It's cloudy and damp, outside and in. My door is open all niht and the carpet, rug and slippers by the door ae cold and damp. For 24 years I have lived in this apartment. receltly, within the past year, the building has settled in such a way that I am unable to shut my door. I mean, I can push on it hard and wedge it in there, but then I would be tapped, and unable to open it again. My door has never had a a door knob, for as long as I have lived here. You can see a mended crack along the lenghth of the door. leading up to a lock, and a hole stuffed with wood chips there a door knob would go. I can only assume some drastic and liely violent action took place here beofre I moved in. I assume I have been this unit's longes tennant. he building was built in the 30's. I wonder. I have no proof. I know the previous tennanty was a child actor. He was the Teeage Wherewolf. He was not well when I took over the unit. Many walls were painted in a glossy black. He had a bar custom built into the entryway of the living room. He said he had many parties there. He was diabetic and an amputee. Not well. Angry and liely in much pain. Yost was hist last hame. that was 24 years ago. I wonder where he is now.
It was difficult for me to settle down to meditate this morning. I was distracted by a number of things around the apartment - new oil for the oil diffuser, let's straighten up the dresser where the oil bottles are kept, why is the area around the mediation table so cluttered? Let's straighten that up. Let's try a new playlist for the mediation. No, let's not. Finally, I settled in.
We are approaching my father's birthday, on November 9th. It is still over a week away, but I am having a hard time with it. The first birthday without him. I think I am the only one in the family who finds it so important and significant. And I am witnessing the family drift apart, like I anticipated it would, after my father's death. He was the glue. The linchpin. And without him, my deisre to go to Brooklyn has all but dissapeared. Ken and Carmel's life is utterly run by Kian. And Kian has no desire to connect with me or Stephen. They are a mess and I have no desire to get in there to help. I go through the world very differently and I know that my help will n ot be welcome. it has taken a lifetime of my hard work to grow out of the family dynamic. Now all Ican do is do my bet to not get pulled back in. Live by example, and hope that will be enough for them to change, too. That's all I can do. When all I would want would be for them to grow with me. Elevate with me.
This pattern reoccurs in my life and I am currently beyond my family and now beyond my chosen family and way beyond my tribe. Even beyond my latest best friend with whom I shared so much of my hear over the past couple of years.
But Iam beyond people who are unable to take responsibility for their reactivity and being triggred and seeing how it effects me. I know how difficult it is to learn to overcome this. I worked on it for years with Stephen. So I know what is it like to be with someone who is capable of taking responsibility for their behavior.
Of course people will be reactive. Of course people will get triggered. But how they clean up the mess is way more important to me than when they made the mess.
I know how to do this. I expect that others do the same.
Something Terry Linn said over 20 years ago still rings true for me today. She said the number one reason why relationships fail is because of reactivity. I am not great in relationships. I go numb. I dissapear. But there is one aspect of relationship that i can speak about with authority and it is about reactivity and getting triggered. this, I know about. This, I studied, for years, with the people who train shrinks from around the world. World class shrinks on building relationships. Including a 10 day residential program. This, I know. And i understand that it is rare, and that others do not know how to clean up their messes because it is rare that people understand the messes they made with their reactivity. I get that.
Yesterday ended up being a magical day. It seemed that the realization that Source is EVERYWHERE felt like an expansion and depth and opening to a new level of life experience. And withthat came a sense of feedom, I would say, looking back on it. I ended up having a giddy afternoon where I challenged myself to pee in the ocean for the first time in my life. The delight in that ws so freeing.
Then the drive home. My GPS directed me to talke Pico across town. It was rush hour. And once I got onto Pico, all I saw was a sea of green lights. Literally for as far as I could see. I drove through without stopping from Lincoln, in Santa Monica to Sawtelle in West L.A., just below the elevated section of the 405. It was miraculous. Then I remembered there is a vegan Thai place I have been wanting to try for over a year, on Cresent Heights and Beverly. I found it online and put in an order, to be ready by the time I got there. It was perfectly on my way home. The drive was easy. Getting home was easy. The food was incredible.
It was a glorious day. Stephen pointed out that I was smiling when I walked in. I wasn't even aware.
To know that Source is in the air I breathe, in the food I eat, makes the day feel magical. I am so excited by this concept. It makes me feel not alone. It makes me feel taht I am part of the universe in a new more integrated way. Source is obviously alive in me. And the idea of co-creating my life feels less conceptioal and more literal. Source is in me. It's the vibrating parts of me that I can not see. Source is the energy.
So, waht di I want to do today? I feel I want to continue to explore. And yet, I'm so sleepy.
yesterday, it popped into my head that I wanted to pee in the ocean. Something I have not ever done. I meticulously time my ocean visits and beach walks with not needing a bathroom. I have lived in Los Angeles for 24 years and the number of times I have actually swam in the ocean I can count on my fingers. It is possible that during those few times I did pee in the ocean. But I have no recollection of it.
Yesterday I decided I wanted to pee in the ocean. I have no reason for this. It is just something I wanted to do. Because it is something I just do not do. I decided this when I was at home. I put on a dress, a long dress that I bought for beach walks and that I hike up to keep dry. I packed a novel written by my friend that I have been meaning to devour, along with a beach blanket, sunglasses, etc. for a visit to the beach. On my way to Santa Monica, on the outskirts of West Hollywood, I stopped in at a Coffee Bean and Tea Leave and ordered a green iced tea. "What size?" they asked. "Big" I said. I left with a small bucket of 32 ounces of tropical peach tea. And a chocolate muffin. I chose my favorite, most scenic drive and slurped, and bit and chewed and slurped and slipped. When I arrived at some pretty awesome rock star street parking about a half hour later, I noticed half the container was emptied. Or it may have been half full. You decide. I grabbed my shoulder bag and the rest of the tea and headed down Channel Road to the staircase that leads under the highway and to the sand.
It was so warm. About 85 degrees. The sand was warm. The air almost still. The ocean was in front of me, and I trekked to an empty spot a ways beyond the nearest life guard station, which was always closed. I was so happy. I set up the blanket, placed my flip flops on one corner, my bag on another, and the tea on another, right behind me. The ocean was so gentle. There was barely a breeze. Few people were there. It was gorgeous. Late afternoon. The sun was hotter than I had expected and I was without my sun hat. I got up and walked to the water's edge just to put my feet in. Yowzah! That was frigidly cold water. I walked around until I felt my body temperature drop and then made my way back to my blanket and settled in to read. It was glorious. I wasn't able to concentrate too much on the book because I was distracted by the water, watching the gentle waves roll in. It all felt so good. I took a few more sips of the tea. The ice had all melted, making it diluted. But it was still tasty. And refreshing.
After about an hour, the sun was about to hit the horizon. The tempurature had dropped and I was wrapped in a pashmina. It was time for a gentle sunset beach walk - and a pee in the ocean. So I, inconspicuoulsly as possible, reached under my dress and pulled off my panties. Well, cotton boy briefs, so let's call it underwear. I took off my underwear and neatly folded them up and placed them in my bag. I. was. giddy. I was going to walk the beach not wearing underwear. It was ridiculous and something I have never ever done before in my life. And of course, nobody would know. Nobody could tell. I emptied my bag of items that were not my valuables - the book, pens and writing pad. I stood up, slung the bag over my shoulder, hiked up my dress, and headed down to the water's edge. The drop in air tempurature made the water feel warmer on my feet and ankles.
It was ridiculous how giddy I felt. I, at 55 years old, am walking the beach without any underwear on.
I started walking up toward the jetty in the distance, with the setting sun hitting the horizon. There were a handful of people poised close to the water's edge, taking it in. I walked about ankle deep in the water, dress hiked up, as nonchalntly as I could and then I dared myself to start peeing as I walked. It shouldn't be hard. I had a compeltely full bladder. I had to go.
I took my gaze up toward the horizon, and as I stepped, I slowly strated to relase a very small stream of pee, which felst so warm, as it trickled down my leg. I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, with a huge grin and slightly shaking my head in disbelief that I was peeing in the ocean as I walked, in plain sight of everyone else, and to the best of my ability, without anyone else knowing.
As I continued, I became a little bolder and started to pee harder. That is when I felt the back of my dress get weighed down and soaked. I neglected to hike up the back of my dress. As I walked, the pee hit the bottom of the back of my dress. That was unexpected. So I hiked up the back and tucked it into my belt. The dress began to cling to me as I walked. Not a very plesent experience. I continued my walk and my pee. Which went on. and on. and on. For much longer than I had antiipated. I kept walking. And peeing. Because an adult bladder can hold up to 16 ounces of fluid. Although, at this point, I was sure I had exceeded that amount a ways back there. The sun was nearly fully set when I reached the stone jetty and I climbed up on top to watch the last of it dissapear. A smell of urine wafted up from below. Was that my dress I was smelling, or was I standing barefoot in a popular place for public urination?
I thanked the sun for such a spectacular day. thanked it for doing such a wonderful job, lighting my apartment, bringing me energy and keeping the world going.
The light was going and I eased my way down the boulders back onto the wet sand and picked up the pace back to my beach blanket. The front of my dress stuck to my legs as I walked. It had gotten soaked on my way to the jetty. I was getting cold. It was not pleasant. I don't ever have to do this again. And yet, I was so happy that I did.
When I made it back to my blanket, I packed up everything in my shoulder bag and headed back to the car. When I got there, I pulled out a sheet and a bath towel I keep in the back of my car and folded up a nice absorbent pillow for the driver's seat. I got in, closed the door and hiked up the soaked skirt so I could sit directly on the wonderfully dry towel. It made me two inches higher than normal. Oh my gosh, it made my seat so much more comfortable. I fit my car so much better. My head rested in the headrest perfectly. My feet reached the ground in a way that felt totally right. What a discovery! I took a deep inhale. I barely detected any smell of pee. And then I realized that before...I was standing barefoot in a popular spot for public urination. Nice.
I want to rebuild my life being informed by the wisdom of source. Being guided by the wisdom of source. I want to discover as many versions of source that I can. Source can be found in so place places and in so many forms. This is my practice and my exploration. It brings tears to my eyes and I'm not sure why. Maybe because it exists everythere I look, everywhere I consider, and I find that so moving. So beautiful. It makes me feel so insignificant. Because source is everywhere in plain sight, but only now, after a year and a half of living in a pandemic, mostly within the confines of my own home, sitting, being still. being quite, isolating. Only now am I ambe to begin to get a grasp of it. Source is literally in the air I breath. It permeates all things.
So to rewrite my life from a place of being guided by source means compltely rewriting my life because it is such a foreign practice to live this way for me. And it means ltting go of how I lived my old life, my calulated, goal oriented I'm-gonna-figure-it-out life. The I've got this, I am capable, competant, smart, have a way with people life. The charming life.
I look up at the sun spackled curtains hanging in my kitchen doorway and I am takend by the beauty of the light. It makes me teary. The simplicity of the magical beauty. I look up on the ceiling and the little refracted rainbows fromt he hanging crystal in the windo begin to make their appearance in the living room. They will come and go, and migrate across the living room walls over the course of the day as the sun traverses across the sky.
Tracey's words of BREATH, BELIEVE, OPEN and RECEIVE ring deeply for me. Today I am open to the magnificance of the beauty that surrounds me in a way that I never have beeen before. It gives me chills. And I feel all I can do is sit and breathe it in.
Then June's words of "you need do nothing" pop into my head. that's good. Because I'm not really able to do much right now.
It's a moment, a taste, of what life could be. The experience of life.
When I think of having a magnificent life, I see I am surrounded by magnificence. it doesn't get more magnficent than experiencing source.
I didn't have to be on the road to Santiago to achieve this understanding. I just had to sit on my living room floor in the moring every day for a week or so.
This morning, the alarm went off at 6am and in my deep deep state of sleep, I picked up my phone and hit SNOOZE. 10 minutes later, the same thing happened. In my deep deep sleep I picked up my phone and hit SNOOZE. I opened my eyes for the first time, four times into this semiconscious routine. It was 6:39. There was a cat laying across my clavicle and kneeding his claws into my shoulder, breaking the skin. A painful awakeing to my day. I hit SNOOZE one last time. And fell deeply asleep.
This is very unusual for me. But I suppose I was in a sleep cycle that could not be inturrupted at this time.
I staggered to my 7am Zoom PK Silver class 10 minutes late. Everyone else was energetically flicking their wrists like they were dumping hot potatoes. They were all on the east coast. 3 hours ahead. When it was an appropriate time to be doing such things.
I wasn't able to wake up until about 10 minutes until the end of class. So unusal for me.
Finally class was over and I sat back on the couch. Sadness set in. Deep sadness. But unlike the usual loss of my father, today it felt much bigger. Sadness for the loss of life. Loss of my life. My prior life. The life that no longer serves me. The life that no longer fits.
I am in a strange no man's land of transition. I honestly am unable to verbalize what doesn't work from my old life. The desire to build out Create Your Career from the Inside Out - well, honestly, I feel it needs an overhaul. Because I want to add more energetic work to the program. And I don't know how to do that yet. I do feel that laughter and play are integral parts of it. Moving the stagnent energy. Physicality is a part of it.
When I think of Joyful Boogie, I just feel defeated. It doesn't translate to zoom. And it feels to hard to pick up now. And I can't even imagine going into a facility right now. Too dense.
It's the first time in 8 years that I am not working on a HPA or SMPTE Award show and I don't miss it. I don't even remember doing them until I see a memory show up on Facebook. And even then, when I see the photos, I think of them as fond memories, but have no pull to go back there. There are a few aspects I do miss, but overall - not really.
Those projects provided 5 months of income for me, and I was covered well into the beginning of the following year.
It's a strange no man's land for me, now. The structure I had in place for years is gone. And I am left with the need to lean into trust. Surrender. trust that everything is unfolding perfectly. Surrender into the no knowing. Knowing that I am ok.
For the first time in my life, I feel I am ramping down, slowing down. wrapping things up. When I cam e to Los Angeles, my new life was so clearly set out in front of me. It was so new. SO fresh. exciting. So fullof possibilites, With very clear dreams. I feel resolved in having pursued those dreams to the best of my ability. No regrets there.
I fell into production, when I was at a clean slate place in my file - aslo very fresh and new. pen to seeing where it would take me.
A long time in bed this morning meant a short time at the meditation table and a short time at the writing lap. And that is ok. It is ok. But droppig into what mould feed my sould today is difficult to catch.
So I ask - deerest lynn, heart wisdome, breathe. Tell me what would feed you today? I love the chicken soup I made last night after the rain. It is delicious and three are jars of it sitting on the top shelf of the fidge. I assume it will only get tastier with time.
my phone buzzes with texts.
The apostille arrives in a half hour.
tuning into the sounds of the traffic on santa monica blvd.
I would love to go to idyllwild. alone. for three days.
I need peace and solidtude
An crisp air.
And my heart has spoken.
My sweeet dear Lynn, I love you so much and honor you truly. deeply.
A fire in the fireplace. Is that legal now? a soup on the stove. A pie in the oven. Listening to music or a book on "tape", knitting or making jewelry or vision boarding. A walk outside. In the mountain air All of this is divine.
Alright, angelic forces, energetic beings, spirits surrounding me and the Universe - bring it on. It's up to you. I have apparently run out of humans to connect with.
So I look to you. Fill in the gaps. Show me that when I feel totally isolated, that I am supported, held and guided. Step it up, because everything I have ever relied on and know to rely on, no longer exists or is available to me. I am turning to you, angels - show me that I am not alone here. Ancestors - some guidance about how to best be and move with flow and grace. Universe - a clue on the big picture for me would be great.
Alright - time to reach out to the Apostille for the Austrian citizenship application.
Look into ESL certification. Something I can do anywhere.
Today is the first fully rainy day of the season. I am loving snuggling up inside, staying warm and dry. Perhaps I'll enjoy a walk in the rain later.
I speak to my dead father the way I spoke to an imaginary friend when I was a young child.
I miss my pal.
I miss all my pals.
This is a photo of my father immigrating to the United States in 1949. Seated next to him is Fred Hechinger, then columnist for the New York times. He was assigned to do an article on the experience of the immigrants on the boat. My father became friendly with him. My father, as an attempt to avoid sea sickness, introduced himself to the captain of the boat and offered to create a daily news bulletin for the passengers. He listened to the news on the ship's radio and transcribed the stories and ran them off on a mamiograph machine and distributed the one sheet each day. Coincidentally, also on board was NY Times columnist, Fred Hechinger, doing a story on the immigrant experience on the boat. My father and Fred Hechinger became friendly. Much later, when I was in my 20's, I worked at the Carnegie Corporation of NY, and so did Fred Hechinger, at the very end of his career, as an advisor. My father remembered Fred very well and dug out this photo for me to share with him. I've kept it as one of my prized posessions ever since.
I have developed a moring meditatin ritual that is working for me for the first time in my life
Yesterday, I created a mediation playlist which includes Tibetan Monks, Brian Eno's Ambient music and a variety of other artists I found in my search. the list is now 7 and a half hours long. I could meditate all day and be covered.
I have placed my aromatherapy dispenser in a corner of the living room and each morning I fill it with a new scent, before I sit.
I light a tea light in my Himalayan Salt candle holder and ignite a stick of Paulo Santo that I brought back with me from Ecuador.
All of these steps help prepare me to sit. And I appreciate the incorporation of all of the senses. It feels loving and delicious and supportive.
Lately, I have been waking up with energy. It has been so long since that has happened, I don't remember. Maybe since before I got "covid" last year. So, well over a year. I am enjoying it so much. And it is such a relief to know that it is possible to feel this way again. Energized in the morning. When I wake. energized when I wake. What a blessing and waht a relief.
Yesterday was shaping up to be a quiet day of solitude and reading. Instead, it shaped up into taking on the Austrian citizenship application. I realized my passport is going to expire in two months and I need to time this out while my passport is still valid. I'm finally ready to engage an apostille. Who I call and who comes to me. I also amassed a pile of documents that follow my father's life from birth to death, including his arrival in London as a 13-year-old, the years he spent in Great Britain, his marriage certificate to my mother - both civil and Jewish, record of his name change from Rottblatt to Jordan, his latest passport and his death certificate. It's a 17 page stack of official and unofficial documentation of my father's 95 year long life. It's heavy and weighs on me and when I think about it, my throat tightens and my airways become constricted. So much strife. So much heaviness.