Gratitude for My Housemates

To PJ, Squaw, Cruiser, Maggie, Siva, Jenni, Jackie, Rob, Coda, Nick, Yellie, Rudy, Maizy, Brandon, Mona, Ryan, Matt, Jenn, Elyse, Mia, Kiya, Jason, the frogs and the fish.

Together you’ve seen me through divorce & several other major heartbreaks, deaths of friends & family, two cross-country moves and a couple local ones, job changes, body changes, lifestyle changes, spiritual changes, accomplishments, disappointments, sickness, wellness, dirty dishes, every possible emotion, and the birth of my child.

Never let it be said that living with others isn’t a supremely vulnerable experience. And that, my beloved housemates, represents the very best of love. And the very best of living.

Thank you for contributing to my life, my journey, and my sense of possibility.

My Beloved Sister, Susan ~

You squeezed me tight, in our last brief visit, and whispered you were beginning a new chapter in your life. Just weeks later, you found those pages opening with the giant force of lung cancer, a great wave that would soon carry you off from your children, partner, family, and countless friends into the Great Unknown. Behind the tide, near and far from your daily life, we stand grief stricken, unable to imagine truly, joyfully going on without you – your smile, your incredible presence and miraculous, inspiring light.
If I were to leave in such a way, I know you would find clarity and purpose in your grief, you would hold my loved ones in your prayers and mind, tell stories of my life that kept my heart’s vision alive; and you would laugh, cry and rage as needed until you became quiet and calm. You would feel until the feelings led you to peace and understanding. And then you would move forward, embracing your life again with me in your heart.
So, dear friend, I will do the same, in your name, trusting the guiding light of Love to lead me through this dark night. I will hold your loving wisdom as a candle for my walk and let the memories of our times together warm me when my body shakes in the cold, damp sorrow of my loneliness for you.
In rare moments now, I glimpse the indescribable brilliance of Infinity… and feel so guilty and selfish for wanting you here in this limited place. But, isn’t that just so human of me? I rest in the knowing that you and God understand my struggle. And, that I will see you again soon – in soul time – and we’ll reflect together on the vast mystery of these brief human lives with a spaciousness and graciousness my tender, wounded human heart can only now imagine.
All My Love, Stephanie~

My friend, Susan DesForges, passed away May21st at age 43 in the company of her loving husband, Christopher. May her children, Ella & Aaron, Chris, her parents, friends, colleagues, and every lucky soul to have crossed her path be nurtured and supported in this sad time of saying goodbye to Susan. I love her.

In Movement, Goodbye for Now Ojai

Saturday afternoon found me flying solo at the coffee shop. Among the reader, writers, and chatters I noticed a man in the corner, eyes closed, face peacefully upturned to received the kiss of the gentle winter sun. He captivated me with his longing look of hopeful serenity. And then I had to smile. He was holding Total Freedom by Krishnamurti! Oh Ojai, no matter where I go, there you are…

I recall the dry, dusty smell of your valley after many hot months when even the moss in the swimming holes has moved on. And when, at last, the rain arrives, I pray it lingers long enough to wash that seemingly eternal dust from deeply worn crevasses in flesh and stone.

The heat’s expression is rivaled only by the intense solitude of the Ojai people – even those ’social butterflies’ who meet each sunset at one or another gathering in yurts, temples, cafes or pubs. Artists and healers standing shoulder to shoulder; I could not escape the quietly frenetic turning, churning of so many souls longing and searching for their Great True Expression.

I mourn your mystical myriad flora and fauna here in the city, cannot find a fraction of the stars, and never hear my coyote family singing in the darkness. Tiny tears fall that I will not see them walking by my house or see the streetlight reflecting in their eyes as I say “hello, goodnight, brother”. The owls and frogs don not sing us lullabies. There are no poison oak to sternly remind me when I’ve gone off the path.

I grieve my friends who continue on with walks and potlucks. Their waterland smiles and supple bodies hug like the sea on a kind day. Sometimes it’s as if I’ve died or was never born. It’s as if the wind took me away like the jasmine in the heat, its smell so deeply penetrating in its subtlety, then gone. Just the memory of a flower. Just a delicate vine without sound.

And then I wake again to the bright sunlight of Denver, and it doesn’t scare me. Because I know it won’t burn my skin for months on end. The wind will come and pull a cold rush down upon my day, maybe even bring heavy snow or rain. And my lungs will open with the possibilities that change brings. My shoulders will drop into place and I will breathe. And tomorrow – or later today – the sun will return her rays again to warm my face. And I see that this, above everything, is why I’ve returned to this Rocky Mountain place. I am a mountain bird. My wings need wind and my heart needs change.

Here, 4000 feet above the nest, I rest my feathers in a city decorated with people of every shape, size, color, and background. We walk the paths of sun-speckled parks, raising our children side-by-side in grocery lines and on buses. The intense stillness of your world has been replaced by a humming, musical, collage of sounds, signs and colors. Here I feel free to be seen or invisible, whisper or scream.

Even in the safety of this new expanse, I appreciate the ‘cradle’. For, my daughter was born on your silent shores, Ojai. The insistent, persistent slowness of the vortex finally settled my heart and body enough to give birth. For this, I thank the stillness.The cosmic, collective movement resulting in this creature, Kiya, drew it’s momentum from a long, quiet exhale I could only take in Ojai.

In silence, each day, I return to you. In movement, each day, I say goodbye. And so, in this way, it is with you, Ojai, that I live and die.

Kiya’s Teachings

It’s so easy to get lost in useless details, chasing the same dishes around the kitchen day after day, wondering when I’ll ever know how to live “right”. There’s no satisfaction in my perfectionism. Then Kiya comes along and re-minds me how to be present  by the everyday things she does.

Like licking brownie drippings on New Year’s Eve…

enjoying winter evening rays at the dog park…

testing the outer limits of fashion…

and embracing her  inner Artist.

Neither wind nor rain, stress or strain, the darkest night or brightest day keeps Kiya from being Kiya. This tops my list of reasons why Kiya is my greatest teacher and inspiration. Everyday, she learns and grows into more of who she already is. A bright and sensitive, complex spirit monkey. And then some.

Tonight

He & I stood together in the chilly winter night, steadily preparing for flight. Folding our tents. Plotting our family’s next step. Soon I was amazed to find a great, glorious Us had begun to fill the air. How strange and wonderful. Not just him. Not just me. More than that had become… We!

Then he  smiled and

shrugged his shoulders,

“I’ll never let you go,

just so you know”.

My heart flew open

and my Spirit shouted out

from a deep, sweet place inside!

“Will you marry me?”

And he said yes.

And I said yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Arriving by His Own Clock

Caleb James Dalgas 825am November 29th, 2008

This dear soul, my first nephew, and his parents taught me much about the power of present moment living in the weeks we shared.

I was reminded that beginnings – and all that falls within time’s realm – are not within our control. Try as we may to manage circumstance, all things come in their own time. It is how we spend that time that matters. It is how we breathe into the unknown which determines our ‘fate’.

Watching a woman wade through pain and uncertainty, holding her core truth in the midst of exhaustion, and embracing the changes happening within her but beyond her control… I grew up a little more. I felt a little stronger in my own core. I wanted more for myself and felt just a bit more confident that I deserved those things my heart desires. Caleb and his mother gave me that. And his father showed me, once again, that Love will always be there to help me cover the distance between here and there.

Thank you, Geoff, Jennie, and Caleb James. I love you so.

Friends Make Change Easier

Sharing Kiya’s bloody lip ice pack

Kisses make booboos feel better

This last Halloween, Kiya’s friend Ruthie shared her extra fairy costume so they could both dress up for gym class. It’s a tiny tumblers for people 1.5 – 3 years old where little ones can run around and check out the gymnastic world. Ruthie loves it and sometimes Kiya does, too. They both really dig the trampoline!

These two photos remind me of how much each of them has changed in the last 10 months, and how much they’ve been through together: a dozen teeth, bumps, bruises, stolen toys and treats, endless disappointments from not getting what they want, missed naps, sun in the eyes on car rides, grumpy mommies, withheld breastfeeding moments, and so on. It’s hard being a small person, but it’s a lot easier and a lot more fun, too, with friends.

And that’s just one more gift Kiya and her friends have given me: community. We’re not alone on this human trip, even in our loneliest moments, and I’m so grateful for the loving wisdom and unexpected patience of friends.

When She’s Breathing

My sweet friend, Jennie, is resting now, breathing through contractions that come about 8-10 minutes apart. As her time to birth her child draws nearer, my own heart opens and softens to the Great Mystery that new life unfolds. Tears come, sorrow and joy fill my lungs, my nerves release excitement, fear, hope, expectation, all of these in waves of their own. Up and down. In and out. Over and over again in the part of life where there are no beginnings and nothing ever ends. It just keeps going.

We fear this open-endedness, most of us, but nowhere else is there found such abundant resolve, compassion, strength, love, and freedom. Such spaciousness. Because there’s no Where to go, no When to arrive, no How to do it correctly, and no Why to answer or explain. Everything just Is. It just is. We are just Here. Right now. Breathing. Being whatever, whomever, wherever we are. No one can solve or escape anything because nothing is wrong.

Jennie is so blessed to be in this realm, at home in the safe space she and her partner have created. She is so strong and so soft. It is Beauty beyond all that can be written. She is in the Wonder World where the midwives dwell. And I am so lucky to be here. Thank you, Jennie.

Our journeys are different, each woman and their child, and somehow, miraculously the same Universal trip. It brings my heart to gratitude for my own midwife and Midwives all. Below is a poem inspired by my own path with Kiya. I hope it gives a glimpse into the magic I’m blessed to witness now with this family.

“To My Midwife”

It’s just days away;
my baby’s first birthday.

To think, a year ago
we were on our way,
you and me and she and he,
to that magical Birthing Place

where caves of mothers-to-be
sing and laugh and cry and breathe.
And the Little Ones, pushing and turning,
make their brave way into Being.

And you and yours hold the space
for moms and dads and babes alike
as we find the rhythm and claim our place
among the Mothers, Fathers and Children of life.

Midwife, you nurture our wee ones
from belly and womb to the soft lit rooms
where you cradle their bodies with gentle hands,
bringing Ancient Mystery to our Everyday Lands.

But soon again, the Call becomes strong.
Then off you go from New Mother cove
following sounds of the next Birthing Song
and making your way down Midwifery Road.

So, now, as my Little One’s birthday arrives
I take a few moments while she sleeps
to feel again the magic of Birthing Time
still flowing through her and he and me.

I find myself grateful and a bit tearful, too.
For hello to my daughter meant goodbye to you.
But, I hold our journey in my heart – and try in my way -
to bring a little Midwifery Magic into her Everyday.

In the Waiting Time

We’re here in Corvallis with Jennie & Geoff awaiting the arrival of little bug Dalgas, their first child. Jennie’s belly looks full and beautiful, the rain comes and goes, trading places with snippets of sun and sheets of misty skies. It’s tranquil and lovely.

Meanwhile, Rock Band has established itself in the living room, leading Rob & Geoffrey on tour across Europe. Last night, Kiya finally realized she could join the guys and took up the bass. Here’s Jennie’s video clip of The Bibble Rockers on stage!

Airport Security and Impeaching the President

I shed tears of relief at the sight of Barak Obama’s landslide victory on television earlier this month. We joined a crowd at the Jester, a local pub, to watch the speeches; and even though it was Dennis Kucinich who gave me faith in the process again, I allowed myself to commit to the Obama campaign and prayed that change would be more than a tag line. Indeed, I hope it is. While the year to come seems lined with possibility – or perhaps because it does – I find our current social and political situation all that harder to take. I still feel a certain shame upon America, one earned in part by each of us.

This shame has a cure on many levels, through action. Proper, constructive, corrective action we can take as a society. In fact, every step we take to clear this haze of fear and rage that have blanketed our country since 911 will help heal the wounds of our shame.

There are two Immediate changes I want to see: Impeachment and Reduced Airport Security. Below is from my last petition to Congress seeking its support in impeachment proceedings:

Congress members, please consider my 17 month old daughter and her life as an American citizen. She needs her political servants to be examples of integrity and high moral fiber. Please show her that you are here to serve the people of her country and that you have the courage to bring criminals to justice, that our leaders are subject to the same laws as the rest of us. Let your actions be an example to my child of leadership she can be proud to follow, not be ashamed of. Are we brave or are we cowards? Why are we afraid to hold our leaders accountable? Are we ashamed to know we’ve stood by and let them betray their people? Are we afraid to see that we all have a hand in this crime of greed? We can change for the better. Today. I believe in you.

As for airport security, our last trip through LAX turned me red with shame. Behind us in line was a pale, gray haired woman in her late seventies or early eighties who was just hanging up with her family member as we entered the ‘take your shoes, shirts, socks, belts, bras, sweaters, and fake eyelashes’ place in line. It was obvious she rarely traveled and had little idea how to navigate the tragifactory of airport security. I turned back as Rob & I removed our shoes to find her looking a bit confused and asked if she needed help taking off her shoes. She smiled sheepishly, saying “I can barely walk.” Achingly frustrated, I asked the attendant if she really needed to. “Everyone has to,” he told me.

So, I bent and removed her bright, clean, shiny white tennis shoes then replaced them afterwards tying them “very loosely” at her request to protect her sore, swollen feet. I blushed in shame and anger that this elder should be subject to such !@$@##%% in the name of National Security.

Muttering in disgust, I stalled a bit while collecting my belongings (a bit passive-aggressive and pathetically ineffective, but it felt good). Just then, I saw another agent directing a young wheel-chaired woman off to one of the “check ‘em again, Sam” booths! Anyone with one eye could see that she was handicapped, not a terrorist. All I could do was look toward the Managing TSA Agent, who had also watched the woman escorted behind the Plexiglass Curtain, and exchange a look of shared shame.

No amount of travel or information could effectively desensitize me to this phenomenon. When we’ve become so run by Xenophobia that we don’t hesitate to suspect our handicapped and elderly citizens because they, too, might be ‘one of them trying to get us’, we America, have sunk to a new low.

I hope greatly that the next four years will see a change in us. A rise in our courage, a reduction in our fear, a grounding support in our local economies, and an increase in our willingness and action toward innovative, sustainable products. I feel Hope. I feel present and ready to make changes in my own attitudes and behavior in order to be part of the solution. An example of a solution. I look forward to being an Average American in that way.