Thursday, January 31, 2008

Fat is Phat

I've got news girls. The new vibration is a calorie burner. All you smart girls with foresight are going fare well. Those extra pounds are money in the bank, your secret cash cache. Youuuu (I'm looking at you with a sly, half raised eyebrow, pointing my finger at your shy, pretending-like-you-didn't-know-it smile). Hey, stringbean, heads up! Better start eating, because the day is coming that you won't be able to keep the flesh on your bones except to eat ALL DAY. You may even have to travel to Italy to eat, just to keep up with the rest of us. So, I am happy to report that fat is good. Stop loathing those rolls. Stop berating your size and where you have to buy your kaftan. You had the forsight, the instinct to listen to your guides that told you while you were sleeping, while you were centered, that there is a reason for this body size, just like all things that "happen" to you. There is a reason, and it's good. I, personally, am hungry all the time. I can't keep the hunger at bay. I was smart. So smart, because I beefed up with fifty extra pounds for this transition, and I don't know if that was enough. I am going to have to choose some calorie rich foods if I'm going to get anything done during my day.

So, in summary, fat is important. Fat is good. There will be NO MORE negative feelings about the fat. That goes for you too Oprah. Stop struggling and know that you are ready. There will come a day in the very near future when you and your hip bones will meet again and, when you get there, the spare tire will be waaaayyyyyy back down the road, never to be heard from again, even if you go chasing it, which, I might remind you, burns calories.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

In The Air

I've been waking up early. Wide awake at three, four A.M.. It's not insomnia, because, I feel rested, and what wakes me up is fun. I begin to vibrate. It's like an alarm clock inside my body on silent mode. Today, I could feel my lips being tickled as the vibration was taking place. It's not a seizure, mind you. I am happy (?) to say that I know what a cerebral seizure feels like. I had three unexplained seizures, without medically-known origin, when I was ten. In the ten-year-old type of seizure, the body shakes violently. The air is forced in and out of the lungs in a violent, sucking hyperventilation. The consciousness is alert to the mayhem, embarrassed by the sucking sounds, perplexed by the fish-out-of-water flipping about, and finally, rather fascinated by the sounds that emerge from the flaccid, drooling lips, when what is clearly being said is "I'm FINE. Do not call 911!" But what the ear and stunned onlooker hears is "THHUUU SSSSSUUUUH UUUOOUUUU" Imagine Boris Karloff's Frankenstein. Yep. That's it. So, having experienced a real seizure, I know that this three AM vibration in not one.

So, it's early. It's still. My body is doing it's fun little buzz that takes my consciousness to some very cool places. What I am seeing and where I am going are getting cooler by the day. You should see the flips and happy spirals my energy can do at this time of the morning. Imagine a very happy dolphin, flipping around in and out of the water. It's almost like that, but more poetic, faster, more multi-dimensional and with prettier colors. If you are feeling a twinge of jealousy right now, I've got news. I think this is the way of things to come. Call it an inkling. Don't close your mind off to the possibility thinking, "that'll never be me", because I am willing to put money down to the contrary. In Fact- I believe, on this day, I will begin my documentary on this Earthy Transformation. You know, get up early to catch it in the act. My vision this morning included the information that Today's The Day IT Begins. The fun stuff you have been waiting your life to do. Wooo Hoooo! I know what your thinking. LUCKY! But hey, if we were all starting up today, how will my documentary be bringing the news of this to the world? I need you to be part of my film. Please sign up on your way out the door, and leave your current contact info.

Soon, in fact very soon, you too will have to consciously ground your joy. I don't mean with a mortar and pestle, you kooks. I mean, send it down the cord. Mellow it out. We can't really go through our day doing psychic flips and spirals while driving on the rainy highway to Costco, now can we. I am almost forty -this year- on September 25th- mark your calender. Forty year old women who are PTA Presidents, are able to cool their elation when need be. Tempering it and then tucking it neatly under their rain coats so as not to upset their friends. Hey, it wasn't easy getting here. Remember? I had to go through the metamorphosis? It was really uncomfortable. My advice to you is just keep breathing through each day, you're doing fine, you're right on track, you don't have to do anything special, just notice when it comes and just keep breathing in out in out. Yes, like that. I'm excited! You?

Friday, January 25, 2008


I have metamorphosed into another person. Not someone thinner with different hair and lipstick, I'm actually different; changed. I suspected that it was happening. I explained the tremors, the rapid heartbeat away as a vibrational shift. But I felt bad. Really really bad. Now, from the other end, I know I have shifted. I have let go. I have changed. It's a good change. I vibrate now, kind of a buzz, when I am barely awake in the predawn morning. I see myself bathed in blue light and I wonder how people would react to me if they saw me shopping at Trader Joe's, scolding my four year old, glowing in ethereal blue. I wonder, and I know. That's the thing, it seems with the change, with the shift has come the peace of knowing and not needing to know at the same time. I can go into my body and address any ailments, then I can travel to yours and see you, glowing green from your heart, healing right before my closed, dark-entrenched eyes. It's fun, this movement through space. It helps to know geography and the cellular landscape of a human body, just because it is more exciting to be direct in your actions. I keep getting a little tinge of surprise when the crystal orbs I am holding start to radiate in my palms when meditating, as if I am validated that they have energy. I am surprised when I push back the gas that is leaking from the pipes under my stove top and then later check to smell, no gas. I am surprised. I am not surprised. It is fun, this adventure. It is fun to have these abilities and tools at my disposal. I am having fun in my new body with my new mind metamorphosed from caterpillar into butterfly. Or is it maggot into housefly?

Sunday, January 13, 2008


If you are here, you are meant to feel pain. You are meant to feel sorrow and create sorrow for another. If you are here, you are meant to fall apart. You are destined to have calamities in which all you have striven for dissipates into nothingness.

If you are here, you are meant to struggle in relationships. You will let the people you love down and be let down by people you love. If you are here, you are meant to judge and be judged. You will set your karma by judging another in what you describe as a wrongful action. You will live to experience a situation just as wrongful so that you gain compassion for yourself and others.

If you are here, you will feel want and need. You will feel the bitter chill of winter and not be able to warm yourself. If you are here, you will feel hunger and thirst, filth and disease. You will feel the pain of your body, sick with disease and feel the lonely struggle back to health.

If you are here, you will feel mediocre, and second guess your best ideas and achievements. You will feel lonely in a household full of people who know you. If you are here, you will feel the anguish and powerlessness that come from witnessing the wrongs that people create; starvation, devastation, consumption, pollution, rape, homelessness, war, politics, suburban sprawl, extinction.

If you are here, you will feel the pain of these things on many levels. You will feel the anguish of the loss of someone you have loved more deeply than you ever thought possible . You will want death to take you as well, if only for relief from the pain.

If you are here, you are surviving these things.

If you are here, you have hope.

You have seen sunsets and sunrises that bring tears to your eyes. If you are here, you have tasted food that allowed you to imagine heaven. If you are here, you have had your thirst quenched and achieved a state of warmth that provides you comfort. You have seen the beauty in a flower. You have marveled at the joyous behavior of children.

If you are here, you have been loved and possibly, you have loved.

If you are here, you have laughed. . You have had the opportunity to say, "I’m sorry." You may have suffered through devastation of untold magnitude, but you still have the ability to find joy. You may have lost everything, but found that as you live, you have the ability to find good in your situation. You may even have a sense of humor. You may find the comedy in your tragedy.

If you are here, on Earth, these things are true.

For if not for pain, how could we appreciate contentment? If not for cold, how could we savor warmth? If not for loss, how could we appreciate all that we have, when we have it? If not for compassion, how could we find ourselves free of judgement? If not for destruction, how could we create? If not for despair, how could we measure joy?

This place and time are not meant to be easy for us. It is designed to be a place of challenge and difficulty. How better can we learn but in this way?

If you feel uncertain at times, questioning your divine purpose, you are right on schedule. Have you ever stopped and thought, could this be my divine purpose, just breathing in and out with my senses ready to take it all in? Could it be possible that learning to be human, flawed, destined for mistakes and lovable anyway is the only real destiny? Any other worldly impact only being part of each individual’s experience? Is it possible that the greatest achievement is to live in love when things fall apart around you? Loving yourself through mistakes and mishaps. Loving others by making amends when you have done the hurting. Loving yourself and others by forgiving them for wrongs against you and reserving judgement for the actions of others. Could the greatest purpose be to love the gifts that you encounter on any given day and having the insight to see all situations from a higher perspective?

If you are here, as long as you are here, these things will be yours. They are mine and I wouldn't rush out just yet. For when it is over, when you are gone, when it is all just a memory, there's no way to return, except in that ghostly form of a memory. It may not seem as "bad" from a distance. I may seem precious though. I have a feeling it will and that this moment must be savored, this accomplishment of breathing in and out honored. I am doing it. My destiny.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Seeds of Life

You may have read already that my daughter Kieran manifested herself a hen that resides, free range in our backyard. As a pet, she was interesting at first. She provided an opportunity to really study the behavior of large, semi-flightless birds from one individual specimen. I made some nice evolutionary discoveries that included the shape of her feet and how they resemble the fossilized foot prints and remains of some dinosaurs. I came to enjoy the softness of the feathers on her back. I would be able to sneak a touch here and there as she would pause to inspect my hands for food. I quite enjoyed examining her pupils, dilating and constricting as one of the signals that her mind was working on solving some mystery. She would also blush, when we would pay her attention. Her small waddle would turn a crimson red as we spoke her name or attracted her with food. It really was a fascinating experience to get this close to a creature with whom we, in my family, have ingested as dinner in a less animated form for years. We have consumed chicken, but can't say that we have really ever known chicken.

Within weeks of allowing our hen free range of the back yard, all of these warm feelings I had about the experience of being a chicken owner began to dissipate. From the first "good morning poop" right outside the sliding glass door that leads to my fairy garden, the dark cloud of disgust overwhelmed me. Our hen pooped her weight in greenish diarrhea, huge white and black turds, and explosive splatters of watery speckled spray each and every day. Her favorite places to unload her body waste was on the patio, in front of the door, all over our patio furniture and on every surface other than the grassy, dirt covered ones. After six months of this, I was becoming very depressed. We kept waiting, hoping for the day that Henny would finally begin to lay. I assumed that once she reached her full, adult size, that the magic would happen. Nope. I began to accept the fact that this chicken was good at laying nothing down but poop. I even asked the chicken expert at the feed store, explaining that our hen was seven months old and hadn't lain a thing. She informed me that as the seasons change, and the days grow shorter then hens stop laying, (or cease to begin, in Henny's case). Getting desperate, I imagined all sorts of courses of action; giving her to someone who had other hens, setting her free in the dark of the night somewhere hospitable for such a creature, penning her up in a coop like other chickens. On New Years eve, I put her into the bunny hutch, the coop she was safely tucked away in every night when she was younger. After a night in there, she went berserk. She upturned her food and water, flapped her wings, ran the length of it over and over, clucked loudly and could not be ignored in her state of distress. What could I do? I am not entirely heartless, so I let her out, barking "Happy New Year, Henny" under my breath.
A few days after that, it started to rain. It rained heavily for two full days. The water had pooled in our back yard in some places, up to three inches. Everything was wet. The patio furniture was washed of the dry, caked on hen poop and the patio itself had been soaked and in it's puddled nature, preserved itself from any more pooping, at least while the rain lasted. It was a nice cleansing and made me feel a little better for the moment. The morning after the rain had stopped, I went out to check the flooded areas to assess the damage. From a distance, I could make out a light orb in a plastic bin holding a wet towel, something I had put out for the cats to safely rest in. I walked closer, in utter disbelief. It was an egg. It was pale green, and had smudges of dark fluid smeared across. At that moment, I felt as if I had never been so excited. I pounded on the window of the kids' room, motioning for them to come out. They had the same reaction I had had, making calls to grandmas and friends as if we were announcing the birth of a new baby boy, or that we had won the lottery.
The next day, I was out in my robe, poking around the cat house, a custom, three level, fifteen square foot residence I had designed and had built for our four cats while we remodeled our own house four years ago. I poked my head in to the lowest level, checking for evidence that the cats had recently been inhabiting the structure, and to my utter amazement, I found a stash of six more pale green eggs resting on a crumpled, dirty blanket. Again, I pounded excitedly on the window of the kids' room motioning for them to come out and look. They were awed. They were amazed. They were flabbergasted, and began the phone calls to all the important people again. This news was right up there with, " We're getting married." and "It's a GIRL!", even,
" WE WON!". I felt like we did win. Our chicken had lain ( I actually had to spend ten minutes with the dictionary open to the word /section, on the word lay to figure out the proper way to describe what had happened). I was still a little confused, but had to lay down my confusion and report the news as best as I could. Our little hen was now earning her keep, and pooping less, I'd like to add. We have been blessed with an egg a day since then and are perplexed by the mystery of the process. Henny has never been seen entering, exiting or existing at any time in the cat house. At night, she can be found perched atop the cat tree, which sports a bandini-type mountain of fecal matter below where her tail would be. I have checked for eggs each morning and have deduced through hypothesis and analysis, that Henny lays eggs sometime during the day, stealthily, as she has yet to be caught in the act. We are all grateful for her gifts and have a renewed appreciation for our pet, whom we may not get rid of after all.