Dissolving a Marriage

Part 1

The first line in my book, The Toltec Path of Transformation, asks the question, "Have you ever had your life turned upside down in an instant?"

When I wrote that line it was a theory in my own life. But the week my book came out my life was turned upside down in a spectacular way; not in an instant, but in a series of instants that accumulated in a tearing of the fabric of my world.

Damn, I'm glad I wrote a book about change, because I have certainly needed it!

In the beginning of October I waved goodbye to my husband, best friend, beloved, business partner, teaching partner, and main support system as he drove away in his truck packed with his belongings to start a new life in Colorado. 

There is obviously backstory to that moment of his departure, a history that led to us having our last long hike and celebratory sushi meal together, a series of events that led to us saying goodbye to each other and to the form of our relationship.

One day I may write about those events. For now I am healing at deep levels of my being. I've been amazed at the magnitude of my own vulnerability, fragility, and grief. 

I've been in awe at how my community has supported and loved me through this transition. 

I've been aware that this moment in time, this transition is as precious and powerful and perfect as the moment of Raven and my weddings (we had three!), or of our teaching together over the years, or of our teamwork in running Toci. It is all part of a cycle of birth and death, of coming together and moving apart, of creation and dissolution. Life. 

I'm learning that dissolving a long-term relationship takes time and patience and great self-love. There are parts of me that are still in shock and disbelief that Raven left. There are parts of me that flip between being scared, sad, furious, overwhelmed, devastated, and wanting my friend back. And there are parts of me that are really happy for Raven as he settles into his new life, and I'm excited to see what he will create next. There are parts of me that are really happy for HeatherAsh as she settles into her new life, and I'm excited to see what she will create next. 

Sometimes the transition feels graceful and smooth and effortless, sometimes it feels like my heart has been run over repeatedly by a bus.

And through it all there have been so many gifts. I'm finding a strength inside of me that comes from being with my own process and deeply accepting myself, even when it is messy. Even when it is emotional. Even when my mind has an opinion of how the process should be going. Even when others are disappointed in me. I'm learning to give myself things that I had leaned on Raven to provide. I'm learning to let my friends and family hold me and support me when the waves of shock or fear or grief or anger wash over me. Even though I miss Raven, I love living alone, and I deeply love my life. I'm learning to get even bigger to hold all of myself in love and acceptance. 

I'm learning to let go of any stories and focus on what is arising within me to be witnessed, loved, and healed. Moment by moment, day by day. I'm wrapping myself in the immense gratitude I have for Raven and for the beginning, middle, and end of our marriage.

And that is my prayer for all of us humans: that we continue to support each other in releasing stories, opinions, judgments, and fears; not from a place of "you shouldn't have any stories" or "it is wrong to be judgmental." That is the old matrix, the one where we punish ourselves and each other for our experience. Instead, let's honor ALL aspects of ourselves and others, even the parts we don't like. Let's immerse ourselves in the healing salve and sparkly joy of gratitude. We are all so powerful, and we are also so fragile. Let's hold spaciousness for our hearts to expand past old hurts and fears, and lovingly invite change to unfold, like a new butterfly unfurling its wings for the first time. Let's embrace both the caterpillar, the cocoon, and the wet wings part of our process as much as we embrace the flight; because ALL of it is life.

Thanks for being with me on this amazing journey!

And two last shares; one of my favorite poems from Adrienne Rich; a reminder to release ourselves and others from boxes, definitions, and the past.

Delta

If you have taken this rubble for my past

raking though it for fragments you could sell

know that I long ago moved on

deeper into the heart of the matter

If you think you can grasp me, think again:

my story flows in more than one direction

a delta springing from the riverbed

with its five fingers spread

~ Adrienne Rich

And a writing that came into my inbox this morning, from a friend. 

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could. ~ Louise Erdrich

Today, like tomorrow and all days to come, I plan to spend licking apple nectar off my fingers and moving deeper into the heart of the matter... deeper into the sweetness of unconditional love, deeper into unconditional acceptance, deeper into unconditional healing, deeper into unconditional living.

Aging Fabulously

A few years ago I read an article that shifted how I viewed aging. The author interviewed 70 and 80 year olds who were actively involved in extreme sports/activities: everything from climbing the world's highest mountains to skiing to jumping out of airplanes.

They all shared their experiences of what helped them get out of bed each morning and continue to live their passions, despite the changes in their bodies.

One 85-year old man's advice was simple: "Cultivate your enthusiasm now. You are going to need it when you are my age."

Gracefully aging doesn't happen spontaneously; it is something we cultivate day by day, beginning at whatever age we are now. You don't have to be "old" to lay the foundation to age fabulously.

Here are some tips on aging fabulously, or just plain living fabulously:

Read inspirational stories and watch inspirational movies about aging, illness, and death. Don't avoid making friends with again, illness, and death, they are not your enemies, but reminders of the fragility and preciousness of life. They can teach you much that will bring you fully alive.

Set goals for yourself at 60, 70, 80, and 90. Who would you like to be? Let go of believing that you will remain 39 forever; and let yourself dream without limits of what you want to have accomplished or do at different markers in your life. Celebrate each birthday as another blessing. One woman I met did something outrageous for each birthday after she turned 70; at 75 she did a firewalk; the year before she had gotten a tattoo with her daughter. How might you celebrate getting older?

Cover all your mirrors for a week and bring your focus to feeling yourself from your core rather than through your eyes. Get to know your unique vibration as a sensation, rather than defining yourself by what you look like.

If your body hurts or tweaks, smile and breath into the area. Ask that area what it needs or what would support it. Bring more oxygen and awareness to the tight, painful, or difficult areas in your body.

Change your languaging.  Be curious and open about getting older rather than whining about it. It's going to happen no matter what; why not enjoy it? How you speak to yourself and others makes a huge difference.

Below are two inspirations I received via email from my mama (thanks, mom!); feel free to share others as you find them!

BANK ACCOUNT

A 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud man, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with his hair fashionably combed and shaved perfectly, even though he is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. His wife of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, he smiled sweetly when told his room was ready.

As he maneuvered his walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of his tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on his window. I love it,' he stated with the enthusiasm of an eight year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

Mr. Jones, you haven't seen the room; just wait.'

'That doesn't have anything to do with it,' he replied.

Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged ... it's how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. 'It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do.

Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I'll focus on the new day

and all the happy memories I've stored away.. Just for this time in my life.

Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from what you've put in..

So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank

account of memories!

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred.

2. Free your mind from worries.

3. Live simply.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less.

from MARION P. DOWNS, DHS, DSc (Hon.)

Author of Shut up and Live!

How do some people, as they grow older, continue to lead happy, vigorous, event-filled lives, while others don’t? Meet Dr. Marion Downs. In her 94 years, she has...

Participated in a mini-triathlon (running, swimming and biking) at age 89.

Won Senior Olympics gold medals in tennis.

Achieved mandated hearing tests for more than 90% of US newborns when she was an audiologist in her 50s.

Retired -- often.

Here’s what she has to say...

It’s fun to be old. I can do almost anything I want to do. Nobody cares! But one thing I know -- to continue, I must take care of myself physically and mentally.

My “old age” got off to a great start. The day I turned 51, I stood at the top of a hill wearing ski gear that my kids had left in a closet, scared to barrel down that first slope. I turned to the instructor and said, “I can’t do this! It’s too steep. What should I do?” He said, “Shut up and ski! You know how.” I did? Yes, even though it was my first time, somehow I did. So I went.

Now, whenever life gets strange and I don’t know what to do next, I tell myself, “Shut up and live! You know how.”

Most of us are living longer than our parents did, with no guidelines to see us through those critical years. “Girls” in their 80s and younger claim I’m their role model and ask for my longevity secrets.

A few years ago, I noticed that youngsters in their 50s and 60s dared to write books about how to live to a ripe old age. Why not me? I know how! So I wrote a book, too.

MY PRIORITIES

My three children, 11 grandchildren and 24 great-grandchildren are 38 great reasons to stick around. But only I can take care of myself. And I do.

I believe in taking full responsibility for one’s own life. Stop blaming Grandpa. According to a report on aging from Harvard, our genes account for only about 25% to 35% of our longevity and 30% of our physiological changes. My parents died at 72. Not me.

Maintaining a vigorous old age requires determination. My number one priority: Daily exercise.

Every morning I stretch for 15 to 20 minutes. Back stretches keep me free of pain from a serious back problem decades ago. Neck and shoulder stretches keep my head high, shoulders back. Daily leg stretches prevent the old folks’ shuffle, caused by short, weak leg muscles. Striding is better.

At home, I do an hour of strengthening exercises (with weights, stretchy exercise bands, on a large balance ball and with a soccer ball) three times a week and one to two hours of aerobics (mostly running, but I love my three-wheel bicycle, too) four times a week. My trainer, whom I call the Marquis de Sade, protects me from harm but keeps me hopping. I see him periodically for consultations about increasing the number of repetitions of an exercise, trying a new exercise regimen or device and general advice and help.

Exercise is play, too. Tennis has been my game since I retired from full-time work at 68. I prefer it over golf because it involves more activity. I play two hours three times a week in a league with changing partners.

MY SO-CALLED DIET

I’m no dietitian. But I look pretty good for a nonagenarian, and people ask for my nutritional secrets.

What I eat: Foods high in protein and low in carbohydrates. Lots of fruit and as many veggies as I can swallow.

That regimen keeps me lean, clean, healthy and strong.

Another essential food group: Each morning I put a milk chocolate turtle on the kitchen counter. I admire it all day and eat it at night.

MY KIND OF FUN

When I turned 90, I decided to try skydiving. My family tried to stop me. Ha! Strapped to an instructor, I did a 3,000-foot free fall at 120 miles per hour. The landing was nice. We glided in. I sat down on a sand pile. For my 95th, next January, I’m doing it again.

My bridge games, doing crosswords in pen -- who knows if they help my brain stay healthy? I keep active and hope for the best.

The Impossible is Possible

On Saturday a little girl gave me two precious gifts. The first gift was a statement. The second gift was two dollars.

I'm still glowing from both of them.

This story starts at the end of May, when I had an inspiration to do one last firewalk in Austin before the Texas summer heat began to melt everything in its path.  And it ends Saturday night after a young woman walks on fire for her first time.

I love firewalking; it is a catalyst for huge transformation. Whether you walk or not, when you watch someone walk over 1300 degree coals one of the first agreements we all learn: that fire burns; dissolves, and suddenly every agreement you have ever made is more easily changed. Firewalking has been used for thousands of years by people all over the planet to increase energy and focus and to heal both self and community.

There is something so primal about people around a fire, whether that fire is a bonfire or a bed of coals ready to be walked on. There is a deep nourishing that happens when we connect to the element of fire, and when we do this in a group that nourishment is increased ten-fold.

And sometimes this nourishment of connecting to fire and being supported by a group, like we did Saturday night as we cheered and celebrated each person that walked across the coals, sparks a transformation that changes a life.

Towards the end of the evening we invited people to walk across the coals in silence, after saying a word of intent. A young girl, who had walked with a couple of adults the first time, stepped in front of the fire by herself. We all held our breath as she spoke her word to the circle: happiness. And as she walked across the coals she was surrounded by 65 people saying "happiness" back to her.

During the shares after the firewalk she said one of my new favorite statements:

"My grandfather sometimes tells me that not everything is possible. But now I know he is wrong."

And that is the lesson for all of us to digest: the impossible IS possible.

Later I asked for donations, and she walked up to me and handed me two rumpled dollar bills. She was radiating like a little sun, full of joy and wonder. "This is for you," she told me. "I had an amazing time."

I so treasure those two dollar bills, and knowing that she is going to go into the world holding that she can do anything she chooses.

May we all remember that we are so much more than the limits we place on ourselves, and that regardless of what anyone tells you, the impossible IS possible.

Weeds, Barren Ground, and Starting Again

It was with shock that I opened up my blog this morning and realized that the last blog I wrote was last year. "How is that even possible?" I wondered. I've been meaning to get back to a regular blogging schedule, thinking about it often, and coming up with ideas of what to write about. It has been very alive in my head, but moving our business, moving our house, and writing a proposal for a book all took precedence, and the blog writing remained a distant fantasy.

There are many times in our life that we have the thought of something we want to do, from washing the dog to getting a new job, from eating more consciously to meditating in the mornings. Taking our desires and dreams and making them into tangible realities means we need to move from thinking into acting. The thinking part may set the stage for planting the seed, but the growth comes from watering and nourishing and tending your seeds of intent over time.

If you don't tend to your inner or outer gardens what often grows is a plethora of weeds that crowd out what you've planted. Those weeds are the untamed thoughts, distractions, fears, and places of struggle within you. Or sometimes lack of attention to your dreams and goals leads to no growth at all.

The solution? Embrace the weeds or tell yourself the truth when things aren't flourishing. When you turn around and discover that an area you planted long ago is wild with unintended growth or is barren, smile. Take a breathe in this moment and time. Judging, deflecting, or moaning about the past will not clear the field. Go back and clarify what your original intent was when you planted the seed, and what your actions have been since then.  What do you need to shift or realign?

One seed I planted last year was to regularly write in my blog and share my thoughts, experiences, and explorations. The reality is that the garden of my blog has been barren from lack of attention.

Happily, if when you plant a seed of intent, that seed will wait for the right conditions to grow. Sometimes the right conditions happen by grace; space and motivation suddenly arrive like the sunshine following a rainy day. And sometimes we are invited to cultivate the right conditions through our actions.

A sudden, strong inspiration to write in my blog appeared last week out of the blue, and to continue to foster right conditions I kept my blogger page open so I could tap in and write during breaks from working on my book. And so grace (the inspiration) and cultivating the right conditions (creating the space to write over time) came together to produce a new flower in my garden, that I now share with you.

What supportive conditions can you cultivate in your life today to help you step back towards fostering a forgotten or buried intent?

There is always space and time to return to an intent, no matter how neglected or forgotten.


Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving — it doesn't matter,
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times,
Come, come again, come. ~ Rumi

Death and Beauty

Last Thursday I checked my voice mail to discover that a beautiful being, Milissa Ann, had died a couple of days earlier. I met Milissa in Wimberley not too long after we moved to Texas, and she was part of our community for several years. After she moved to Santa Fe we lost touch, though I would see her occasionally when she came through town.

When I heard the news of Milissa's passing I realized that I had been thinking about her a few days earlier, wondering how she was doing. Apparently many people who knew Milissa had the same experience; none of us knew she was in the hospital, but despite the distance we felt her through the web of our connection.

And now I find myself thinking a lot about a woman that touched many lives, but that I hadn't seen in over a year and had no physical connection with. In her death I feel her strongly. While her family and friends grieve, she feels like pure light, a twinkle moving freely, released of her body's struggle. 

Saturday night was her memorial service in San Antonio. Her close friends Kim, Arielle, and Trisha attended, while a group of us danced barefoot at Toci. Milissa loved to dance, so it seemed fitting to bring her into our evening. I went to her Facebook account and we kept her photos up on my computer screen, next to a picture of Rachel, another young, vibrant woman in our community who also died suddenly (in January in a car accident.) We lit a candle for them both, and I giggled at one point to look up from my dancing to see Milissa and Rachel's photos hanging out together with a mango margarita in front of them. Perfect.

At the memorial service someone read this poem:

I'd like the memory of me

to be a happy one,

I'd like to leave an afterglow

of smiles when day is gone.

I'd like to leave an echo

whispering softly down the ways,

Of happy times, and laughing times,

and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve

to dry before the sun,

Of happy memories that I

leave when life is done.

Milissa, you have left many bright memories in our hearts, and a reminder to choose to love love love as fully as we can, knowing that our time here is precious.

Here is a Facebook post from Kevin Anthony Flores, that again shows how we are all connected in this web of life and death, and that while the physical form is fleeting, love is eternal.

... In my minds eye I saw the beautiful face of a good friend, beautiful smile of an angel, shining black hair cropped short to frame her face like the petals of a rose… And her eyes!  Big deep brown glistening eyes that seemed to caress my entire being.  She seemed to be saying hello and goodbye all at once — all at once.  My mind slipped back in time as memories superimposed themselves over her face; our first meeting and the beautiful feeling of knowing that we had always 'known' each other, the camaraderie of a sister found, siblings of Spirit wrought in infinity, such a beautiful feeling.  That day that we met we shared intimate stories about ourselves, dear ideas and thoughts about life and death, and the things that dreams are made of.   I gave her a ring; a silver ring with a mexican fire opal set in a swirling base and told her that if she ever needed me or just wanted to feel known, and loved, that all she had to do was hold it and think of me.

The memory dissipated and all that I was left with was the beautiful face, smiling, the eyes radiating hope and gentle passion for life in all its expressions, even the expression of pain, sadness and yes, even death.  I'll never forget those eyes.  And in those few moments of connection I felt good, I felt happy.  I felt as though she had said hello and goodbye all at once but also to say: '"never stop, keep on loving, and keep on dreaming.'"

And I opened my eyes and realized yet again, in a very definitive and decisive way, that I was dreaming awake.

I came home that evening to find a message waiting for me to inform me that a very good friend of mine had died.  Her journey in life was challenging, yet she was always smiling for me, she never complained about her journey, only recounted the facts and the things she was thinking about them, I do not doubt that she was sometimes sad, or angry or in pain, I do not dishonor her humanity, yet she always rose above it, usually with a gentle hug and a smile.  And even though it saddens my heart  that I may never again be able to receive a hug from her, or hear her sweet voice, I smile.  I smile in the memory of the knowledge she shared with me, to smile, always to smile even in the face of humanity's greatest challenge; physical death.  I know that she is dancing with stars at this very moment!

Her name was Milissa Ann and it was her face that I experienced on the rocks at the Giant's Causeway that afternoon.

Blessings to you, Milissa.

I just realized: the last photo below I took in Taos on the day Milissa died. It was the most beautiful, clear, vibrant rainbow I've ever seen.... Now I know why!

Finding Balance with Technology; Choice vs Addiction

Early morning, Austin airport. I popped open my computer to send a couple of emails before I boarded my plane to Santa Fe.

"Oh, you are on the computer!" she said. I looked up to into the smiling face of a woman sweeping under my table. "My husband lives in Dubai, and whenever you comes home he is always on the computer. It drives me crazy!"

Sometimes a comment from a stranger is just that. Sometimes a comment from a stranger is actually the voice of spirit tapping you on the shoulder to pay attention.

I paid attention. I stopped mid-email and gave her my full presence.

She shared how her husband spent all of his time shopping on the computer. How she once deliberately pulled his computer out of the car and left it at home when they went on a vacation to Galveston, and how when he found out his computer was not with him he borrowed his daughter's computer. How even if he had been gone for months, when he came home his focus was completely hooked.

As she spoke I watched her body language and energy. She was frustrated, and open-hearted and loving. I felt laughter under her words, a sense of feeling incredulous that anyone would prefer a machine to a personal interaction. I realized I would much rather play with her than with my computer.

And the second she left, I went back to my email, but this time with a little more awareness.

I love technology. And I also am very aware of its siren-like lure that causes many to drown out everything else and immerse in its flow, to the detriment of conscious relationships and vital health. Our societal focus used to be on the television; now it is shifting to little computers we can carry with us everywhere. My goddaughter, Rowan, recently told me about how much fun she had at a slumber party with her girlfriends, where they stayed up until past midnight texting their one friend who wasn't with them.

When I hear these stories, I feel alarmed. Is the next generation going to be able to function in relationships? Are we creating a society that has no idea what personal intimacy is? And I recognize that my generation grew up with television as the focal point, and I imagine my grandparents worried that we were spending too much time sitting in front of it.

The answer is in finding balance. When I first got my iphone, I found myself playing with it all the time: checking emails, looking at Facebook, searching the internet, playing scrabble with far-flung Toltec friends. It started out fun. And then it started to feel compulsive. I HAD to check my email. I HAD to see what was going on with my friends and family on Facebook. What started out as a convenient  tool for me to create more ease in my life started to shift into a handful of distraction and "should."

Most addictions, whether to alcohol or an iphone, start off like a fun friend but over time turn into a controlling dictator that we are compelled to obey. We put the veneer of "this helps me relax/focus/stay-in-touch/sleep/function" over the top, but the truth is we are no longer making a choice based in the biggest picture of our lives, but in the fixated, fear-based beliefs of the mind.

I now find balance in keeping the ringer off my phone, and only answering when I actually have the space to talk to someone. When I feel the urge to check email or Facebook, I first stop, take a breath, and notice my surroundings. I come more present, and get clear on is this the choice I really want to make?

So now I will upload this blog, close my computer, and go enjoy the beauty of nature outside. Balance!

Taming Wild Pony Projects

Summer brings heat, long days, vacations, and for me, project wrangling.

Each summer Raven escapes the high temperatures and humidity of Texas by heading out of town. I delight in these long stretches of time alone to round up and tame my current herd of run-away ponies.

Many years ago I lived in a tiny cabin on the edge of the Sierra mountains. My horse, Chiona, lived at a stable many miles from me. One morning I woke up with a brilliant idea: To move Chiona to my land. I converted an old shed to a stall, bought some hay, and moved her in. But I had forgotten one major thing in my dreamy vision of being able to visit and ride my horse whenever I wanted to: Chiona was a high-spun, nervous thoroughbred who was an expert at getting herself into trouble.

Chiona waited exactly one day before she metamorphosed into destructo-pony. Then she turned her full powers on. On Day Two I awoke to the sound of hoofbeats outside my window. Chiona had broken out of her stall and was running in panic up and down the road. On Day Three she broke out again, but this time she headed for my garden where she made her mark by galloping repeatedly through my vegetables plants. Day Four we went for a quiet ride where I spent most of my time gripping the saddle so I wouldn't fly off when she stopped abruptly at every tiny noise or movement. On Day Five she broke out again and danced her hooves throughout my garden. One Day Six I realized my folly and moved her to a stable with a real door, fence, and arena.

My current herd of out-of-control pony projects all start out as a dreamy vision of “won't this be wonderful and easy!,” but unattended they bust out of their confinements and create chaos. One is an overflowing heap of papers that attempt to escape each time I open the back closet door; originally I thought “What a perfect place to put the papers I still need to file so I won't have to look at them.” Another is our garage. Yikes. Definitely time for some serious corralling there. The third is Raven's side of our home office, which I received permission to tame after the piles of audio equipment and un-harnessed papers began to stomp over everything else.

Trying to coax a 1,000 pound, galloping animal into her stall at 5 am was great practice for figuring out how to approach the piles of paper that are stacked precariously on my closet shelves and put them into neat containers. And when I open my pantry and see rows of neatly organized goods I feel the same relief I felt the first day I visited Chiona at her new secure stall : all is right with the world and everything is in its proper place.