The atmosphere here feels, and pulls at me, much stronger than it has before.I’ve been saying it for years, that I knew I was going to move back here…you know, “someday”—“someday” (what is it about that word that we love so much?) but I keep forgetting to document how physically painful it is…to be in the mountains, to feel the rain on my face. To see the sincerity in the faces. Hear friendly voices.

I’ve occasionally likened living in the Bay Area to being in a really big, loud, brass train station. People from all over the world, coming and going, a hustlin’ and a bustling from train to door, baggage in some hands, waving a handkerchief tearfully in others’ hands. Some just sitting and staring around. Some just arrived and shell shocked, hear our language for the first time. The lovely strength in that is the sense of possibility and adventure. The darker, less obvious side is the impermanence, the lack of deeper connection. It’s like two elevators trying to be friends-always nearby, but always passing by. Even when you are going the same direction, its only for a few minutes, at most.

Something used to happen in Portland that doesn’t really happen anymore. It started not long after I moved away, and was persistent for several years. It was two things, actually. One, was the ghosts. Everywhere I went, I could see previous heartbreaks and triumphs on street corners, grocery stores, bars, old apartments. I saw the past-me in all her tumultuous emotions, being helplessly mourned by the present-me. It was terrible. It hurt, and I didn’t know how to embrace Portland in the present. The second was all the new buildings, facelifts, and subtle demographics shifting around like tectonic plates. I do not kid when I say that Portland of then is sort of gone. A lot can happen in 13 years, obviously I have changed too.

But the thing about where I am now, in the Bay Area, is that it doesn’t change. Not really, anyway. If you were to stop and ask a downtowner, or a college professor, or a city employee, they would shrug and say, sure, a few changes, nothing too dramatic.

And since I’ve been working through Figuring Out My Life Path, it suited me to have that.

There is a shift coming in my life, and I get the feeling that three things will be descending at once. At the very least, two.

My research about adoption is leading me quickly into some scary waters that I thought I knew might be coming. I will admit at this point I am not adjusting well. I am still pursuing my questions for answers, but more questions seem to be popping up faster than I can answer them. Doing this alone, continues to be a terrifying point. I won’t lie. I might be too chicken.

Looking further into buying a home is also scary. I have no savings. I have no other collateral. I have no family/husband/rich aunt to assist me with this. And the Bay area is one of the most expensive places in the COUNTRY to try and buy real estate in.

What if I become a terminal renter? I do NOT WANT.

And lastly, but certainly not least, we have the business. Who knows how and where that will come together. Good lord, or even if it comes together. Trying to start it in the Bay area seems more feasible, but I really want to live NORTH. In Portland. GRRRRRRR!!!ARRGHH!

And I worry about my relationship with Best Friend. We’ve lived with distance for so long. We’ve built many of our techniques and communication around it. Will it be harder, if I’m closer? What about if I have kids, and our parenting styles clash? I know its crazy to even think it out loud, but what if we destroy our friendship due to overexposure? She and I haven’t had the pleasures, nor the struggles, of a close proximity friendship with each other, since our more toxic days. I mostly believe we would work through it, but sometimes I have doubt. Of course, I am doubting nearly everything these days, so that may not count for much.

I need to go to bed.

Related Reading

• The Art of Choice
• Hookah!
• Who do you answer to?
• Whaddyado with a brand new baby, ear-lie in the mornin’

So, on those nights, I try a series of different tricks to help ease the jitter-bugs, soothe the savage beast within. Here’s my list of favorites.

Peter Murphy-If you haven’t heard me wax exuberantly here about Peter Murphy, then you don’t know me as well as you think. I adore his music, and listening to him can distract me long enough to realize my problems are just as meaningful as anyone else’s. And that he is human, really, just like me. and that, is a balm all by itself.

Hafiz-As shown in my post recently, poetry is excellent for the soul. I recommend it specifically right after dinner, and just before a long walk. Daniel Ladinsky’s translation has brought Hafiz back with faddish intensity, but it honestly is some great stuff. My other personal favorite is called Wow.

Hot baths-Now THIS is the nucleus, the center, the core of my relaxation techniques. I’m not always in the mood for one (hot summer nights on the 3rd floor is no time for a bath!) but 95% of the time, I am. No matter where I’ve lived, who I’ve lived with, how weak my body has been, or especially, how much money I’ve had, this luxurious me-time has a 100% sure proof guarantee.Sure, I would prefer a hot springs. Hell yes, I would love a massage. Yes, I want to get dressed up and go out with friends. But all of those things take $$, and if I don’t have it, a hot bath can still give me a sense of dignity, grace, fluidity, and open possibilities. Without Fail.

The Red Violin-We all have favorite movies. I’m famous for clocking tons of screen time when I need to battle some demons, deal with insomnia, or work through some issue. My favorites are TV shows on DVD. I can stop at any episode, and only eat up 40 minutes at a time, approximately. But this movie, is well worth the extra time. It lifts and bends the story like a bumping country road. there’s no huge crescendo at the end, no heroine to be saved.It’s the story of an origin and life of an object, a rare and caringly crafted red violin, that lived, truly lived, for more than 400 years. And the lives it touched along the way.

Counting change- This is a more obscure comfort, not well known among my friends.I don’t use it to relax as much as briefly cool my anger so I can focus it through to the resolution. It sharpens my mind, brings clarity. I tend to clean out my change purse every couple of nights, and throw the nickels, dimes and pennies in jar near the computer. My friend CTP graciously gave me a ton of those flat paper rolls for holding the change a while back, so besides counting it out, I package it as well. I’ve heard recently that the banks won’t take them like that anymore, but I don’t care. It’s currency, and plenty of places are happy to take a full roll, as long as it’s neatly put together.

These are all just means to an end. Sometimes, whatever I’m dealing with is bigger than all of these methods. Job stress, relationship stress, death, grief, friendship strain, worry, health, a hundred myriad things that just won’t take a backseat and let me unwind. But trying even one of these methods usually works, on some level.

What do you do?

Related Reading

• Imagination does not Exist-Hafiz
• Promises’ poems
• Magik-Peter Murphy
• I am lonely.

your beauty still causes me madness
keeps the neighbours complaining
when I start shouting in the middle of the night
because I cant bear all this joy

I will be giving birth to suns
I will be holding forests upside down
gently shaking soft animals from trees and burrows
into my lap

what you conceive as imagination
does not exist for me

whatever you can do in a dream
or on your minds-canvas

my hands can pull-alive-from my coat pocket

but lets not talk about my divine world

for what I most want to know tonight is

all about
You.

-Hafiz

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am still breathless of Hafiz, even after many trips around the sun.Powerful words are like keys in doors; the right combination can open to anywhere.

Promise

(Thanks to Xero Sama for use of fractal)

Related Reading

• It gets me through the nights..
• Promises’ poems

2 dates later, I was utterly charmed and faith-restored back in Men In General, but specifically, “Jocko Abramovitch”. He was easy to talk to, respectful, funny, dorky, and had a rich past. You know, he was like me. He suddenly moved to LA for a job, and I was disappointed and sad, but we had agreed to keep dating. “This is far from over, you and me, just a small challenge.”, he said. Of course, I got two distant emails, weeks apart, very non-commital, and after some embarrassing crush-like obsession for a few weeks, I let it go.Insofar as, I let go of the idea.And I let go of contacting him. The problem was, J.A had restored my faith very fragile it was, back in Men. and his total lack of…well, everything, sort of sent me into a romantic depression for several weeks. It colored my perspective; professionally, spiritually, emotionally, friendship, all over the place.

Now, I’m no 20-something upstart who doesn’t know her way around a cornfield. I’ve been in the battlefield of dating for going on 15 years now. Go ahead, tell me it’s not a battlefield. I have to tell you, it honestly is.

I’ve seen my share of LTR, NRE, crushes, obsessions, public maneuvers, how to’s, do not’s, follow-your-heart messages, and the friends who will throw themselves in front of a truck to stop me from calling a boy. I’ve seen marriages, divorces, polyamorous triads and then some, domestic partnerships, children, adopted and otherwise. Dating starts an interview process that essentially never ends. It gives our lives spice and variety.

So when I say I got a bit down about it, I mean I am still trying to recover. Is this Jocko’s fault? Yes and No. He’s really the end of a long line of bad choice boyfriends and dates that’s been going on since I dated a fantastic, awesome, one-in-a-million Arabian who is now happily engaged. (not to me I’m working on the me-part of this equation of How Did I Get Here.

So IMAGINE MY SURPRISE when I find out said “Jocko” has been incarcerated for Fraud? Identity Theft? as of January 7, 2010, which I found out about right here.(Special Thanks to Merry Gentlemen for the information!)and here.You can basically track what happened the moment “Jocko” went to LA, and started charming many, many other girls, stealing, lying, bouncing around and generally putting his considerably saavy brain to use, using other people.

I laughed out loud for so long when I found out. Partly due to the irony. Partly due to relief that nothing of mine was taken. Partly due to the happiness that he’s been caught. Partly because i intend to get in touch with SFPD about the brand new 2010 mustang he was driving and the pretty fancy condo I was in for our second date, suspiciously devoid of any personal effects, but loaded with furniture and nice decor. (I had teased him at the time.)

And for all those who may have been affected by the sham, do not feel badly. Many of us bright women were taken in. Know his name, now forget his face.

As if dating weren’t hard enough…:D

Related Reading

• Data Dump
• Temperature Check
• A memento, a testament to dating in the Modern Age

Quan Yin statue

I step up to the altar-greet her dragon; gaze at her face. I light one candle, then another, and mentally rest for a moment, though I am standing. It feels like a perch, spiritually. A place at the end of a quick-light footed staircase, leading to a panorama. I perch there, and muse on my path, and the various threads that intersect with it.

I touch the water around the base of her statue, lift my finger to touch her head lightly, then touch the pearl she holds hand outstretched. To keep her fluid. To keep us flexible.

I feel a kinship with Quan Yin. She embraces and protects me. I trust in her authority. I feel her presence in my actions. I BELIEVE, and am surprised to find that what I just wrote is true. I’m not a lost-soul. I’m not coming off the tail end of some trauma, some earth shattering, soul crippling heartbreak. I simply live as sweetly as I can, and feel the strength of her compassion behind me, and under me, gently encouraging me along, and lifting me up above stark atheism.

I stand there, in the dark, before the sun comes out to blind us all, with two candles, and a thoughtful look, and experience unabashedly, simple <Love>.

Photo credits to-

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0f/Liao_Dynasty_-_Guan_Yin_statue.jpg/260px-Liao_Dynasty_-_Guan_Yin_statue.jpg

http://www.lightomega.org/Earth/ANC/images/bsp_two_candles_1088679.jpg

Related Reading

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• The Ladies Who Brunch
• Data Dump
• 35th Birthday
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• This hippie gives these two thumbs up!
• About a fire-three letters
• Magik-Peter Murphy
• Quan Yin

How are we to explain the power these daughters of ancient Henna have over us bemused sons of Eros?

Red hair is a woman’s game.

The harsh truth is, most red-haired men look like blonds who’ve spoiled from lack of refrigeration. They look like brown-haired men who’ve been composted. Yet that same pigmentation that on a man can resemble leaf mold or junk yard rust, a woman wears like a tiara of rubies.

Not only are female redheads frequently lovely but theirs is a loveliness that suggests both lust and danger, pleasure and violence, and is, therefore, to the male of the species virtually irresistible. Red O red were the tresses of the original femme fatale.
Of course, much of the “fatale” associated with redheads is illusory, a stereotypical projection on the part of sexually neurotic men. Plenty of redheads are as demure as rosebuds and as sweet as strawberry pie. However, the mere fact that they are perceived to be stormy, if not malicious, grants them a certain license and a certain power. It’s as if bitchiness is their birthright. By virtue of their coloration, they possess an innate permit to be terrible and lascivious, which, even if never exercised, sets them apart from the remainder of womankind, who have traditionally been expected to be mild and pure.

Now that women are demolishing those old misogynistic expectations, will redheads lose their special magic, will Pippi Longstocking come to be regarded as just one of the girls? Hardly. To believe that blondes and brunettes are simply redheads in repressive drag is to believe that UFOs are kiddie balloons. All redheads, you see, are mutants.

Whether they spring from genes disarranged by earthly forces or are “planted” here by overlords from outer space is a matter for scholarly debate. It’s enough for us to recognize that redheads are abnormal beings, bioelectrically connected to realms of strange power, rage, risk and ecstasy.

What is your mission among us, you daughters of ancient Henna, you agents of the harvest moon? Are those star maps that your freckles replicate? How do you explain the fact that you live longer than the average human? Where did you get such sensitive skin? And why are your curls the same shade as heartbreak?

Alas, inquiry is futile: Either they don’t know or they won’t say — and who has the nerve to pressure a redhead? We may never learn their origin or meaning, but it probably doesn’t matter. We will go on leaping out of our frying pans into their fire, grateful for the opportunity to be titillated by their vengeful fury, real or imagined, and to occasionally test our erotic mettle in the legendary inferno of their passion.

Redheaded women! Those blood oranges! Those cherry bombs! Those celestial shrews and queens of copper! May they never cease to stain our white-bread lives with super-natural catsup.

Related Reading

• Tom Robbins-how he warms my cockles so

It was real masquerade, it was a real cover up

make up

pulling up

drop me down

of standing in the bathroom tub full of water incensed

and curled up sleeping he’s saying I love him

on his way out the door clicks

but I heard him pause in the hall

I heard him rattle his keys in his hand like he might come back inside

Like he doesn’t really have to go

and I am the air of the sigh

                        he makes

I am the jacket over his shoulders

I am the soft jeans           he runs his hands over trying to decide

Trying to decide to stay or leave

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Delicate, consumed. Pulsing in my womb, sadness smokes through me, I am paper.

A light, living thing, carrying two sets of wings. One for Heaven, one for the Valley of Danger-Love. Adventure Love.

We were there, in the tunnel of the great expanse. Pulsing in my womanhood, you evaporate. Its as if you never held me, my memory is the comrade, your memory the negotiator.

I feel the beating against my lungs, from the inside the heart announces, Be.

Softly again now, Be.

Asking, Be.

For a few moments, the sadness and contentment are joined. The feeling looks the same, no matter which facet you see.

And for a moment, its no city I see, but a great expanse below my feet, a vibrant pulsing landscape, the soil itself sings, and the torn feet feel the comfort of the moss…….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Red and Yellow flowers

Feminine hills like Lady  Love Lying Down

Soft ground, yellow daisy blankets,

Firm wind, hush hush, it says, I’m talking to you about Heaven, girl

Have you ever been to the splendid sky

racing on hot surface blasts from the desert, rushing above the ground only 6 inches from your face to dive

Into the catacomb coral of the sea, the water so alive, it makes you sick with longing

Pushing in and out of you, sand like diamonds, life invisible and all around you…

Oh, caving in my senses

are in overdrive!, slow down and under this ground is a beating, fighting spitting mountain of Our Mother

She would kill me with a lift of her hand, if the desire was in her, but I’m in her heart,

So its sun and hills for me

to live this day and know she loves you too and you are thinking of us both, boy,

can you imagine if Love was not all around us?

Can you imagine the world without birdsong?

Can you imagine if She hadn’t had me meet you that day, and you said,

“Where are you from?”

Heaven, I say.

“Where is that?”

Right here.

Photo credits-

http://www.venere.com/blog/images/tuscany.jpg

 http://www.museflash.net/images/poetry06_plakat-detail.png

 http://eplteen.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/poetry.jpg

Related Reading

• It gets me through the nights..
• Imagination does not Exist-Hafiz
• Why Promise?

From this one spark of conversation, came a new way of thinking that changed my life, forever. I tried thinking on what I was grateful for. And sure, at first it was awkward and embarrassing. All I could think of were money and material related things (hey, I was 23.) I yearned for a great romantic love. I wanted a job that stimulated and appreciated me. I wanted to own a big ranch. All I could think about were my far off dreams, not the things in front of me. With reluctance, I expressed gratitude for my health. (big whup). Then for my mom, for paying for me to take a weekend break from my pathetic life in Seattle. (Moderate gratitude-ok, this sort of works.) Then for my best friend, Dee (wow, big wave of love there-cool!) Pretty soon, I was finding all kinds of things that made me happy in tiny, incremental ways. The sunny sky. The working car, hurtling us down the freeway. The laughter from good music (Weird Al Yankovic). It was WEIRD, realizing how much my mind was actually picking up from my environment, until I really started to notice it.
 

and when we had run through a breathless, LONG giggling list of things we found, Mom started to tell me…

“Okay, see the way the Universe expresses itself is through Abundance, and Diversity. The Universe doesn’t edit your expression. If you say, ‘ I want to fall in love. I want to be over this flu.’ then the Universe will GIVE you an abundance of you WANTING to fall in love. OF WANTING to be over the flu. If you really want to manifest your intent, you need to express it as if it’s already happening, then release it utterly into the hands of the Universe. Whatever you spoke, wrote down, or expressed, WILL come into being, if you are clear in your intent.”

WHOA! Can I just say–HOLY WHOA!!

So I tried it.I could feel how open my heart was after expressing gratitude, especially out loud. I‘ve always believed that words are like keys in doors. If you can find the right words or combinations of words, you can open any door to people, to places…to the world. There is a power and grace in the spoken word. It’s magic in action.

the opening this creates will blow your mind!

So I decided to do two things with my own manifestations-speak them out loud, and add some bread and butter daily ones, to keep up the caliber of life I wanted to make for myself.

Because I love my readers so much, I will share some of them with you.

• Everywhere I go today, I will be on time.
• I am healthy, happy and whole, guided, guarded and protected at all times.
• I am refreshed and relaxed as if I had a restful night’s sleep.
• I am singing, dancing, and writing.
• Money is flowing into my life~~ easily and effortlessly~~.
• I intend the highest possible good for all my loved ones. (Here I insert prayers for specific people, such as Devilish who is recovering from a devastating accident-I found out through his mom Highjinks’s posts.)

Then I get into more specific intent regarding life path, home/hearth, love, and travel. Speaking the words out loud, sending my dreams and hopes into the ether..flat out, people,  is POWERFUL medicine. I encourage you to do this RIGHT NOW. Yes, you can [[whisper]] it at your monitor if you like. I will wait. Don’t feel weird, it’s been time to start doing this anyway.

a Rubens tube uses sound waves to make fire!

I was doing this faithfully for years, then only sporadically. I realized that I felt a bit demanding of the Universe, and I wasn’t sure what I was doing to balance that out. But now, I’ve been back to doing them every morning, and my heart is the happier for it.

Quan Yin is still in my life. Her presence touches me continually, and I feel a better woman made for it. But Gratitude and Manifestation are also two forces I could not do without. When I think that my life used to be battered about, on the waves of my emotions, that I had no control, no sense of which way was sky and which way was earth.. that no lifevest could help me, only the occasional random wave would fall back, so I could gasp of fresh air..

create a loop, then follow the road.

Well. Hallelujah to Now, is all I can say.

It doesn’t matter what you believe, insofar as Universe, the Buddha, or Jesus. At the very least, can you believe in yourself? What was the first time you decided to show your individual spirit?

I intend to Believe!

Photo credits go to-

Related Reading

• Quan Yin-in the dark
• Quan Yin
• The Ladies Who Brunch
• Data Dump
• 35th Birthday
• Unusual Gifts
• Musing #3
• Magik-Peter Murphy

I am waiting to get the F out of this job. I am waiting to start my new job. I am waiting to hear if a boy I just met, who I really like, is moving to L.A.  I’m waiting to see my entire family in just 3 weeks. I am waiting for my heart to stop flip flopping around, poor gasping fish, so I can settle into the calm, zen place of redhead mind-topia, and access the awesome calm that Virgo earth souls have in abundance. Just lying around. Like extra firewood, in the face of a BIG snow storm.

There’s not much you can do to take your mind off whatever it is you are waiting for/about, and if you do succeed in not thinking about it, it’s only temporary. The fact is, you are waiting. And no amount of jumped-up self-actualization, empowerment, or egotistical indignation can change that. It’s. not.up.to.you. Sit down, shut up, ride it out.

Photos-

http://www.closertonature.com/emergency/images/NewFirewood.jpg

http://www.touchamemory.com/waiting/waiting_image.jpg

http://th04.deviantart.net/fs12/300W/i/2006/302/1/6/Waiting_for_You_by_SanguineVamp.jpg

Random Posts

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’d decided to stop worrying about my job situation-I was either going to find the dream job, be unemployed and desperate again, or I was going to find some kind of filler to maintain my financial flow.As it turns out, I got a call from another department within my company, went in for one of the shortest interviews of my life (only 20 minutes! they loved me) took a Microsoft proficiency test and typing test (I type 63 wpm-snap!) and wham bam before I could say thank you ma’am, I had the job.

(in the midst of all that, I had applied for lost hours at EDD, and as it turns out, I earned no retroactive money for late Aug or all of September, because of $40 a week–*sigh*)

I am taking a pay decrease, and depending on how you look at it, a demotion, but I can’t stay where I am ANY longer.Really, things were bad a year ago. Good lord! A YEAR! Normally when something is not working in my life, it only takes a brief time before I get aligned with Spirit, and try and flush out the lesson, so I can work within it, get to a place of harmony and release, and then boom, what do you know, the things/person/place/event has worked its’ way off the main road of my life, and is now doing its’ own thing.

The new job is not so much a dream job as it is a filler one, but it’s with people who I can genuinely work WITH, I can keep my seniority and benefits, and more importantly, I will be back to full time. It is close to home (currently riding a mile and a half on the bike, now will be riding 2 1/2 miles), and I’m guaranteed to be able to stay for 2-3 years, certainly longer if I want to.So all in all, a major accomplishment!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I also have been feeling sort of tired from dating. I knew earlier this summer that I had entered an arena of quantity-versus-quality, and even my closest friends expressed reservations about this method, but it was working for me, at the time. Now, I’m sort of emotionally fatigued. Though oddly, it’s opened up the opportunity to spend time with more quality men. I’m still sort of tired, but am withdrawing a bit. Instead of “Let’s party-it’s summer-date-til-you-drop!”, now I’m more in a “Want to make dinner, share a walk at night, and talk?” sort of head space. Yes, I know I am having a seasonal response. I trust I am going the right way, for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The adoption interviews have largely halted while I addressed the job/dating/opera/wedding craziness but I hope to start them up again in early November. Learning about what other adoptive parents are going through to bring a child into their home is intensely exciting for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s this about an opera?”, you ask. “What wedding!?”, you exclaim, astonished.

Well, for my 35th birthday a month ago, my friend LongJohns took me to my first opera as a gift. It was an afternoon matinee, but I dressed to the nines, because, well, you know. I’m Me.

We saw The Abduction from the Seraglio, by Mozart.

http://sfopera.com/o/286.asp

It was a truly amazing experience. I always secretly yearned to go to the opera, but thought I would end up hating it for being boring, stuffy, or too difficult to understand. I thought I might resent the people, or the opulence. But really, like so many other things in life, it was nothing like I thought it would be. Of course, I saw it through my own filter, but that’s ok! The music was wonderful, the costumes were clever, dimensional, and very suited to each character, and the singing was top notch. They repeated lines, which lost my interest about halfway through, but the translator screen was discreet, and easy to follow. We were seated high, so binoculars were essential.

A very elegant and expensive dinner followed. LongJohns and I have been friends for many years, with a few threads unwoven in our tapestry. We discussed these threads over dinner, and had a illuminating conversation, laughingly covering old ground, and marveling at the road our friendship has traveled. I’m going back with him to the opera on Tuesday night to see Salome. It’s illegedly psychotic and sexy. Enough said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, the wedding.

So a few weeks ago, a friend of mine who I have lunch with every few months contacted me out of the blue by text, and wanted to have lunch. Since I’d just gotten her wedding invitation in the mail, I had a feeling it was wedding-freakout-lunch. I was right. But, there was more to it than that.

She asked me to lead the ceremony at the wedding. I said, Wow, I’m honored, and of course.

She also asked me if I would weigh in with my opinion on things like hair, nails, jewelry, and shoes.I said, Wow, of course.

Then she asked me if she and Groom could hire me to be their wedding planner. I said, Wow, I’m honored, and I need to think about it.

We worked out the financial details, the deadline, and the general overview of what needed to be done. And the next day, I said Yes. What followed were 2  1/2 weeks of the most challenging,thrilling and intense planning I’ve ever done.  Ever since my hours were reduced at work in late August, I’ve been taking part time side-job work to help with the money sitch. Most of it has been personal home reorganization, but this was ambitious. Certainly the kind of project to test even an organizer like me.

There were a few bumps in the process of getting everything together, but really, The Day Of was incredibly smooth. I’m not sure if that’s due to the organizing, the easy-going flow of the couple and their friends/family, or the essence of the day itself, but overall, they were married at a gorgeous, open, natural site,

we had a pleasant afternoon with coffee and cake post-ceremony, and then later in the evening, a bright starry night pre-ceeded the reception.It was a warm and vivacious affair. The autumn theme, the cake, the meal, the dress, the way these two affectionately love each other, and how they love each other, left the room warm with praise and satisfaction.

I don’t know that wedding planning is for me. I definitely experienced post-event blues, which I was surprised about until I talked with my event planner friend, who clued me into the emotions I was going through. I had been feeling pretty baffled by it all.

Leading the ceremony was one of the thrills of my life. Since I introduced these two, it was especially an honor. Speaking words of reverence and prayer, singing a love song with the group from the community to them, moved me very deeply. I love ceremony, and being part of this one was in many ways, perfection.

In past years, when this much activity is going on, sometimes I meditate on the cocoon. I draw strands of energy and strength around me. Lately, I’ve been meditating with a metaphysical surf board. I wonder what that means.

Related Reading

• The Ladies Who Brunch
• Conman-Jeremy Clark-Erskine
• Quan Yin-in the dark
• Gratitude & Manifestions
• 35th Birthday
• Unusual Gifts
• Temperature Check
• Magik-Peter Murphy
• A memento, a testament to dating in the Modern Age