The word meditate came up four times yesterday.
1) I have been thinking about meditation for the past several months. I have been closing my eyes in the morning and getting to a quiet place. That usually results in me falling asleep. I have also been driving with the sound off in my car for years. I have been carving out quiet and alone time for myself as well. Going to the spa. Going to the gym. Not talking to my boyfriend when I come home. But I haven't quite made it to meditation. I've taken out two books from the library: How to Practice by the Dalai Lama and Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness and Creativity by David Lynch. I have had the Dalai Lama book for 3 months. I've picked it up, read it, been confused by it. I've checked it out three times in a row. Then I checked out the David Lynch book. I thought that was going to be a book that would tell me how to meditate. It was not. It was a great book that extolled the benefits of meditation. But it had nothing in terms of instruction. It was just, "Meditation is great. You should do it. This one time, when we were shooting Dune…." But I read it three times because it was so easy to read and it did feel comforting and it was related to how mediation affected his work. It was more of a pep talk in preparation to mediate. And for that, it was good.
2) My best friend Alanna responded to an email in which I requested some help working out some characters for a new pilot I'm writing. "I'll meditate on it." I thought that was an interesting choice of words, given my preoccupation with mediating.
3) My friend Jenn and I met up yesterday to talk about a play that she wrote and wanted my feedback on. Somehow we got on the topic of meditation and she mentioned to me a bunch of meditation apps that she uses and sent me some resources.
4) My friend Susan and I were talking yesterday about writing and family and other issues going on when she mentioned that she had started meditating again.
So it's in the air. I literally had it come in from four separate sources yesterday. Meditating is an important thing for me to do. I need to calm myself and center my mind. I have been thinking about it forever and it seems like the Universe is telling me it's time to get to it.
I need to find a quiet space. And maybe try out those meditation apps tonight.
I am grateful for the acknowledgement that my journey has been a good one.
I am grateful that I have friends who are talking about meditating.
I am grateful for my ability to listen to the Universe when it's speaking.
I am grateful for my upcoming trip to Portland.
I am grateful that I can see how everything that has happened in my life has lead me here.
I am grateful that I have come a long way.
I am grateful that I can finally see how long that way has been and that I can appreciate it.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Monday, March 24, 2014
My Uncle Died Yesterday
My Uncle Dai Hing died yesterday. He had been in a nursing home for years and he had a wife and family who were carrying for him. My Uncle also raised my Dad for three years and was the whole reason my Dad moved out to California from Hawaii.
When we went to Hawaii last year to spread my Dad's ashes, I went to visit my Uncle in the nursing home. I really thought I was just going to pay homage to him and fulfill a family obligation to see my sick uncle. What happened was astounding and life-changing. He looked like my Dad. He talked to me in a way that was instructive and gentle, even though he didn't know who I was. I had always thought about my Dad in relationship to his parents, but I never thought about the influence that my Uncle had on him. I described this visit in a previous blog post as having my Dad back for an hour.
I couldn't figure out yesterday why I was feeling so melancholy. I just figured I was tired. I figured I needed a day to just be slow. And now that I'm looking out at the windows of the library where I'm writing, I can see that Monday's weather is matching up with yesterday's feelings. But I now realize that my reflective and frankly sad mood had something to do with my Uncle.
I don't know if I would go as far as to say that it's like losing my Dad all over again, but I feel like another part of him is gone.
I am grateful that I had that visit with Dai Hing last year.
I am grateful that our entire family took that trip to Hawaii together.
I am grateful that I allowed myself to be sad yesterday instead of fighting it.
I am grateful that I have the memories of my Dad and my Uncle to keep me company.
When we went to Hawaii last year to spread my Dad's ashes, I went to visit my Uncle in the nursing home. I really thought I was just going to pay homage to him and fulfill a family obligation to see my sick uncle. What happened was astounding and life-changing. He looked like my Dad. He talked to me in a way that was instructive and gentle, even though he didn't know who I was. I had always thought about my Dad in relationship to his parents, but I never thought about the influence that my Uncle had on him. I described this visit in a previous blog post as having my Dad back for an hour.
I couldn't figure out yesterday why I was feeling so melancholy. I just figured I was tired. I figured I needed a day to just be slow. And now that I'm looking out at the windows of the library where I'm writing, I can see that Monday's weather is matching up with yesterday's feelings. But I now realize that my reflective and frankly sad mood had something to do with my Uncle.
I don't know if I would go as far as to say that it's like losing my Dad all over again, but I feel like another part of him is gone.
I am grateful that I had that visit with Dai Hing last year.
I am grateful that our entire family took that trip to Hawaii together.
I am grateful that I allowed myself to be sad yesterday instead of fighting it.
I am grateful that I have the memories of my Dad and my Uncle to keep me company.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
On a Spiritual Path...
What does that even mean?
I live in LA and over the years have listened to so many of my friends and acquaintances talk about how they're "not religious, but spiritual." I even used to describe myself this way for years. Now, I don't really defend myself. If people want to think of me as religious, that's fine. If they want to have a deeper conversation about life, then great.
Diana Nyad said something incredible about atheism about a year ago on an Oprah show. "Just because I'm an atheist doesn't mean I'm not full of wonder." That has to be the best description of atheism I've ever heard. Here's a woman who has clearly communed with nature and felt the expanse and wonder of it. There's a concentration and a tuning out of everything, a testing of one's body's limits, that in another context could be seen as a spiritual sojourn or quest. Atheism does not mean closed off. And religious or spiritual does not mean blind or naive or uninformed. Actually, being native can be a wonderful thing. It can mean childlike and fresh and full of wonder.
But all of those things are catchphrases. To experience true naivety or wonder is an amazing thing. It was naivety that got me on a plane to New York at 24 with no money in my pocket (well $800, but that's not much and I spent 1/4 of it on a dinner my first night in town). Naivety is responsible for a great many adventures in my life.
I didn't know it at 24 or at 14 or at 30, but I have been on a journey for higher learning, higher understanding and higher consciousness my whole life. It's even bigger than my worldly ambitions to be a career writer. I do care more about my personal growth than my financial growth. Maybe I'm ready to finally come out of the closet about that.
I don't have ambition. I thought for years that I did. I thought that I was the most ambitious person I knew. But what I thought was ambition was really curiosity. I am endlessly curious about people, about life, about how we are the way we are. I want to have experiences and I don't want to let any part of my life go unloved or my curiosity go unexplored.
When I was young, that curiosity had to do with education and had to do with exploring the world outside of my upbringing. At an early age, I knew I wanted to move to New York. At an early age, I knew that I would get out of my small suburb. I really was trying to get out of a consciousness that I could only do so much based on my physical circumstances: where I was from, who I was born to, what the belief system around me was. I quickly did away with that.
Then as my world got bigger, my curiosity became about my talent. Exploring that talent and that gift for all that it's worth. Fortunately, my curiosities don't just go away. I don't just move on from one to another. They get compiled and added to the group. I discovered my talent for writing truly in college and expanded that into graduate school.
Then I became more concerned with life and with gaining experience I didn't feel I had. As I got older and more attractive, I became obsessed with sexuality. And not addicted, per se. I realize now that my curiosity was strong in whatever area I focused on. And when I started to focus in on pleasure, well that became a real aphrodisiac, if you will. As a young person in New York in my 20s, I had sex with strangers and I had sex with friends. I went to sex parties. I went to sexual bars. I talked about sex. I thought about sex and I read about it. I wrote about it. I connected with people through sex and found a real short-lived intimacy with some of these people. It was all of these things at once: real, short lived and intimate. None of those things were a contradiction.
And how sexuality lead me to intimacy and how intimacy lead me to myself and how my self lead to spirituality is really the journey of my life thus far. It's why my plays are alternately and collectively about identity, creativity, sexuality and exploration. My curiosity has opened me up to write about loss when I'm feeling loss. Or about fathers and sons when I'm thinking about my own relationship with my father. This journey has led me back to the place I started at.
I started writing as a way to interpret what I was seeing in the world. It was a way for me to digest what I was learning. It was a filter, a microscope, a telescope, binoculars, and a camera. Sometimes it was my naked eye.
I have been on a part of my journey for the past ten years which led me outside of myself. Some of that has been seeking approval outwardly. Some of that has been very dangerous and a threat to my naivety and my curiosity. But none of that ever went away, it just laid dormant and waited out the storm. But the effect of the storm is that it decimated everything and forced me to rebuild, to reevaluate and to restore.
The reason I say that now I realize that I am curious and not ambitious is that if I was ambitious I would have said yes to an agent ten years ago. I would have done everything in my power to climb the ladder of material success. Ambition is seen purely as positive and as drive. Curiosity in this instance was easily mistaken for lack of drive or laziness. Some of it was fear, and fear was the catalyst of my 30s. But I wanted to have experiences that would make me a deeper person and that is exactly what happened. I got exactly what I wanted. It took me to some dark places in my life. It filled me with doubt and depression and put me in harms way through my own relationships with people who were addicts.
I realize now that my curiosity is what fuels me. And it's an alternate fuel. It can have the same power as ambition. But while ambition is the straight path, curiosity is the scenic route. Ambition is the plane ride. Curiosity is the road trip. It can be longer, but it's fuller. It's more enriching. It's taking time to stop at the sights and read the signs. It's discovering a trail that's not in the guidebooks.
So I will still get to that destination: to being a relevant TV fiction writer. I will staff on a show and create my own work. I will be a writer of note. But the person I am, in the skin I am in, will be different than the youngster who just wanted those things for outside validation. I don't judge that, but I have always been seeking a fuller existence. And that is what is right for me. I believe that having a public presence is vital to living. We have to share our experiences. But how big that sphere is really is up to us. We can expand or contain that sphere based on fear, based on our own needs, based on our need to share.
All of that can be both misguided and ordained. I now understand the power of words. A lot of this journey was about understanding the power of my gift.
Years ago my friend Brian said to me, "Oh, you're still at it." Meaning writing. And I felt a lot of shame after he said that because I felt like he was staying that I hadn't fulfilled my promise. I heard him say, "Oh you're still at it." It took me a long time to get over that. And knowing Brian like I know him, I know he didn't intend it to come across as a core-shaking judgment. I took it on that way.
But yes, I will still be at it for the rest of my life. That's the idea. It's not a destination that I will reach and then put my feet up. I'm not done.
I'm still curious. I haven't lived a life of expanse yet. Not expense, but expanse. I have not taken these lessons and curiosities global. And I believe that's a part of my journey. If all of this prosperity and gain is just for me, then I don't think it will be mine. I don't think that's my deep purpose. The journey is more than that. My expanse has to benefit everyone. My material wealth has to have a purpose. My adventures to countries outside of the U.S. have to carry a greater resonance. My joy has to mean more than just what benefits me.
So yes, I am still at it. I am still curious. And that's what keeps me connected to the fresh soul who arrived here to explore. I might have more stamps on my passport, but I'm no less excited and curious as I was when I got my first one.
I am grateful for Super Soul Sunday's episode with Shirley Maclaine.
I am grateful for Oprah.
I am grateful for these words that seemed to explain so much in ways I have not been able to access.
I am grateful for a life well lived and that will continue for years to come.
I am grateful for my curiosity.
I am grateful for the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity even more.
I am grateful for the distinction between curiosity and ambition.
I am grateful for the understanding and the acceptance that comes with that distinction.
I am grateful for the joy that understanding and acceptance bring me.
I am grateful for the peace that comes from that joy.
I live in LA and over the years have listened to so many of my friends and acquaintances talk about how they're "not religious, but spiritual." I even used to describe myself this way for years. Now, I don't really defend myself. If people want to think of me as religious, that's fine. If they want to have a deeper conversation about life, then great.
Diana Nyad said something incredible about atheism about a year ago on an Oprah show. "Just because I'm an atheist doesn't mean I'm not full of wonder." That has to be the best description of atheism I've ever heard. Here's a woman who has clearly communed with nature and felt the expanse and wonder of it. There's a concentration and a tuning out of everything, a testing of one's body's limits, that in another context could be seen as a spiritual sojourn or quest. Atheism does not mean closed off. And religious or spiritual does not mean blind or naive or uninformed. Actually, being native can be a wonderful thing. It can mean childlike and fresh and full of wonder.
But all of those things are catchphrases. To experience true naivety or wonder is an amazing thing. It was naivety that got me on a plane to New York at 24 with no money in my pocket (well $800, but that's not much and I spent 1/4 of it on a dinner my first night in town). Naivety is responsible for a great many adventures in my life.
I didn't know it at 24 or at 14 or at 30, but I have been on a journey for higher learning, higher understanding and higher consciousness my whole life. It's even bigger than my worldly ambitions to be a career writer. I do care more about my personal growth than my financial growth. Maybe I'm ready to finally come out of the closet about that.
I don't have ambition. I thought for years that I did. I thought that I was the most ambitious person I knew. But what I thought was ambition was really curiosity. I am endlessly curious about people, about life, about how we are the way we are. I want to have experiences and I don't want to let any part of my life go unloved or my curiosity go unexplored.
When I was young, that curiosity had to do with education and had to do with exploring the world outside of my upbringing. At an early age, I knew I wanted to move to New York. At an early age, I knew that I would get out of my small suburb. I really was trying to get out of a consciousness that I could only do so much based on my physical circumstances: where I was from, who I was born to, what the belief system around me was. I quickly did away with that.
Then as my world got bigger, my curiosity became about my talent. Exploring that talent and that gift for all that it's worth. Fortunately, my curiosities don't just go away. I don't just move on from one to another. They get compiled and added to the group. I discovered my talent for writing truly in college and expanded that into graduate school.
Then I became more concerned with life and with gaining experience I didn't feel I had. As I got older and more attractive, I became obsessed with sexuality. And not addicted, per se. I realize now that my curiosity was strong in whatever area I focused on. And when I started to focus in on pleasure, well that became a real aphrodisiac, if you will. As a young person in New York in my 20s, I had sex with strangers and I had sex with friends. I went to sex parties. I went to sexual bars. I talked about sex. I thought about sex and I read about it. I wrote about it. I connected with people through sex and found a real short-lived intimacy with some of these people. It was all of these things at once: real, short lived and intimate. None of those things were a contradiction.
And how sexuality lead me to intimacy and how intimacy lead me to myself and how my self lead to spirituality is really the journey of my life thus far. It's why my plays are alternately and collectively about identity, creativity, sexuality and exploration. My curiosity has opened me up to write about loss when I'm feeling loss. Or about fathers and sons when I'm thinking about my own relationship with my father. This journey has led me back to the place I started at.
I started writing as a way to interpret what I was seeing in the world. It was a way for me to digest what I was learning. It was a filter, a microscope, a telescope, binoculars, and a camera. Sometimes it was my naked eye.
I have been on a part of my journey for the past ten years which led me outside of myself. Some of that has been seeking approval outwardly. Some of that has been very dangerous and a threat to my naivety and my curiosity. But none of that ever went away, it just laid dormant and waited out the storm. But the effect of the storm is that it decimated everything and forced me to rebuild, to reevaluate and to restore.
The reason I say that now I realize that I am curious and not ambitious is that if I was ambitious I would have said yes to an agent ten years ago. I would have done everything in my power to climb the ladder of material success. Ambition is seen purely as positive and as drive. Curiosity in this instance was easily mistaken for lack of drive or laziness. Some of it was fear, and fear was the catalyst of my 30s. But I wanted to have experiences that would make me a deeper person and that is exactly what happened. I got exactly what I wanted. It took me to some dark places in my life. It filled me with doubt and depression and put me in harms way through my own relationships with people who were addicts.
I realize now that my curiosity is what fuels me. And it's an alternate fuel. It can have the same power as ambition. But while ambition is the straight path, curiosity is the scenic route. Ambition is the plane ride. Curiosity is the road trip. It can be longer, but it's fuller. It's more enriching. It's taking time to stop at the sights and read the signs. It's discovering a trail that's not in the guidebooks.
So I will still get to that destination: to being a relevant TV fiction writer. I will staff on a show and create my own work. I will be a writer of note. But the person I am, in the skin I am in, will be different than the youngster who just wanted those things for outside validation. I don't judge that, but I have always been seeking a fuller existence. And that is what is right for me. I believe that having a public presence is vital to living. We have to share our experiences. But how big that sphere is really is up to us. We can expand or contain that sphere based on fear, based on our own needs, based on our need to share.
All of that can be both misguided and ordained. I now understand the power of words. A lot of this journey was about understanding the power of my gift.
Years ago my friend Brian said to me, "Oh, you're still at it." Meaning writing. And I felt a lot of shame after he said that because I felt like he was staying that I hadn't fulfilled my promise. I heard him say, "Oh you're still at it." It took me a long time to get over that. And knowing Brian like I know him, I know he didn't intend it to come across as a core-shaking judgment. I took it on that way.
But yes, I will still be at it for the rest of my life. That's the idea. It's not a destination that I will reach and then put my feet up. I'm not done.
I'm still curious. I haven't lived a life of expanse yet. Not expense, but expanse. I have not taken these lessons and curiosities global. And I believe that's a part of my journey. If all of this prosperity and gain is just for me, then I don't think it will be mine. I don't think that's my deep purpose. The journey is more than that. My expanse has to benefit everyone. My material wealth has to have a purpose. My adventures to countries outside of the U.S. have to carry a greater resonance. My joy has to mean more than just what benefits me.
So yes, I am still at it. I am still curious. And that's what keeps me connected to the fresh soul who arrived here to explore. I might have more stamps on my passport, but I'm no less excited and curious as I was when I got my first one.
I am grateful for Super Soul Sunday's episode with Shirley Maclaine.
I am grateful for Oprah.
I am grateful for these words that seemed to explain so much in ways I have not been able to access.
I am grateful for a life well lived and that will continue for years to come.
I am grateful for my curiosity.
I am grateful for the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity even more.
I am grateful for the distinction between curiosity and ambition.
I am grateful for the understanding and the acceptance that comes with that distinction.
I am grateful for the joy that understanding and acceptance bring me.
I am grateful for the peace that comes from that joy.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Food and Memories
Tonight I was at the local Mexican supermarket in my neighborhood…
Seeing the brown faces at the deli
Or the grandmother's picking out produce
Or the smells coming from the carneceria
made me think of my Grandmother.
So I grabbed an apple turnover from the paneceria,
brought it home
and now I am enjoying it with my hot tea.
(I gave up coffee three years ago)
It's almost like my Grandmother's old ritual
of sitting down at 9:30 or 10 at night
and having a little pan dulce
with her cafecito.
That's pretty much the extent of my Spanish.
Food.
And food is pretty much my entry into
a lot of experiences.
I noticed that there's a ramen festival in San Gabriel
next weekend.
That's something my Dad would have taken me
to.
Everytime something tastes delicious I think of him.
He loved the stories of my food adventures:
the orange creme angel hair in Florence,
the wild boar ragu,
wines,
sushi,
anything adventurous and exotic. My Dad loved to hear about it all.
And my Grandmother would take us to the market
and we would watch the tortillas being made by machine.
My Dad would take us to really stinky Chinese or Korean
markets.
Or we would go to the Chinese deli and eat something that
was chock full of sodium.
I remember the looks I would give him
when he was sick
and he dragged me to the Asian market
so he could get jok, a rice porridge,
or lau lay with butterfish and pork.
It all had too much salt in it,
and he had to watch his salt
because he was dying.
But he was really dying from hearing me
talk about all the foods he couldn't eat.
But he didn't care.
He didn't want to live
in a tasteless world.
So if he was digging himself
into an early grave, he was
happy to hold the shovel.
I wish he had just told me earlier,
"Listen, I don't want to live, so
let's just go out eating whatever
the fuck I want to."
I wish now we could have had some
crazy extravagant meals.
It would have been fun to take him out
and show him a few things I knew
about eating.
I remember the last lunch we had out.
We met up with his friends at a steak house
in Van Nuys called The Sherman Room.
He ate all the steak, fries and ketchup he
could handle.
I looked the other way.
I wish I had been more permissive.
Food was what he loved.
And I kept restricting him from it
because I thought it was keeping him
alive.
I kept restricting love.
How ironic because that's
what he did with me
my whole life.
I guess I learned from the master.
My Grandmother never kept any indulgence
from me.
Her tamales were the best.
We haven't made them in years,
since my Dad got sick.
I think we need to make them again this Christmas.
I miss them both.
It's hard.
To have those memories
and not to continue to share
with them,
or create new ones.
I am grateful for those memories.
I am grateful for the traditions that have been passed on.
I am grateful for my ability to cook.
I am grateful that I have a niece and two nephews to pass on those traditions to.
Seeing the brown faces at the deli
Or the grandmother's picking out produce
Or the smells coming from the carneceria
made me think of my Grandmother.
So I grabbed an apple turnover from the paneceria,
brought it home
and now I am enjoying it with my hot tea.
(I gave up coffee three years ago)
It's almost like my Grandmother's old ritual
of sitting down at 9:30 or 10 at night
and having a little pan dulce
with her cafecito.
That's pretty much the extent of my Spanish.
Food.
And food is pretty much my entry into
a lot of experiences.
I noticed that there's a ramen festival in San Gabriel
next weekend.
That's something my Dad would have taken me
to.
Everytime something tastes delicious I think of him.
He loved the stories of my food adventures:
the orange creme angel hair in Florence,
the wild boar ragu,
wines,
sushi,
anything adventurous and exotic. My Dad loved to hear about it all.
And my Grandmother would take us to the market
and we would watch the tortillas being made by machine.
My Dad would take us to really stinky Chinese or Korean
markets.
Or we would go to the Chinese deli and eat something that
was chock full of sodium.
I remember the looks I would give him
when he was sick
and he dragged me to the Asian market
so he could get jok, a rice porridge,
or lau lay with butterfish and pork.
It all had too much salt in it,
and he had to watch his salt
because he was dying.
But he was really dying from hearing me
talk about all the foods he couldn't eat.
But he didn't care.
He didn't want to live
in a tasteless world.
So if he was digging himself
into an early grave, he was
happy to hold the shovel.
I wish he had just told me earlier,
"Listen, I don't want to live, so
let's just go out eating whatever
the fuck I want to."
I wish now we could have had some
crazy extravagant meals.
It would have been fun to take him out
and show him a few things I knew
about eating.
I remember the last lunch we had out.
We met up with his friends at a steak house
in Van Nuys called The Sherman Room.
He ate all the steak, fries and ketchup he
could handle.
I looked the other way.
I wish I had been more permissive.
Food was what he loved.
And I kept restricting him from it
because I thought it was keeping him
alive.
I kept restricting love.
How ironic because that's
what he did with me
my whole life.
I guess I learned from the master.
My Grandmother never kept any indulgence
from me.
Her tamales were the best.
We haven't made them in years,
since my Dad got sick.
I think we need to make them again this Christmas.
I miss them both.
It's hard.
To have those memories
and not to continue to share
with them,
or create new ones.
I am grateful for those memories.
I am grateful for the traditions that have been passed on.
I am grateful for my ability to cook.
I am grateful that I have a niece and two nephews to pass on those traditions to.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Hey, Old Friends
That's a song from Sondheim's Merrily We Roll Along, a musical I love.
Hey old friend
Are you okay, old friend?
What do you say, old friend?
Are we or are we unique?
Time goes by, everything else keeps changing
You and I we get continued next week.
Most friends fade
Or they don't make the grade
New ones are quickly made
And in a pinch, sure they'll do
But us, old friend, what's to discuss old friend
Here's to us
Who's like us?
Damn few…
Last night I dreamt about my old friends from college, but in particular one group. We were all friends and a bit on the fringes. Actually, I hung with them, but also felt a bit on the fringe from them as well. My friends Julie, Eric and Jessica. They were like the merry band all together. I bounced around a lot. But they were thick as thieves. And Eric was one of my best friends. I adored him.
So last night, we were all together for some occasion. Like in the dream I documented on the blog a few weeks ago, we are all adults. And we were reunited. A funny moment in the dream was when I waved to my friend Jessica, and then from behind her, my ex roommate Peter, who considered me an arch nemesis throughout college, thought I was waving at him and waved back.
If I can remember back from the dream I had before, the adult versions of ourselves interacting with each other means that there is integration from the person I was in college and who I am today. The dream reminded me that I'm on the right path and that the person I need to be today is here. I have come back to the person I was in college.
Thanks, old friends for showing up for me.
I am grateful for these dreams that reveal truths to me.
I am grateful for old friends, people who have known me.
I am grateful for the adventures that this next stage in my life will bring.
Hey old friend
Are you okay, old friend?
What do you say, old friend?
Are we or are we unique?
Time goes by, everything else keeps changing
You and I we get continued next week.
Most friends fade
Or they don't make the grade
New ones are quickly made
And in a pinch, sure they'll do
But us, old friend, what's to discuss old friend
Here's to us
Who's like us?
Damn few…
Last night I dreamt about my old friends from college, but in particular one group. We were all friends and a bit on the fringes. Actually, I hung with them, but also felt a bit on the fringe from them as well. My friends Julie, Eric and Jessica. They were like the merry band all together. I bounced around a lot. But they were thick as thieves. And Eric was one of my best friends. I adored him.
So last night, we were all together for some occasion. Like in the dream I documented on the blog a few weeks ago, we are all adults. And we were reunited. A funny moment in the dream was when I waved to my friend Jessica, and then from behind her, my ex roommate Peter, who considered me an arch nemesis throughout college, thought I was waving at him and waved back.
If I can remember back from the dream I had before, the adult versions of ourselves interacting with each other means that there is integration from the person I was in college and who I am today. The dream reminded me that I'm on the right path and that the person I need to be today is here. I have come back to the person I was in college.
Thanks, old friends for showing up for me.
I am grateful for these dreams that reveal truths to me.
I am grateful for old friends, people who have known me.
I am grateful for the adventures that this next stage in my life will bring.
Detour
Last night, I was driving to my Mom's house. I usually go visit my Mom once a week, to check in to see how she's doing and all. So last night I was on the freeway and there were some closures, so I got off early.
Then on the street I had turned off on, there was a closure, and all of a sudden I found myself crossing over the freeway (which by the way, did not look closed off). I was on a street called Eastern which I had been on a lot as a kid on my way to my Grandmother's house. Then I saw her street: Triggs. I was in her old neighborhood. Then I figured…I have to go by her old apartment now.
So I drove down the street, crossed a few streets I didn't recognize. The neighborhood looked completely different from what I remembered. There are a lot more gates around the properties than there were when I was growing up. So then I get to her apartment building.
I remember being a kid and walking down the street that bordered hers, Downey Road, to go to the "little market", which was the corner store we used to go to when we wanted snacks or candy. I remember a lot of times in that two bedroom apartment. It was my sanctuary.
Even though I grew up in a nicer neighborhood only a few miles away from her, I have a real connection to my time in East LA when I used to go visit. Then I remembered something the tarot cards said:
Remember your past successes and let them buoy you to your future success.
My life story is that I overcame my circumstances to become the person I am. I overcame coming from a lower middle class background to go to a prestigious high school, to college and eventually to graduate school at NYU. And when I look at my current circumstances in life, they seem so far away from where I want to be.
But I've been here before.
And if I can overcome my circumstances once, I can do it again.
yes, my circumstances are much better than where I came from. But now there's another hurdle I want to jump.
No problem.
I am grateful that fate brought me back to my Grandmother's apartment to remind me that I have overcome my circumstances before with great, unbelievable and surprising success.
I am grateful that my Grandmother's spirit is guiding me.
I am grateful that the lessons of the tarot reading continue to come through for me.
I am grateful for everything I have because I have A LOT.
I am grateful that there still is hope and wonder in my heart.
I am grateful for where I have come from.
Then on the street I had turned off on, there was a closure, and all of a sudden I found myself crossing over the freeway (which by the way, did not look closed off). I was on a street called Eastern which I had been on a lot as a kid on my way to my Grandmother's house. Then I saw her street: Triggs. I was in her old neighborhood. Then I figured…I have to go by her old apartment now.
So I drove down the street, crossed a few streets I didn't recognize. The neighborhood looked completely different from what I remembered. There are a lot more gates around the properties than there were when I was growing up. So then I get to her apartment building.
I remember being a kid and walking down the street that bordered hers, Downey Road, to go to the "little market", which was the corner store we used to go to when we wanted snacks or candy. I remember a lot of times in that two bedroom apartment. It was my sanctuary.
Even though I grew up in a nicer neighborhood only a few miles away from her, I have a real connection to my time in East LA when I used to go visit. Then I remembered something the tarot cards said:
Remember your past successes and let them buoy you to your future success.
My life story is that I overcame my circumstances to become the person I am. I overcame coming from a lower middle class background to go to a prestigious high school, to college and eventually to graduate school at NYU. And when I look at my current circumstances in life, they seem so far away from where I want to be.
But I've been here before.
And if I can overcome my circumstances once, I can do it again.
yes, my circumstances are much better than where I came from. But now there's another hurdle I want to jump.
No problem.
I am grateful that fate brought me back to my Grandmother's apartment to remind me that I have overcome my circumstances before with great, unbelievable and surprising success.
I am grateful that my Grandmother's spirit is guiding me.
I am grateful that the lessons of the tarot reading continue to come through for me.
I am grateful for everything I have because I have A LOT.
I am grateful that there still is hope and wonder in my heart.
I am grateful for where I have come from.
Friday, February 7, 2014
The Dream
My tarot card reading from December said that in the steps coming up I need to pay special attention to my dreams. My powers of intuition are going to pay a big role in what's to come and that I need to trust the messages that are being sent to me. I need to remain silent and hear the sounds of the universe around me telling me where I need to be.
I have had very vivid dreams over the past two to three weeks especially. I knew that my dreams were speaking to me, but I really had no idea what they were saying. I just knew that they were VIVID. I went online and looked up what that might mean and one of the interpretations was that I might have mental health issues.
Well, that didn't sound too encouraging.
But I knew that there was a high level of creativity there because my dreams were so specific and so artful. There were songs and there were high levels of storytelling in my dreams. I would have paid money to see the movie version of my dreams and not just for symbolism, but also for their storytelling. I knew that there was a message in them somewhere, but I didn't know what. I just knew that they were striking visually and it seemed like they were trying to get my attention.
Last night I had a dream that I was back in Portland, but like all of my dreamscapes, this Portland was more visual, more magical and more exciting in some ways. I love Portland. My brother and his family lives there. I used to live there. There's a possibility of me doing some big things there. But it holds a special place in my heart.
In this dream, I was on the streets, visiting friends, going through neighborhoods. It was a little Portlyn, meaning it was a mix of what I remember about Brooklyn and Portland combined. Maybe that's why it felt more vivid to me. I was there for some sort of conference or meeting. Wieden and Kennedy, the ad agency I used to work for, was having some sort of event there. Everything about it felt ideal. It felt like the ideal place to live and work and be a part of. It felt intensely creative and exciting.
I was walking back to my hotel because I had to head back home and suddenly a raccoon has a tight grip on my hand. It's like a vice. I try to shake it off, but it stays on there. I shake it off, it hops back on. I shake it off, it hops back on. Eventually, I shake it off and head into the back entrance of the hotel.
Immediately, when I get to the hotel two of my closest friends from my Portland days are arriving at the hotel, Chris and Jarrett. They've got huge smiles on their faces and they're glad to see me. They're actually super excited to see me and I notice something. They look like their current pictures in Facebook. I haven't seen Jarrett in many, many years. I haven't seen Flanny (my nickname for Chris) in at least five years. They've got their suitcases and they just got there. We can't believe we're running into each other. They wonder if there's any way I can stay.
I tell them that I'll go up to my room and see if I can keep it. It's Room 417. I also need to see if I can change my flight. It's less than two hours before I need to be home and I am already late in heading to the airport. Chris writes down his room number so I don't forget. Room 517. Exactly one floor up from my room.
I try and call my boyfriend. He's not answering. I'm not sure if I'm calling to tell him I might not be coming home or if I'm looking for him. Then I head back up to the room. It's a gorgeous suite and no one is in it.
I see my friend Tove on the streets.
I get an Instagram video from old high school friends, all looking like their present day selves. They send me a video from the beach to wish me well.
Here is why that dream had such an effect on me and why I feel it has something to say:
The tarot cards said that I need to pay attention to my dreams for clues in the steps coming up in my life. I have for a very long time had dreams about high school, dreams about Portland, dreams about my past that always seemed to be about the person I used to be. They were nostalgic. They felt like a long ago time in my distant past. I felt very removed from those memories. But I have those dreams at least once a month, if not more, and I have had them for years. It felt like I was living in the past and I didn't know how to get back to that person.
This was the first time I was having a dream about friends from my past who are in the present and in a place that represents a utopia. I felt like Chris and Jarrett were asking me if I was going to stay in this place or if I really wanted to go back home. I desperately wanted to stay.
I am no longer remembering the past in the past. And I realize now that those previous dreams were not about times I wanted to relive. The dreams were about the person I was. And now that those people who represent a time in my life where I was truly myself and truly happy and fulfilled exist in my present (or a version of my utopian future), that means that I am living as that person in my present.
It means that truly…I am back.
The significance of the room numbers seemed to be that I was going from 417 to 517. I am going to take things to the next level.
I now know that those dreams were about getting that person back. And sure there's fear--in part of the dream I had a loose tooth (which signifies feeling doubt or incompetence)--but that was such a minor part of the dream. Most of the dream was about the person I am now reclaiming myself, my true self in a place that represents truly who I am.
The Brooklyn/Portland mash up represents a state of mind more than going back to New York or Portland. Place doesn't define me. But when I am in a mental place where I feel truly alive and fulfilled, I will always feel like it's the most beautiful, the most exciting and the most creative place.
The fear fuels me, it no longer defines me. It does not hold me back. The cards said: "There can be no courage without fear to inspire it."
I am back.
I even saw my friend Tove, from my old Portland days, who wished me well.
And the raccoon? The raccoon, according to dream interpretations, represents a secret or deceit. And it was covering up my hand. I'm a writer, so it seems like the deceit is the way I deceive myself or keep the secret of who I am from people. And finally I threw him off…my writing hand. My writing talent is no longer a secret!!!!!! And the hand was closed. A hand closed or clasped represents unity, completeness, acceptance or agreement according to the dream interpretation. I am unified. The person I am on the inside is now the same as the person people see.
Like my cards said, that person is:
An Entrepreneur
A Self Starter
He Uses His Full Potential
He Has Relentless Drive and Energy
He is Self Reliant and Confident
The Card is no longer Inverted. I am no longer inverted. I was deceiving myself in thinking about myself as anything other than as an entrepreneur, a self starter, someone who uses his full potential, who has relentless drive and energy and who is self reliant and confident. That is no longer a secret.
I am no longer a secret.
I am unified.
I am complete.
I am accepting of myself.
I am in agreement on the inside and on the outside.
I remember a few years ago, I had gone on a spiritual journey with a Shaman and was approached by someone who saw all of me. And he said,
"I see you. You are a warrior. You are amazing. You have it all. You are everything."
And…
"You have never made a mistake in your life. Everything in your life is exactly as it was meant to be. Start living your life as if you have never made a mistake."
I finally got there last night in this dream.
This journey of the past three plus years I thought started the minute I walked out the door from my boyfriend of five years and nine days.
But this journey started with my spiritual, Shaman-guided journey.
Remarkable.
Everything in the tarot cards is now revealed to me. I am seeing everything manifested. I am unified with my mission, my destiny, and my spiritual power.
It is truly awesome.
I am grateful for this dream.
I am grateful for always following my instinct.
I am grateful that I have never made a mistake in all of my life.
I am grateful to be back.
I am grateful to live in the fullness of my potential, in the fullness of my awareness.
I am grateful that I woke up this morning and transcribed this dream with my full openness.
The tarot cards said that if I already think I am open minded, I need to go further. And I think getting in touch with my intuitive powers is allowing me to go further.
I am gone.
I have had very vivid dreams over the past two to three weeks especially. I knew that my dreams were speaking to me, but I really had no idea what they were saying. I just knew that they were VIVID. I went online and looked up what that might mean and one of the interpretations was that I might have mental health issues.
Well, that didn't sound too encouraging.
But I knew that there was a high level of creativity there because my dreams were so specific and so artful. There were songs and there were high levels of storytelling in my dreams. I would have paid money to see the movie version of my dreams and not just for symbolism, but also for their storytelling. I knew that there was a message in them somewhere, but I didn't know what. I just knew that they were striking visually and it seemed like they were trying to get my attention.
Last night I had a dream that I was back in Portland, but like all of my dreamscapes, this Portland was more visual, more magical and more exciting in some ways. I love Portland. My brother and his family lives there. I used to live there. There's a possibility of me doing some big things there. But it holds a special place in my heart.
In this dream, I was on the streets, visiting friends, going through neighborhoods. It was a little Portlyn, meaning it was a mix of what I remember about Brooklyn and Portland combined. Maybe that's why it felt more vivid to me. I was there for some sort of conference or meeting. Wieden and Kennedy, the ad agency I used to work for, was having some sort of event there. Everything about it felt ideal. It felt like the ideal place to live and work and be a part of. It felt intensely creative and exciting.
I was walking back to my hotel because I had to head back home and suddenly a raccoon has a tight grip on my hand. It's like a vice. I try to shake it off, but it stays on there. I shake it off, it hops back on. I shake it off, it hops back on. Eventually, I shake it off and head into the back entrance of the hotel.
Immediately, when I get to the hotel two of my closest friends from my Portland days are arriving at the hotel, Chris and Jarrett. They've got huge smiles on their faces and they're glad to see me. They're actually super excited to see me and I notice something. They look like their current pictures in Facebook. I haven't seen Jarrett in many, many years. I haven't seen Flanny (my nickname for Chris) in at least five years. They've got their suitcases and they just got there. We can't believe we're running into each other. They wonder if there's any way I can stay.
I tell them that I'll go up to my room and see if I can keep it. It's Room 417. I also need to see if I can change my flight. It's less than two hours before I need to be home and I am already late in heading to the airport. Chris writes down his room number so I don't forget. Room 517. Exactly one floor up from my room.
I try and call my boyfriend. He's not answering. I'm not sure if I'm calling to tell him I might not be coming home or if I'm looking for him. Then I head back up to the room. It's a gorgeous suite and no one is in it.
I see my friend Tove on the streets.
I get an Instagram video from old high school friends, all looking like their present day selves. They send me a video from the beach to wish me well.
Here is why that dream had such an effect on me and why I feel it has something to say:
The tarot cards said that I need to pay attention to my dreams for clues in the steps coming up in my life. I have for a very long time had dreams about high school, dreams about Portland, dreams about my past that always seemed to be about the person I used to be. They were nostalgic. They felt like a long ago time in my distant past. I felt very removed from those memories. But I have those dreams at least once a month, if not more, and I have had them for years. It felt like I was living in the past and I didn't know how to get back to that person.
This was the first time I was having a dream about friends from my past who are in the present and in a place that represents a utopia. I felt like Chris and Jarrett were asking me if I was going to stay in this place or if I really wanted to go back home. I desperately wanted to stay.
I am no longer remembering the past in the past. And I realize now that those previous dreams were not about times I wanted to relive. The dreams were about the person I was. And now that those people who represent a time in my life where I was truly myself and truly happy and fulfilled exist in my present (or a version of my utopian future), that means that I am living as that person in my present.
It means that truly…I am back.
The significance of the room numbers seemed to be that I was going from 417 to 517. I am going to take things to the next level.
I now know that those dreams were about getting that person back. And sure there's fear--in part of the dream I had a loose tooth (which signifies feeling doubt or incompetence)--but that was such a minor part of the dream. Most of the dream was about the person I am now reclaiming myself, my true self in a place that represents truly who I am.
The Brooklyn/Portland mash up represents a state of mind more than going back to New York or Portland. Place doesn't define me. But when I am in a mental place where I feel truly alive and fulfilled, I will always feel like it's the most beautiful, the most exciting and the most creative place.
The fear fuels me, it no longer defines me. It does not hold me back. The cards said: "There can be no courage without fear to inspire it."
I am back.
I even saw my friend Tove, from my old Portland days, who wished me well.
And the raccoon? The raccoon, according to dream interpretations, represents a secret or deceit. And it was covering up my hand. I'm a writer, so it seems like the deceit is the way I deceive myself or keep the secret of who I am from people. And finally I threw him off…my writing hand. My writing talent is no longer a secret!!!!!! And the hand was closed. A hand closed or clasped represents unity, completeness, acceptance or agreement according to the dream interpretation. I am unified. The person I am on the inside is now the same as the person people see.
Like my cards said, that person is:
An Entrepreneur
A Self Starter
He Uses His Full Potential
He Has Relentless Drive and Energy
He is Self Reliant and Confident
The Card is no longer Inverted. I am no longer inverted. I was deceiving myself in thinking about myself as anything other than as an entrepreneur, a self starter, someone who uses his full potential, who has relentless drive and energy and who is self reliant and confident. That is no longer a secret.
I am no longer a secret.
I am unified.
I am complete.
I am accepting of myself.
I am in agreement on the inside and on the outside.
I remember a few years ago, I had gone on a spiritual journey with a Shaman and was approached by someone who saw all of me. And he said,
"I see you. You are a warrior. You are amazing. You have it all. You are everything."
And…
"You have never made a mistake in your life. Everything in your life is exactly as it was meant to be. Start living your life as if you have never made a mistake."
I finally got there last night in this dream.
This journey of the past three plus years I thought started the minute I walked out the door from my boyfriend of five years and nine days.
But this journey started with my spiritual, Shaman-guided journey.
Remarkable.
Everything in the tarot cards is now revealed to me. I am seeing everything manifested. I am unified with my mission, my destiny, and my spiritual power.
It is truly awesome.
I am grateful for this dream.
I am grateful for always following my instinct.
I am grateful that I have never made a mistake in all of my life.
I am grateful to be back.
I am grateful to live in the fullness of my potential, in the fullness of my awareness.
I am grateful that I woke up this morning and transcribed this dream with my full openness.
The tarot cards said that if I already think I am open minded, I need to go further. And I think getting in touch with my intuitive powers is allowing me to go further.
I am gone.
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