a few times now, and who, although he does not perhaps have the exact "Mike" energy, still has a very good energy that I quite like from what I've seen.

So I will leave tonight's adventures at that, to be continued, with gratitude to this fine city in which a dull moment has never been had, at least not by I, and with particular gratitude to that fine cathedral, and all the spirits who may or may not have been there with me during my courtyard communion.

xoxo

Boppity Bear and I have a sort of informal book club going on. We both read the same book so that we can discuss it afterwards. I leave it with Boppity Bear during the day while I'm out, and then I read a chapter before bed. As you can imagine, he finishes things much more quickly than I do, even what with being a Bear and his Paws making it difficult to turn the pages.

Right now we are reading "Lean In" by Sheryl Sandberg.

I've done a lot of soul searching in the past couple months. But I think I just came to a major revelation. I think I know exactly where I want my life to take me. I no longer aspire to be Katy Perry (thank GOD!). 

Instead, she has been ousted in favor of a variety of role models, including writers, artists, and revolutionaries. But I think it can most simply summed up in that I have two mentalities, my personal, grounded, every day self, who would be thrilled if her life ended up something like this: 

http://prettysmartgirlart.blogspot.com/

and the persona, performance, show self, who would be thrilled with a creative outlet/thematic, traveling world with a vivid aesthetic more like this: 

http://www.emilieautumn.com/

Both girls and their lives are completely inspiring to me. I guess they are not so different in that they are also choosing to make their lives public, and write consistently about their adventures. And hopefully that revolutionary spirit will be involved, as well, which is a path I am excited to take. Stay tuned!!!

How am I supposed to sleep when I'm learning about Amazonian uprisings across the world? I just want to be in one. Or better yet, start one. With plenty of glitter and sass and party horns. That way, people don't even know they're part of a revolution, because it's so much fun.

This is the woman's group Femen (google it). At first I thought I loved them but there's a lot of controversy involved over the fact that they are essentially a bunch of model looking types running around topless and thus re-inforcing the male gaze in the first place... and they are possibly funded by a wealthy Ukranian billionaire with his own agenda. 

But I still like to see women rioting. Even though I like the women in India with bamboo sticks better. 

And this is all fuel for the mind and grist for the mill... 

I can't believe that I went for a time with Katy Perry being my idol, but I am proud to announce that ideal has been OUSTED. How could Katy Perry hold up against an Indian woman who leads a gang female vigilantes, dressed in hot pink saris, carrying sticks, beating up rapists and abusive husbands and threatening the police force? This woman is actually my earthly hero. I aspire to do, on some level, what she's doing, be it through song and sass and subversive stand up comedy and banding women together and encouraging them to intimidate misogynists and carry spray bottles of glitter in their purse to defend against sexual harassment.

Because enough, is enough, is enough. I was recently chastised by a friend for celebrating a Turkish woman who decapitated her rapist and marched around a village square holding his head and showing it to other men. I'm sorry- wait, NO, I'm NOT sorry- I think that is fucking awesome. 

And guess what? I hate violence. I HATE the amounts of gratuitous disgusting violence that we are saturated with in our society. I also hate female oppression. And misogyny. And rape. And I think the patriarchy needs a little friendly reminder that there are wrathful female deities in the cosmos, and guess what, they're arriving en masse. That spirit is awakening in me, it is awakening in others, it has clearly awakened in these women and I want to dedicate my life to helping facilitate that awakening. I cannot think of a more perfect way to embody that wrathful energy than gangs of women in hot pink saris beating people up with gigantic bamboo sticks. When I see their example, my anger over feminine oppression turns to a shiver of glee- like "The fun is just beginning!" 

KALI MA, KALI MA, KALI MA! 

"There are so many struggles that women here have to go through, it never seems to stop," Pal says, wiping her forehead with the edge of her sari. "We don't like using violence, but sometimes that's the only way people listen."

                                               

 "I am the commander of the Gulabi Gang. I started the association in the 1990s, but I named it the Gulabi Gang two years ago. We aim to empower women, promote child education with an emphasis on girls, and stop corruption and domestic violence. I visit numerous villages every day and meet the various members of the gang. We have gang meetings where we decide the plan of action if we hear of something that we oppose going on. First we go to the police and request that they do something. But since the administration is against the poor people of our country, we often end up taking matters into our own hands. We first speak to the husband who is beating his wife. If he doesn’t understand then we ask his wife to join us while we beat him with lathis. Our missions have a 100 percent success rate. We have never failed in bringing justice when it comes to domestic problems. Dealing with the administration is the tricky part since we cannot always take the law in our hands—especially with such corrupt lawmakers. We did beat up some corrupt officials but we were ultimately helpless. The goons of the corrupt officials and the political parties constantly threaten me. Once, a few goons came and threatened to shoot me down, but the women came to my rescue and threw bricks at them and they ran away. They haven’t come back since. Although most of the time I travel alone, I am not scared of anyone. My women are with me, and they are my strength. My family didn’t always support me going out and doing what I do, but when I resisted and explained to my husband, he understood and has supported me since. It isn’t easy to do this. I have no money. I travel everywhere on an old bicycle. Some of our supporters help us with small donations and charity. I want this movement to carry on and would like support from international or local agencies. I work on a grassroots level and want to set up a small-scale industry for the poor villagers that I work with. We have talented young men and women who can make organic manure, candles, Ayurvedic medicines, and pickles. They could earn a decent livelihood. If I get funded, I can set up a stitching center for women who can then support their families. The future of the Gulabi Gang is bright. It’s a people’s movement and will grow bigger and bigger in the future provided we get support from the local administration."

When I throw a "Rebel Princess" party later this summer, it will bring together a variety of feminist groups in the Bay Area and be a fundraiser for the Gulabi Gang!!

http://www.gulabigang.in

 La Loba

 There is an old woman who lives in a hidden place that everyone knows but few have ever seen.  As in the fairy tales of Eastern Europe, she seems to wait for lost or wandering people and seekers to come to her place.

    She is circumspect, often hairy, always fat, and especially wishes to evade most company.  She is both a crower and a cackler, generally having more animal sounds than human ones.

    They say she lives among the rotten granite slopes in Tarahumara Indian territory.  They say she is buried outside Phoenix near a well.  She is said to have been seen traveling south to Monte Alban in a burnt-out car with the back window shot out.  She is said to stand by the highway near El Paso, or ride shotgun with truckers to Morelia, Mexico, or that she has been sighted walking to market above Oaxaca with strangely formed boughs of firewood on her back. She is called by many names: La Huesera, Bone Woman; La Trapera, The Gatherer; and La Loba, Wolf Woman.

    The sole work of La Loba is the collecting of bones.  She is known to collect and preserve especially that which is in danger of being lost to the world.  Her cave is filled with the bones of all manner of desert creatures: the deer, the rattlesnake, the crow.  But her speciality is said to be wolves.

    She creeps and crawls and sifts through the montanas, mountains, and arroyos, dry river beds, looking for wolf bones, and when she has assembled an entire skeleton, when the last bone is in place and the beautiful white sculpture of the creature is laid out before her, she sits by the fire and thinks about what song she will sing.

    And when she is sure, she stands over the criatura, raises her arms over it, and sings out.  That is when the rib bones and leg bones of the wolf begin to flesh out and the creature becomes furred.  La Loba sings some more, and more of the creature comes into being; its tail curls upward, shaggy and strong.

    And La Loba sings more and the wolf creature begins to breathe.

    And still La Loba sings so deeply that the floor of the desert shakes, and as she sings, the wolf opens its eyes, leaps up, and runs away down the canyon.

    Somewhere in its running, whether by the speed of its running, or by splashing its way into a river, or by way of a ray of sunlight or moonlight hitting it right in the side, the wolf is suddenly transformed into a laughing woman who runs free toward the horizon.

    So it is said that if you wander the desert, and it is near sundown, and you are perhaps a little bit lost, and certainly tired, that you are lucky, for La Loba may take a liking to you and show you something - something of the Soul.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With The Wolves. Pp.26-28.

Gaia

She awakens within.