Twitter: The little things: 2 yr old tornado finally fall asleep.

Up since five am....The moment my son falls asleep for a nap. The question is: to write? OR to nap/clean/organize/read/etc?

 #amwriting #HisMiniSnoresSoundLikeWaves #WelookalikesaidNOONEever.

Up since 5am..The moment my son falls asleep for a nap.#amwriting #HisMiniSnoresSoundLikeWaves #welookalikesaidNOone pic.twitter.com/niclzRH9xd
— Lulu Salavegsen (@Shimmerinbloom) February 27, 2015

A weekly series: Friday I'm in love.....Poems and love letters from the LoveBinder. Vol. 2

Friday I'm In LOVE....A new series I'll post weekly, from yet another love binder I have found. This one follows a long-distance romance and relationship from my twenties.

The story is funny and spins in those types of circles love and life twist and fly within.

Where we met: A Tony Robbins seminar. (both of us begrudgingly sent by our parents)

How it started: He emailed a very restrained and dry email, and I replied with 400 hundred words in lights...shimmering.

What it was: A beautiful, well-documented fledgling  love between two writers, a cynic (him) and a muse(me) bouncing and reflecting each other's light and darkness with words and passion and discovery. We spoke of life, university, truth and our fathers. (both now, passed on.) Life is strange, and good, and exactly as it should be.
Where we are now: Both married (to other people) with kids, and budding writing careers. His, more than mine as he has a screenplay "in sales" mode and wide circulation. We spoke last night, 16 years after the first email was sent....All is right and fascinating.
Things of note: 

• He ended every email with a movie quote, often started out by saying: "I only have a moment to text" and then wrote pages. 
• I ended every email with an original poem. 

This Friday, I'll start with one of HIS (possibly drunk or hung-over) letters about remembering first seeing me:

Sunday, August 19th, 1:55pm, 1999:

I still have THAT necklace. Very impressive he noticed, no?

He ended it, with a movie quote:

"All I need is a cool set of waves, a nice warm buzz and I'm fine." - Spiccoli (Sean Penn) -Fast Times at Ridgemont High. 

I opened an email with this (excerpt):

Sunday, August 18, 9.00pm . 1999

" Hi, I had an incredible moment today. I was bored and went for a drive in the neighborhood. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon and everything in her path was sprinkled with that golden mist, that glow...I drove on...not in the mood for a specific type of music, I tapped the radio for some kind of pick me up. The song began....peacefully sending me further into the trance initiated by the golden sunset. The breeze, the beautiful wind flew into my window, kissed me too, on the cheek and blew through my hair, and I drove on. The words from the song: "I will clear my head /and swallow the sun / and love you strong / while this love is still young" That moment, actually several moments compiled into one dreamy sequence warmed by being sending me flying to the sun and back, and I drove on. God, I love moments like that. "

The email ended with this poem:

Oh, the beautiful arrogance of being in love and expressive! 

HAPPY FRIDAY! GO SAY "I LOVE YOU" to three people not expecting it. LOVE, GIVE, LOVE MORE. and just for "TGFTR" (The guy from Tony Robbins) DRINK TOO! 

TRUTH BOMBS and UGLY HONESTY. Let's do this shit. It's time. "Oxygen Mask Analogy"

As most of you (reading my blog) know, I've been doing triple flips into rock bottom, or bottom of rock bottom, and the universe is throwing everything, including the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes at me. I'm still standing....barely. My fake-eyelashes have perished, and my eyes barely open some days, but I'm still standing. Writing here, and laughing at myself.

With grace, good friends, and some soul searching....somehow, my conscious, my heart, and my spirit keep handing me these bigger perspectives. I'll try to explain this one. In a place of this kind of deep darkness, I fluctuate through crying until my eyes are swollen shut, to beaming with clarity. Today is one of the "clarity" days. The polar changes really do give you new appreciation. It's quite beautiful, and no matter what, I'm learning so much. So are those I love. Surprisingly, the growth and evolution is palpable. 

First off, I love you more than ever, "Srgt. Mamy", you are my advocate, my universe-gift, the badass, the tender friend and more than I could have dreamed of. Words can't express it. THANK YOU. I'll love you till your boobs tuck into your socks, and longer. 

Julia (I'm not hiding your name) you are a sister. We "own" our own crazy and laugh together. Without your unconditional support, I'd be, shit, who knows. But it's not good. You, everyday, allow me to be me, and love me in the darkness, you even listen to my advise and we learn from each other. I'll never stop holding your hand, if you hold mine. THANK YOU. 

Oxygen Mask analogy: 

"Srgt. Mamy" and I drove to a Kacey Musgraves concert last weekend. We laughed and talked, and philosophized and laughed more. On the drive home, whilst serving up some harsh and hairy honesty, ( that I immediately agreed to) I spoke of my kids. Preserving their innocence, serving them, loving them wholly. She waited a beat and asked: "What do they say about Oxygen masks on planes?" I knew where she was going, but in a Freudian, or hang-over slip, I got it backwards: "Kids first, then me", I replied. NOPE! "YOU put YOURS on to breathe first, otherwise you are useless to help them." ( pause for deep deep thought and processing of how BIG that is) 

That sat with me for days. A lot of things have. Big changes are coming, with those, comes fear, and self-questioning and if you are lucky, epiphanies. My most recent is this:

"You can not truly give love or yourself, until you love yourself."

Sounds cliche. It is, and its bullshit.  I believe lots of people believe that, they say it, they seem smart, and aware. It even looks cute on little FB posters we share. THAT is the surface version. It's not complete. What I've learned, realized, and finally understood is something different. It addresses the action, intention, and ramifications. These three things change everything. 

Remember, I don't claim to know anything, I'm neither wise, nor enlightened, but I'm resilient. I'm resourceful, driven by an inner voice that believes, always. I guess I'm just willing to be authentic and throw out some ideas that MIGHT make sense to someone, mostly myself and my daughters and anyone else I can possibly leave better than how I found them. If not, toss it in the ether with cat videos, and political rants. 

Loving yourself WHOLLY: ( my definition-my "secret recipe to be whole and happy" ) 

To do this you have to go inside yourself. Truly, burrow in and start sorting things out. 

• Step one: Find the darkness. On your  hands and knees in the "closet of you". Crawling through, stretching in the clutter, starting with the real uglies: regret, childhood misbeliefs, shame, fear, self-loathing, broken heart remnants, doubts, fucking pain-soaked memories of harm I've caused, limiting thoughts....etc. Each one, I pitch over my shoulder into a pile. 

• Step two:  Set that shitty hot mess of meaningless burden on FIRE!!! Light that heaping, stinking, bleeding, smelly pile. BURN IT and mourn. Cry, scream, dance, whatever must happen, let it. It's an ending. Forever. Be done with all of it. Choose finality. 

• Step three: Go back into the closet of you, and find these things:  deep kindness, compassion, self-love, gratitude, memories of laughing and helping others, beautiful words of advice you received, your empathy, your innate goodness and shimmering un-jaded childhood smile. Handle these things with the delicacy of finding old music boxes, trinkets and old pictures. Pile them as well, in order or abstractly. Lastly, reach for  far, fingers shaking with strain to find that childlike self-awe, it shines orb-like, gold-speckled and full of light. It's that child in you that screamed: 'I DID IT!" or "I'm da BESTEST!" as my toddler son does. ( Or my totally self-secure and self-loving five year old) Hold it, stare in it to see the self-pride and deep belief of your worthiness through innocence child-eyes.

• Step four: ILLUMINATE that pile. Light it from the inside out with all the brightest, warmest, energy you can summon. Let it flow like a tidal wave of sunshine, dense and covering everything, filling you up from tingly-top of head, to the outer edges of your toes. Beam, beam, beam in THESE things that already existed. That make you YOU. ( not the forgone ashes from the fire burnt earlier in this process, not even the smoke of that toxic mess can compete with this glow) 

• Step five: STAY HERE.  Learn it. BE IT. This is loving you WHOLLY.From this place, and this place only can you give...and here is the POINT. You can give without causing deficit to yourself. I'll say it again. YOU CAN GIVE WITHOUT DEFICIT TO YOURSELF. There is a huge difference. This wholeness gives because it has to, needs to, for it has everything it needs. YOU are everything you need. The beauty and gift of giving...love, help, yourself, advice, time...ADDS to your beam. It comes from purity, and no expectation or measure. 

(side note:) It's important to realize that giving of oneself is beautiful, in theory. But too often we are NOT whole. We haven't loved ourselves, so our giving depletes us, it takes away because all the things we didn't burn yet consume us. We give : "for reciprocation" or "to keep score" or "obligation and guilt". We offer time, and ourselves because we think we should, or it "looks good" but when coming from a portion, or half of you, it comes at a deficit to ourselves. There lies the inner birth of resentment, anger, disappointment....and all the meaning we give to the "idea of giving". In relationships, charity, friendship, parenthood. It's SO EASY to say and believe we are living a generous, loving, give-to, life. It's commendable, well-intended, but it is not possible to survive this, to sustain it. 

So, I'll add  my two cents to the age old idiom: "You can not truly give love or yourself, until you love yourself." ......INSTEAD:

My goal, happy, whole and giving more than ever. (note the "Follow Your Arrow" necklace) 

"Loving yourself WHOLLY,  with full heart, is the ONLY way to be able to give anything to anyone else without expectation or deficit to yourself.  From self-love, is not selfishness, its wholeness to give wholly with pure, single intention...to GIVE"

Eh, who knows. I don't. But that's not going to stop me from trying! Have I gotten there? Heck no. I begin today, I am actually giving myself an entire YEAR to do this. I can't come back here...to the bottom. I can't live in that place of regret and deep hurt. Big mess calls for HUGE change. I'm doing it. I hope, maybe one of you will too.

Love....LOVE.....LOVE!  

sincerely, and working-on-being-whole,

Lulu

An open poem to the fearers of failure , with a hug and kiss blown from me to you.

Hi. My name is Lulu, I have failed. A lot. In love, in friendship, in work, in obligation, in planning and not planning, in small motherhood moments, in my daughter role, at PTA, in marriage, in grief, in meditation, in promises (to myself and others) in tennis matches, in classrooms, in conversations, at self-preservation, in moral rules, in public, internally...I have failed, and I choose to follow up with grace....

I know my failures make you squirm, needing to be wiped away, scrubbed off like a germ.
I remind you of your fallibility, she's a slippery slope of the human condition to change; or to cope.
It's easier to cast glares, and guffaw, than to empathize,
Its harder to connect with me when I've shed my disguise.
The meanings you give my falls come from the same place that makes you feel tall.
Fearing gets me nowhere, failing is a feeling, living is to feel, and I love my life.

You know my faults are good fodder, the tongue that spits fire, doesn't swallow
You remind me of those lemmings, in line, busy staying in line to follow.
Its easier to lean away than to lean in and understand.
It's harder to have compassion and offer your hand.
The meanings you give my demise, come from the same place you fight compromise.
Fearing gets me nowhere, failing is a feeling, living is to feel and I love my life.

What if failing has taught me things? Given me wings? Let me fly and be me.

What if failing is falling into your truth and seeking the real way to be?

What if failing brought me the beauty of a place I couldn't see?

What if failing, like tides, wash in to smooth, and pull back to soothe?

Fearing gets me nowhere, failing is a feeling, and living is to feel....

I see you too, and fear is fair. I send you positive light, and love for when you're there.
We are not laid out to be counted, flaws or burdens to bare.
I'll hug your softer self, the mailable hidden fears realized to be true.
I love with whole heart, the failure in me, and the failure in you.
What I discovered from falling so many times is that there is little difference between the two.

GET INSPIRED! BuzzFeed's, Jarry Lee gives us: "20 Under 40 debut writers you need to be reading."

Originally posted in November, 2014

Jarry Lee, of BuzzFeed gives us a short list of debut writers under forty. It's inspiring, good to see what types of stories are RELEVANT to publishers, and readers and I kind of get a kick out of seeing the authors give the "I'm serious, and deep, and moody, and published" look. 

FUDGE! I want to stare down a camera with that face on! 

BuzzFeed, Jarry Lee: "20 Under 40 debut writers you need to be reading"

Rock Racing. A snippet of a novel that has been napping. IT'S NOT LONG.

In the light of youth I found a sleeping wake to a place where images of she and him collide and spin in unison, where love is pure and stable, and dreams of what could come are boundless in their possibilities. Pain fades to love, or love fades to pain and family holds true to its definition of consistency.

“Recklessness” and “courage” are nouns that are so interchangeable they should be similes. It’s more about context in the decision made, in that split second where a person decides to take that step, the jump, the cliché mode of movement that gets them to the place where people either gasp in amazement or pity. I realized this likeness between them early, very early. The first memory of it is as sharp as the lacerations on my feet that would ensue. What I didn’t know then, was they would lead to many more, and on the heart.

I was with two boys, Naïf, and Sebastian. Both wild-eyed smelling that smell of sweaty boy skin. We were standing at the edge of the concrete driveway. Starring at an ocean of white rocks, all shapes and sizes, blunt and uneven. This was my front yard. Landscaping goes as such in Saudi, white rocks, trimmed with grey rocks, perhaps a cactus or jasmine tree to fight the sweltering air, and add a small touch of “life” to the desert. But it was home and it was one hell of a testament to your strength, your pride. At six years old, we knew not how different our worlds were, or would be. We knew only of our impending competition.  

We would sit on the front door stoop, taking our shoes and socks of. I had sandals on with my dress. They were white, but had become so faded and dirty that looked more like a neutral bone color, from where the leather had faded to whatever material they were made of. Naif slipped off his Arabic styled slipper shoes. These were traditional and hooked around the big toe and then swept over the top of the foot. Sebastian had on pumas. He always looked like some French model from the glossy pages of Vogue. He looked so careless and put together all the time.

I eyed the boys, knowing before we began I would feel nothing, I would push through the pain, smoldering rocks, heating from their core from hours in the unfiltered Arab sun... We lined up hands on the parameter ashy flagstones, eyes piercing the neighbors drive, which doubled-as our finish-line. Only one will win. A bead of child sweat fell from my nose, and I could taste the salt on my lips as I opened my mouth to count down: “Wahid, Thanine….Thalathaaaaaaaaaaaa!” I yelled, and we were off.

The boys shot off like champagne corks, full throttle. Their faces turned to wrinkles of lips pulling up and teeth showing. They made audible grunts as the nerve endings in their feet started to signal their brains to stop. Sebastian listened, it was obvious his mind was telling him the pain was real. Sebastian started to lean to the left and fell into a slow and long hop, clasping his right heel with his hand. Naif, he was a born scary empty-headed machine of athleticism. He didn’t stop, he didn’t look down, he ran chin up with this thick dark hair flopping  in the wind of his movements. He had the tolerance, but he didn’t have the speed. 

The pain wasn’t real. One foot in front of the other, piercing and puncturing the tiny pads of my feet. Consecutive banging, like a loud clapping in my head, getting faster with my heart beat. The tops of my toes curled around the tops of rocks, and spit them out like some strange piece of farming machinery; I felt nothing but the thrill of winning, or beating someone at something that involved dealing with pain, being tough. I understood those terms. It was that simple, it started that early. My arms flailing behind me as the last step from burning rock hit the pavement of the neighbor’s lot. The smack of flesh to a hard surface shocked my ankle bones through my knees to my hips. I bent over, my lips curling at the edge. I won, and they lost. I beat the pain, and they couldn’t take it.

I didn’t gloat, no jumping or screaming. It was quiet reveling in accomplishment, something I would accomplish daily with more children than this. Battles of wills and pain. Under the bluest skies in the middle-eastern heat, we sweat and fought tears. I couldn’t know then, that this was my destiny. I couldn’t even conceive of a life as a woman would mimic this very display, this need to hide pain and defeat it with witnesses. 

The little girl, with messy brown curls falling all around her messy brown face. Spirals bound by perspiration, grimacing with a slight smile, a mask molded at five. A little girl standing with one hand on her hip. Her knees ashy and cracked. Scars hide under her teal blue and green Sun-dress with stains on the smocking, rumpled and flowing in the westerly winds. That little girl would soon learn life is not this white, but more grey. She will learn later, that she could never quite cover the theatre of emotions behind her big brown eyes. Her future history will show, she would never beat the fight within her. The fight of rock racing boys for life, for hearts… for the win. This would be a constant bouncing between Reckless and Courage. This moment, these collective thrills of silent revelry were the closing doors on her innocence.

Qouted_tumblr3

Kacey Muscgaves debuts "Biscuits" and SHE'S my "Cup of tea" : LIVE atthe Pabst: Videos and praise for the show.

Last night, February 22, a good friend and I drove from Chicago to Milwaukee to see Kacey Musgraves live at the Pabst theatre. She delivered, she elevated and she left us feeling tight-hugged, free to just BE, and in awe of her beauty and wisdom beyond her 26 years on earth.


The Pabst theatre is a smaller venue. Unique and breathtaking on it's own. Tray ceilings, domes, chandeliers and intricacy in the ceiling, walls and musty smell set the intimacy upon your first entrance. I'd see every other concert of my life in this place.


The opening act was John and Jacob, a new and pretty unfamiliar band. Their sound was bluegrass, and old school, but relevant and fun. Hailing from Alabama, the band was surprisingly full of verve and harmony and lyrical emotional juices. My favorite song was: "I'd go back".  Below. Also, loved "Me with you".

I HAVE to lead with a new single off her new album (title unknown) that should be dropping in Spring. The song is quaintly called: "Biscuits" and carries her adorable motto of you do you....I'll do me. See it here. UNBELIEVABLE.

So, the magic began at 9pm....The stage cast in blue spot lights and the overwhelming smell of incense (Nag Champa) to be exact, I know this from meditation. That alone, set the stage (pun intended) for her old-soul, melodic food for the soul-show. Out she walked under bright fuchsia  lights and a band dressed in bulb-lit suits, and neon cactus. Instead of donning her usual high-wasted shorts,  she shimmered and shined in a red low cut tasseled(on top) gold Lamé dress. The crowd went bananas, and her beauty still out shone the dress and lights.

She opened with the first song off "Same trailer different park", Silver lining. Her voice more crisp and angelic than the record. A true singer-songwriter, her voice is an instrument, her heart and "take it or leave it" persona permeated the theatre immediately. Next up was "Blowin' Smoke", and "I miss you".  Her little ramblings in between were so endearing, I felt like she was a friend. She sang "Back on the Map" and "Stupid" with a vulnerability and proverbial laugh, respectively.  Being a Texas native myself, I started glowing when she broke into Dolly Parton's "Here you come again".

It needs to be mentioned that Kacey is gorgeous. Her dewy cheekbones, and tiny facial features seem almost unfair as the source of her talent and crooning. She took off her heels (adorable embroidered booties) and sang barefoot after "Keep it to yourself" and played free-spirited that way until the encore. Sharing her co-written number one HIT "Mama's broken heart" by Miranda Lambert.

From there, hearts soared, and people swayed and collectively laughed in these musical moments that felt like hanging out with your best friends around a fire. In this palpable bubble of self-effacing hope and hurt she sang: "It is what it is" as the entire crowd sang along.

She lifted the spirit and elevated our hearts with the sweetly-sung-go-stuff-it tune of 'Step Off". This, she did with a fun Bob Marley mash up of "three little birds".

The next song she played, she requested the crowd to light up their phones, and light up they did. Everyone singing together, it was the highlight of the show....

The show closed shortly after, and she returned for the Mind blowing encore. During which, she came out solo with her guitar, in a mini A-line skirt and light-up, YES LIT up cowboy boots. Here, she sang the new single (above) "Biscuits" and another new single off the untiled LP, called "Cup of Tea". Her lyrics are so poetic, and self-accepting. 

The second to last song was an interactive crescendo of her number one single: "Follow your Arrow". 

Last and certainly not least, she brought the band back out to close the night with an A Capella version of "Happy Trails"....

There are no words to describe her craft, delivery and beauty. I won't try. Instead, I will leave you with first few lyrics to her new single "Biscuits" and wait patiently for the new album. 

"Taking down your neighbor, won't take you any higher, I burned my own damn finger poking someone else's fire.  and I've never gotten taller making someone else feel small. If you ain't got nothing nice to say, don't say nothing at all. 

Just...hoe your own row, and raise your own babies, smoke your own smoke, and grow your own daisies. Mend your own fences, and own your own crazy. 

Mind your own biscuits and life will be gravy"

Sunday's Oscars and the gruesome beauty of WHIPLASH. A movie that provokes you, inspires and hurts "so good." "Good Job"

WHIPLASH , (2015) Miles Teller, J.K Simmons. Written and Directed by Damien Chazelle.
The official plot is synopsized as :

"A promising young drummer enrolls at a cut-throat music conservatory where his dreams of greatness are mentored by an instructor who will stop at nothing to realize a student's potential."

I can not understand why only five others were in the movie theatre in mid-January, or why when I beam and sigh discussing the movie, no one recognizes it.  Whiplash is a suspenseful ride for all the senses. I knew nothing about Jazz, the "Greats" or even what young musicians endure to get recognition only a small percentage of the population TRULY appreciates.

I am so excited to see the 2015 Oscars realizing this movie's greatness. Up for five Oscar nominations:

-Best Picture
-Film Editing
-Sound Mixing
-Writing
-Actor in a supporting role

Although, disappointed that Teller, and his incredible (actual drumming) commitment to the role were not nominated, I am willing and hoping that they win Best Picture! They should.

I didn't breathe for most of the movie. A nineteen-year old drummer, Andrew Nieman (Miles Teller) begins his personal tour-de-force at the Schaffer Conservatory of Music. Young and seeping with ambitious drive, he's noticed by Terrence Fletcher ( JK Simmons) the infamous conductor. From there, a maniacal battle of wills takes flight.

Intense, dark, and gut-wrenching, you feel Nieman's internal fight. You smell his sweat, and the salty iron of his blood blisters. If nothing else, and that's impossible, this movie highlights the rigorous training and physical toll drumming takes. I remember laughing at a poster in the movie that read: "If you fail, you can always be a rock drummer."

The score is full of thumping and melodic genius that sets the tone and literally finds musical notes and tempo for every emotion that your heart tries to push away. Justin Hurwitz put together a story of its on in the soundtrack and mixing.

The entire premise, prose and pictures in each scene create juxtapositions and stir within you a conscious battle of "light and dark". I was furious, and inspired, deeply sad and joyous, shocked and accepting of the absolute beauty in Nieman's heart-breaking devotion to be "something special". As a parent, you feel the helplessness of a father (Paul Reiser)  who can't understand it, but knows his instinct to protect his son is calling. The dialogue, and writing in this movie drip with the undertones of success, drive, fear, and courage, but in a restrained and simplicity that has deep impact. It is so subtle and stinging.

Fletcher is outright demonic. He is all the disgust and abuse of a sociopath, and then JK Simmons shows you a crack, a humanity and piece of ourselves that "got so close" to our dream(s), only to miss it.  And misplace he does, crushing and painful are his own demons that hauntingly simmer and cracker on the wire of pure abuse and encouragement. His stellar acting is cringe worthy. As a mother, I wanted to choke him, but deep down a whisper within was agreeing with SOME of what he says. Now, in the age of apathetic millennials, and easy-come-easy-go students, a part of me felt Fletcher's frustration.

The last ten minutes of this movie had my jaw clenched, and heart beating beyond it's perceivable capacity. I sat in witness to the explosion of a boy's will to fight and not wait his turn, but stand up and  take it. It's either insanity or final indifference to the outcome that ignites it, but his self-value, worthiness and confidence rip everything to pieces to put them back in singing vibration.  The final scene will lift you up, set you on fire, and stay with you for weeks and weeks after.

 The passion, intensity and confusion is electrifying. I literally grit-tooth whispered "fuck ya" to myself. But just as mystifying and disturbing as it's entirety, the movie left me spinning still. Who won? Really? In this tumultuous journey of mentor and student.

"The road to success can take you to the edge." 

I'd argue, simply watching this masterpiece of said road, DOES take you to the edge. 

WATCH IT. BUY IT, RENT IT. 

February 22, 2015 on bluray and DVD

A weekly series: Friday I'm in love.....Poems and love letters from the LoveBinder. Vol. 1

Friday I'm In LOVE....A new series I'll post weekly, from yet another love binder I have found. This one follows a long-distance romance and relationship from my twenties.

The story is funny and spins in those types of circles love and life twist and fly within.

Where we met: A Tony Robbins seminar. (both of us begrudgingly sent by our parents)

How it started: He emailed a very restrained and dry email, and I replied with 400 hundred words in lights...shimmering.

What it was: A beautiful, well-documented fledgling  love between two writers, a cynic (him) and a muse(me) bouncing and reflecting each other's light and darkness with words and passion and discovery. We spoke of life, university, truth and our fathers. (both now, passed on.) Life is strange, and good, and exactly as it should be.
Where we are now: Both married (to other people) with kids, and budding writing careers. His, more than mine as he has a screenplay "in sales" mode and wide circulation. We spoke last night, 16 years after the first email was sent....All is right and fascinating.
Things of note: 

• He ended every email with a movie quote, often started out by saying: "I only have a moment to text" and then wrote pages. 
• I ended every email with an original poem. 

His original, introductory email: 

August 18, 2:22pm, 1999- From Lulu, to "TGFTR" (the guy from Tony Robbins)

"Its funny how we are always reacting, lost glances in a bar, awkward moments of words fumbling and we all persist. And we should. There's nothing like the way a man can flatten you with his eyes, or the way the smell of a woman's back can send you spinning. I've been burnt so many times, yet I'm drawn to it. Inevitably, I will seek and find all that is tangible in this game, this act. We all superimpose the image we want to be perceived as. We all dance with those fantasies in our head. Oh the beauty! A man that can knock me to my knees by saying the unexpected, blunt and forward thinking is my addiction.
Men are like chocolates, usually packaged well, but the true essence is in the gooey center that every man has. Red cherries of bitter-sweet spontaneity, coconut purity, caramel sticky-and sultry, the possibilities are endless, and I am hungry now. 

What strange little entities we are running around interacting, intellectual intercourse, the age old game of one-liners that send him thinking of you in the morning and night and every moment in between. And, its all at large, waiting for us to grab it. I've been inspired, I'm a glow for the chances of meeting and twisting into awkward bliss with someone. They way two people, when they first meet, will sit next to each other and put themselves in the most uncomfortable position just to allow their hands to touch or a knee, elbow and the feeling when it happens, the heat in your stomach the tingle in your senses....."

This one ended with a poem I called: "Poetry Sucks"

That same day,  I closed the day with a lyric that is still one of my favorites:

Wednesday, August 18, 11:16pm, 1999:

Happy Friday, fall in love, be in love, give and receive it. Go big! Go with it. 

Love is taking flight, go fly! 

"If they were "right", I'd agree but it's them they know....not me." -Cat Steven's spoke for my soul in 8th grade. Bill Murray gets me too.

If only I had taken my thirteen year old self's advice...THEN.

Photo: HollySierra

As strange and inexplicable things have been happening in my life, there are two schools of thought from those who know me, or have been witness to my self-proclaimed : " peculiar thing."

 1. "That bitch be Cray Cray"-  I've lost my mind and in doing so, I have created the most elaborate  delusion. Coincidence and said "proof" are merely psychotic manifestations (well-meaning, perhaps) that include, but are not limited to, some dog-scratches, plausible burn marks and anyone agreeing or witnessing the strange, the knowing, or predictions are clearly seeking some positive outcome involved with the narrative of lies I've created to distract and avoid my reality.

OR

2.  "I'm not surprised, but it's freaking me out a little." - The immense amount of pain Ive recently caused and endured, forced an opening and some interesting sensory heightening has occurred.  Its reason, source and general outcome are yet to be determined, but whatever "it" is, it exists. "It" does not make me special or "better than" but clearly places me as a mere piece in the huge collective "something" that can be tapped into by anyone. It's not a comfortable place to be challenged on what you believe. It's hard to watch me straddle what is happening (which makes me feel very alone, and alienated) and my brutal honesty, self-effacing, never-take-my-self-too-seriously self.

Here's my take..."Sure". By that, I realize that either option is perfectly acceptable depending on perspective, experience and limiting beliefs of each individual. There is no "right" or "wrong". Living or judging from those places proves the negative and would be hypocritical of me. I've always been overly passionate, emotional and super creative. If I'm being honest to myself, and the line between a little bit nuts, and whatever this is, is a very fine one. I do NOT associate myself with commercialized comparisons. NOTHING about how I feel, or any of this compels me to find a platform, niche, monetizing opportunity or shock people. Which, if you knew me before is surprising. I am historically the girl who divulges too much, hides nothing, and laughs at people's discomfort with my "in your face" ways. This...or this time in my life, makes me want to hide, curl up, protect and discriminate. That's a very novel thing for me.


Einstein's words always cause me pause:

Too many "things" have presented themselves to me to ignore. Unsolicited clarity, energetic forces, strange circles and reassurances of my own words, memories (later validated in spades, despite my attempt at debunking) grace, absolute gratitude, perfected timing, randomness, and the sheer beauty and/or gain of all of my new-found awareness. I've not become some fantasy sci-fi character, I merely seem a bit more in tune with everything, and larger concepts which before didn't concern me. I can one minute  be talking about poopy diapers and toddler development, and the next minute, a NEW sense of KNOWLEDGE just....IS. 

It exists, where it wasn't before. It comes at random, and without warning. It scares and excites me, but more than anything it has truly taught me, everything, anything is worth only the meaning I give it. Let me say that again: "THE MEANING I GIVE IT."

Look, I'll be the first to admit it all sounds crazy, contrived and ridiculous....but it feels to me, like a higher learning and acceptance, a guide book tailored to me that has always existed but was ignored  by me. So many of my perceived confines were the rules we learn, are taught, and their limits.


 Then, in line with that are the fears we acquire as we get jaded, hurt, and fail. In the past I was told "You never get hurt or caught"
(like when I would jump off a twelve foot roof onto a trampoline covered in soap suds at age 9, or hop on a motorcycle in my early teens with a random Italian guy driving 110mph down Sturrow Drive.) It wasn't rebellion, it was a deep knowing that I would be fine. I call it my "F-it button." Most people, nearly all my friends had one, they would step back, assess, consider all possible outcomes. Me? I hit the button if my gut said I'd be fine. The other one I always heard was "you act like the rules don't apply to you." This is a harder one to explain. It was NEVER a sense of being grandiose, or better, or disrespectful....it was more like a 40,000ft view that I didn't understand, but felt. I graduated from college, but no-joke, literally would skip 80 percent of classes. I lived alone, LITERALLY, in an apartment in Boston, alone from the age of 15 on, and have never been arrested, raped, maimed, hurt, taken advantage of, or in any trouble. Again...THIS MAKES NO SENSE. Given everything I know, those are very, very, VERY slim odds. As a mother of three, and having lived plenty more experiences, I stand more in awe, now. Knowing all the horrible, scary possibilities and wrong turns my freedom and constant risk taking could have reaped...I actually can not compute it. It's not an arrogance, it's a little bit of sadness for the young me, so alone, but also a quizzical understanding considering all I think I understand now, and that I knew then( before my father died.)

I've never had a filter but could "read" people, and skate that precarious line of what could be said, received and barely skim the line of acceptable. People validated this behavior with huge laughter, or finding my manner refreshing. I'm anything but now...and my read is FAR more severe and in-depth. 

I'm like "Bambi on ice."-  I skid, and skate and lose my footing fast. I am learning to balance, and still have not mastered how to hold, repackage and deliver thoughts as eloquently as I should. 

I drop truth bombs that people initially repel. These nuggets of "truth" can evoke fury, but usually get followed up with agreement, gratitude and a strange sense (from them) that they are understood, seen and accepted. Sacral Cranial work has simultaneously saved and cracked my life.  It's not fun. AT. ALL. Beautiful, and indisputable? Yes.

I´m still me. I love dirty jokes, I question if my children are self-absorbed a-holes sometimes, I'm clueless, get lost in a parking lot and am reminded, more so now, everyday...that I have so much to Learn!

I make fun of myself, and try to beat you to the punch of doubt. I have even endearingly named my recent recognition of those others "like-minded" I call them: "My human card-catalog"....People randomly pop in there, the first was Oprah. (hold your laughter, please...it gets better.) Then, Mother Theresa, Gandhi, a weird three word name I was calling "Tick Khok Kok" because I only felt the sound of it. This ended up being Thich that hanh. His name (my version) came to me during a therapy session, in which I was told his CORRECT name, and who he was. Pretty funny.

The last to appear, so far,  in this place that feels like a dimly lit waiting room is the best. Mind you, this room is NOT of my peers, but rather the amazingly strange and unconnected references in human form. I want to learn from their words, lives, thoughts. You ready?

Bill Murray. Ask my husband! Last weekend I saw him playing golf on TV and "BOOM!"  I shit you not, I knew it. "He shares my perspective! Freak-flag recognition!" Ok, maybe I've lost my mind. Bill Murray and me...Existential conversation about the quantum mechanics of consciousness and living authentically with eyes-wide open only to one-by-one deliver genuine kindness that expects nothing back because the universe converts it in ten fold and that's the point jinxing. There's that, and a bottomless pit (not limits is fascinatingly ironic too) of hilarity and losing bladder control-level laughing.  Watch. I promise. It's happening. But seriously, though (say that like Bill Murray would in a pseudo sincerity, but being self-ironic, thereby actually genuine, whisper-voice) 

Riddle me this: If I'm nuts or I'm actually awakening to a collective what-have-you, open spirited view of the world and comfortably claiming my place in it..... is it so bad?  Honestly, some experts in the "field" keep warning me that my lack of alignment between what IS and my rational mind could actually be more harming, so I'm baby-stepping into full acceptance. Almost.  IF I do, what's the down side to the following:

1. I have an uncontrollable urge to help anyone, all the time, because it feels right and natural. Even people who hate me. It's so strange, I don't pity them, or reflect their feelings, instead, I just want to send the kind, loving acceptance. 

2. Im sooooo brutally honest with myself that the last thing I think is " I'm better" or "special." 

3. My clarity of perspective has panned things out. Birds-eye/third eye view helps me prioritize and and let go of things, people and limiting beliefs that have held me back. The same clarity makes me feel in colors, and hate to hear myself speak because I sound high most of the time. ( I really do roll my own eyes at myself.)

4. I have never, not in my life, trusted or believed MORE that every single person, curve ball, heartbreak, betrayal, ending, perceived trauma, and even my hazy over-functioning sleep-walk since I lost my father HAD TO HAPPEN TO BE HERE NOW. ALL OF IT. PERIOD.

5.  I have nothing to prove. Instead, I'll worry about improving ME. I'll continue to let my imagination run wild. It's pure freedom when you stop worrying what people think of you.

My 8th grade (13yr old) year book half page. I quoted: Cat Stevens. Certainly prefer my innocent baby face to the "stink eye", my clearly precocious, clueless self.

"If they were right, I'd agree...." (words I quoted at 13. on my "8th grade page")... "But it's them they know NOT ME."

People will ALWAYS have opinions or thoughts of me that are very real to them. That's huge! I won't disagree with what they inherently have a right to FEEL....

I'll just be me, and carry on with quiet self-acceptance because It's really all I can carry. 

at the very least, I'll write, complete and publish a pretty gnarly Sci-fi fiction. 

Until then.....I'll be here. 

I (heart) Amanda Patterson's brain, voice and candor: CEO of Writers Write gives 5 tips for beginners and novelists-in-progress!

I have recently fallen in love with the brain, voice (I love an SA accent) and candor that permeates of the pages of Amanda Patterson's blogs, posts, and tips.


The amount of relatable information she freely shares is remarkable. For an attempting "Debut writer", she is like a Guru.  I re-read, and digest her tips, prompts and perspective like a sponge.

Sometimes it hurts, (she is SO right, about some major novice issues and calls out the self-aggrandizing tendencies of new writers and their self--indulgence).

Keeping it honest! Her five mistakes is a great article from 2012, but so RELEVANT and TIMELESS.

BEWARE: a writer's fragile ego will need to be placed to the side, or better yet,  annihilated entirely! 

A bad-mood day + an unlikely connection = a simple truth to remember :Be YOU, not who people want you to be.

Today, I woke up just wrong. Dark, heavy, in that place where you feel you can't stand up straight, for the sky and all the air, matter, and unseen is weighing you down. Sweet. Yup. That was my Tuesday.

I tried shaking it off, went to the gym, worked out, and lifted weights. (very grounding to do squats- blaring Bastille's "Flaws" btw) My day was compounded by: A stare-off at the health club with a horrible sack of self-loathing festooned in a woman's skin that appears confident and strong (She's the worst type...toxic that thinks she's a rose), my heightened awareness of people's perception of me, and a whiny toddler.

But then....out of nowhere, or specifically, from the lobby corridor, she came. A mere acquaintance. I smiled. She engaged and sat down. (Just like this bubble knows my baggage; we all know hers. Mine-self-inflicted and salacious, whereas, hers is tragic and happened TO her.)

IF there were a score-card she wins, hands down. For the sake of anonymity, I'll be vague. Her partner faced an acute and sudden possibility of death. (FYCancer) His attitude and their support was hugely positive. He beat the odds with some life-altering ramifications, and nothing will ever be the same, and thus, the roller coaster ensues. I akin it to a wife of a war Veteran that comes home with his life, but he is someone new, someone different and in need of daily care. Can that army wife mourn the loss of that man? Even when her immediate world is celebrating his survival and telling her how grateful she must be?

 She asks how I am, my response: "Who cares, how are you?" and what followed was one of those rare and completely genuine exchanges of disarming truth and acceptance. I felt immediately, the complexity of her emotional journey. I saw a shift in her now, from her former bubbly self - the burden of living up to people's idea of what she should feel. Yet, the only truth or energy I felt was that she was sad, battered, confused and angry that her life will NEVER be the same, her responsibilities and safe guards dramatically changed.

I wanted to take her pain, validate all the things she "can't " say, but feels. I wanted to hold a mirror to her unbelievable strength and integrity. Let the golden light of that shine and embody her. Instead, I said: "Well, you know the whole town hates me, so I'm available to listen...without ramifications or judgement. Who am I going to tell?" With that, she let out a huge, guttural laugh that beamed both of us further into that little vacuum of "acknowledging the ugly truths." I can't change her life, or mine, for that matter. I can't make either easier, but in that short conversation an odd recognition illuminated.

The two of us on opposite sides of "people's opinion." Based,  merely on WHAT they think they know, we feel the weight of how we should feel, behave or act. I don't know if it stuck, but I said: "YOU can't feel what people want you to FEEL that's unfair, impossible, and pointless. Shit.....IF I feel all the things people want me to, I'd brim with self-loathing or be dead. That is, if it MATTERS to me...which it does not."


 Lucky for me I've recently discovered a few things:

- What people think is only as valuable as the meaning you give it.

- Life is so stinking hard, but even on terrible days, little gifts (such as the above) get presented to you if you are awake and open to it.

- If not authentic to yourself and your being...."as is" right now,  during every "now" ( be it devastating, depressed, or angry) you can't truly be authentic when things are considerably better...and they will be. I don't know much, but THIS I KNOW.

-It is absolutely NOT all relative, but the way things make us FEEL, can be. Full stop.

So, I offered my ear for future, if she wanted to.  I made a self-deprecating joke because I needed to, and I left with her number..... To which I simply texted this:

A Meditation App blew my mind, aligned my chakras and put a 2 year old to sleep in minutes!

Chakra Pro (by Brian Zeleniac: ) 

An application that aids your meditation with calming sounds and actual vibrations your energy centers work within. Trust me, I was hesitant and a little worried it was a "gimmick". Those of us that mediate daily might lean towards the assumption that electronics, or waves from a phone are counter-productive. BUT! I listen to Krishna Das or ambient EDM sometimes, so how is it worse? I took the leap of faith and bought it.

What an AMAZING product!  (No, I'm not pushing, being paid, or getting benefits for endorsing it.) I first used it last night, laying in bed with my two year old son. He, I might add, has been a terror because we've recently weaned him off his pacifier. Literally, he screams and cries for it, and hasn't napped since.


The app has different "soundscapes" like rain, forest, white noise, waves...etc to chose from. You then, also choose which Chakra to align with, and it plays the accompanying frequency. WHO KNEW?! I didn't. It comes with a timer function as well as detailed info on each Chakra. I, personally, always meditate from Root to Crown (Red -purple) churning each light, or energy source. The app even has an option to set the time and the series of Chakras, top to bottom, or bottom to top. Whatever time frame you chose, it will divide equally. Pretty cool.

I am in love with it. I laid in bed with my son, set the timer, and began. I'm not exaggerating at all. He went from sniffling, to snoring in less than two minutes. He knows NOTHING about Chakras, energy, or meditation....He's two. Somehow, the "rooting" (which is grounding to earth, family, our presence...etc) frequency, calmed him. Too bad for him, as I stayed in Savasana and completed the series. It felt amazing, and call me weird, I know....I know I am, it was spot on.


From the bottom of my Red-root, I tell you, it's worth the three bucks.

Happy Chakra alignment. Or Happy "timed quiet reflection" or whatever you want to call it.

NAMASTE! 

12 PRETTY WORDS I ADORE : a list from a longtime logophile. (of her "shimmer words")

So, when I was about 9 or 10, before computers and hand-held search engines, I owned a dictionary. Out of boredom, and perhaps to escape the ugliness of post-divorce, trans-continental living and all kinds of fun things, I would search for words. Like a scanner, my mind would halt only when the phonetic sound or esthetics lassoed me in. I'd scribble in my ( still horrible) hand-writing. YES. I used tangible paper, and an ink pen. A non-sophisticated big blue and white, 4 color-pen, but ink it was.

I love words. We have had an ongoing affair for life, our fundamental issues being my horrid spelling, and their elusiveness when I'm working on a novel. But love never dies. It either never was, or will always be.

I used to also challenge myself to create a sentence with each one. In a theme, no less. Usually describing unrequited love, or family hurts, or some overly-deep for my age (this scale slid) concept.  This continued up until I had children. Then words became archaic and people thought I was either eccentric or trying to "show off" using: "Lascivious", "imbibe", "laconic" or "pithy" in normal, day-to-day sentences. So I stopped. But....I'm BACK!

Seriously, no joke, my eye lids softly close to these words. Like a sunset that whispers a hissing lullaby before touching the water. No one gets it. If a man throws a word at me that I don't know, I'm instantaneously furious and in rapture. Few things sexier. (like juxtapositions in men, witty banter, Ryan Gosling in Crazy, Sexy, Love.) But I digress....

In order of EXACTLY my choosing and preference, directly related to "adoration level" I offer you these little "purdy word-trains"....oh,  and you're welcome. 

12 breathtaking words.   Theme- "Being a woman": 

Serendipity: Finding something nice while looking for something else.

"Her head titled in full recognition and quiet joy when she met his eyes; the serendipity of this moment was not lost on her." 

Ethereal: Gaseous, invisible but detectable.

"The golden yellow flicker of the candle dancing around the dark walls cast a light spell, but also felt like an ethereal presence of both her mother's scent and spirit."

Tintinnabulation: Tinkling.

"As she finally retreats to the couch, rubbing her neck, the tintinnabulation of his toy rings through the baby monitor."

Panacea:  A solution for all problems

"Never for a glimmering second, has she had the false belief that her innate beauty would be the panacea; in fact, contrary to popular belief, it's been quite the opposite."

Efflorescence:  Flowering, blooming.

"In the swell of her early pregnancy, he was overcome with pride that his beautiful wife was effortless in her efflorescence."

Mellifluous:  Sweet sounding.

"It wasn't until her heart resonated the strings being pulled, that she heard the mellifluous song on the harpsichord."

Insouciance:  Blithe nonchalance (quick note: "Blithe" is beautiful , um and it's merely in the definition. Really? Looooooove both words defining it. Ok. Shh. ) 

"It was the insouciance with which she either offended you, or stirred a need to be near her. "

Ingénue : A naïve young woman.

"It was because of (not in spite of) people thinking she was an ingenue, that left the general masses shocked in her duplicitous wake."

Dalliance : A brief love affair

"The sweltering dalliance with the sinewy fisherman cooled off as quickly as the sea bass on ice."

Ripple : A very small wave

"It wasn't her hesitance of the immediate damage to her daughters in the divorce;  but rather, the imminent ripple that could expand like a rain drop in water, into their fragile self-esteem and perspectives of love."

Cynosure:  A focal point of admiration.

"Indignant, and with societal rebellion she asked herself why she couldn't be the cynosure of her own medications?"

Lithe:  Slender and flexible.

"She was precisely the kind of lithe yoga instructor we had learned to loathe in her patchouli and ever-calm cloud at the front of the studio."

.......and in a not-so-pretty-word: 

 "BuuubbbbbbOOOM." (dropped the keyboard) I've still got it. Three kids under 9, took my time, but that onomatopoeia proves they didn't take my words! 

The DUFF MOVIE: Learn to Lift not Level your fellow peers. What's DUFF? Designated, ugly, fat friend. OR...

DUFF : (re-named) Delightfully underestimated fortuitous friend

Um, so this movie smells to me like "Juno" but with an after waft and quiet rah-rah of "Easy A". 

My thumbs are already twitching to an inversion.

Check out AVEOCLIP-  for The DUFF Featurette

Bullies suck. Mean girls still exist, everywhere. No, seriously, still, in our thirties and forties, chicks be like (that's my feigned street cred) : "Really? You weren't invited to the Vanhusen party? Weird. Everyone was there." Or...my latest favorite in email : in her best WWJD tone, she couldn't help herself, and leaked deep, mean, judgy false humility.

Here's the deal, girls (and boys): you, and ONLY YOU give meaning to what others say, tweet, post or do. Dead serious. Humor me, pan out 5, 10, 20 years. Do these people matter at all? When you're more comfortable in your skin, your face clears, and your parents aren't in control....WHO are you? Or rather, HOW do you want to affect people? 

I have this motto: I steep in it. Everyday, all day: "Lift, don't level, a human spirit." I ask myself: "Did that person feel better or worse after leaving my presence?"

Who am I? Nobody....just like you, but by who's standards? Right now, I'm a pariah in my town, for a red-hot minute. What sucks for haters is that I'm good hearted, loving, funny (most of the time) and genuinely interested in seeing people find happiness. I'm a mom, and a sister, former-bullied and former-mean girl too. Swipe the score board clean and instead write: "Who cares who's winning? Who is brave enough to be AUTHENTIC? Who has the she-balls to stick up for integrity and self-acceptance in spite of the bullshit code set by your peers?

Bring it. Bring love. Be someone who spreads positivity, because it feels good and follows you forward" 

Image from Gecko&Fly

I've never met a non-sociopath that FEELS GOOD AFTER BEING MEAN, CUTTING or DISMISSIVE. Maybe they feel "better than" because their self-esteem needs it, or the control they lack at home motivates them to have it in the hallways, or office buildings, or play grounds. 

Here's my challenge to YOU. 

INSTEAD of misreading their projection of their self- disapproval or their fear or mirroring the herd-mentality to not get excluded. KNOW THIS:

"Just because someone says/posts/spreads it; even if for a second you THINK it: it doesn't make it true!"

 Shit, I know your truth. You, right now, are innately valuable, unique, and so much more than the sum total of crap that happens in high school.

 You'll look at pictures and your self-loathing, or if you are one of them and have grown up... you'll laugh at how WRONG and embarrassingly pompous you were. If not, you are convicting yourself to a life of lies, flimsy thrones and high-horses that rock both ways. Be warned. 

Surround yourself with a non-permeable bubble of self-love. An invisible armor that says: "Nope. Thanks, here's your f'ing two cents back. " and then send a positive thought in the air for them. That energy bounces back 10 fold. TRUST ME. 

As you were. GO see "THE DUFF". Invite people you like, who lift you up. 

Be brave, be authentic and be able to laugh at it all. 

You're amazing, glowing in the light of growth and struggle. Even if not fully bloomed, SHIMMER!