Human beings in all their amazing complexity -- the samenesses in their stories and the differences expressed in their unique mix of quirks (I love quirks!). I am amazed by the evolution of consciousness and the wonderful things human beings are capable of. I am amazed by creativity and all the wondrous ways it manifests. I am amazed by the spark of divinity that exists in everyone, especially when they express it in the world, as well as the remarkably creative ways we all hide from that spark. (Of course I love and am amazed nature and the universe at large, but I seem to love human beings a bit more.)

I am amazed by my children on a regular basis. They are the greatest miracle of my life. And they are the only human beings I will ever know as intimately as I do. When it's healthy, the mother-child relationship is the most intimate in existence. I will never witness another human being's journey and evolution with the same depth that I witness theirs. And I feel so honored to be the one to guide these two particular souls into the world. When I am present to them, I am amazed by the human experience all the time.

In particular, I am amazed at the well of happiness that seems to exist inside my daughter. She is the embodiment of joy. I had the best New Year's Eve of my life with her, just playing and laughing together (my son was out with friends). Today she asked me what despair is after watching a movie with me (When Nietzsche Wept, which is based on a novel exploring the relationship between Nietzsche and Freud's teacher and what may have been the first documented experience of talking therapy). Can you imagine? She's 12 years old and she has no idea what despair is and had a hard time grasping it when I described it because she's never experienced it. Maybe this shouldn't be miraculous. But by 12 years old, I had already been abandoned by all the father figures I had known (bio dad, grandpa and adopted dad). I was living in poverty. I was putting my mother to bed when she was too drugged out to get there herself. I was learning to live with an alcoholic stepfather. I had been molested two years before.  At 12 years old I was already experiencing depression and despair. But she can't even conceive of that kind of darkness. That is amazing!

I am amazed at my son's comfort with his sexuality. He came out when he was 12 with no fear whatsoever! Now he is going through the most difficult emotional experience he's ever had, his first big love, which is complicated by being queer, but fortunately being queer is not the source of his heartache. He is in love with his best friend, who I will call Joe. Joe has been his friend since 4th grade and has probably had more of an influence on my son's life than anyone besides me. They've had a tug-of-war of a friendship, which it turns out is the consequence of my son being in love Joe for at least four years that he's consciously aware of. My son pulls away when the feelings and attraction become too much for him to bear, then gets drawn back by how wonderful his friend is.

He finally opened up to Joe over this holiday break and the response was completely unexpected. Joe recognizes that although he's never knowingly had an attraction towards another man, it may be that he has been culturally influenced to believe he is straight. So if he wasn't already in a relationship (the source of my son's heartache), he might consider at least exploring what could exist between him and my son beyond friendship. How amazing is that? How open these young men are with one another and how comfortable they are with exploring their sexual selves. I know our culture has come a long way, but this is pretty remarkable. I've always been astounded with the intimacy that exists in my son's circle of male friends. He has always been open about his sexuality and he's never, ever been treated negatively for it. I don't know if it's because they go to such a small highschool (only 70 students total), or because that school is in Arcata, which boasts a population of progressively minded people. Or if it's just the serendipity of this particular group of human beings coming together. But it's beautiful and I feel so blessed that my son has spent what are the most tortuous years of most people's existence, especially queer people, in a place where he feels safe to be authentic to himself. Choosing that school was the best mutual decision of our lives, and serendipitously, Joe is the one who made us aware of it and asked my son to go with him there in the first place. 

These are only brief examples of the amazing experiences I have with my kids on a pretty regular basis. Perhaps I find it all so amazing because it's so different from what I know of growing up. Or because I struggled against motherhood for so long. Or maybe because I'm finally fully present most of the time and capable of perceiving the miracle of life in motion.

Continuing to grow and evolve into the best divine spark I can be.

Moving out of this house and into my own place with the kids, allowing me to reclaim my life completely.

Sending my son off to the college of his dreams.

Getting healthy! Getting my hormones balanced so that I know what I really feel about my life.

An even more successful year with Humboldt Pride and expanding our service to the community. I'm so excited about doing The Laramie Project this spring.

My kids, I think. If not directly about them, how the other aspects of life I'm thinking about impact them or are impacted by them would put them over the top. 

Then living consciously and authentically, art and creativity, and discovering my life's work.

Sometimes I give myself the coolest gifts...like a quote saved on my computer from some yesterday I don't even remember. Every so often I go through my general stuff file on my desktop to see what I've saved and then forgotten. Tonight this quote leaped out at me and got me thinking...
 

"If you don't feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then probably what you are doing isn't very vital. If you don't feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough." ~ John Irving

I seem to be a pretty deep contradiction to most writers: it is really easy for me to share my personal life, to make myself emotionally vulnerable through my writing in public, but it is very difficult for me to do any kind of writing that requires a sense of authority on a subject. I am drawn to reading essays and articles, and even know that I have some pretty insightful things to say on certain subjects, but I don't write them. I have several literary deadlines for anthologies, and tons of writer's guidelines for publications, that I never get around to writing and submitting because I am unable to accept my own authority on anything.

And I realize now it's the same resistance that keeps me from moving forward with a woman's circle or hostessing a regular art night at my house. I don't want to have to be the one who facilitates, who leads the endeavor, who accepts the authority, even though the group would ideally (and eventually) be facilitated through co-leadership (each woman having the opportunity to guide the group experience).

And this is probably what's holding me back in my professional life as well. In my heart I know what I am capable of, but I hesitate stepping into a role that requires authority in any form. I want to be a manager, but I don't want to manage people because I'm afraid they wouldn't accept my authority. Well they probably wouldn't since I don't accept it myself!

Wow, this is an important revelation. Big things could happen for me if I grow out of this particular limitation.

Isabel Allende, a remarkable writer and activist, did a TEDTalk this year and it's very inspiring. She's funny, but she's also passionate about the need to address the condition of the world's women. She shares real stories of women's passion throughout her talk that are inspirational. The statistics she shares are astounding: 80% of refugees and displaced people in the world are women and girls; in philanthropy, for every $1 that goes to women's programs $20 goes to men's programs; women do 2/3 of the world's labor and own 1% of the world's assets. It is only privileged women in the world's most abundant countries that dare to believe feminism is outdated.

What is tragic about the philanthropy dollars that don't go to assisting women is that family is where peace and success begin. This is why rape is a weapon of mass destruction used in war -- it is used to destroy families by destroying the heart and body of the mothers. It is a fact that when the family prospers (and it only prospers if it has a healthy mother figure), a village prospers and a nation prospers. A healthy, happy mother raises healthy, happy children who do not go into the world so wounded that they only know how to wound themselves and others. We will not have peace, we will not stop destroying each other and the earth, until we have a majority of healthy, happy families in the world. Focusing on the health, happiness and education of the world's women is the only way to truly bring about all of our goals for humanity.

I adore serendipity. It is -- in my perception -- the most commonly occurring magic in life. Anyone can experience it if they open themselves to it. The Isabel Allende talk I just posted in my last blog entry was a serendipitous gift in several ways.

First, just minutes before opening the TED newsletter announcing the talk in my email, I was talking with my son about going to the used bookstore this afternoon to find a good novel that I could sink my heart into, but I didn't know what to get. I didn't know who might hold the story I am next meant to experience. Then I see this talk and I realize I've only read a couple of Allende's novels even though the House of Spirits is one of my favorite books of all time. So now I look forward to going and finding one of her books.

Secondly, and most importantly, she reminded me of several things about my search for my life's work. She reminded me of my passionate commitment to working with women and girls. She reminded me why I think that is the most important work to be done. It's not as though I truly forget these things, but going through everyday life I tend to let the threads that lead to my life's work fall away until something rings the bell of my calling with strength and then I pick them up again. I've been living the place of finding my work someday, so I lose the urgency of my calling much of the time. I make figuring it out an intellectual exercise instead of igniting my passion so that I feel it and then live it.

She also reminded me of the revelations about my life's work that I had during my ordination process, which was never completed due to my teacher abandoning me. It doesn't surprise me that I tucked these revelations aside with everything else about that experience in my grief. The revelation was that my intense capacity for empathy could be used through art and writing to change the world by giving voice to the voiceless; using my power of expression and the privileges afforded to me in this culture to tell the stories of those who cannot tell their own. Because it is stories that change the world.

"What is truer than true? The story."

As individuals, our lives are changed when we change the stories we tell ourselves about our lives. It is the stories we tell ourselves that create our perception of everything, from our place in the Universe (religions are stories) to how we understand the nature of the Universe (most sciences are stories...especially theoretical sciences...when you realize how much research is affected by the story of the individual scientist and the story they tell themselves about what they'll discover) to how we relate to our family and friends (i.e. what story do we tell ourselves about someone who hurt us? are they evil perpetrators or wounded hearts?). Tangent--this is something I'm teaching my children right now as they go through life experiences; I show them the stories they are telling themselves and how can they change them if they choose to have a happier experience of life. 

Collectively the stories we tell ourselves change the world as well. The Global Warming story has fueled environmental change at every level of society. When we do fundraising for various causes, we use stories to inspire people to give. Our government blatantly manipulates stories to create a culture of fear and distract us from truth and justice. Why is Barak Obama so popular and defying expectations? It's his story, and the story he chooses to tell, his story of America -- who we were, who we are, and most importantly, who we are capable of being. His story of hope is igniting the fire of hope in a cynical culture (just today he was put down by Clinton and Romney for spreading "false hope").

I began the artist's statement on my old Yoni Endeavor website with this: "Today I came across the question, "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?" 
My answer to that question is that I would create multi-media art installations that
communicated the world I perceive through empathy. "

I was most deeply in touch and satisfied with myself when I was creating sculptures, digital paintings, and poems for the Yoni Endeavor. It's the closest experience to bliss I've known. Through my visual images and writing I told my own story and the greater story of Woman. I told the story of creation and beginning through Yoni. I portrayed the intersection of the individual with the collective experience, which is what the best stories do. And I touched a lot of lives and inspired a lot of change in perspective with that project (based on what people shared with me).

What's ironic is that I've often said I'm not a storyteller. I am not the person in a group who can keep everyone engaged and laughing with little stories of my past (you know the kind of person I'm talking about). And I do not feel the capacity to write fiction stories. So I assumed I am not a storyteller. But the reality is that every artist in any medium is a story teller. We are framing a moment of life, real or imagined, in a story. And the moments we choose to frame make our unique contribution to our cultural story.
 

The question that came to me as I listened to Allende is whether I am meant to teach or to facilitate healing through therapy...or to do what I once I felt am meant to do, share the stories of the voiceless with the world through art and writing? Much like Eve Ensler, Isabel, and even Oprah, all women I deeply admire, I may be here to share stories, true stories, of women and girls living in the worst of circumstances in our world so that the privileged will wake up to their responsibility and the awakened will realize where the most important work is to be done (outside ourselves) if we truly want to affect change at the source of our problems (see previous post for explanation of this statement), even if it's only within their own families. Maybe the other kinds of work I imagine doing don't quite feel right (and I haven't avidly pursued them yet) because they aren't based in art and storytelling. Archetypically being Artist is only second to being Mother (and it is the Mother that gives me my giant capacity for empathy).

I've been telling myself a story of limitations. I've been convinced I have to return to school and validate my knowledge and experiences before I can make a living from my bliss. I think I need a degree to be considered an "authority" to go to for any purpose and to be paid what I am worth for the work I do. And I'm afraid of any work based in my creating art because I don't have the credentials of an art education and believe I'll never have the mastery of form. I really don't want to master a medium before telling stories; I just want to use the mediums to tell the story. And I use so many different mediums that I could never truly master them all. Art isn't about form to me, it's about message, story. I don't want to be remembered for mastering an art form, I want to be remembered for changing the world through the stories I tell. I want to be remembered in people's hearts for giving them an epiphany moment about an important issue or because I inspired them to go out and make a difference in some way themselves. Or even have the subtle effect of making them think, and possibly reconsider the story they are telling themselves.

I was deeply affected by the judgments of some local "real" artists when I showed my yoni sculptures. When I was making clay sculptures, I was using oven-fired clay and acrylic paints because I didn't have the money (or connections) at the time to do learn that kind of clay sculpting, to do glazing, or to get my work fired. Most people didn't seem to care, but I had a few snooty artists who made comments about my "sub par" work because I was doing it at home with easily accessible materials. I made my prices accessible as well ($25-75 depending on the size of the sculpture). I still feel the burn of judgment from those artists and I think I've let it hold me back from going forward as an artist because I tell myself I'm an amateur and believe everyone else will see me as one. I keep waiting for when I can afford classes and to become a member of the local fire arts center in order to use their resources. So I just do easy craft art for The Conspiracy and wait till I can become a "professional" artist.

Julia Cameron says that artists are cultural healers. Maybe I've been confusing my call to be a healer by thinking it has to be somewhat traditional and authorized by an outside entity, like being an art therapist. The degree would validate me in the world as a healer and would probably bring a sense of financial security (I'd have a specific service that people or organizations will pay for). I can see art therapy as a form of using story to heal, but the reality is that I truly feel called (and am most afraid of the call) to be an artist myself, to express my voice, and through my empathy other women's voices, in our cultural story.  

I think about Eve Ensler traveling the world to collect women's stories and how  by sharing those stories in her unique way she has inspired an decade-long movement and big changes in the lives of the women who need it most. When I think of what I truly want to do with my life, that is it. Collect stories by becoming involved in the lives of the world's women and share them through art/writing/performance in such a way that they inspire change. I will touch individual lives by witnessing their stories (something every human being needs) and hopefuly inspire change by sharing those stories. And the amazing thing is that if this is truly what I want to do, and I change my own story of limitation, all I have to do is start right now. I don't need school. I don't need anyone to validate my talent or skills. I just need to start collecting and expressing stories, including more of my own. 

Thanks for listening.
 

This American Life while snug under the covers on a Sunday morning.

My daughter's laughter, and the fact she'll let me tickle her any time I need a pick-me-up.

Reading my friends' blogs here at zaadz.

Poems that grab my heart and squeeze.

A novel that carries me into another life.

Super soft or silky fabric on my skin. Fuzzy socks.

Spontaneous deep conversations with my son.

Rain pattering on the roof and wind howling through the trees.

Rubbing my kitty's belly.

Tomato soup on a cold day.

Basil leaves and blue cheese on chewy, locally made bread.

Waking up to music while taking my morning shower.

My little altars to roses around the house and being surrounded by art.

Candlelight.

Incense from the City of 10,000 Buddhas.

Serendipity.

Making art.

Writing/blogging.

Living in the moment ... the more often I can do this, the more happy moments I'll have.

"The core of your relationships to people, sex, time, money, power, 
eating, politics, career, health, and spirituality is your relationship to 
yourself. Get that relationship right (a moment-by-moment challenge of 
epic proportions) and all those other relationships will be as good as they 
possibly can be. Omit, neglect, or distort any part of your relationship to 
yourself and all those other relationships will accordingly be diminished 
and distorted." Jonathon Zap

Last night the Pride Board decided to send me to Long Beach the first weekend in February to represent us at the CAPI Conference. CAPI is Consolidated Association of Pride, Inc., with membership representing the Pride organizations in the following states: Arizona, California, Hawaii, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah and Mexico. There are 36 different Pride Festivals produced within this geographical area (at least that are members of CAPI...there are probably more!).

I believe this will be an amazing experience (not just because I haven't taken a trip out of town in a couple years). I've never attended a conference for something I am passionate about before, so the entire experience will be new to me. I am looking forward to the wonderful energy my co-chair tells me exists when you get that many queer leader-activists together. Passion, passion, passion! I am looking forward to learning about Board and organizational development within the Pride community. And I'm looking forward to growing into my networking skills, as we want to approach the largest Pride festivals in California about potential sponsorship of our rural festival (based on casual offers already made...they have multi-million dollar budgets and we have a $25,000 budget).

I'm excited. The conference will be a great way to begin this year of organizational growth for Humboldt Pride, as well as my personal growth in leadership.

Go to Jambase to see the debut of The Polyphonic Spree's We Crawl video.

From the site: "We Crawl," featured on the band's The Fragile Army, was a unique production. Video cameras, film and loose instructions were sent to all 23 members of the band. The band shot all of the footage themselves. Hundreds of hours of footage were sent to indie film maker Dante Harper who crafted the video. It features band leaders Tim DeLaughter and Julie Doyle with their family in an intimate and rare look at the usually hyper-dramatic Spree.

We try
We crawl
We live
We're small

We're stuck in a monday,
it's telling me someday
We're gonna be fine
I know it's all moving
Can't tell if I'm losing
The love of my life

We try
We crawl
We live
We're small

I know that we're broken
It's been unspoken for such a long time
It's scarier weather when we live together
I know that we'll be just fine

We try
To crawl
To live
To grow

On our way, today
Day after day
We try hard
We, crawl far

On our way, today
Day after day

I know that it's better, when we stick together
Our love is alive

Through ups and down of facing each other
Together we're better together we'll find

We try
To crawl
(Together)
To live
To know
(Better together)

Where I am inspired by something I've read or seen and it gets me going down a philosophical or creative avenue of thought. Where serendipities encourage me to think more deeply about a particular subject. In solitude--in the car, in my bedroom, in my office. And definitely when I'm writing. When I write, I clear out of the clutter of my mind and new thoughts just seem to swirl in and everything becomes clear, if only for a few moments and on the page.

I'm really tired, sleeping and zoning out more than usual. I'm having short bursts of intense insight each day and then I feel worn out, unable to accomplish anything more. I'm trying to be kind to myself about this, as I see many things I could be accomplishing around the house, for Pride, for The Conspiracy. Fortunately, I can feel things shifting under the surface, puzzle pieces from past present and future coming together to reveal the next step in my journey. I am tired because I'm doing some heavy moving inside myself, breaking down walls and other self imposed limitations, becoming more expansive. And I feel the Universe pouring a lot into me right now, information and creativity that inspires me towards something bigger than I've ever embodied before. It's an intense emotional energy expenditure, as opposed to a physical one.

I am learning that I have been looking in the wrong direction for the next step in my evolutionary journey towards creating the work of my heart. I have been looking for an external change to spark further transformation: a new job, a change in living arrangements, and/or a way to return to school. Instead, I need to create the next step from within. As I indicated in a previous post, if my truest, deepest calling is to be an empathic artist and writer, I can start that endeavor right now. I don't need a change in location, more education, or anything else to start a new creative project. All I need is the drive and discipline to bring a new vision to life. Guidance is telling me this is the next step, to create change in my life by opening myself to my Muse. If I do this work, the rest will follow.

Since experiencing Isabel Allende's TEDTalk last week and allowing myself to open to the insights and inspirations that followed, I am experiencing serendipities nearly every day that are leading me towards a new artistic vision. I can feel it percolating inside of me and it's so exciting. There are words and concepts that are showing up all over the place for me even though I am not seeking them out. The guidance is magical right now. Seemingly random threads that I've been collecting in recent months--from an artist's blog whose work deeply resonates with me to new readings from a contemporary philosopher--these threads are now curving into each other, illuminating surprise connections in order to weave this new vision in my heart.

I have been given a glimpse of the big picture of my journey at this time and it's extremely comforting. I have been in hibernation for years, doing the internal work that needed to be done before I could really engage in the world with my art again. I had some internal structure to build, intense work to do with my little family (which, of course, is on-going but no longer all encompassing), some old patterns and relationships to release, and apparently the Universe needed nothing more from me as an artist in the world than to make some beautiful things and pass them on to others in need of a little blessing in their lives. If you really knew me as an artist, it would surprise you that the Conspiracy would satisfy my need for creative expression. I am a message driven artist; the kind of artist who tends to push buttons with my audacity to speak the truths that are normally taboo, even in our culture. The Conspiracy is a safe way to make space for art without getting emotionally involved in the content. It's not heavy. I feel good about what I do through that project, but it really only represents a portion of who I am as an artist. It's been a simple and relaxed way for me to make a difference in the world without drawing on intense emotional reserves. And it's helped me see how the art I create from terrible realities needs to be balanced by beautiful realities.

It's the same with my writing. Although I have been blogging consistently the last two years, I have not been writing like I usually write -- no poems, few streams-of-consciousness driven by new philosophical or sociological insights, no rants about the injustices of the world, no creative writing to speak of. Just blogging about what I find beautiful and inspiring in the world, as well as documenting my internal evolution in this phase of life.  

I haven't been holding back. I know that now. I just needed to focus my energy inward for a few years, as much as I'm capable (I feel so strongly called to service that I cannot ever not engage in the world at some level!). But now many necessary transformations have taken place in me and I am ready to engage with the world again as fully as I'm capable as an artist. Big thoughts and feelings are swirling inside of me, slowly moving into patterns that I know will reveal a new series of artworks (or possibly a large installation). And I'm seeing the space in my current circumstances to bring this new vision to life (having a job that demands so little of me, which I've been complaining about, is really a gift if I use the time and emotional space it gives me to write and develop my art ideas).

This is one of my favorite parts of being an artist. The magic when inspiration sparks in a big way, the scribbled notes as wave after wave of inspiration moves through me at any moment of the day, the serendipity of repeated words and concepts leading me through the forest to my creative treasure. I know it's temporary and I am reveling in it, fully present to the gift I am being given. I am thrilled that my patience and perseverance these last few years, especially during the moments of intense boredom and dissatisfacton with an "ordinary" life or wondering if I'm stagnating, have finally paid off and I am being given the opportunity to be my artist self again. No, that's not quite right. I have evolved as an artist and I'm seeing where integration is vital to my new work. I don't even know what this new artist in me is capable of yet! I just know I've got mighty magic moving inside me right now and I am grateful that it's finally time to play!
 

We have come to be danced

Not the pretty dance
Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance
But the claw our way back into the belly
Of the sacred, sensual animal dance
The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
The holding the precious moment in the palms
Of our hands and feet dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
But the wring the sadness from our skin dance
The blow the chip off our shoulder dance.
The slap the apology from our posture dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the monkey see, monkey do dance
One two dance like you
One two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
Tearing scabs and scars open dance
The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle
But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
Shaman shakin' ancient bones dance
The strip us from our casings, return our wings
Sharpen our claws and tongues dance
The shed dead cells and slip into
The luminous skin of love dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
But the meeting of the trinity, the body breath and beat dance
The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
The mother may I?
Yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
The olly olly oxen free free free dance
The everyone can come to our heaven dance.

We have come to be danced
Where the kingdom's collide
In the cathedral of flesh
To burn back into the light
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
To root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced

We have come.

-Jewel Mathieson

The Nature Of Bisexuality In Women -- "Bisexuality in women appears to be a distinctive sexual orientation and not an experimental or transitional stage that some women adopt "on their way" to lesbianism, according to new research published by the American Psychological Association. The study of 79 non-heterosexual women over 10 years found that bisexual women maintained a stable pattern of attraction to both sexes."

Even though there is a B in LGBTQIA, bisexuals have as hard a time within the queer community as they do in hetero society, especially women. I've personally experienced it from both sides and don’t know a bisexual woman who hasn’t. Culturally we make jokes about the cliche man-hoping-for-a-threesome when he learns a woman is bisexual, but it really sucks to be on the receiving end of that behavior, especially from someone who claims to love you and respect you (as is often the case when bi-women come out to their husbands). It's one of those subtle things in our culture that perpetuates the problem but nobody brings their consciousness to it or speaks out against it.  But from our perspective, it isn't funny, it's degrading, as if our woman-to-woman intimacy is nothing more than the object of a man's fantasy. Just because I like men and women doesn't mean I want them together in my bed and that is true for most of the bisexual women I've known (although there are successful triads that exist). There is a reason we like both genders -- they are different and we experience intimacy differently with them, emotionally and sexually. 

Bisexual women get a bad deal when it comes to generalizations and judgments from both communities. Bisexuality doesn't mean we're sluts or incapable of monogamous relationships. Most bisexual women I've known are not promiscuous or polyamorous. And it doesn't mean we're straight or experience hetero privilege just because we long-term commit to a man. In fact, when I started with Pride, 3 of the 8 Board members were bi women with husbands, totally out to friends family and community, putting ourselves on the front line of the queer civil rights movement.

Twelve years ago my first girlfriend told me bisexuality didn’t really exist, I was only confused and I'd eventually commit to being a lesbian (ironically she evolved to accept her own bisexuality and is long-term committed to a man). Bisexual women are more often than not ostracized by the lesbian community. Even questioning women are often left to fend for themselves because they won't commit to the lesbian label or are assumed to be "experimenting." How many of those questioning women repress their attraction to women because they feel as wrong or abnormal in the queer community as they do in the straight? Oh, and "breeder" (as if I’m nothing more than a baby machine), which is an insult all too common in the queer community, is one of the most offensive labels I've ever been given (not just as a bisexual with children, but as a mother as well).

It saddens me that there is as much consciousness raising to be done within the queer community as in the hetero world. We have soooooooooo far to go in making our society emotionally and physically safe for all non-hetero members of our community.

Did you know that an anti-hate crime law inspired by the gruesome death of Matthew Shepard in 1998, which has been introduced into every legislative session since, has yet to be passed by our government even though statistics consistently show that up to 73% of Americans support anti-hate crime legislation for the queer population? Apparently our government doesn't feel we deserve to have crimes against us prosecuted. We don't matter anymore than women suffering domestic violence or surviving rape who rarely have cases fully investigated and prosecuted or who are imprisoned for protecting themselves. And yet the rest of America sits on their ass and does nothing about it (although what should I expect from a nation that refuses to hold our President accountable for tyranny?).

What does that say about us as a nation, that we are still telling members of our own communities that they don't even matter enough to warrant safety or justice? We haven’t come as far as we’d like to think. Really think about that, what kind of effect it would have on you if you felt your country and community didn't see you as an equal human being, worthy of the same rights and protections as everyone else? The queer civil rights movement isn't just about marriage. It’s about discrimination and violence. It’s about language (using gay, fag, dyke, etc as insults). It’s about mean humor. It’s about how we are treated by the people we interact with every day in our neighborhoods. Why don't we have the same force in straight allies -- like you -- that African Americans had in white people when they fought for their equal rights? Why don't we warrant the same outrage and the same demands for equality under the law? Doesn't this inequality in treatment of your fellow humans and citizens deserve the same attention and consciousness raising commitment as being green or becoming “enlightened”? Are you, as a member of this "conscious" community, outraged? If you are, what are you going to do about it? If not, what excuse do you have not to be?

I don't get on my soapbox often, but the more I learn, the more I'm frustrated with the people around me who seem to be oblivious to the importance our struggle (who are often the same people who think feminism is outdated). Hilary Clinton told a well known queer magazine that the queer civil rights movement hadn’t been going on long enough to require full attention. What the hell does that mean? Do a certain number of people have to be beaten or die before progress can be made? What this tells me is that there are not enough constituents telling their representatives that we deserve equal rights. If the only people actively advocating for us are ourselves and our families, we are screwed, because we will always be a minority population. We need you.

I recently joined two different blog community commitments for 2008 - Creative Every Day and Everyday Kindness. I find the camaraderie and support in the creative blogosphere to be uplifting and inspiring.

I haven't been as intentional about these as I'd like, but I'm finding that my every day life already contains a lot of creativity and kindness. Although I've been participating in my own quiet ways, I haven't been blogging about it, so I thought I'd share what I can remember since the beginning of the year. I think it's pretty cool that I can find something creative and kind nearly every day.

Creative Every Day

1-discovering a healthier way of dealing with a long-term, in-home conflict

2-heartsharing blog post about my kids

3-

4-

5-important heartsharing blog post about the phase of creative evolution I'm experiencing

6-decoupaging the late holiday gifts for family

7-designing a digital newsletter for the non-profit I volunteer for

8-blessing package for a fellow Pride Board member who is in the beginning stages of divorce

9-divinatory reading for myself

10-researching/brainstorming for new art idea

11- researching/brainstorming for new art idea

12- (read a novel all day: is it creative to experience another life and world for a little while?)

13-important heartsharing blog post on the new art project I'm envisioning

14- researching/brainstorming for new art idea

15- finished art doll for a mail art swap.

16- created envelope for goodies going out in mail art swap.

Everyday Kindness

As I reflect on the last 16 days and consider what I have done that is kind, I realize that although I have not been as intentionally kind to others as I hope to become, I am being kind to myself nearly every day. I think this is valuable because I fell prey to the typical modern woman conundrum that is career + family + community = little care for myself over the last 7 years. Being kind to my self is a significant aspect of my personal evolution right now, especially regarding my health. Every day that I choose health through my eating and activity choices is a day of great kindness to myself. Every day that I willingly sit with the discomfort that arises from not engaging in my eating addiction is a day of great kindness to myself; especially days that include small steps towards integrating my shadow. Although my inner critic tells me it's totally self-centered (in a bad way) to count up kindnesses to myself, I'm going to be open to it.

1-discovering a healthier way of dealing with a long-term, in-home conflict

2-is it a kindness to write a blog post that is on my heart? I know it is kind to myself to take the time to journal and be open to the insights that come through writing. Is it a kindness to share my story with others? If so, is it always or only when someone gains something from it (i.e. posts that are commented on by others, indicating their appreciation of a gift in the writing)?

3-

4-

5-giving myself two used Isabel Allende novels

6-making the heart space to give to someone who isn't easy to give to

7-tolerating my daughter's overwhelmingness without getting grumpy

8-giving a blessing package for new friend in the beginning stages of divorce

9-

10-giving an elderly stranger my full presence to listen to his difficult circumstances even though there was nothing I could do for him

11-

12-giving my son my full presence to listen as he processes intense experiences without bombarding him with my attempts at guidance

13-

14-bought myself a book that could be vital to the art project emerging within; passionate prayer for a friend going through a difficult situation

15-compassion, patience and speaking the truth kindly with someone difficult to love

16-holding myself back from expressing my frustration with my work situation in order to see the gift in the struggle and take a mindful, compassionate approach to solving the issue

I found this gem deep in Heather's Art for the Day post today...

"We are smarter together...truth lives in the intersection of curiosity and conversation.  Jack Ricchiuto

Ooh yes, this captures the kind of interaction I feel is missing from my personal life right now. I miss having friends with whom I can process the evolutionary journey with, both personally and culturally. I miss having friends curious about consciousness, spirit, and how to manifest our ideas in day-to-day practical reality. I miss where curiosity and consciousness intersect and we experience learning and growing together by sharing our differing perspectives.

Granted, this happens more indirectly at Zaadz. But I need some people I can invite over for dinner, or someone I can call when I really need to work something out loud (and vice versa).  I am beginning to see how many different kinds of friends I am blessed to have in my life now, friendships that could really blossom with just a little nurturing, but this particular kind of friendship isn't on my horizon yet.

I have only lived in one good neighborhood in my adult life. Ironically, it was in the apartments known as "the projects" in our little town, although these projects were immaculate inside and out, well maintained, and well managed (keeping out truly troublesome folk).

However, my neighborhood wasn't the entire complex, it was the building I lived in. For several years there were at least 4 single mothers who worked or went to college in our building and we all supported each other. We watched each other's kids, we ate dinner together, we took care of each other in lots of little ways. It was pretty awesome, especially considering how different we were. I was a tattooed and pierced bisexual punk-goth girl going to the university and dedicated to my conscious evolution. The neighbor I was closest to was into hip-hop and Black culture (even though she was white...we both had mixed race children) who provided day care, had little ambition and hated to read, but was extremely intuitive and had a deep heart.  Another neighbor with higher-class roots was studying to be a nurse, working harder than all of us to get out of the projects as soon as possible. Another was a hippie university student, into shamanism and altered states, also with a mix race child. And the last was an African-American lesbian with an aggressive personality, also going to school. I imagine we were quite a site to behold the rare chance we had to go out drinking and dancing together. : )

I miss having that kind of neighborhood and hope to find it again, or else a tribe who may not live next door but show up whenever I need them (and vice versa). I know it won't be where we are now. Even the kids have had a hard time finding other children to play with/talk to here in 7 years. We rarely even see our neighbors so there are few opportunities for striking up a conversation.

However, I do feel a part of a community, but it's much bigger than my neighborhood. It extends to the whole of Humboldt County. We have a unique cultural identity as a collective and I very much appreciate it and feel a part of it. We are also small enough that everyone knows someone you know. Unless you're a hermit, there's probably no more than 3 degrees of separation within the county.

"Only to the extent which we expose ourselves over and over again to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us."  -Pema Chodron

I am one of those people who loves the evolutionary process, who thrives in the journey of growing into bigger and bigger manifestations of All That Is. Even when it hurts I thrive, I revel in the beauty of being part of the miracle of life. For many years my spirit animal and the greatest metaphor for my journey was the snake. I shed my skin over and over again as though it were the most natural thing in the world, watching my illusions shatter day after day as I stumbled into my awakening.

"The shadow is not only the dark underside of the personality. While much of it consists of inferior, primitive, unadapted, and awkward qualities, it also contains vitalizing instincts, sleeping abilities, and positive moral qualities that have long been buried or never been conscious. These unacknowledged personal characteristics are often seen or hallucinated in others through the mechanism of projection." --Daryl Sharp, Jung Lexicon: A Primer of Terms and Concepts

I even get excited at engaging my shadow because I want more than anything to understand myself, to know myself, to be completely aware of all the forces at play in my human experience so that I can bring the greatest contribution of love and creation to this life. The intensity of the mystic's journey is the only way for me, dark nights and all.

But I have one area of shadow engagement that troubles me. It's the one direction I don't like to look. It is when I have to realize I am judging and rejecting some part of myself by judging and rejecting another person for particular qualities. It is so easy to be seduced by the idea that I am not that way. I tell myself that I know my shadow qualities and they do not look like this.

For instance, my mother and a woman I have to interact with regularly who is just like her. They are narcissists. They are selfish and self-centered. Their behavior makes my skin crawl. And I like to think, I am not that.  Or at least, I'm not now. I'd like to believe that I'm not capable of being narcissistic, but the truth is that when I lived in passive-aggression, obsession with people and relationships, when I was messed up in head and heart and ignoring the emotional needs of my son, I was tremendously narcissistic. Even when I gave, I had selfish reasons--to be loved, to be needed, to be a savior to others, to prove what a good person I was. I did not know the humility of service as I know it now.

When I started this post I was thinking that I had to face the shadow of Narcissisus in my current self, but now I realise that even though I am projecting something I don't like about myself onto these people, it doesn't mean I am acting from that place right now. It's an invitation to look at the source of the projection, accept it and integrate it. I need to love that woman I used to be.

"The goddess Hecate also lives in the underworld. According to poet Robert Graves, she is the mistress of sorcery, "the goddess of ghosts and night-terrors, of phantoms and fearful monsters." On the other hand, he notes, Hecate "presides at seed time and childbirth; she grants prosperity, victory, plentiful harvests to the farmer and rich catches to the fisherman."

How can a single deity embody such seemingly contradictory archetypes? Graves: She symbolizes "the unconscious in which beasts and monsters swarm. This is not the living hell of the psychotic, but a reservoir of energy to be brought under control, just as Chaos was brought to cosmic order under the influence of the spirit.""  Rob Brezny

Ultimately I believe I am being given the opportunity to choose compassion in relationship to these projections -- not just towards these two women (or others who push different buttons), but also towards the woman I used to be, the stage of consciousness I used to embody. It's easy for me to toss judgments of my younger self around when I talk about my journey, belittling the complexity of my experience by just saying I was crazy, as if I weren't living the Hero(ine)'s journey towards my awakening and subsequent consciousness raising, as if that narcissism didn't take me into my shadows for the first time and engage me in the first dark night of the soul. For whatever reason my mother needs to descend to this place over and over again before she'll take the next step in raising her consciousness. Perhaps she'll never go further, her life may end before she's willing to go where God leads. And I need to be ok with that. I need to love her anyway. Because everyone needs someone to love them unconditionally while they undertake the Hero's journey (a journey everyone is living or resisting) --and unconditionality doesn't come from the good days, it comes from the heart wrenching moments when our heart cries out in sadness for the choices our loved ones make. There is no one else who will give it to my mother. Everyone who has ever claimed to love her has turned their back because they feel she has asked for too much in her desire to be saved by someone, anyone other than herself.

How can I live 2008 as the year of kindness without offering kindness to these souls who challenge me most? Even if that kindness is merely choosing not to recoil from them, even on the inside. I can give the kindness of listening without validating. I can give the kindness of honoring them as human beings instead projections of what I abhor most in myself.  I can give the kindness of sharing my insight with my mother, when she is open to it, and as kindly as I'm able (as I did recently in a rather successful phone call with her).

I open my profile here at Gaia with this (added at the beginning of this year):

Namaste: 'I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides. I honor the place in you of love, of truth, of peace, and of light. And when you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us.'

I believe I put this in such a prominent place because it's what I truly want to embody in my every day life. And while it's easy to live the concept of Namaste when interacting with the Gaia community, it isn't truly embodied until I can honor the place where the entire universe resides in every single person I interact with. It also isn't embodied until it's a choice that can be made in the face of enormous desire to see and respond--through judgment--only to the ego in others.

It seems that I recently had quite an impact on a friend concerning compassion which made my heart smile. We met for coffee last weekend and talked about our lives, swapping stories about the most wounded--and difficult to love--of our family members. I told him about my striving for "unattached compassion"--compassion that has no attachment to having any kind of effect on the other person or even receiving any kind of acknowledgment from the Universe for existing and apparently he initiated several other conversations with people about this idea.

I told him we can be open to loving (within appropriate boundaries as needed) without attaching ourselves to the story of the person and their suffering. I can listen to my mother because she has no one else who will witness her story, without getting caught up in the attachment of wanting something from her in exchange. If I have no expectations, other than being compassion when I interact with her, I cannot be disappointed by anything she does or fails to do. I can focus on holding the spaciousness of love. I can remember how much the woman I used to be needed to be heard, to be acknowledged when the dark was its darkest. Despair doesn't get any deeper than believing you are alone in the universe, that no one else cares if you exist.

All this comes up because she asked me to help her be an advocate in her own health care, to talk out options for her pain management as they arise (and we also talked about how she needed a therapist to deal with some of the issues arising concerning her relationship with her parents, it's not appropriate for me to counsel her). The crisis she has been experiencing the last few years have all been based in poor supervision by her physicians of her medication management, specifically the combination of pain and sleeping medicines. For the first time in her life, my mother is taking responsibility for her own health instead of relying on "experts" to save her. If I am willing to take this role, I have to be willing to accept that our conversations may only be about these issues in her life; that she may not be capable of giving the care and attention one might wish from a mother when we talk.

The interesting thing is that I did not even hesitate to consider it when she asked. The yes was just there, naturally, lovingly. I had been avoiding her for weeks. I hadn't actually talked to her since her crisis at Christmas time. But I finally opened myself to talking to her and it was ok. All of it was ok. I listened. I offered a few suggestions. I responded positively when she talked about what she is doing to climb her way back into the light--attending church, finding a therapist, giving up certain medications completely, changing her antidepressant, researching her health care options. And I told her I would support her in every step she makes forward and that I'll be honest, and possibly distance myself if needed, when I think she's taking a step backward. I will not be her savior, but I will support her as she strives to save herself.

And in the process, I will embrace the shadow she reflects in me, as well as look for and relate to the the place in her, in us both, where the Universe resides.

Right now? Absolutely nothing. I feel great. I am pampering myself and getting ready for Pride's Drag Show fundraiser tonight, which is hosted by Humboldt County's first queer night club, Aunty Mo's!!! If you remember, last year's show was my introduction to the new Humboldt Pride organization (which I now co-chair the Board for), and it was the moment where I felt like I came home to my tribe. I'm looking forward to friendship and dancing and lots of crazy fun tonight. I'd love to flirt with a girl, too, it's been so terribly long. But I know I'll have fun either way.

I do wish I had something totally cute and sexy to wear, but my wardrobe has gotten duller as I've gotten bigger. Even though I'm losing weight (yay!), I'm not back in my super cute clothes yet (like my leather bodice). But I do have a lovely black dress that suits my figure well and has a flared skirt that will flow around my legs as I dance. And I can wear my red and black striped knee-highs that everyone seems to like. I'll be cute enough. ; )

Most of all, I'm really looking forward to dancing. It's been awhile and it's my favorite way of getting close to myself and God.

For sure...resistance is usually an indicator that I need to go in that direction. I guess it depends on one's definition of resistance, but for me, intense internal resistance is a glaring roadsign that says "there is something here for you that you are afraid of." I don't consider it resistance when my intuition says, "no, this isn't for you." That's just common sense.

Check out this creative-blogosphere-give-away happening right now. I'm hoping to participate, but don't want to commit till I have something ready. At this point I'm just sharing it with all of you.

My love for Obama started before he announced he would run for President. He was being interviewed by Oprah and he talked about the necessity of empathy for politicians to lead effectively. I personally believe empathy will save the world. The evolution of compassion begins when we are able to empathize with another's thoughts and feelings, to put ourselves in someone else's experience of life. A President who is aware of the importance of this quality in leadership could change the direction of this nation in every possible way.  (It was also noted that he refused to ride in Oprah's personal jet to get to the show because he believes he should be among the people and I realized that this man actually has genuine integrity..something far too rare in the public arena.)

This article and video at The Nation about Obama's speech on the eve of Martin Luther King Day sums it all up for me...why I would prefer this "inexperienced" man of color to a too-well-experienced-in-the-game woman, even though I am such a strong feminist.

"Unity is the great need of the hour - the great need of this hour. Not because it sounds pleasant or because it makes us feel good, but because it's the only way we can overcome the essential deficit that exists in this country. I'm not talking about a budget deficit. I'm not talking about a trade deficit. I'm not talking about a deficit of good ideas or new plans," explained Obama. "I'm talking about a moral deficit. I'm talking about an empathy deficit. I'm taking about an inability to recognize ourselves in one another; to understand that we are our brother's keeper; we are our sister's keeper; that, in the words of Dr. King, we are all tied together in a single garment of destiny.

"We have an empathy deficit when we're still sending our children down corridors of shame - schools in the forgotten corners of America where the color of your skin still affects the content of your education.

"We have a deficit when CEOs are making more in ten minutes than some workers make in ten months; when families lose their homes so that lenders make a profit; when mothers can't afford a doctor when their children get sick.

"We have a deficit in this country when there is Scooter Libby justice for some and Jena justice for others; when our children see nooses hanging from a schoolyard tree today, in the present, in the twenty-first century.

"We have a deficit when homeless veterans sleep on the streets of our cities; when innocents are slaughtered in the deserts of Darfur; when young Americans serve tour after tour of duty in a war that should've never been authorized and never been waged.

"And we have a deficit when it takes a breach in our levees to reveal a breach in our compassion; when it takes a terrible storm to reveal the hungry that God calls on us to feed; the sick He calls on us to care for; the least of these He commands that we treat as our own.

"So we have a deficit to close. We have walls - barriers to justice and equality - that must come down. And to do this, we know that unity is the great need of this hour."

I also love Obama's passionate call for and belief in hope (another splendid aspect of the speech). He is obviously not a man of false hope when he has overcome so much in his own life. Hope is vital to moving forward individually and collectively. The audacity of hope indeed. I pray we have a President who is audacious enough to do things differently, to act from a place of empathy and hope.

I just learned about Seeds of Compassion from one of my favorite bloggers.

"Seeds of Compassion is an initiative to nurture kindness and compassion in the world starting with children and all those who touch their lives. By connecting parents, educators, and caregivers, Seeds of Compassion will inspire and empower adults and youth in the development of kinder and more compassionate local and global communities."