What big teeth you have, Grandmother!

Love the cool dino head in the window of National Geographic, something I might never have noticed except these days I'm downtown every week to see the Sufi acupuncturist, after which I tend to wander around in neighborhoods I don't often frequent.

The natural world is full of fierce wonders. Always has been. Lions, hurricanes, volcanoes, blizzards, buzzards, fire ants, hailstorms, earthquakes, sharks, virulent bacterium ... even geese are fierce sometimes. The geese who hang around the Lincoln Monument are truly scary, hissing and giving me the evil eye whenever I dare to walk past them.

We humans are fierce creatures, too. Accepting the reality of our survival instincts while simultaneously polishing our rough edges in order to expand our capacity for grace and compassion is very unusual. I don't know of any other species that cultivates kindness. It's either there or it isn't.



OK, it's true - we aren't the most practical species that ever existed. I mean really, why are we so intent on becoming "good"? We work so hard, and we are so earnest in our efforts. Even though we fail as often as we succeed, we keep trying.

Aren't we adorable? I think we are.

A Plan for the Holiday

It's here - Thanksgiving week. Imagine me taking a deep breath, sitting up straight. Oh yeah, time to get ready for the holidaze. Oh yeah.

Navigating my way through Thanksgiving Day is always tricky. It's a day you're "supposed" to spend with family, children, partners, and parents, and because I have none of that (well I do have family, though they are all far-flung) the feng shui of the holiday points out to me, in no uncertain terms, what a freak I am. I'm single, have no kids. My parents are dead. Where does that leave me? Usually, in a Very Bad Mood. To make matters even more complicated, every part of the traditional Thanksgiving feast gives me a stomach ache. Even a saucerful of that food makes me stupid and as heavy as if I'd swallowed a block of sandstone. I'm physically miserable for hours afterwards. So you see, partaking of a regular Thanksgiving dinner is a completely unpleasant experience.

Getting through Thanksgiving day with my self-esteem intact is always a monumental challenge. Thanksgiving and me? We just don't get along.



But maybe this year will be different than usual. Believe it or not, I'm gearing up to enjoy not only the day itself but the entire four day weekend. I have a master plan that might actually work.

I'm taking all four days off from work, something I haven't done in many years. That in itself should help boost my mood. Usually I'm working like a dog while everyone else is relaxing. And I wonder that I tend to develop quite the attitude by the end of the weekend. Sheesh.

Also, I believe I have planned for just enough down time, just enough social obligation time, to make the weekend harmonious. Too much alone time (though I love being a hermit) does nothing except make me weird(er), but too much socializing is exhausting. I'm such an introvert. My plan is to balance one against the other.

Hugh Grant will be my patron saint of the weekend. I've ordered four of his films to have on hand Thanksgiving Day. I'm going to cook a nice piece of fish, make a salad and some rice, and watch heart-warming movies all day. That sounds just right.

Between now and then I will be working hard, something that should help keep me from worrying about money, another of my favorite holiday season preoccupations.

Enjoy Thanksgiving? It's such a novel idea. Will it work? We shall see!

Illuminations

The Sufi acupuncturist has me drinking the most heinous tea as a part of the healing trajectory I'm in the midst of. Usually when I need acupuncture, it's the needles and especially the moxa that I dread. This time around, I sought out an herbalist because my intuition told me I needed some assistance from the green world. Sure enough, it's the herbs that are working on me. I'm fascinated and repelled by that truly awful taste first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Funny that the needles aren't really bothering me so much. Go figure.

I asked him this week how something that tastes so bad can be healing. How does murky, bitter, obnoxious tea reweave my life force? As he explained, the tea isn't meant to re-weave. It's a pattern breaker. This particular tea is supposed to break the solidity of an ongoing heartbreak I can't seem to shake off. I've never thought of heartbreak as solid. Apparently what happened is that my heart shattered, then froze. My liver has been on fire ever since, angry and hot, perhaps in an effort to melt the ice. Isn't that idea evocative? Wow. No wonder my stomach hurts!

Some people love pathological diagnoses, i.e. Ms. Mellicker what you have is acute and chronic stomachitis. In order to deal with this condition, we will put you through a series of incredibly expensive, dehumanizing, uncomfortable and probably unnecessary tests that will frighten you but help protect us from litigation later on. Next we will prescribe some serious drugs that you'll probably take for the rest of your life. In addition, you will need to take other medications to deal with the "side effects" of the drugs we prescribe. Your emotional state of being is not connected in any way with your sour stomach.



The officiousness of the people who deliver western medical diagnoses might make some people feel safe - I guess. I find this approach to healing impossible to understand. No wonder I have no confidence in these people to help me feel better.

But the poetry of Chinese medicine, especially as interpreted by the Sufi acupuncturist, makes perfect sense to me. It's a revelation, imagining my broken heart, suspended as if frozen, caught in a moment I can't get out of, as Bono would say.

So you see, that's why I'm drinking this awful tea, lying on the table every week while he "listens" to my pulses and jabs me with needles. Every week I cry like a baby, imagining the ice around my heart melting. I'm eating carefully, getting enough sleep, doing everything I can to further the process.

Healing from anything is such a dynamic process, but healing from heartbreak? Yikes.

Starry Nights

The days are growing noticeably shorter. When it's rainy, as it was today, dusk seems to come even sooner. I find the shrinking daylight alarming in a visceral way, even though here in the house on Tennessee Avenue, circa 2007, many varieties of electrical lighting are available. In fact, it's hard for a modern gal like me to even imagine the deep inky darkness of unilluminated nighttime.

The closest I've been to truly dark night skies includes a couple of clear nights at witch camp in British Columbia, a night at a friend's ranch in Cazadero, California, and at a cabin I used to rent on the Mendocino coastline. Lake Tahoe was a place with some fairly dark nights, as was Ouray, Colorado. There were dark nights at Avebury in England, too, obscurred by streetlights, unfortunately. Put altogether, the memories I have of truly dark skies can be counted on one hand.

Real night is very very dark. Have you ever seen it? In a truly dark location, the stars and Milky Way are so bright that you can cast a shadow from the light. I always feel sad when I realize there is a whole generation of urban kids who have never seen the Milky Way, not ever. The star spangled sky is such a dazzling and inspirational sight. How does anyone manage to experience hope without it?

Strange to think that just one hundred years ago, everyone knew about the Milky Way, everyone had experienced a night so dark (during the dark of the moon) that it was impossible to do anything except tilt their heads back and gaze.

In spite of the wonders of a starry sky, when it's dark, it's dangerous. I've tripped and fallen every time I've been exposed to a very dark night. And, too, think about all the creatures who inhabit the dark: the lions, the tigers, the bears.

Oh my! Sometimes I try to imagine how frightening it must have been once upon a time, long before incandescent light. Just thinking about it makes me want to light as many candles as I can, as if I'm warding off the imagined darkness as a tribute to my ancestors.

Five weeks to go before winter solstice. Gosh. Better go buy another huge bag of tealights.




STARS

O, sweep of stars over Harlem streets,
O, little breath of oblivion that is night.
A city building
To a mother's song.
A city dreaming
To a lullaby.
Reach up your hand, dark boy, and take a star.
Out of the little breath of oblivion
That is night,
Take just
One star.

--Langston Hughes

I like the term "gentleman" because I like the idea that being gentle is classy, distinguished, polished and polite. I believe the term "lady" refers to a person who understands how to behave gently, who is honest, has integrity and is very polite. Ladies are the counterparts of Gentlemen, right?

During the 70's, the Women's Movement taught us that there's honor in toughness, sharp edges, assertiveness and head-banging confrontations. In fact any behavior that a "lady" would never entertain was encouraged enthusiastically within the movement. At that moment in time, we had to abandon our manners for awhile, in order to bust through the glass ceiling of our cultural hierarchy. It was important and I'm really glad we did it.



Unfortunately, though, in the process of becoming empowered, we lost contact with the virtues of kindness, gentleness, softness and receptivity. To cultivate gentleness was to sell out to the man. To be called a lady was a heinous insult. Seriously, it was.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older, or, well, who knows why? But these days I so appreciate gentle behavior. My favorite massage therapist is persistent but gentle. My acupuncturist is focused - but gentle! I've even managed to cultivate a little bit of gentleness within my own being, something I intend to continue.

Every day I'm walking around in this beautiful, gentle, soft and sweet autumn in Washington DC, marvelling at the subtlety of the colors and shapes, and the pearly softness of the sky. The air itself is healing. The season is gentle and I am loving it!

No one could ever truthfully describe the autumn of 2007 as spectacular, glamorous, or dramatic, like fall usually is.

Nope. Still it's beautiful out there. The trees, though demure this year, are definitely changing color and dropping their leaves as is seasonally appropriate - in the most dainty way you can imagine. The rain storms have been gentle, the temperature moderate. It has been been a quiet fall so far.

Capitol Hill was a misty world of sweet air and almost complete silence following this morning's rain. The gray sky softened everything further. The world was extraordinarily smooth, including the sky, trees, air - like satin or silk.

My shamanic dance of alignment with the weather included a couple of quiet walks (no ipod, no telephone, no yelling at the dog), but we didn't walk too far. It was a real day off from all my usual habits of busyness and anxiety.

I love days like this. Thank you soft grey weather gods! Thanks for the peace and quiet!

Cheap Thrills

I noticed this morning for the first time (while Jake was howling at a passing firetruck) that it's gotten cold enough to produce small, ephemeral clouds just by breathing - or howling. Jake was able to create a rather huge cloud with his siren song. I've always loved that phenomena. I know it's ordinary, and that these clouds disappear instantly, but it always feels magical, at least to me. I'm also a big fan of fogged up mirrors and windows, too. Why? Oh ... who knows why these things make me happy, but they do, they really do.

Cheap thrill number two? It rained much of the night last night, another sign that the pattern of drought has been broken. Thank God! Thank God, too, for the invention of comforters. When it's raining outside it's such a luxurious feeling to snuggle underneath my comforter, even if I do have insomnia, as I did last night.

The show at Groovy DC was a complete success, another luminous cheap thrill. All but two of the framed photos sold within the first hour of the event. Several other matted prints also sold quickly. I received many wonderful compliments about my work, too. A couple of people gave me their phone numbers and asked me to come photograph their neighborhoods. It was so encouraging! I felt like I was in a movie all night. Super excellent cheap thrills!

I've always said that the key to a happy life was cheap thrills, but I used to believe I was being ironic when I said it. Right at the moment I'm understanding the wisdom of this idea. Cheap thrills? C'mon. Yeah!