Fire Season - My Journey from Ruin to Redemption

As many of you know, in November of 1994, our house burned down. After my husband Troy and I jumped out second story windows with nothing but our pajamas and our kid, our lives began a downward spiral of loss that would continue for four years, leading us into a deep depression and the brink of divorce. We lost three homes in 2 years, lost our cars, lost our friends, I lost my national business, we were bankrupted and we almost lost each other. But we survived. In 1999 we bought our house, things got better and were actually pretty great until 2010.

And then, in 2010, it seemed the cycle was beginning again. We were sued over a little dog named Stitch that we adopted. A three-year court battle followed. We had to get a restraining order against a violent neighbor with a criminal record for assault with a gun, who threatened my husband’s life. My husband’s boss, and great friend, Greg, dropped dead of a heart attack. Our dog Brandy died. Our septic system failed and flooded the yard, leading to a 10,000 repair job and an invasion of flies, not unlike the Amityville Horror (except they had better plumbing). We were busted flat broke from home repairs and court costs. And then, our daughter-in-law took our one-year-old grandson to Japan for a visit... and didn’t return. We thought we’d never see them again. We were overcome with grief.

During this time, I took an eight-week writing course with my friend Amy Friedman, where I wrote and shared, for the first time, the story of our fire. I was shaking so bad I couldn’t read the essay in the group, so Amy read it for me. After class, Amy and I went out for coffee and I confessed to her something I had been secretly fearing in my head. I told her, “My life is spinning wildly out of control, and I am terrified that I am in the beginning of a life pattern where I’m going to repeat another four years of hell.” And this is basically what she said. “You are still afraid of what happened to you, because you didn’t get the lesson in it. If you don’t write your way through this, you’re going to repeat the pattern. This fire story is not an essay. This is a book you need to write.” And only out of sheer terror and because I am slightly superstitious did I begin to write this book.

Four years later, Fire Season is about to be published with She Writes Press this spring (and you can pre-order it now for a discount on Amazon).

What I learned in writing my book was that I am stronger than I knew. That every time I let fear control my life, everything fell to shit. I saw, through my writing process, as I mapped out and wrote those years down, that it wasn’t until I chose love over fear that my life began to turn around. Through these past four years of intense challenges that began again in 2010, I learned to choose love over fear, and instead of losing everything, like we did in 1994, this time the outcome was very different.

After a year of praying and sending nothing but love to our daughter-in-law in Japan, many miracles lined up to bring our grandson home, and he now lives with his mother in L.A. After our three-year court battle, we still have our dog Stitch. The violent, criminal neighbors were evicted (the day after Christmas – best Christmas gift ever). We still have our home 15 years later and the new septic system works perfectly. This time, we didn’t lose everything. This time, yes, life knocked us on our asses – but we got back up faster. This time, when it seemed everything was falling apart, Troy and I turned toward each other in our grief and sadness (love), and not against each other (fear).

So, like Amy Friedman advised, I wrote my way through these four years, and now, after a summer from hell, I hope to God I’m coming out the other side. It’s not that I don’t have my challenges still. We’ve got a building inspector trying to wreak havoc with our house, and some trouble with termites…but I know better now than to let fear get the best of me.

Back in 1995, when I was spiraling down, I felt so alone, like there wasn’t a single person who got what I was going through. Books were what saved me. Books about hope, about endurance, about surviving. I wrote Fire Season because I don’t want anyone to feel alone like I did. I want to share my experience of finding hope on the other side of darkness.

I know that you, like me, have endured some difficult losses and challenges. I hope you’ll share your stories in the comments below…

Everything You Done To Me

 

This morning I woke up remembering a powerful scene in the Color Purple where Whoopi Goldberg’s character Celie is finally escaping her abusive husband. As she is driving away, he comes chasing after her, raising his fist, but she simply puts her hand up to him, stopping him cold as she says, "Everything you done to me, you already done to yourself.”

And so it is.

If you are cruel to another person, you degrade your own spirit. If you are deceitful, you break trust with yourself. The fact is, everything you’ve ever done to someone else lives in you forever. I hope it’s kindness, love and compassion that you are doling out. If it isn’t, I feel very sorry for you.

Just the other day a friend reached out to me, saying someone had made her feel terrible, like a “third-class citizen.” And I told her that with every unkind word they said to her, every mean-spirited snub, they only diminished themselves, not her. People who are cruel are just broken people making others pay for their wounds. But you and I were made of the same stuff that makes the entire Universe. Literally. Whether you believe in God, a Higher Power, or science, this proves out. We were made by God, and no small, spiteful person can diminish what God has made. 

I was grateful to her for bringing that life-lesson to my attention. Little did I know I’d need the reminder just a few days later.

The injustice of life is that sometimes you can give your whole heart to something --give it the very best you have- and receive a kick in the teeth in return. This has just happened to me. Run-of-the-mill meanness is one thing, but betrayal leaves deep, devastating wounds, because it is a hurt that comes from people you loved and trusted.

I can't control what others have done, but I always have a choice in how I react. I can either become stronger in love, or crumble in despair. I choose love. When people are cruel, I have learned to put myself in my protective pink love-bubble and remember the words of Glinda the good witch, “You have no power here!” 

For every cruel thing that was just done to me, I put my hand up and I deflect with love. It is on the doer, not me.

LOVE WINS, and no broken person will ever convince me otherwise.

And thank God for the love of my husband, family and friends. They help me patch up that pink love bubble when I am weak.  

We Are Stardust

Last week I had “one of those days.” You know the kind, where everything is going wrong and everyone is on your last nerve. Work was stressful, my kids were fighting, even my cats were fighting. Before I blew a gasket, I packed the kids in the car and headed off for yoga, breathing in and out, counting to ten.

I ran in and laid my yoga mat down, then rushed my warring boys off to kid-care in the gym. I returned just in time to see one of my fellow yogis literally pick my yoga mat up and toss it to the side, as she preceded to take my space.

WTF?

Breathing… I asked another woman who saw this if she would mind moving up about 6 inches so I could have someplace to put my mat. She said no. She needed all of the space she was occupying and all the space surrounding it.

Thus began my inner rant – dividing myself from “those people” – the ones who don’t get what yoga is all about. “Those people” I assured myself, “are ruining my experience, and my whole Saturday!”

I wanted to see myself as separate from these defensive, space-grubbing narcissists. But then I remembered that we are connnected…

Joni Mitchell sang it 40 years ago, “We are stardust…we are golden…”

This is not just some hippie-dippie statement full of moonbeams. There is actually some real science behind it.

Astrophysicist Neil de Grasse Tyson explains it this way:

“The atoms of our bodies are traceable to stars that manufactured them in their cores and exploded these enriched ingredients across our galaxy, billions of years ago. For this reason, we are biologically connected to every other living thing in the world. We are chemically connected to all molecules on Earth. And we are atomically connected to all atoms in the universe. We are not figuratively, but literally, stardust.”

In other words, I am connected to every person in this Universe, even the ones I don’t like. They way that I respond to others will affect me just as much (if not more) than it affects them.

So I breathed, and calmed myself and found another space to occupy.

People may have horrible manners and display sefishness, but we are connected. They are, we are, I am connected to everything in the universe, and made of the very same matter. Whether I like it or not.

And just when I want to struggle against the fact that this is true, here’s something else Tyson says, “The good thing about science is that it's true whether or not you believe in it. ”

The 21-Day Meditation Challenge

"When your actions are inspired by love, you can do less and accomplish more because all of nature is held together by the nature of love."

 -Deepak Chopra

What do you think? True or not?

I'm willing to give it a try.

I signed up for Deepak Chopra's free 21-day meditation, along with several of my friends. Although I'm not new to meditation, I decided to take this challenge and journal about the changes I see in my life. I'm experimenting, approaching it like a scientist. Today was day 3,  and so far it feels great. I feel centered, calmer, and more at peace with everything that is swirling around me. This is a major bonus for me as I have to deliver a speech tomorrow at the Women's Leadership Legacy Conference. I am told it's sold out, and they are expecting 600 people. No pressure.

Let's see how meditating gets me through this, and through the everyday pressures of a 3 and 8 year old, my job with Moms Demand Action, and my writing and singing gigs. I've got a lot to balance right now, so I'm hoping if I keep myself heart-centered I'll glide through with less stress and struggle.

Most stress and struggle is in my head anyway- I do know that. I wrote about releasing struggle in "What I'm Giving Up."

If you want to try the meditation challenge, sign up for free. It's not too late to start. And if you miss a day, no worries. Just do what you can.
Chopra Center Meditation

Here is an excerpt from the thought for today:
"The Spiritual Law of Least Effort tells us that we can do less and accomplish more, an idea that seems at odds with what many of us have been taught throughout our lives. We’ve been told that success is the result of hard work, struggle, and sacrifice. Today we will tap into the ever present flow of natural ease that is available within, as we plant the seeds to live our destiny each and every day.

The universe has infinite organizing power, and as conscious beings, we have ready access to this realm simply by spending time in stillness and silence. The same consciousness that orchestrates the myriad rhythms of the whole world dwells within each of us. As we cultivate present moment awareness and remain open to the many opportunities life offers, we open to the power within us to realize all our dreams with effortless ease."

Wishing you all an effortless, love-centered day.

What's New?

A few people have written to ask why I haven’t been blogging much lately, and the simple, wonderful answer is – because my prayers were answered and I now have a three year old underfoot 24/7. In addition, Evan is out of school, so every day it’s the two of them loving each other one minute, squabbling the next, and I am the referee. Also I’ve been doing some freelance writing work to help pay the bills (which have grown along with the family), sending my new book out to agents, plus helping my daughter in law, who is living with us, to get established in the US. I’ve been taking her on school tours, helped her do all her financial paperwork, get a credit card, etc… It’s been busy.

We are still trying to figure out how this new family configuration works, and most days it’s wonderful--Aya and I love cooking together, hiking and taking the kids out to ride bikes. But it’s also a huge life change, chaotic, full of new challenges, and we are all searching for balance. I haven’t been able to write at all, which makes me crabby. Evan has had some behavior regression with the new changes; he’s developed fears, nightmares and clinginess to me (common behaviors in kids when there is a “new baby” in the family). I’m overwhelmed, but grateful.

In the middle of all these new changes I found out that my father, with whom I have a complicated, almost nonexistent relationship, has cancer. Today he had surgery in Houston. I am praying for his spiritual and physical healing, and for myself to come to a place of peace with what is, and what isn’t. This is still a tough one for me. 

Group hug in Texas with my dad, brother T, and nephew Jordan.

So many of you have prayed for my grandson to return, and I thank you. My heart is so full, so happy, with my family back together. Every day I get up and thank God for this second chance. And many of you are now praying for my father, and again, I can’t thank you enough. I feel your good wishes and love.

So, that’s it in a nutshell with me. What’s new with all of you?

Throw Love at It

My friend Mary gives the best advice. Over a year ago, I sat in her front yard with tears in my eyes, and told her that my daughter in law and grandson were not coming back from what was supposed to be a visit to Japan. I told her I feared the worst – I may never see my grandson again.

Mary put her hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye and said this.

“Love her through this. No matter what happens, just love her.” I got chills, because I knew she was in one of those inspired moments, when a Universal truth pulses through us. And then she gave me the longest, bestest Mary-hug, and I left her house feeling stronger.

I followed Mary’s advice. I loved my daughter-in-law. I sent her love in emails, packages, and letters, but mostly I sent love in the prayers I said for her and Ayumu every morning. For over a year, I continued to pray and meditate every day, because I didn’t know what else to do. And the side result is that so many good things have begun to happen in my life since I became diligent about this. I can’t prove that there is a God, or guardian angels, or saints. But if God is Love than I can safely say I believe in God. And I do know without doubt that approaching a fearful situation with love makes it better, and easier to bear. This has now become the rule in our house. When we are faced with a challenge, we say “throw love at it”.

And this is how I know it works…

A few weeks ago my husband Troy wrote this beautiful song for Ayumu. He poured all the love in his heart into it and sent it to Japan.

Suddenly, something shifted. Our daughter in law contacted us to say that on April 14^th ... she will bring Ayumu to America for a one-month visit. In two weeks, I will hold our beautiful grandson in my arms again.

The last time I held him, he was 18 months old. Now he is almost 3. He speaks Japanese, and I speak English, but I’m not worried about that. Love is the Universal language.

This morning when I prayed, this is what I said.

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you to Mary for her wisdom.

Thank you to my husband for his music.

Thank you to all my friends, Erin, Beth, Dani, Amy, Julie, who held me together through this when it was unbearable. 

Love makes everything bearable. 

Love makes everything possible.

*The backstory is here: A Heart Breaks Slow

Answered Prayers

When you put your faith in love...

Troy is home from Japan with videos and pics of our grandbaby Ayumu, and as I peruse them again and again, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I prayed for this EVERY day for a year. I woke up each morning, and thought about Ayumu. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the scent of his hair, the feel of his skin, the weight of him against my hip. I conjured up the feeling of running my fingers through his baby curls, the way he'd nestle his head into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, how he'd exhale and lay soft against me. Then I would take all that love, and put it into a prayer. Every single day. I called on every ancestor in spirit. I prayed to God, to angels. I asked for help from anyone who was out there in the cosmos.

A year ago, when Aya,my daughter-in-law, and Ayumu failed to return from a "visit" to Japan, when her facebook and email accounts disappeared, when she stopped communicating with all of us, yes, I panicked. I feared we would never see our grandson again. But I knew that fear was not my friend, and would only make a bad situation worse. After the tears and ranting, I decided, instead, to invest in faith. I put that faith in LOVE. 

For a year we have prayed, and sent only loving words to Aya. Even though she often would not respond, we still sent love. 

A year later, this happened in Kobe, Japan. I think this picture says it all.

My husband Troy and grandson Ayumu, reunited.

Some may say it was coincidence that while touring with Wilson Phillips, Troy was booked on a layover in Japan, but I know it was my answered prayer.

Aya rose to meet the occasion, and welcomed Troy into her home for three days, letting him spend every waking moment with Ayumu. Ayumu rushed into Troy's arms, held his hand everywhere they went, chattered in Japanese to him. If we had gotten angry with Aya, which certainly would have been justified, I know this gentle reunion would not have happened. Aya has matured over this past year. She is seeing things differently. And now, she is talking with both Troy and our son Taylor ( still her husband) about the possibility of coming to visit.

What I have learned through this ordeal is to never lose hope. Never lose faith. Miracles are possible when you keep your heart open. We don't have the perfect scenario, and I don't know that we ever will, but somehow we will find a way to be a family. Even with 5000 miles between us, through the cultural differences and the hurts and misunderstandings, we are a family. Love wins.

Saying goodbye at the airport, Troy whispers, "Come home to us, little one."

Lessons Learned At A Funeral

I’ve been to more funerals in my life than I care to count. And I have sat bedside with critically ill friends at the ends of their lives. Although it has been painful, I consider this a privilege, for they have taught me valuable life lessons.

My dear friend of 25 years, Phyllis, was like a second mother to me. I loved her with all my heart, but she was a difficult woman. She was tall, strong, a force to be reckoned with, but she spent a lot of her life being offended by people. She was prickly and cantankerous. I’d had a few run-ins with her over the years, and she’d made me cry more than once, but always we came back to a place of love. The last time I saw Phyllis on her deathbed, all her hard edges had softened as she began to wither away. She looked so vulnerable, like a tiny baby bird in a nest of hospital blankets. She was peaceful, finally. Soon she would join her husband and son in the afterlife. The last thing this tough woman said to me before she died- “Love is all that matters.”

A year later, I would watch my friend John die from a brain tumor. At the end, I sat holding his hand while Troy played John’s beloved baby grand piano. The tumor had robbed him of his ability to speak in sentences, but there was no need for words. What mattered was clearly present in that room. John looked into my eyes, took my hand and squeezed it tight. With his other hand patting his heart, he said “So much…so much…”

This Sunday I attended yet another funeral- a sad, tragic funeral of a woman who died much too young. Andrea was Dani’s little sister. I can still see her sitting cross-legged on her bed at thirteen years old, talking about her boyfriend, as Dani and I were putting on make-up, getting ready to go out to some party or High School football game. Andrea, just a little girl in my memory, with her long wavy hair, and a whole life ahead of her.

Now she is ashes.

There had been hurt and misunderstanding between Dani and her sister over the years, and some of Andrea’s life decisions caused her to distance herself from those who loved her. Yet, on the last day of her life as she lied comatose in her hospital bed, Andrea opened her eyes and smiled at Dani. Nothing needed to be said. What was left at the end, above all the broken hearts and hurt feelings, was love.

At the funeral on Sunday, Andrea’s two teenage daughters, now orphaned, stood up and spoke about their love for their mother. Her oldest, Megan, lamented about all the time they spent fighting over petty things. That time could never be regained, time which could have been spent loving each other. I heard that message loud and clear.

Since Sunday, I have witnessed a lot of anger amongst my friends and family, some of it at each other, some at me, over small things, which will one day be long forgotten.  But Sunday put things in perspective for me. I don’t intend to waste a second of my precious life, which I am so lucky to have, quibbling over small things. I want to spend the hours of my life loving my family and friends, and helping others to do the same. I won’t be swayed from this.

People often comment on my relationship with Troy, how much in love we are after so many years. The reason our love has lasted is not because we don’t fight. We do. It doesn’t happen much anymore but in the early years, we almost didn’t make it. What saved us, time and again, is that we always come back to a place of love. Always. The love we have for each other is larger than either of our needs to be right or to be vindicated. The love outweighs our egos. 

My friendship with Erin is that way. We are a couple of strong-willed broads and we’ve collided spectacularly at times, but again, what I love so much about Erin is her great heart, which prevails over everything else, as does mine. As does Dani’s.

Life is rattling my cage pretty hard right now, testing me, challenging me to walk my talk. I ask myself, if I were lying on my deathbed, would these issues matter?

My life’s mission is to live a life of integrity, love and honesty, and to help others do the same. No matter what is thrown at me, I will stand strong in that mission, unshakable. For I know what will matter on my own deathbed is the love and kindness I shared with people.

Phyllis said it, John said it, and an eighteen year-old girl who’s had to grow up way too fast said it best. Love is all that matters.

A Lesson In Everything

Photo: Erin Doyle

Don’t you just love when you get lost in a great book, and it begins to transform you?  Right now I’m in the middle of reading, Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow, by the amazing Elizabeth Lesser. In one chapter she tells a beautiful story about her good friend Ram Dass, who is a spiritual leader and the voice of a generation. Ram Dass spent his career teaching others to live with spirit and grace. Until he came to a critical turning point in his own life.

One night as he was answering the phone, this powerful man suddenly fell to the floor and found himself unable to move or speak. His friend on the phone was calling out to him. “Ram- Do you need help? Tap the phone once for yes, and twice for no.” Ram Dass tapped twice.

Most of us have a hard time accepting help, even when we desperately need it. Don’t I know it. All last year Troy and I faced numerous battles on our own, vowing that no matter what came we would withstand it. But with all the other crises the year brought, and after more than a year of this legal battle, we were unraveling. The financial burden was stressing us, but the emotional burden took the heavier toll. Troy often said he felt like there was a mountain of grief on us, and he was trying frantically to dig us out.

When I had the miscarriage in February, it was the last straw for me. I just couldn’t lift myself up anymore. The trial was two months away, but my fight was gone. Our money was gone. Our hope was gone. I called my attorney, ready to throw in the towel. I told her…if this guy’s intention was to break me down, he’s won. So what now? Show up at court and tell the judge I’ve got no attorney? What are they going to do, force me to give up my dog?  I won’t. Let them arrest me.

I really didn’t care any more.

She wisely advised me to take a few days to rest and think things over, and we’d continue our discussion later in the week.

In the meantime, my girlfriends called to offer support. They told me – don’t let it get you down. Just think of all the wonderful family and friends you have! You are surrounded with love! And I said, cynically, Yeah. I wish love could win this court case.

But then I thought about that. Wait a minute….I may be low in financial resources, but man oh man do I have a wealth of beautiful people in my life. I am RICH in love. What is it I’m always saying in my blogs…LOVE conquers HATE. LOVE conquers FEAR. Somehow I forgot. But my friends didn’t. They knew that LOVE could conquer this battle.

As hard as it was for me, and especially for my husband, I had to tap once on that phone. I needed help. And along came another lesson. The lesson of being vulnerable. The lesson of needing people. This is the ultimate “trust fall”, and not one person has let me touch the ground.

I had a friend say to me, “I could never do that…ask for help.” Neither could I. Honestly, it has been gut-wrenching to admit that I needed help. I’ve always been independant. I want to be the strong one who lifts others. But life has brought me to my knees, so here I am, humbled and grateful.

And that brings me back to the story of Ram Dass. He had a stroke that night that would forever change him. Ram Dass, the pillar of strength, would spend the rest of his days in a wheelchair. This brilliant man who spent forty years lecturing and teaching could now barely speak. It was an entirely new state of being for him.

When Elizabeth asked him what the experience was like, he called it “Fierce Grace.” He said,“Ego breaks open, then you see who you really are.”

I get it now. Fierce grace has been at work on my life, forcing my Ego to take the backseat. What I’ve discovered is that when Ego leaves, there is much more room for LOVE.

LOVE.

My favorite word.

And as I get back on my feet, remember this…

tap once if you need help.

I’ll be listening for you.

Prayer for Japan

Proof that miracles thrive in the presence of love

My heart is heavy with grief this morning as I watch the devastation in Japan unfold on television. I lived through the1994 earthquake in California. It registered 6.7 on the Richter scale, and I thought the world was ending. It was terrifying beyond belief. But to survive an 8.9, only to be wiped out by a Tsunami only 15 minutes later? I truly can not imagine the horror.

I had to break the news to my Japanese daughter-in-law last night. We watched the news together, sick to our stomachs, praying her friends and family would be safe through the night.

It’s times like these that rock my faith. Is there a patriarchal God up there who just had a temper tantrum,  decided he didn’t like his creation and knocked it over like a cranky child with a stack of blocks? I can’t buy into that.

I don’t know if there is a God “up there”, or somewhere in the atmosphere, but if God is love, then yes, I see God. Because with every disaster that happens in the world, as people are suffering, a miracle begins to emerge. The God in you, the God in me, awakens. We become united as humans. All around the world we connect through our prayers, empathy and our actions. We connect through Love.

We give, even when we don’t have. We rush toward the disaster, rather than look away. We reach out to absolute strangers. In those desperate moments we realize, we are all one.

This morning  President Obama announced our commitment to help Japan, saying "The friendship and alliance between our two nations is unshakeable, and only strengthens our resolve to stand with the people of Japan as they overcome this tragedy." Sixty years ago Japan was our enemy. Today, our friendship is unshakable. I think of that every time I hold my half-Japanese grandson in my arms, and remember that my grandfather was a bomber in World War Two. Miracles occur in the wake of devastation.

Is there a reason for everything? I don’t know. But there is a reason for us now to rise to the very best in us. To help, to pray, to hold one another in grief, in loss.

So please join me this morning, and say a prayer for our brothers and sisters in Japan.

This too shall pass, and all will be well, for miracles thrive in the presence of love.

The Other Shoe

Last night I woke at 3 am to worry. It’s my job. I do it for my family so they don’t have to, and I usually punch the timeclock at around 3 or 4 am. Another part of this job is to wander the house “checking” on things. Make sure everyone is breathing, doublecheck that all the doors are locked, no fires smoldering anywhere…you know.

What is it about worry? Do we think that if we worry enough about something, we’ll somehow protect ourselves from it happening to us? Take for instance the constant worry of mankind that the world will end soon – which we’ve been worried about since the beginning of time. It never happens, it likely never will, and yet we worry. Worry is such a ridiculous waste of energy. It helps nothing and only stresses and wears down our health and immune system (yet something else to worry about). If I could accumulate all the time and energy I’ve spent on worry, and reapply it to something positive in my life, what wonders could occur.

This particular night, I was worried about my dog. In the last four years, I have watched two of my dogs die a long painful death from some type of mysterious cancer that the vets couldn’t quite peg. And now the only dog I have left was suffering some type of allergy, itching all the time (common to French Bulldogs) and my goodness….he looked a little thinner to me, even though Troy thought he looked the same as always.

Nonetheless my eyes flew open at 3 am, and my mind was on alert – Okay, ready to worry. Let’s do this.

Then I realized now nutballs I am and instead used the time to talk myself down. Really, he looks the same, he acts the same, he’s only four years old and he’s itchy. That’s it. He’s not dying of cancer. So why not just focus on his good health, pray for continued good health, and trust that everything will be okay? So I prayed, and lied awake, and still worried.

In the morning I talked to Troy about it (who is not at all worried about the perfectly healthy, itchy dog). I told him that I myself sort of feel like a dog, one who’s been kicked for a while with repeated bad surprises from life, the kind of dog who recoils when you go to pet him for fear you’re just going to whack him on the head. That’s how much I trust life….goes back to what I said in my last post about waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And that’s when Troy said this to me -

“Honey, everything is okay. It’s a new year, a new beginning. The other shoe is not going to drop. And if it does, we’ll just dance like hell on the one shoe we have left.”

And that is reason number 1057 I love my husband. It also is the end of this blogpost because really….how can I top that?

New Decade, New Beginnings

As I shed the remnants of 2010 like a bad virus, I am giddily optimistic about this new year, and in fact this whole decade. At the same time, I feel big changes shaking things up...the foundation beneath me trembling...

Everything is about to shift.

I'm ready.

I spent last night writing what I want from this year, what I want to see happen in my life in the coming decade. In doing this journaling and meditating, I saw a huge flaw in myself. I really need to work on feeling I "DESERVE" good things to happen to me. The problem is, I expect the bad things. They're like an old shoe. I know how to navigate trauma. But the good stuff- I don't trust it. It can be ripped out from under you at any moment.

You see? That's the problem. Always waiting for that other shoe to drop- expecting it in fact. When I think of those who have achieved their highest dreams, I'm sure they didn't share my negative thinking patterns.

And yet look at the love that surrounds me. Somehow I must believe enough in that, because I am truly surrounded by goodness and love. How did I learn to believe in love? To trust in love and the goodness of people, even when I was shown repeatedly that people could be cruel, and betray you? How did I end up in such a beautiful loving marriage, when I only saw destructive relationships growing up?

It may have been this. For years- after being betrayed again and again by my own family and "friends", I PRAYED and journaled and posted on my wall and my bathroom mirror that I deserved to be surrounded by like-minded, loving people, who loved me and treated me kindly. I don't know that I completely believed it at the time...but I prayed and wrote it anyway....over and over, until it finally came to pass. It is a miracle, a prayer answered, that we all have one another.

Also, years ago I wrote "I am now open to the possibility of all my wildest dreams coming true". I posted it on my mirror, looked at it every day. That year, at 39 years old, I found my biological father and three brothers.

I'm ready to set a course for myself, to start praying more for goodness, and training myself to believe in it. I told Troy last night I've not felt in control of my destiny at all for the last couple years. I've felt like a leaf drifting on the river, going wherever it took me, which was often over the edge of the rapids. I want to now learn how to navigate my own boat. I know I can't control the river, but I can set a course, and learn how to paddle.

I am excited to begin the journey. And I will pray for goodness, and write it even when I feel doubt, keeping myself on course for miracles.

Wanna come?

The Lesson

"Bad times have a scientific value. These are occasions a good learner would not miss."

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last week – ah, such a lovely miracle week that culminated on my birthday. It was the best. I was feeling strong, centered, enthusiastic and energized. To cap off the week - a wonderful Sunday dinner surrounded by my loved ones left me walking on a cloud. Then came Monday.

Remember when you were a little kid in kindergarten, and you take all this time to build a big castle out of blocks, only to have some mean bully come along and kick it over? That’s what happened to me spiritually this week. As this year mercifully draws to a close, I’m feeling shaken and fragile. But I decided to use last week to rebuild my reserves, to find my hopeful place and start again. It was working, too. I could feel myself getting stronger, getting back to my true self.

And then…WHAM-O. It’s amazing how we can be surrounded with love and goodness, but one act of cruelty can kick that tower of hope down so easily. It only took one person’s hateful words and judgment. It was someone that I thought loved me, someone who mattered a lot to me. Before I knew it I was physically knocked flat by a stomach flu that lasted three days, all the while her hateful words churning in my gut, and the why? why? why? circling in my brain… Add to that a spate of bad news emails of illnesses and deaths. Add to that two more rejection letters from agents. I was down, in the downest way. (Know what’s worse than getting rejection letters from agents? Getting them while you have the stomach flu.)

One of my girlfriends wrote me this morning from Arizona. Where are you? Why aren’t you blogging? I need some inspiration here! Girl, I hear ya, but hang on a minute while I crawl out of this hole and figure out what the hell just happened.

I’ve always believed that LOVE is bigger than FEAR, but I learned something this week. What we believe in most is what is biggest. For the past few days, I let that hate become bigger in my soul than all the love that surrounds me. Even though I knew they weren’t true, I let her words infiltrate me, inhabit me, fill my gut, my heart, my mind until I was physically ill. And then I was mad at myself for letting it happen. FEAR won.

So I got up with the sun this morning and spent some quiet time alone, looking for the lesson in all this ugliness. What I realized was that yes, sometimes I might be weak and let fear in, but I always have the choice to turn it around. I decided to let the LOVE in my life be bigger, let the LOVE consume the fear and the hate. I even imagined the love like a hungry little pac-man, gobbling up all her ugly words. I know I can’t control what someone says about me, nor whether they love or hate me, but I can choose what I believe in. I believe that I will be okay, no matter who hates me, no matter how many agents reject me, no matter if my own family of origin never embraces me – I have love in my life. LOVE. Love is the light in my life…and like the old gospel song says -

This little light of mine

I’m gonna let it shine…

This little light of mine

I’m gonna let it shine…

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…

A Miracle Story

Six years ago I had the worst birthday ever. Worst. It was December 2004. I was estranged from both of my parents. My mother had exiled me for speaking out against something awful that had happened in our family. My father was struggling with addiction again, and had let our relationship go. Neither of my parents called or acknowledged my birthday. In fact not one person in my extended family acknowledged it.

As if being estranged from my parents wasn’t bad enough, the nonprofit foundation I’d co-founded was in the middle of a hostile takeover by some ambitious board members. Power and greed overcame altruism. The musical instruments that had been donated to my students (kids in foster care) were taken away. The grant money was pulled from my arts programs so they could use it for advertising and self promotion. They were attempting to oust me and run the organization themselves. It was the year of the Grinch, for sure.

On top of that, my daughter was away at college, and I was missing her. My son was a teenager, busy with his own life and his rock band. All I wanted for my birthday was a couple of my close friends over for dinner. But even that didn’t work out. Two of them only stopped by briefly on their way to another event, one got drunk to the point of puking, and the other’s car broke down on the side of the road. So while my husband went to rescue her, I went to bed alone. Happy birthday to me….

The day after my birthday, I crawled into my bed like a wounded animal and cried a year’s worth of tears. I went through an entire box of Kleenex. But I did something else too. For the holidays, I had made a mix CD of songs about angels. I played this CD all day while I cried. And I prayed - not just any prayer- I remember this prayer specifically because I chanted it over and over for hours.

Please send me an angel to help me believe in the goodness of people again.

Over and over and over…crying, praying, crying some more. I spent the whole day doing this.

Often times, miracles are already budding just beneath the surface of your life, but you can’t yet feel it. Never in a million years did I imagine what would come next, and it wasn’t until late January that I found out. That Christmas morning, completely oblivious, I already had the gift nestled inside me. Just weeks after I sent that prayer out into space, I had become pregnant at forty-one years old (and using birth control).

After the initial shock (and boy oh boy…what a SHOCK) we figured out it must have happened right before Christmas, maybe even on Christmas Eve. I knew then my prayers (or my intent) had been heard and answered. Certainly not in the way I expected - but rarely are prayers answered the way we expect.

On the September night I went into labor, there was a freak electrical storm. Thunder and lightning, unseasonal for California, announced Evan's entrance into the world. I always tell him he rode into town on a lightning bolt.

Every birthday since, I’ve had this little angel-boy to spend my day with, running around the house, raising a ruckus like he always does, testing my patience, teaching me to love on the deepest level.

All three of my children were miracles that I hoped and prayed for. Each of them came to me in a different miraculous way, and each has taught me so much about the true nature of love.

As I was writing this, my son Evan, five years old, came into the room and asked what I was doing.

“I’m writing about how you – and how you came to me like a miracle.”

“What’s a miracle, mommy?”

Hmmm…had to think about how to define that to a five year old.

“It’s when…something really good happens to you right at the time you need it.”

“Oh. Like ice cream?”

“Yes honey, like ice cream.”

“Can I have ice cream after school?”

“Yes.” I smiled and held his little face in my hands.

“I love you,” he said.

And that, my friends, is the miracle.

This Blog is Half True (except for the end part)

The other day I was having a conversation with my friend Barb about, you know, all the usual girly stuff: The arc of life, karmic patterns we repeat, the existence of god, and shoes. She said she wasn’t at all airy-fairy, had never been to a psychic (can you imagine?) but asked if I believed at all in astrology. Yes! I said. Well, usually. I added. Actually, sometimes not. The truth is…I told her, I think everything is 50% true, whether it be religion, politics, Nurture-vs-Nature, the Secret, the Power of Positive Thinking, Karma, The Bible, Reality shows.

I mean, yes, I believe there is something to the alignment of the stars and the way it affects us. The moon affects the tide, farmers plant according to the cycles of the moon. So why not? Gravitational pull and all, I do believe we’re affected. But I don’t believe most of the astrological crap on the internet or in entertainment magazines. So, you know…I believe in half of it.

I believe in the good parts of most religions, and as far as I can see, the basic tenets are the same. Be a good person, don’t steal,cheat, lie, kill people (unless, of course, you need to steal their country or stomp out their religion). But then there are the parts about selling your daughter into slavery and smiting your neighbor for…I don’t know, things like wearing a fabric made of two fibers or eating shellfish. And no one really knows who or what God is or who EXACTLY wrote the Bible and who EXACTLY has tampered with it throughout history….and since it is written by man, and we humans are flawed by nature, it is certainly prone to error and the influence of a certain scribe’s own perceptions or political intentions. I mean, Glenn Beck has written a lot of books, he considers himself inspired by God…and it frightens me to think that in 2000 years someone could find his book in a cave somewhere and uphold it as an absolute truth. So…again, 50% belief there.

I believe that politics is mostly a game of power, but that some people go into to it for truly altruistic reasons, or some go in for 50% altruistic reasons and 50% power reasons. I believe half of what politicians say, and half of what the talking heads say. (The hard part is figuring out which half to believe.)

I do believe in the power of positive thinking (the Secret and Tony Robbins and all that). I mean, yeah, it’s great to believe in something good and put all your intention there. But then, shit happens. Your business burns down, a hurricane hits, people betray you out of nowhere…and no positive thinking can prevent some of that stuff. So, you know, it’s all good, but still, only half of the picture.

But let me tell you what I believe in 100%. I believe in the power of love. This is not some cheesy cliché or song lyric, I mean this wholeheartedly because I am living it. I have been knocked down so hard this year, by many more things than I reveal in my blogs, and I’ll be damned if every time I wasn’t scooped up by loving arms and put back on my feet. Love is what strengthened and healed me. I can’t find anything about love to not believe in. Not even 10% doubt.

Something else I believe in 100% - my husband. Because the other day, when I was in tears feeling completely defeated as my relationships and appliances were all exploding at the same time, I sobbed I’m losing everything. He took my hand and simply said, “Love wins.”

And even today, as one of my best friends is going through a heartbreaking awful experience, as are many of my sweet friends, I know we will all make it to the other side of this, because we’ll hold hands, form a chain and walk through that fire together. Because LOVE WINS.

And for anyone who might be mad at me for what I said about the Bible, please know that although I struggle with it every day, I have great respect for those of you with good solid faith. Truly. And anyway, like I said at the beginning of this blog…everything is only half true, so you can throw out the parts of this blog that you don’t like.

Except for the love part. That part is absolutely true.

Trust me on that one.

LOVE WINS.

200%.

Love, Courage and Chaos

At this moment, it certainly could be said that chaos is swirling all around me. That bothers me so much that I’m up at 2:30am writing about it. Chaos is the last friggin thing I want in my life. Throughout my life I’ve watched other people who seem to have it all together, all their ducks lined up in a row. Their houses are clean, their garages are organized, their lives somewhat boring. I envy them. Boring sounds kind of awesome right now.

I have never had so much as one duck lined up in a row. My house has two dogs, three cats, a four-year old, our grown son and his pregnant wife who is nesting like crazy, filling the house with every baby necessity imaginable. Strollers, infantseats and boxes of IKEA furniture line my entryway. (I have tried, unsuccessfully, to convince them that they don’t need a “baby wipe holder” but nevertheless …the pile continues). In the middle of the night, I might step on a stray lego, or trip over a dog toy. But it’s our life, and we love each other, so we make room for the chaos.

And in the midst of all this normal everyday loving chaos, we are in some awful chaos with our next-door neighbors, which started when their pitbulls attacked our dogs (and many other neighborhood dogs).

Eleven years ago we moved into this unconventional neighborhood that is much like Topanga Canyon. Wild peacocks roam the neighborhood, everyone hikes the mountains with their dogs off leash, we have happy hour in the streets on Fridays, and all the kids run outside and play together. All that stopped when these pitbulls moved in - and I’m not just talking about the dogs.

After my dog was attacked, I put signs up warning neighbors to keep their dogs on leash due to pitbulls attacks on our street. When our neighbor saw the signs, he ripped them down, and went after my husband, his pitbulls straining to break off their leashes, snarling and lunging at Troy, just inches from him, the neighbor promising to “f*ck him up”. As the neighbor got in Troy’s face with threats and insults (“faggot” was an interesting choice) Troy stood his ground like a Zen master, looking straight at the guy, never taking the bait or engaging, sending the message – we will stand strong against you, we will not be moved. I was so proud of him. But it was a horrible experience, and we have barely been able to sleep since.

CHAOS.

On top of that, someone hurt me deeply today, telling me I “had it coming” because I posted those signs. All the xanax in the world couldn’t contain the anxiety I feel, my chest pounds, I can’t sleep, this ugly comment turning my stomach. How anyone could justify threats of violence against another person, or say that it was in any way deserved, is beyond me.

Maybe chaos will never stop swirling around me. I have a fierce heart, and I love deeply. I will stand up for the ones I love, even when its uncomfortable. The more I think about it, every bit of the chaos in my life came somehow from this love. My deep sense of justice came from this love.

A baby is about to be born in my house because I love my son, and although this baby was not planned, he and Aya couldn’t bear to abort it. So we stepped up. And yes my house will be filled with more people, more noise, more chaos, more LOVE. Bring it on.

I lost my job singing in a band last year (that was fronted by a Mormon) because I stood with my family in front of the Mormon church to protest against Prop 8. I did this because I love my friends, and my brothers, and I want them to have the same rights that I do. So I was fired from the band. Bring it on.

I have five pets because every one of them was abandoned and left on the side of a road somewhere, and that was unacceptable to me. So my house is full of dustbunnies and my sofa is destroyed and there’s always cat litter on the bathroom floor and I’m being sued by the person who abandoned my little dog. But I love my little buddies who are there to absorb my tears whenever they fall, and who lie beside me when I write, and when I sleep, despite the cat vomit at 3am and the dogs barking at 6am. Bring it on.

And yeah, I posted signs to warn my neighbors about the pitbulls, so other little buddies don’t get hurt, and that angered my neighbor and caused him to threaten us. So what. I wasn’t going to stand by and see another animal hurt, when I could have stopped it. Bring it on.

You take a risk when you love, when you allow your self to break open wide enough to really care deeply about things. Yes it makes you vulnerable, and sometimes people will hurt you. Sometimes you have to stand your ground. Sometimes you have to fight. I will do that for the people I love.

There is a lot of love in this house, and in my experience, love breeds chaos. Chaos is the nature of the Universe. The only thing I can control is the peace in my heart. I could choose this life, or I could hide away and protect myself, living in fear, never confronting, stuffing my feelings down inside of me. But that’s not me.

So you know what I’m gonna say - chaos, schmaos….

BRING IT ON.

But I am still a little jealous of those people with the structured boring lives, because I know I’ll never have one.