Up Periscope follow-up

In the blog post LMAO Up Periscope I left you watching the CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM clip on the car periscope. If you haven't read it already, read it now here; I'll wait...

Hmmmm.. hmmm....hmmmmm...

Ah, welcome back! I was about to continue explaining how this dreaming/waking life stuff interconnect until I got rudely interrupted by a bout of entusiasmo espanole; my apologies.

To summarize:

Rod and I, while driving on our first day of a 11 day trip, come up with the brilliant invention - the car periscope. 

9 days later I record an apparently inconsequential dream but for the fact that Larry David & his manager Jeff appears. 

I become obsessed with trying to remember the title of the TV show in which they appear and am infected with a nasty case of ear worm as I recall its incredibly perky, catchy and viral theme song. 

I have a feeling that this will lead to something though I don't know what. 

2 days after this, while holed up in a Marriott Hotel in Burlington VT waiting out hurricane Irene (now downgraded to a tropical storm) we are forced to watch satellite TV because the movie rental channel is on the fritz and 2 of our choices have been rejected. 

Rod watches a program that I'm not interested in, TRUE BLOOD so I read THE HELP. 

Program over,  Rod channel surfs and I hear the theme song to CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. 

A compulsion comes over me; we must watch the program. 

We've stumbled upon an episode about...THE CAR PERISCOPE.

Being in this synchronic experience as it unfolded was truly delightful. I was soooo uncontrollably thrilled that Rod wanted me to CURB MY ENTHUSIASM which I found near to impossible.

On one hand this demonstrates for me how thin the veil is between the realities of sleep dreams, waking life and imagination/creativity. It allows me to think that anything is possible; I mean what were the odds that we'd invent something that someone else had made a TV episode about (no, neither of us had seen the episode before). Even if we had, we were supposed to be in Lake Placid that evening and, if things had played out as planned we wouldn't have spent our first night watching TV, that's for sure.

If we look at the function of the car periscope, we see that it allows the navigator to see ahead and smoothly negotiate the driver around obstacles in order to get where they want to go. On another level, Rod and my car periscope stream of consciousness episode seemed to hint what was to come, that we would find ourselves in a situation where we would need to see ahead in order to make decisions as to how to proceed. In retrospect we can see many different things that the periscope was a metaphor for: the blackberry and other media we consulted in order to discern when to leave the cottage; the townspeople, highway patrolman, shopkeeper and information desk person who (also in the role of THE HELP) gave us warnings of road blocks and washed out roads ahead and suggested alternative routes for us to safely proceed.

If I were to look at the whole experience as I've recounted as one dream, I would ask myself, "Does this feel like anything in my waking life now?" It resonates with the fact that I'm adjusting to new terrain and pathways forming in my life in the aftermath of Mom's passing. I'm trying to see "down the road". I'm also looking ahead to when Rod retires. Like many other wives I'm freaked out at the prospect, feeling a bit emotionally spun and stormy (= hurricane) trying to find direction (in my role as navigator) that works for both of us as we drive down the road together. At this time as the sand shifts beneath my feet, obstacles seem insurmountable and I wish I had a life periscope that would help me negotiate my "stormy weather".

Buenas Noches Mis Amigos

I made the 30 minute bike trek into downtown Oakville yesterday to meet 2 "council" friends for brekkie. We ate at Sunnyside Diner which, many moons ago, was once Anne's Cottage Shop, a restaurant where I did the prerequisite postgrad waitressing gig of every aspiring artist whose ever gotten their B. A. in Fine Art.

Jan and I left Flo in a store looking for a scarf and walked down the road a bit before going our separate ways. Before splitting Janet mentioned that she had signed up to take Spanish; something that I have been wanting to do for years. I have maintained my poor skill level in the language and lack of advancement through sporadic bursts of self-taught efforts filled with: reading articles in Spanish, listening to TV programs, renting movies and playing them with Spanish subtitles ON or making use of the dubbed version.

I was excited when I heard that the lessons are: reasonably priced, located nearby and scheduled at a time that fits nicely into my week. Yes, I was very excited until I heard where they are taking place; at the Seniours' Centre. AAAACCCCCCKKKK, mentally I was running, not walking, away screaming, "I'M TOO YOUNG TO BE A SENIOUR."

Janet, sensitive soul that she is, could see the panic in my eyes. "The centre is for anyone 50 and older. Not everyone is 90. You'd be a "young" seniour."

Too late! My mind had already propelled me forward to a time in which I was trapped in a room full of memory challenged individuals who couldn't remember what was said 5 minutes ago in English much less in another language; and this was my Spanish class. " Mmmm, I'll have to think about it," was my non-committal response before we parted.

Before tackling the bike ride back, I stopped in at Starbucks to take a pee. It's one place I can slip into and out without making a purchase guilt-free as I'm virtually a coffee imbibing "regular" there.

Business done, I knelt down to unlock my bike. And, as I did so, the question/consideration briefly breezed through my mind like a whisper in the wind, I wonder if I should take the course at the Seniours' Centre? And, at that very moment a family walked by speaking SPANISH.

The universe has spoken.

So, I'm now signed up to take Spanish at the Seniours' Centre. Wish me buena suerte!

LMAO Up Periscope!

THURS AUG 18TH - Rod and I are heading out on our trip to the townships, Vermont and Lake Placid. We're chatting about the next car that I should get when ALF W bites the dust. It's weird I know but I find myself almost whispering in ALF's presence, anyway...

The 403 was, as usual, busy that morning and from the low laying vantage point that ALF (a Ford Escort) provides, our range of vision was limited. How wonderful it would be to be sitting higher I commented. I have always loved trucks, in fact our Ford F150 had taken us on many a fantastic road trip and served the double duty of providing us with accommodation during inclement weather on those days we were either too tired or it was too wet to set up camp. Seen behind the wheel of the truck no one would guess that I'm a mere 4'10" as the clearance over the hood and steering wheel is great enough for me to appear as the confident driver that I am, whereas I sit so low in ALF that drivers behind me think the car's driving itself. To add further insult I appear to be a "low and slow" (meek little old driver)  since I got 2 speeding tickets in quick succession of each other a few years back I've been forced to observe the speed limit or risk a more hefty fine for the next offence (I like to drive fast and am a fiercely competitive go cart driver). To sit up higher or even view the traffic ahead from a better vantage point would feel empowering.

Somehow as we're discussing the topic, Rod and I slip into stream of consciousness conversation and we invent the CAR PERISCOPE. How great would it be to have a periscope in the car that would enable you to see what's going on ahead. You'd be able to pick and choose your course knowing what's coming up. How cool would that would be! I got pretty darn enthusiastic about the idea as I'm always looking to come up with an invention that would land me a bundle, something simple - like velcro, post-it notes or even that damn stupid SNUGGIE. I mean how simple can you get. The kid made a bundle just because he was a couch potato who's arms got cold when he went to reach for his beer and chips, anyway...

FRI AUG 26 - We're in Hindesburg VT at a cottage on Iroquois Lake and I record a dream in which Larry David and Jeff (his agent on his TV show) make an appearance. Upon waking and throughout the rest of the day, I find myself obsessed with the name of the show in which they star but can't for the life of me remember what it is. All day I'm afflicted with an ear worm as its theme song runs over and over in my head. I don't have my laptop with me and though Rod has his Blackberry, I don't want to resort to asking him to solve the puzzle. For some reason this obsession seems important; as if I'm supposed to figure it out myself. I think maybe I'll stumble upon the title in the paper, or on TV or hear it on the radio which seems likely as hurricane Irene is threatening to come our way and we're monitoring the situation every few hours to determine what to do next.

SAT AUG 27 - I finally cave and ask Rod if he knows the title. He says he doesn't. I don't believe him; think he's taking delight in prolonging my agony and we leave it at that. Later, while eating dinner in AMERICAN FLATBREAD restaurant in Burlington VT (great pizza and microbrewery - try the blueberry beer) he recalls that it's called CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. Riddle solved. Ear worm vanquished. Relief ensues!

SUN AUG 28 - We leave the cottage on schedule as planned. In the beginning of a tropical storm (Hurricane Irene has been downgraded) - not planned. We are stranded in Burlington as no ferries are running across Lake Champlain. We take the first place we can which is the MARRIOTT in Burlington and spend the day reading in the lounge (My book of choice is THE HELP which I highly recommend and Rod's is VAGABONDING - An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-term World Travel which he finds so-so), nursing a glass of Malbec wine while occasionally glancing up at the big screen TV permanently set on the weather channel and its "on the spot" weather guy standing on the boardwalk somewhere in New York State monitoring the progress of a lifeguard station getting pummelled by the waves.

Later that night, holed up in our room, we try, unsuccessfully, to rent a movie. The weather has messed with the signals. All that is left is satellite TV. Rod settles in to TRUE BLOOD which I can't make head or tail of. I'm driven deeper into my book for its duration. Next thing I know the theme song for CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM creeps into my consciousness. I corral Rod's channel surfing and get him to settle onto the show which is just starting. After my obsession with it I figure we might as well watch. We sit back and here's the episode that came up.

No word of a lie!!!

Give a Damn

Just a quickie for tonight as I've been saddened by the prospect of Belo Monte Dam being constructed in Brazil and all the devastation it will create.

Click on the link to watch the video, read more about it and sign the petition. HERE

Here's some more info about what people are doing.

I wish I may I wish I might...

Warrior Pose II
neither pulled towards the future
nor weighted down by the past
equilibrium is found in the present moment

I haven't blogged for a while. Mom's death has severed the living ties to my parents (Dad died in 2002) and life has, for the time being, become a bit of an introverted journey of self-exploration. Who am I now? Who do I want to become? What do I want to do with my life? What and who do I love? How do I want to live my life now? Robert Moss contends that if you don't define yourself others will do it for you. What definitions have I embraced? Do they still apply? Did they ever? Sounds pretty heavy but really, it's liberating and has led to clutter clearing on all levels: physically, mentally, emotionally, psychically and spiritually.

More of that later, what prompts this blog is an e-mail I received recently from a client who hasn't been successful in getting rid of excess weight despite having attended a series of 6 one-on-one sessions for a weight management a few years back.

Here's the gist of it:
Why can't hypnosis for weight loss be done in a 1 shot session like I do for smoking cessation? Why can't I just implant a negative association to help someone abstain from "forbidden" foods and be done with it? It worked for a friend of mine and she lost X number of pounds and she's still kept it off. When she feels tempted she just goes back for a little top up. I think stress management would be helpful, but only if it's done in one session not if it's based on self-hypnosis as that doesn't work for me.

A few things jump out at me:

• unlike smoking, one needs to eat and faces temptation a few times every day
• smoking is a non-essential activity that is always detrimental to one's health
• what new "forbiddens" will take the place of the old ones
• hypnosis does strengthen resolve and makes things easier, and ACTION is a part of the process, action needs to be taken to re-inforce the suggestion and set up a positive feedback loop
• over time weight balancing becomes second nature and a lifestyle choice
• stress accumulates unless we address it every day, it's not the stressor that's our problem, it's our attitude towards it

I battled with anorexia in my teens. If anyone should know about aversion to food and how to induce it, it should be me. The truth is, people experiencing anorexia are consumed by food 24/7 to the exclusion of everything else - there is no joy in the life of an anorexic, only the constant companions of fear of failure and self-loathing.

I lost 30 lbs by eating the bare minimum to survive and, when I came to my senses I gained most of it back. I have maintained a healthy weight for 40 years through conscious eating and a commitment to health and living consciously.

There is no magic pill to make our demons all go away. One must commit to a daily process of: self-awareness and self-honesty; discovering one's self inside-out; taking ownership of the body we inhabit and taking responsibility for our actions - no excuses allowed. We must learn to ride the emotional roller coaster of life without resorting to food for comfort or punishment and choose to eat consciously. It takes nothing less than healing our relationship with ourselves and with food to arrive at the weight that is right for "me".

The pain my client was feeling leaked between the lines she'd written. She just wants one shot, no self-hypnosis. Self-hypnosis doesn't work for her. Yet she is an intelligent, accomplished professional. How did she get through the years of training, focus and determination it took to get where she is today? All hypnosis is essentially self-hypnosis and is re-inforced by the messages we tell ourselves every day. Our self-talk either propels us in the right direction or leads to self-sabatogue. As a former anorexic I know that our mind can be a battleground where our inner cheerleader and our inner critic wage a war for dominance over our thoughts and emotions. Which do you support with your attention? The one that receives the most attention grows the strongest.

Anything we accomplish begins with a spark of inspiration and a dreaming of what could be. When it comes to weight issues we imagine how wonderful our lives will be, how successful and desirable we will become when we have lost the weight. All our problems will vanish in an instant. I wish this were true. Fact is, we need to find the wonderful life that is available to us now as we make our journey through weight loss (or anything else); we need to engage in life, take risks, experience failure and success. We need to fall down, get up and reset our course again and again if necessary.

I've been impressed by the Canadian Series X-WEIGHTED for it's inspiring and eye-opening stories centring around young people and their families learning to live healthier lives while losing weight. I encourage anyone dealing with weight issues to check it out, especially if you are concerned about passing these issues on to your children. If you are making poor food choices for yourself you are making poor ones for your kids too. Your actions set the example for your children to follow - what are they learning from you?

To find out more about my struggle with anorexia and how yoga transformed my life check out STORIES FROM THE YOGIC HEART available at many yoga centres, book stores, AKASHA'S DEN in Oakville, Ontario and coming soon to a ROOTS store near you!

OUR DESIRE (to commit to our goal) NEEDS TO BE STRONGER THAN OUR RESISTANCE.

So, here's the first step regarding forbidden foods:

DON'T BUY THEM OR HAVE THEM IN THE HOUSE; NOT FOR YOURSELF AND ESPECIALLY NOT FOR YOUR KIDS.

Secondly, ask yourself, in your moments of temptation:

WHO IS IN CHARGE OF YOUR LIFE?

Looking for a sign

I visited Mom's nursing home on Wednesday to donate some CD's and a DVD from Moms stash for their music and entertainment programs; just one of the many tasks I've elected to do on Mom's behalf and bring closure for myself.

Running into old acquaintances who live, work and volunteer at the nursing home caused us to reminisce about Mom, her passing, the memorial/celebration of her life that the family hosted there a few weeks ago and death in general. I found quite quickly that one can't visit such a place after such a majour event without people opening up and sharing their own stories of love and loss.

It seems that, regardless of religious or spiritual orientation, surviving relatives are looking for signs from the departed that they are OK in their new realm of existence. The living also want to be reassured that those that have "passed" are now watching over, and perhaps, guiding them.

One woman, heavily grieving the loss of her father (who died in December) said she just wants to be able to move on but can't seem to do so. Despite not being ready to "go" there was nothing that could be done for him and this added to the pain and suffering he and his family experienced during the last few months of his life.  I asked what would make it possible for her to move on. She said she didn't know but felt that, "If I could only have a sign that he's OK. I think that would help." And though she said, in an off hand manner, "I did get a sign the next day" and proceeded to describe the incident, the radiance in her face indicated that this was a real, not a manufactured, experience but for some reason it just hadn't registered consciously with her yet.

She proceeded to tell me that, a few weeks later, during an especially difficult time, her father came to her in a dream and said, somewhat irritated, "Why do you keep calling on me? Don't you know that I'm dead?" This made her feel even worse until I reminded her, as she'd just told me, she'd already received the sign she was looking for. I proceeded to say that, if it were my dream, I'd try and see it from his point of view. When I took his vantage point I realized that I'd be wondering how many times and in how many ways would she need to be reassured that I'm OK? I'm dead and there are things I have to do here but trust that when you really need me I'll be there.

Some spiritual traditions believe that, not until the living have released the dead are those that have passed, free to move on in their journey; move on, they and we must. Our grief, sense of guilt, loss of direction keep them bound to us and between realms, neither here nor there (some spiritual traditions believe that there are many aspects to a human soul, that one aspect of the soul remains while other aspects are intended to move on). Our clinging to them keeps us from becoming fully present to and engaged in life, saps our energy and leads to depression.

Through past life regression and interlife experiences I have realized that when we die we reintegrate into the fullness, wisdom and love that we were before incarnating. In an instant, all suffering is over. But an aspect of our individual souls continue to reside in the hearts of the living and continue through the DNA of future generations.

Another woman said she was waiting for a sign from 2 relatives on her birthday but none was forthcoming. I wonder if, in looking for one specific sign, we might miss those magical, synchronic moments that happen almost daily reminding us of our interconnectedness.

Surprisingly, all this reminiscing found me, not sorrowful for the past, but anxious about the future. With Mom's death, (Dad having passed in 2002) the ties of my family of origin are broken. Released from the expectations that have defined us all our lives, our lives are, for the first time in our lives, truly our own. And, released from my duties towards my parents, I'm asking myself - who am I now, what do I really want and what do I do with this new chapter in my life.

Later that night a message from the pastor came through my answering machine. I had been thinking about him for days, wanting to let him know, personally, what a wonderful service he'd done for Mom and our family so I picked up the phone. He'd somehow gotten one digit wrong in my brother's phone number and was calling for the right one. He went on to say that he was sure I was missing Mom, that my family had done a good job honouring her at the memorial and that he was sure that she was pleased.

Signs are present everywhere when we embrace life.

healing water

I have little rituals, picked up though healing circles and shamanic gatherings, that I do each day to benefit the earth and water; it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like I'm connected to nature and stuff.

I have 2 jars both with the words, HEALING, LOVE, GRATITUDE written on the outside. The small one I fill daily from the tap. The next morning I pour all but a little bit of this water into the larger jar. The jars are in an altar space in my treatment room that is smudged daily. For over 20 years this has been a place of healing, where soothing music, chants and drumming have filled the air; during the winter months it is where I do my yoga practice in the warmth of the heater's glow while cold winds blow outside.

When the large bottle is filled I take it to the lake and pour the water back from where it came saying, "We are sorry for any suffering that we have caused you. We love you and are grateful." I learned this during a healing circle held in the aftermath of the tragic earthquake, tsunami and damage to the nuclear reactors that sent tons of radiated water back into the ocean. It is a small, but I think, important gesture for me to make.

Masuru Emoto has studied the effects of thoughts on water finding that words such as HEALING, LOVE and GRATITUDE can create the most beautiful, intricate crystals of water whereas negative words create distorted, unharmonious structures.

Since Mom died I've been immersed in the past and most especially last week as I helped my family prepare for a memorial service in her honour last Friday night.

My brother and I sorted through albums and boxes of family photos, scanned them into the computer and sent them back and forth to each other, so that he could make a slide show out of our "finds". With the assistance of one of Mom's sisters we were able to dig further into our past than I'd ever gone before. I stared deeply into the faces of many people I'd never, or rarely, met who peered back at me with an air of  familiarity.

Other photos brought back happy times spent with family and friends. Time periods jumbled together. One moment we THACKERLINGS were young exhuberant children, then young adults and teens playing in the snow, babes in the arms of our Mom, forty somethings crowded on my brother's couch, children again. Back and forth; memories spilled into my consciousness.

Mom loved music. Night and day I was immersed in the music of the 30's, 40's and 50's trying to select those pieces that touched an emotional cord within me, releasing memories which would confirm, yes that one, she'd love that one!

All this memory lane stuff had me out of step with time; lost in a fog of remembrance.

My dreams were filled with stories of being late for events. I'd wake up feeling that I was running behind. It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed and most days I'd wait til the latest possible moment making my dreams a reality. I couldn't catch up with life.

One such morning I was to meet with the pastor and my brother so that we could go over the memorial and give him some details about Mom's life and her personality. Already running late, I grabbed my full bottle of "blessed, healed" water as I ran out of the house, jumped into the car and sped off with it tucked neatly by my side. Meeting literal roadblocks and detour after detour, though the nursing home is only blocks away, my frustration exploded into a stream of expletives that would "turn the air blue" as my Dad would say. 

And it felt... sooo good... so relieving... that I let 'er rip, just like the scene of King GeorgeVI in THE KING'S SPEECH!

Then I remembered the poor water in the jar nestled beside me. I could see its crystals breaking apart, becoming blackened and distorted. 

I know that we are composed of over 90% water. The theory behind Emoto's experiments is that if water can be effected by thoughts and words then so can we. I swear that the swearing really, really helped me release a lot of tension. But what about the poor water? 

 I'd have to make it up to it. 

So after the meeting, back home and on my altar the jar went. I deluged it with chants, bringing in the big gun himself, the Dalai Lama, I drummed, treatment sessions were done, until I felt the water could feel the LOVE, HEALING and GRATITUDE directed its way, enough to be released back into the lake. I really don't know if this helped the water at all. All I know is that this too felt really, really good to me.