DRIFTLESS BOOKS IS HAPPY TO PRESENT THE FOLLOWING EVENT:

A Great Benefit Show for WDRT September 27 @ 7pm with Activist/Performer David Rovics

(and special guest Allegra Wakest)

Advance Tickets will be available for purchase at Driftless Books starting Tue, (9-14)

(Please support our new local radio station by buying a $10 ticket in advance (and you’ll be doing the station and the community a great service, even if you can’t make the show!)

For more info about David Rovics, go to http:www.davidrovics.com

QUESTIONS? Contact Driftless Books

538 Walnut, Viroqua, WI 54665

or Call 608.638-BOOK (2665)

How can we help?  What steps can we take to try to restore her to a place of wholeness?  Is there any doubt that she’s feeling an overwhelming sense of blame?  It reminds me of all the times I had nightmares where I was responsible for someone’s death, but then I got to wake up…  Nothing can compare to that feeling of utter devastation & horror that goes along with self-blame.  I can only pray that her community gathers around her & holds her & lets her cry & scream & be there for her as much & for as long as she needs them to.  I hope they continue to encourage her to go through the stages of grief, including anger, which can be so hard for people (especially women).  I hope that somehow she will eventually find peace in her heart, with the understanding that those wonderful young men wouldn’t want her to blame herself, & would hope that she could learn to forgive herself completely.

Through all of this is a sense of helplessness I feel to help people who are hurting, even though I know that there’s nothing I can really DO to stop the hurt for them.  I can show up, bring a dish of food; be present, but only time will heal acute pain.  I know the scars will always be there for them, and I pray that the community will continue to gather to rub balm into those scars, to make them more bearable.  Many of us will want to hide, because it is so hard to face, but I hope beyond hope that we can put our fears to the side & stand by these broken hearts, so at least the tunnel of utter darkness they are living in has many little lights peering through to help remind them that they will not live in that tunnel forever.  It will take a long time to get to any place of “normalcy” again for all of these folks, and I hope that we can be in it for the long haul, as I know people often times lose endurance for the grief of others over time.

As always, when Death comes, I am reminded once again, that every moment is precious, every relationship sacred, every breath I take may be my last, & I vow, once again, to live every minute like it was my last & treat every person I meet as if I may never see them again.

I am always here for anyone who wants to vent, scream, cry, or just talk about Death & the grieving process…You are not alone.

Lycopus americanus (Bugleweed)

I overcame Hyperthyroidism (Graves’ disease) without drugs or surgery after being told by my Endocrinologist that this would be an impossible feat. Of course now I have to add a disclaimer & say that this is only my personal story & that I am not a physician & don’t necessarily recommend people try this at home.  I can’t be held personally responsible for a person’s choice to cure themselves.  Let’s see, what else…Oh, right, If you have been diagnosed with Graves’ disease, please seek the help of a licensed endocrinologist & ask if the herb Bugleweed might be right for you.  There, I think that about covers it.  Here’s the short version: Please don’t sue me, & if you do, you’ll wind up spending more on lawyers than you wind up acquiring from me, I can assure you of that.  Now, where was I?  Oh, right, the story:

About 15 years ago, while I was still living in Chicago, I began having symptoms which were mysterious & very disturbing.  To name a few: I would suddenly begin crying for no reason; lose my temper in a fit of terrifying rage, & I was dropping weight without trying.  Sometimes I would have the feeling that I was a spectator, witnessing my rage from the sidelines; I felt like a prisoner, unable to control myself, & it was starting to cause serious problems in my personal life.

Some of the things I would witness myself saying & doing were pretty bizarre.   I remember one time in particular when I scared my cats into hiding for 2 days.  I had viciously accused my boyfriend of being a freak because he did not want to take a bath in the same water I had just bathed in, because “All I did was soak in it!”  I recall screaming at him at the top of my lungs “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?”  Later, upon reflection, I thought maybe the explanation was obvious: I was simply going insane.

A couple weeks later during a routine gynecological appointment, the nurse noticed that the front of my throat seemed a little swollen.  She ran some tests and discovered that my TSH levels were high.  I was quickly diagnosed with the autoimmune disease Hyperthyroidism (Graves’ disease).  This disease, unlike the more common Hypothyroidism, I learned, could be life-threatening.  The exact cause of the disease has still not been proven, though I learned later that there have been studies showing a link between Graves’ and high stress levels, exposure to extreme pollution, &/ or toxins.

I had been working in a sweat shop in the years leading up to the illness, which was a highly toxic environment: physically, emotionally, as well as psychologically.  This is a whole blog entry unto itself, so I won’t go into the details, but after a few years of being there, I was sitting in the Endocrinologist’s office being told that I was starting to reach the upper threshold for Tapazole, the medicine that helps control TSH levels.  She explained that I was going to have to make the choice to either have my thyroid removed or take a radioactive pill.  Well, I don’t know about you, but the word “radioactive” stirs up a lot of resistance in me.  Visions of headstones and skeletons dance above my head like some kind of Grateful Dead video gone wrong.

I explained that I wasn’t really that interested in surgery, and that the latter sounded, well, a little dangerous.  She reflexively pointed to a brightly colored box on the wall that the pills were being stored in (the one which actually had a skull and crossbones on it) and said, with a somewhat patronizing smirk “No, it’s perfectly safe and not harmful at all.  All you would have to do is keep your eating utensils separate from other people for a few days and sanitize them in a dishwasher or boil them because you will be radioactive, but, don’t worry, it would only for a few days.  Oh, and also you would have to sanitize the toilet every time you used it as well.  But, don’t let that scare you, it’s really perfectly safe.”   She smiles, reassuringly, obviously expecting a relieved patient looking back at her.  Blink, blink…..Blink, blink. … I thought: “Is that all?  Just sterilize my forks?  Do I look that naive?  Do most people fall for this line of crap?”  At the time I had absolutely no experience or knowledge in alternative healing, or even healthy lifestyle practices, let alone how to deal with being “handled” by a professional, but I did know one thing, I didn’t want anything to do with the whole friendly skull and crossbones routine, OR getting my throat cut.  Ahem.

The polite young lady that I was, I thanked her for taking the time to explain it all to me, and then I asked her if she knew of any other way of treating the disease.  She frowned, clearly not pleased, and obviously getting a little impatient now.  “Well, you could always start using Iodine supplements.  Um….and, oh, right, there’s the, uh, adding more shrimp to your diet, right…but, you need to understand, this is a serious disease, dear, (did she just call me dear?) and time is of the essence for you, (time is of the essence?) so I strongly suggest you choose the safer route and make a decision about either of the 2 methods I described earlier before you leave here today before it slips your mind and it gets out of hand..  (slips my mind?)  “M’kay?” she says, smiling brightly, as if the timer has just binged and class is now dismissed.  “If you see my receptionist on your way out, she can make an appointment for whichever you decide on.  We’ll see you again soon then, yes?  Okay, bye-bye now.”  (Blink, blink…)  At this point she actually gets up and leaves me standing there wondering how much shrimp it would take to get me out of this mess, & if it would cure me before I got cancer from eating so many bottom-feeders.  I walked out the front door of the waiting room as the receptionist was calling my name.

Over the next week I experienced an increase of symptoms, and her words echoed through my head, bouncing off the sides, like a horror flick, complete with the reverb & echo chamber.  At one point I got so panicky I almost gave into the fear of dying & opted to sign up for the surgery.  Then, a very strange thing happened, I got pregnant.  It wasn’t a planned pregnancy, and it gave me 9 months of respite, since the Hyperthyroidism disappeared during that time.  (I have since found out that Graves’ disease is linked to complications in pregnancy, though I didn’t know that at the time.)

However, the elevated TSH levels returned postpartum, and I was faced with the decision of what to do about it once again.  This time I had different options, since I had subsequently moved out to the countryside of Wisconsin & was learning about herbs, tinctures, yoga, organic foods, and otherwise leading a more healthy & much less stress-free life.  I researched until my eyes were little slits and found a plant called Lycopus europeus was used to restore normal thyroxine levels.  I did even more research and discovered that Lycopus americanus was similar, and could be found growing near rivers and streams right here in Wisconsin!  It felt too good to be true, I just couldn’t believe how incredible this was, and couldn’t help but wonder why the highly educated Endocrinologist, did not offer this option over the ever-popular options of consuming large quantities of crustaceans, or glowing in the dark.

My friend and I studied the photograph in a plant identification book, and, incredibly, within one week she had spotted it while she was on a walk one day.  (Well,  actually, a giant flower led here there.)  It turns out, there was a very large and tall white orchid swaying in the breeze next to a beaver dam near where she was walking, so, being the curious soul she was, she went out to investigate.

She was standing there admiring it, and then looked around to see if there were any other “volunteers” growing nearby.  There weren’t, but she did find a very large patch of Lycopus americanus (Bugleweed) growing there instead! She called me up, giddy & almost hysterical & when I arrived, we harvested about 3/4 of the plants we found, leaving enough to ensure it would re-seed itself.  When we got back home, we made tincture out of it, and within 3 months of taking that tincture, my TSH levels were normal, and I was able to get off the pills altogether.  My TSH levels have remained normal ever since.

Now, you may say it was just a coincidence, and that may be true, of course, though statistics would beg to differ with you.  It is also possible that the reduction of stress, and toxins, coupled with the introduction of a healthier lifestyle, including eating mostly organic & home-grown food was the reason.  This may also be true.  Personally, I suspect it was all of the above.  All I know is, I didn’t have to get my throat cut or glow in the dark, and I have to admit I’m pretty happy about that.  I just wanted to share my story so that people will know that maybe there is at least a shred of hope for the otherwise hopelessly hyperthyroid.  Thanks for reading.

The cat looks up at me suddenly in between her morning licks, and I think she is starting to look as old as I feel, the white part of her fur is yellow again, & I wonder what it is that she gets into that causes that, & then decide I probably don’t want to know after all.  I suspect that if I snap out of this, the yellow will disappear & she’ll be a kitten again.  Yeah, right…  (Oh, Allegra, don’t be so negative.  Why do you always have to bring us all down?  Write a happy song!  Don’t be so morbid!  What’s wrong?  Be happy!  Come on! Snap out of it!)

Soon I will force myself to stand up, to practice my guitar until my fingers cry & I’m so stiff I start to wonder if I use a walker yet.  Time is slippery these days. Sometimes I’m 5 years old again, others, I swear I’m 95, sitting in a cabin I’ve never seen before; all my friends finally dead, the ocean lapping in the distance.

Soon I will stop being seduced by visions of paxil pills dancing above my head, the ones that “saved me” after Yogi died, the ones that made me feel like I was uncomfortably numb, but blissfully productive.  Happy on the outside, pillow fluff on the inside. I wonder what will save me this time.  Yoga? Organic food? A new relationship? A new pair of shoes? Getting involved in “my community?” Looking on the bright side? What is the newest of the new age cures?  There must be some salvation…

Soon I will stop feeling sorry for myself & instead feel grateful for all the blessings of my life; put on that happy face; try to write that “happy song” people are always chiming on about; stop being so damn negative & morbid.  Any minute now I will not consider the years I spent in horrible relationships as lost time, but as a part of my process & “evolution.”  Any minute now I will not be sick of the world & I will hold myself hostage at water gun point & threaten to pull the beautiful little happy trigger. I will demand that I be graceful about these rapid changes; & I will decide, once and for all, not to get discouraged.  If only for today.

“I know what you’re thinking — “Did he fire six shots or only five?” Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I’ve kinda lost track myself. But, being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and would blow your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: “Do I feel lucky?” Well, do ya, punk?” (From “Dirty Harry”)

Sometimes I feel a little like that character, I have to admit.  Ruthless when it comes to the issue of death.  Not that I’m a murderer, but I certainly pop people’s bubbles once in a while.  This song was inspired by the funny little statement people make to me sometimes when they want me to sing at their funeral, which starts out something like this “If I die, I want you to…”  As hard as I try, I have never been able to refrain from lol’ing it right there on the spot.  And, then, being the ruthless person I can be sometimes when I get a whiff of denial, I correct them, saying “You mean, WHEN you die…hahahha”  This either makes them laugh too, or they get irritated, but it matters not, because it tickles me, and I simply can’t help myself.  Humans can be so funny how we try to sink our teeth into the hand of the Reaper when we’re all going to have to accept the unacceptable sooner or later.  This song Carpe Diem was written as a reaction to that.

Look, it’s like this: we have to just get over it ’cause we’re all gonna bite the dust, my friends.  Yes, that means you, and you, and even the president and his dog.  (Do the Obamas have a dog?) The point is that if we can get it into our heads that we could die tomorrow or maybe even on Sunday before getting to see “the game,” we would live every minute like it was the last.

Procrastination becomes a gamble you may not be willing to make.  Going to bed angry at your husband will make your sleep impossible to induce.  Pretending to not see a friend drive by will seem insurmountable once you realize that she may get hit by a semi before she makes it home.  Putting off writing that novel (or making that CD of your music…) will feel as if someone is playing Russian Roulette with you every time another day goes by.  Click…Click…Click…Click.  “do you feel lucky, punk?  Well, do ya?”

Death is more than the physical act of dying anyway, it is really just another word for change.  Every time something changes it dies and is reborn as something else.  There, doesn’t that make it a little easier?

LYRICS for CARPE DIEM (Come With Me!)  by Allegra Wakest

Children laughing in the park and starry lovers hiding in the dark
All pray they’ll never need to part
And so it goes
They don’t seem to know
That all good things that one day come must one day go…

Mother hold your baby close ’cause soon you’re gonna have to let him go
He belongs to the Earth and Sky
so stand back and let him spread his wings so he can fly
Just watch him go 
’cause don’t you know…
that all good things which one day come must one day go
Sister. My sister dear
I looked into your eyes and I saw no fear.
You, who taught me the “art of life”
now are teaching me from the other side
and I watched you go…
You were saying “Don’t you know…
That all good things that one day come must one day go

“Carpe Diem is the real meme,” she said.
It’s the greatest lesson you’ll learn from the dying
Seize this moment while you can
Come, my sister, you can take my hand
and we will go
down into the darkness…then we’ll rise up into “the light”
’cause all good things that one day come must one day go

So come my sister!  tell your lover. Come my father, and bring my mother
Come with me all you guilty and you innocent
down into the deepest darkness, down into the blackest cold abyss

Come with me all you prisoners and those still free
Teachers, healers, judges, lawyers, presidents and babies

Come with me all you teenagers and elderly
up into the brightest luminescence your eyes have ever seen

Come with me all you willing and unwilling
Grandmothers, fire walkers, astronauts and physicists
Anarchists and corporate executives
Farmers, singers, preachers, sinners, black, white, brown, and yellow-skinned…

Come with me true believers and you Atheists
Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Jew, and Guru, Mystic and Agnostic

Come with me all you poor (…and may you eat the rich!)
Bibliomaniacs and all those who are still illiterate
Warmongers, Peacekeepers, Fire-Eaters, and “Retreaters”
Soldiers, Monks, and Temple-sweepers,and New Age Seekers and even Defeatists

Come with me and we’ll Carpe Diem
Carpe Diem.
Carpe Diem, ’cause all good things that one day come must one day…

Four years later, in the span of 6 months, my Dad would loose both his Father to Emphysema and his only brother to a bullet. I never saw him grieve. Only recently did he tell me how hard it was for him to keep going at that time. We were very poor, and he was working 3-4 jobs at a time, so it is no wonder that I didn’t witness any grief. I still felt the loss though, since it was a terrifying prospect that people could die so young. Losing my 28 year old Uncle Tommy gave me a new awareness of Death. The world was full of chaos. Death could strike at any moment. Appreciate people, because tomorrow they might be gone forever and you won’t have the chance. Don’t let a day go by if there is something that needs to be resolved. If you need to apologize for something, do it today.

In the years that followed, I would go on to experience the loss of my maternal (and well-loved) Great-Grandmother, maternal (and cherished) Grandfather, my paternal Grandmother, and then Death decided to claim my own son Yogi on December 11, 1995. This experience changed my life, but this is another blog for another time. I will say now though that by surviving the loss of my only child, I learned that I can survive anything.

This revelation would be tested however, in February of 2004, when Lyx, my best friend, died of pancreatic cancer. We were like family, and much closer than a lot of sisters. We talked every day for 7 years, and I even took on the last name of her son. (Again, this is another blog for another time…) Both the experience of “losing” Yogi and Lyx taught me so much about Death, as well as Life. I renewed the promise I made myself back in ’95 that if I made it out alive, I would share my experiences with others so that people could have a greater sensitivity and understanding about the process, even if they didn’t have a lot of personal experience with it themselves. So, here is a bit of what I learned.

This statement is the number one boo-boo when a friend has experienced a loss: “I know how you feel.” This simple, well-meaning sentence almost made me go postal during the times I was grieving. Most people had no idea how I felt, but they thought that by saying they did, they sounded empathetic. In retrospect I know they were just trying to reach out, but at the time… There is only one exception to this rule. If you actually have experienced the same kind of loss. Like, if your mother died when you were a kid, and so did your friend’s mother, then, sure, go ahead and use it, but you should still qualify why you’re saying it, or the grieving friend will probably assume you are in the “grief dummy” category.

Here’s what you CAN say: “I really feel for you, this must be really hard.” Or, something like “I’m here for you, if there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.” Or, the classic “I’m sorry for your loss.” Many people want to try to make the situation better, and that’s understandable and noble, but Death is not something that can be made “better.” It can only be worked with creatively. What you’re looking for here is support, not a band-aid. Simply letting them know you care, and then letting them know you are available for whatever they may need is just about all you can do in this situation

Here’s another thing NOT to do when someone is dying: push them (or their caregiver) to have a visit. I remember when I was care taking for Lyx. She knew she was going to exit quickly, and she was a very popular lady, so she realized early on that she was going to have to prioritize who she wanted to see since she was told she only had about one month to left to live. She only had a certain amount of energy, after all, since she was quite ill, and most of that time she spent with only her closest friends and her family. Most of the people in the community were very respectful and understanding about not being able to see her, but there were a couple who made things very hard for both of us.

This can be a challenging concept for people, but the fact of the matter is, there may be friends who the dying person does not wish to see, and the best thing these friends can do, if they are indeed friends, is to gracefully accept the situation and not try to force a visit. It may seem unfair, and there may be unfinished business you want to resolve with them, but now is not the time. Accept that it is too late, vow to cherish your friends better in the future, and then move on in your own way. There may be reasons that only the dying person can understand why they don’t wish to see certain friends (like maybe the energy of a certain person is quite intense, and they don’t feel like they can handle it in the hypersensitive state they are in) that may be impossible to understand. I know this will sound crass, but, really, it’s too bad. Get over it. It seems harsh, and in a way it is, but this is their wish, and you simply must accept it graciously. This is not your Death, it is not your show. Don’t grandstand or you will only make matters worse. Try not to take it personally. Send a letter.

At the time, I was in the unfortunate position of being the barer of bad news once Lyx got too ill to speak, and I became the center of some pretty harsh criticism and gossip. I was viewed as being “the Gate Keeper” and I was accused of making these decisions myself, and of hoarding her for myself, which was not only pretty absurd, but particularly painful because I was simply carrying out her wishes. I was grieving myself, of course, and these people made that process exponentially harder. It just so happened that Lyx had asked me to not leave her side once she realized she was dying, and I lived up to the promise to her that I wouldn’t. It took more than a couple years for these friends to finally come around and “forgive me,” though I still am not sure what I was being forgiven for… I understand that it was a painful situation, and perhaps blaming me helped them to not have to accept the reality that their friend didn’t want to see them, for whatever reason. Death can be harsh. Death honors no rules of etiquette or kindness. Death is lawless. The ultimate pirate.

What you CAN do when a friend is dying: Offer to bring a meal (though not as a way to get in the door) and even offer to leave it outside the door. The senses of people who are dying can be heightened greatly, and chaos can be very painful, and even intolerable. You can ask to see them, but don’t push if the answer is no. You can offer a service like cleaning, or a natural healing method like massage for the dying person and also the caregivers. Offer to set up and organize a meal wheel within the community, or organize a fund raiser if it’s needed. Offer to send out an email with updates of how the person is doing on a daily basis. (This will help the caregiver from having to answer the same questions on the phone all day long when s/he could be care giving.) Send a card. Write a song. Paint a painting.

Here is another classic thing not to say, in the case of a friend losing a child: “You can always have another one,” or “Well, at least you still have other kids.” It may even sound incredible to some of you, but many people actually do say this. They think they’re giving you hope and helping you to see the light at the end of the tunnel that things aren’t that bad. Well, guess what, they are that bad. The loss of a child is considered to be one of the worst (if not the worst) kind of loss a person can experience. Parents are not supposed to outlive their offspring, so most aren’t prepared for it, and the sense of injustice can be overwhelming. The fact that they can have other kids, or that they already do have other kids, does not change anything. It doesn’t matter if that person can have 50 kids, THAT child will be missed. Every child is unique, they’re not interchangeable like building blocks or tinker toys.

And, don’t insist on asking excessive questions as to how the child died, or assume that since the child was not born in a hospital it would’ve gone differently. Assume that the parents either have explored every possible question, or that if they haven’t, they don’t wish to. Leave it alone. Kids die in hospitals every day, and other kids are “saved” in hospitals and later turn out to have multiple health problems that they have to live with. Who is to say what would have been? You? Probably not. It is remarkable how many people have asked me how Yogi died, and when I tell them there was no apparent reason, they are incredulous and ask if I did an autopsy, etc., They tell me “Well, I would have to find out. I don’t know how you can live without knowing!” Yeah, I don’t know how I can live without knowing either, but I have to nonetheless…Please don’t let this be you, it is beyond rude and morbid, it is outright disrespectful.

The number one thing, in my mind, anyway, to NOT do is to put a label or a category of death of that child and qualify the amount of loss the parent should be allowed to feel. Every stage of Death has it’s challenges. A child who dies at birth can be missed just as much (for different reasons) as a child who lives to be 5, or 50. Grief is grief is grief is…. Often times people assume that since a baby is “stillborn” or “miscarried” they are not going to be missed as much, or even counted as having been babies at all! I carried Yogi for 9 months. I was in labor for 23 hours. His heart stopped during the last push, right before he was born. Yes, he was technically “stillborn,” but I refuse to allow him to be put in a category which only serves to minimize his impact. He had a name. We bonded. He is missed. Even now, even 14 years later. I also carried a girl (named Ciel) who I “miscarried” 9 years ago, and I miss her as well. Don’t try to categorize the lives of these little ones. Instead, offer support. Give their parents the honor of simply recognizing their loss.

Here’s what you CAN do: Plant a memorial tree and tell the parents where it is so they can visit it. Here’s what you CAN say: “I’m so sorry for your loss, it must be really hard, I can’t even imagine (a true statement) what that must feel like. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do right now.” Then, bring them a home cooked meal or offer to babysit their other children. I remember the amount of stress that was in my physical body after my own loss, and what helped me the most was a massage. Give them a gift certificate for natural healing of some kind. Make your willingness to help out in any way seems necessary to your friend and check in periodically. Many people have a hard time dealing with Death, and wind up avoiding the grieving people altogether. This is possibly worse than saying the wrong thing. It can be a very isolating time, and knowing that your community is supporting you can make a huge difference.

The greatest lesson we learn from the dying: Carpe Diem!

If you have any questions, or need any advice about the Death process, send me a note, I’d be happy to help.

ALL THIS SYNCHRONICITY

ALL THESE COINCIDENCES

WHAT ARE THEY TELLING ME

WHAT IS IT I NEED TO LEARN

I’VE BEEN SEEING THE FUTURE

AND IT’S A WORLD OUT OF TIME

AND I’M HERE TO TESTIFY THAT WHEN BABYLON DIES

THERE’LL BE A NEW EARTH TRIBE

HEIGHTENED SENSITIVITY

AND GROWING EMPATHY

DOES ANYONE ELSE OUT THERE THINK IT MIGHT BE HIGH TIME FOR TELEPATHY

ALL THESE DREAMS AND VISIONS

I CAN’T KEEP THEM HIDDEN

I’VE BEEN SEEING THE FUTURE

AND IT’S A TIME OUT OF MIND

AND I’M HERE TO TESTIFY THAT WHEN BABYLON DIES

THERE’LL BE A NEW EARTH TRIBE

A NEW EARTH TRIBE

It can take a mountain of courage sometimes to give thanks when times are hard, when things are rough; especially if you’ve had a major loss.  14 years ago, when my son Yogi died right before Christmas, I thought I would tear down every stocking and burn every tree that happened to cross my path.  Luckily I didn’t see any poor guy in a Santa suit on his way to the mall, or he might never had made it there…. I wanted no part of this holiday that was geared toward children when I had lost my only child.

And then when Thanksgiving came around, eleven months later, I wondered how anyone could expect that I would be able to muster the courage to give thanks for anything, since all I wanted to do was stay drunk or die.  How DARE people think that I should be thankful?  What did they know about it?  Life had punched me senseless and unrecognizable and there was NO WAY I was EVER going to be thankful again.  I had decided that the world was  a chaotic and hostile hell hole, and  I had to exercise Olympic strength to hold back from having full-on belly laughs when people said “Grace.”  I thought “They’re just giving thanks because things have been going well for them.  Where is MY grace?  They don’t know what REAL pain is all about.  They don’t have one clue what I’m going through!  If they did, they’d stop being such bliss ninnies and forget about these stupid holidays…

That was the worst part – the feeling of isolation with the grief.  I didn’t know a single person who had lost a child, and more than that, most people, even friends steered clear of me.  It was almost as if my loss was contagious.  The plague of grief.  In the words of John Lennon “Nobody loves you when you’re down and out.”  For the next 4 years, the holidays were the worst emotional pain I had ever endured.  I understood fully why so many suicides happen during these trying days when we’re supposed to be so *happy* and upbeat.  “Happy Holidays!!”  Puh-leeeez…. “Bah! Humbug!” didn’t even come close to the burning rage that I was being devoured in from the moment I awoke in the morning to the minute I finally cried myself to sleep at night.

And yet, eventually, I did come around to see that there was still plenty to be thankful for.  I would’ve never guessed it then, but today I am actually thankful I don’t have kids.  Sure, I still miss Yogi, and of course I wish he were still alive and that I had a chance to be a mom, but I am also enjoying my freedom to follow my musical calling right now, and that would be a lot more complicated otherwise.  Also, I have other wonderful kids of all ages in my life (and I don’t have to necessarily be there for all the challenging times!)  This kind of perspective has helped to remind me that things that seem like curses today may eventually seem like blessings tomorrow.

Once I started focusing on all the things I had to b

This week for Thanksgiving I have been visiting my Dad and his wife who is wheelchair bound with MS.   While she bravely deals with her condition, she also has her struggles with it.  Every morning, when I’m tempted to skip my hour-long walk, I’m reminded that I don’t have an excuse, there is no reason at all why I should not be taking full advantage of my present-day wellness.  Who knows how long it will last?  (And, really, I have had other battles with health issues, so I know this very well.)  Healthy people walk around every day thinking that it will never change, that nothing could possibly happen to them.  We’re untouchable, for some reason.  Well, unfortunately, the Universe doesn’t work like that.  We can never know what will happen, so we need to fully appreciate this moment  right now.  and….Now.  And….Now.   Carpe Diem.  Every minute.  It’s not easy, but it’s kind of like working out, it’s hard at first, but after a while the muscles stop aching and it even starts to feel good.  If we try to stay in a constant state of thanksgiving, life suddenly seems miraculous.  (Simply taking a deep breath after having pneumonia will seem like a miracle, take it from me…)

At this point, I hear the cynic’s voice in my head who says “Oh, come on, it’s simply not possible to be thankful all the time, and if we acted that way we would seem like New Age fluff-heads!”  Well, it is true that it’s simply not humanly possible to maintain this ALL the time, but the alternative is just…depressing.   Wouldn’t you rather grow weary from the positivity in someone who is grateful, rather than from the complainer who seems to enjoy whining about even the smallest of life’s inconveniences?

I say we all have things to be grateful for as well as things to be sad about, but dwelling on the past will not make things better.  Go for that walk today, tomorrow a truck could render your legs useless and you’ll wish you had appreciated them more.  Be kind to the people around you, even if you are suffering with an illness.  People with illnesses, especially when they are terminal can become quite self-centered, making the lives of their loved ones unbearable.  There will always be people who have it worse than you.  Maybe you could try an experiment with this, and just be thankful for one full day to see how it feels.  Sure, you may feel like a bliss ninny today, but, after all, you could always go back to being miserable tomorrow.

I have re-started an experiment I started back in ’97 when I had the honor of meeting Herbert Brün and attending one of his classes at the School for Designing a Society in Urbana, IL, where I learned how words could shape reality.  Mr. Brun had proposed a discussion for that particular class based on whether “Power” can be a positive force.  In the end, after much (sometimes heated) discourse by the students, his position was that it could not; that any use of the word “power” was inherently flawed, but that is another post for another day.  On that morning, Mr. Brün had forever changed my outlook on life and on the use of words; how words affect us and the world around us.  The concept of “reality is a word construct” never once occurred to me before that discussion.

When I returned back home to Dreamtime Village, I made a plan to begin an experiment based on what I had learned at the School.  After the loss of my son Yogi in ’95, I had developed an acute case of anthrophobia, or fear of people or society, which was highly problematic since I was living in a community filled with lots of transient folks!  It kept me hidden away from everyone, and consequently I missed a lot of life during that time.

One night, when Lyx and Zon were relating to me all the colorful details of yet another fantastic party that I had missed, I decided it was high time to take some action.  The next day I would “leave the womb” and pretend I was not afraid.  At first the intention was to go over to where the visitors resided (at one of Dreamtime‘s buildings called the “hotel“) and finally meet who was there.   Of course, the fear was still there, underneath the mask, but I was determined to play the game through, even if it was only to be for one hour.  I remember thinking “Can’t they see that I’m faking?  It’s so obvious I’m petrified to even be here!”  but if they did notice, they must have been pretending themselves, because I couldn’t see any evidence of it.  On the walk home that afternoon, I was walking on air, elated and yet still shaking with the effort that it took to put on such an extravagant performance.

The next day was a repeat performance, followed by another day of the same results, and so on.  This experiment continued, growing incrementally each time, until one day, about a month later, while I was laughing with someone at a party, it occurred to me that I wasn’t afraid any more.  It wasn’t that my acting skills had improved, I actually wasn’t afraid any more.  It was an overwhelming realization.  I was stunned.  I wasn’t afraid at all, in fact, I was totally relaxed and having a great time!  I never expected to alter my personality.  It was simply an experiment to see if I could fool myself for short periods of time.  Even now, after more than 10 years of this revelatory moment, I am overcome with emotion at the wonder of it all.

These days I am no longer anthrophobic, but I am still battling with stage fright.  Recently I was helping a friend through some grief issues, and when I shared this story with him, it reminded me that I could take on another experiment to overcome this remaining phobia.  I was thinking about a dear friend of mine who doesn’t have stage fright.  In fact, she is one of the most bold and outgoing people I know.  She is an Aries, and whether or not you believe in astrology, she is the very picture of this sign.

If you don’t know anything about the astrological sign Aries, here is a brief description:

(a) The Ram; the first of the twelve signs in the zodiac, which the sun enters at the vernal equinox, about the 21st of March.
(b) A constellation west of Taurus, drawn on the celestial globe in the figure of a ram.

Now, here is Webster’s definition of a battering ram:

1 : a military siege engine consisting of a large wooden beam with a head of iron used in ancient times to beat down the walls of a besieged place
2 : a heavy metal bar with handles used (as by firefighters) to batter down doors and walls

Here is an astrological description of Aries:

Like the ram, Aries sees a target, puts its head down, and charges. After the initial thrust, he or she looks around, resets its direction and charges again.  A phrase that is associated with Aries is: “I AM,”

Here is a description of Virgo, which is my astrological sign:

The Virgo personality is nothing if not practical. You can be attentive to details to the point of obsession. Virgos have encyclopedic memories for detail, and can often recall casual references to minor subjects.  A phrase that most aptly describes this personality is: “I analyze.”

Now, it makes no difference if you believe in astrology or not, as for me, I believe and don’t believe in just about everything.  In the words of Robert Anton Wilson, “Belief is the death of intelligence.”  This is less about astrology than it is about my experimenting with the concept of reality being a word construct.  If I pretend I have these bold qualities of this archetype, then I will perhaps acquire them with practice.

Stay tuned to see if the experiment works!…..