I suppose it has been going on since the beginning of time, children in trouble. And I suppose, to feel alone while going through troubles, also, has quite a history.

Today’s post will identify some patterns that cloud our ability as parents, to truly assist our children when they are in trouble. These patterns are mind grooves, which are more satisfying to our egos- enhancing our selfishness, ignorance and fear, but WILL NOT help our child who is in trouble. But first we must be willing to SEE WHAT IS, and remember this is about them, and not us.

• Worry & Fear I have one child I don’t worry about. I have another I do. With this child, my eyes, one would think are a bit wider, paying attention a bit more. But quite honestly, even while in the womb, this little girl, of 11 now, troubled me. We were told she might have Down’s Syndrome, but as it turned out she just had a lot of hair. But even so, this child of mine is different. She is the one, I saw on the side of the road after the car accident. She is the one who carries such intensity, it overwhelms even me, who also carries intensity. My own fear and worry for her, and overwhelm, has often prevented me from seeing where and who she is, and what she truly needs from me.

What I am learning, is there is a space, not often easy to get to, beyond the fear and worry, that is in a way neutral, and intensely focused on our child, and only our child. In this space, we face what we must and assist how we must. We can fall apart later. Just knowing there is a space beyond worry and fear, can be enough for us to get there, if this is what we intend.

• But, you don’t understand my child would never do that. I had a friend once say, his young daughter of five, wouldn’t get into trouble, that somehow he, as a parent, would not have to deal with it. He wasn’t kidding. I knew then, having older children, she probably will surprise him. As uncomfortable as it is, we must open our eyes and really SEE our children. They too, are developing patterns and mind grooves, and showing us how they perceive and deal with the world around them, and beyond them. Seeing might even save their lives.

• Where did I go wrong? This question can haunt us, and seem perfectly justifiable, but depending on the kind of trouble your child is in- how does pondering this question serve them? We must instead wonder what is immediate right now. This isn’t to say, self-reflection as a parent is not necessary, but it is only useful if we can truly SEE with understanding where we might have abandoned them and correct it now, and for the future. It is not useful to just sit and swim in.

• I miss the little girl she was….We wonder where the smiley, happy, child went, especially in pre-adolescence and adolescence. We want them to stay innocent. We are afraid for them. We remember our adolescence. Maybe have regrets. When they were little, they talked our ears off and we were tired after a long day, but at least they were happy. At least they talked. As we know we can’t go back, but we can be with them where they are.

• Punishing. Yelling, and other behaviors that arise from feeling out of control, and only serve to shame. Often our children keep secrets because they think we will yell at them, even if we aren’t yelling parents, but secrets keep our children sick. We need to hold a space for them to share what they do, how they feel and what they think. My parents provided a safe enough container for me to tell them the first time I had sex. When I was pregnant at 19. When I was drinking too much in junior high. Speaking saved me. Their support made it easier to stay “saved.”

As difficult as it might be, just listen. Look at them. Hear them. Hold the space, and remember you are their parent first and foremost. Our job is to guide them, and that is what they need, and sometimes you might need to get really firm and absolute, and say -ENOUGH. It is also time, after all these years and years and years and years of shame, coming from the church, the school, the household, to say ENOUGH to shame, and break that old, tired cycle.

• I have no right to go through their ipods, phones, computer...Privacy is a privilege for those still in our nest. I didn’t use to know this because child number one had a strong desire to please and be a “good girl,” so she had a lot of space and privacy. This is the way I prefer to parent, but child number two shows me she needs less space and more restriction. What is terrifying about our culture for me right now, is the access to technology. There are networks “out there” that support suicide. Eating disorders. Cutting. Our children, even at 11 or younger are being subjected to thoughts, ideas that are very distrubing.

Maybe this is too much information, but I remember being 10 years old and walking into my mother’s boyfriend’s room and seeing pornography for the first time. I was horrified. I felt assualted. At 10, 11, 12- even 13, 14 and 15 we are still innocent, close to the womb, or as Lilli said as a little girl, close to the “The Place Called Love.” These images and words and thoughts are too much for them. They are carrying too much. And it is confusing because they think being exposed to this means they understand, and they don’t. In fact, their young brains won’t even allow for it. They are not developed enough to process through such things, so if you feel your child is in trouble, investigate, and know you are doing it because you are looking for signs to see what she or he is going through, so you can assist, and let them know, you know. Secrets keep our children sick.      

What we all really want to know, beyond all of our patterns and mind grooves, is- do the people in my life know how I much I love them. As we reconnect to this, we will always do what’s right. 

Namaste, 

The Soul Reporter

I’m going to take a risk here- I’m not posting until I’m in someplace new. It might be in a minute.  A day. A week. A month. Highly unlikely, a year. In fact I expect it to be quite short. Like, you’ll probably see me here again tomorrow.

Why am I doing this? On my walk I yesterday, I had an amazing discovery. I am not being taken to any place new inside my soul. I go round and round in my soul, visiting the same old places. Bitterness. Anger. Sadness. Hope. Inspired. Depressed. Tenacity. Grit–all of which, I usually choose to share with all of you.

On my walk I was feeling gritty. Ready to be done with the same old shit, realizing I have been settling, and I was writing this post about it to share with you—if I had a dollar for everytime I wrote or said I’m ready I’d already be a millionaire. But, I’ve shared that shit before. I’ve been in this place before, and I love you. You don’t need another one of my posts where I am angry and bitter and struggling—  again. Maybe you hadn’t even noticed, but you might have if I’d posted what I was composing earlier.

To keep speaking from the same old place is to say, hey, I like it here. It’s great. I think I’ll stay. Well I don’t like it here. It sucks. It’s old. Tired. Had its way. Now, this doesn’t mean I will never feel angry, bitter depressed, and full of grit- because actually grit is good, especially when you want to get out of a pit, a pit I think I’ve been in, but maybe I dont’ want to write about the pit anymore. And maybe I dont’ want to write about getting out of the pit either.

Instead I want to write from someplace new, which means I want to live from this new place, and eventually I want to be physically taken to a new place- a place where–finally, the inside matches the outside. Do you ever feel like you’ve changed so much on the inside, and yet you keep waking up to the same old life. This is what it has felt like for me, for far too long. Moving to a different state, even a car accident, and still I’ve been stuck, somewhere between I should be grateful for where I am and wanting more. Between accepting my karma and fighting to make a new life. Between choice and destiny.

But like Andy Dufrense, in Shawshank Redemption, I’ve paid my dues and than some. I’ve been in the pit long enough. The pit of one foot in and one foot out. Of thinking I deserve some certain fate and forgetting I could actually to do something about. Like Andy, as he said to Red, “Get busy living or get busy dying.” Andy dug himself out of that prison, and he swam through 3 football sized fields of shit to finally get out. There comes a point, where we have had enough. When we have been in a certian place for far too long and we can no longer keep our paw on that nail.

And like giving birth, where we are in the final stages of labor and it is time to push, we, out of some absolutely enormous and intense power, gather all of our resources and focus as we have never focused before, and we push and we push and we push to get that baby out. It is dirty. It is sweaty. It isn’t very pretty, but it’s sacred. It’s what is necessary for new life to get here.

You see, thanks to the remidner of my father, our egos like to keep us at the status quo, and if you are subject to all the new agey hoopla of “be positive and be grateful and accpet where you are,” one might get confused as to what this really means- what it means to be “spiritual.” We tend to think it has to be pretty and positive. That’s bullshit. There’s a place for it, but if we are in a pit and we can’t stand it anymore, and there is something inside of us we want to push out- something we have to push out, well than telling ourselves pretty cliches isn’t going to do the job. It’s time to get real. To get honest, and claw our way out. And sometimes, it means we probably shouldn’t talk to anyone because we need all of our strength to finally do what we have been wanting to do, but was afraid to do. Was too timid to do.

The ego will use what it can to keep us where we are- our religious beliefs, our values, our ideas- anything to keep us safe. It is not our enemy, however. In fact, it is part of us. A part of us we have nurtured, that wants to stay safe. To stay in the status quo, but some of us can’t. As Red said about Andy: .”..some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright…”  Let us know we all have wings that are just too bright, and it is our work to catch a glimpse of those wings, and break down our prison walls, bit by bit, and often crawl through miles of shit so we can fly to someplace new- and we can’t keep waiting for someone to tell us it’s time.

I heard Kevin Costner say of Whitney at her homegoing celebration yesterday, that she didn’t wait for God to come to tell her, her purpose, and what she was going to do. She caught a glimpse of her wings, and she told God what she was going to do. And if we want out we must do the same. Tell God, tell the world, tell ourselves we are getting out of this mess. We are going to fly our bright wings, and soar.

And hey, I’m no dummy. I know once we reach one mountain top after years of climbing, we aren’t done. There’s  plenty of other mountains in the distance, but we can hang out for awhile, and apprecaite the view in the place we finally arrive. We can see how far we’ve climbed. We can feel the strength we’ve gained, and see the miles we walked, and perhaps be moved to help some folks we see climbing. What words can we offer? What work of art can we paint? What song could we sing? What service might we bring, to tell others to keep on moving. Keep on moving. It’s beautiful up here. I want to tell you that.

So, until I am at the moutain top, I won’t speak about the valley (and perfect as life is, since I moved to California, I’ve lived in a valley). I’ve given it enough attention. Enough of my words.  I no longer care to speak about what I no longer want. So I will either not speak or choose to speak about something completely different. Maybe I’ll tells stories instead. Whatever the expression, it will come from a more unified self, instead of conflicted, separated selves. The unified self holds all of my experiences, all of my parts, and sees unity, feels wholeness, and creates something from there. Something new, or maybe the same, but from a new place.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

What is your safe purpose? What do I mean by this? Well, actually it came from my very wise daughter. The other day, I found myself smiling, more than I have in awhile, and I remembered days in which I felt full, and realized it is a full life, which brings happiness. At least for me. The day I found myself smiling, I felt full. And what was I doing? Laundry. Yes. Laundry.

I love laundry. I really do. In fact, and this I just realized, I could probably be happy having a job as a laundress. I think it would be extra wonderful if it were at Downton Abbey, and not some dingy place like, say a laundry mat. Yes, I see myself in the lower half of Downton, washing her Ladyship’s attire. In between the cycles of wash, rinse and dry, I read and write in my journal. I don’t have to make a living from writing because I have my living quarters there, and receive pay for doing laundry. A simple task, at least for me, which gives purpose and fulfillment, and is completley satisfying. Clothes are dirty. They are sorted. They are washed, and now clean. Folded, smelling good, and put away- and then more laundry accumulates. Does anyone relate? Or is this just me?

Does not matter- because I love doing laundry, and as I shared my love for this satisfactory task with my daughter, she says, “So laundry is your safe purpose.” Yes. By God, it is. “But,” she continues, “what is your dangerous purpose?”

I love doing what I’m doing, but while I’m doing it, I’m miserable. ~Viola Davis

That would be writing, something other than a blog post, which is another safe purpose. Over  7 years of writing them, I have learned how to compose a blog post, and in an instant I can publish. Satisfying. But, a book? A screenplay? A children’s story? Then, not only do I have to write it, I have to edit and submit it, and seek publication, and an agent, or e-book it, which I don’t want all my books to be e-books. Arduous. Can I just do some more laundry, please?

You have a talent that none of us have. Just find out what it is and do it. It’s doing nothing that’s the enemy. -Sybil in Downton Abbey

But, I am not a laundress, except every two weeks for my family of four. And unfortunately (and fortunately), something else has been put into my heart to do. An itch, that won’t be satisfied until I do it. When I sit down to do it, it’s often excruciating. I look for exits. Something easier. What I have in me to give, even in an attempt to give, looks weak in comparison to how I feel it inside, therefore I’d rather keep it inside. Hold it. But it itches, and it won’t stop. It wants to be freed. That dangerous purpose, wants to be realized, and because it is in me, I am the only one to free it.

And then, on a walk I realize how to free it. My inspiration? A man with a mop bucket. He’s working, and I envy him. He has work to do. It is work, which gives purpose and makes life full. No matter how long a process, to complete, or short. No  matter how internal the work is, or external. It’s work, and I have lots of it to do. Laundry, and writing and who knows what else. To work satisfies the itch. To not work, as Sybil so suggests, is the enemy. It simply is, just time to move into that dangerous purpose, and work.

To get me started, I have a tip that might work for you too, and it begins with a question- could it be, the impulses I receive in a day, are clues about the work that is to be done for that day? If so, it is time I not just listen and take notes about those impulses- it is time I act upon them, and see them into completion. ***Beyond this, it is time to put the fantasy away- the image I have of me as said writer, writing, happily and consistently as a livelihood. The more I work, the fantasy becomes weak in comparison because it cannot not offer what is truly at the heart of wanting to be that writer- which is to help. To share honestly, and as one commenter said, to do this, and I quote her: “You articulated many thoughts I wasn’t even aware I was thinking.” This is why I dare to move into that dangerous purpose.

***These last few sentences were added after the “rejection” of this piece. Maybe with them, it would have hit that “sweet spot” they look for that combines spirituality and creativity, and it could have been published. The timing of the rejection was ironic, but of course perfect. I was just finishing up yesterday’s post about finding my voice, which I think does hit that spot, when I saw the email come through, and I immediately became anxious, but did not allow myself to read it until I accomplished the post, and shared it. I needed a victory, because somehow I might have known I was getting the old, thanks for your submission, but I am afraid….song and dance. I was not as elegant and strong as I thought I might be. First, my heart races. I am mad. I want to vent. I am angry. Bitter. Want to lash out and defend myself- what do you mean- me not writing spiritually.? I send my husband a text. I cry. This is all in 5 minutes or less of time. I turn off Pandora. My head is down and I ask my question from the last couple days: what can I embrace now?  It turns out I am embracing this post, and the last words, the editor said to me: “That this piece didn’t come together for me is neither here nor there. Keep going.”

He’s right it is neither here nor there. I will keep going. Unfortunately, and fortunately I have to. #theartist’slife.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

In times of frustration, creative or otherwise, ask- what can I embrace now?

Yesterday, I wrote an honest post about my creative/work struggle (click here to read). My ending question was: what can I embrace now, until I’ve had enough- enough of the puppy’s paw on the nail- enough of the pain of my frustration?

I had no answer until I walked out of my front door, red umbrella in hand. It was raining and I had to pick up my daughter. Being carless since the accident, it is one of life’s mysteries and blessings, that her school is within walking distance. Now, one could think it was not one of life’s blessings, to have hail fall once I stepped out the door, as it did, but it soon stopped. Rain is not common in Southern California, so really how often do I have the opportunity to walk in the rain? I embraced it, and it was soft, calm, and in a strange way, purposeful and delightful.

There was something else I had embraced after I wrote that post, which was less obvious until it occurred to me this morning. While talking to my father on the phone, I embraced a rather embarrasing, yet persistent impulse, which was to ask him if I was a good writer. You know, those “singers” on American Idol who can’t sing, yet their moms and dads tell them they can, but they really can’t- was I one of those? But more than this, my little girl wanted to know- Daddy, am I good at something? Validate my purpose and talent, daddy.

And he did. “Yes,” he said, “you are a good writer.” In a way, the sad, neglected, little girl needed permission to do her art, and dad gave it. At age 39, his words brought a tear, and liberation to move even deeper toward me.

This is not to say, we need this validation to do our art. I’ve written hundreds, if not thousands of posts, and essays, unpublished, with no validation whatsoever, and in some cases we might not ever get this from our mom or dad or whomever would feed this most for us. But, what I am observing, as I push more and more of myself forward into some sort of artistic and helpful expression is, to bring all of who we are to it. This is where the magic happens. Where we speak deeply to others, where we feel the most alive, and at home.

When we do create something, what makes it move people beyond just the giving of information or our art, is when we put our whole self into it, and not just a part of our self. Especially, the part who thinks she should do it a certain way in order to be liked. To move, and be in the fullness of that creative current, that indestructible life force, is to bring our whole self. I’ve suddenly noticed how people write. I notice a certain generic style and this is fine, but I don’t notice a voice. A person inside the message. The life force vibrating within it. This is not necessary for us to learn or even be inspired, but maybe it is to be moved. Really moved.

We went to a screening last night of a movie that will be out at the end of March. It served the purpose it had- it entertained in the moment. It was funny at times and had interesting images to be taken in by, but once the lights came on, it was over. The movie did not linger. It did not stay with me, and this is fine. But the movies, which do, like Shawshank Redemption for me, lingers, and continues to teach me, and often shows up when I write. Rumi’s poetry lingers, and does more- it awaknes and enlivens. Once, on a cloudy Minnesota day, I sat outside and read an entire book of Rumi poetry. When I was done- my insides were swirling as it is said he did- the whirling dervish. In a way, I felt high. His magic literally moved me. It went somewhere deep. It’s rare, but it happens. And I guess as I write this out, I see this is the instrument I want to be. No small order.

My daughter who is an actor, admires Meryl. Yes, cliche- she is one, if not the greatest actress of our time, but not only does my daughter admire her, she wants to give what she gives. But she, will admit, wanted that yesterday. That’s the perfectionist. That’s the ego. Someone asked my daughter, what Meryl was doing at 19.

“Meryl was going to school,” my daughter said- and so is my daughter.  If we continue to keep that desire within us, and allow that intetnion to move us, it will begin to reveal itself. We will begin to see not a copycat of Meryl or Rumi or whomever, we will begin to see ourselves. Our essence will be within what we give. Not just in our art, but to every person and experience we meet.

This is where the magic happens.

Once we find our voice, which means after some time and probably with lots of practice, a personality or a style emerges out of all the parts of our self. I had no idea the last seven years blogging was not about being followed and getting comments and having my blog turn into a book. What it was really about was turning a journal writer into another kind of writer. To turn my insights and stories outwards, first to practice so the reader understands, and than to find a style, a self- I did not even know was there.

That little girl, who I have often denied, who needed to hear her dad say, she is a good at something, can now be brought into the mix of what is me. The less afraid I am of all the parts in me, the less I resist and deny my parts, wholeness arrives and embraces the fullness of creating, loving and living, and that paw is gently removed from that nail.

Listen to Adele’s words in this video, from AmericanVogue 

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

Squander. A good word to describe a sad little pattern I have. Squander. Sqaunder. Squander. Okay, enough with the shame. Now let’s investigate.

Squander: it comes from the word squan, which means an upside down swan with no place to go but down. Actually no. I dont’ know from where it derives, but I can give you the definition, in case we are not totally clear what it means. Squander: waste, in a reckless or foolish manner, and also if that weren’t enough-  allow to pass or be lost. Perfect. Squander- it’s what I do.

But, wait. I do take pity upon me, for I know not what I do. Well, I do know what I do. I squander, but for very good reason. I don’t know how (yet) to manage/channel/navigate the creative current in my soul. I just don’t. I feel it. It’s like a damn fire. It feels powerful. Urgent. Ready, and totally bad ass like Wonder Woman and poetic and deep…. well, like the few who do know how to navigate this current (could not think of names). I used to eat chocolate and organize drawers and closets to tame her down. Today, I felt her and I designed my new timeline on Facebook. That was a great way to SQUANDER.

So, we see I feel her. I know who she is, but I don’t know what the hell to do with her/it when it arrives, other than squander. I did, however at least, post this on my very new “kiss me, I’m Italian,” themed Facebook timeline: I think I understand why (many) writers drink and smoke. There is a lot of energy, which moves through the creative soul. Energy, which takes practice to learn how to channel. Ugh.

And apparently I wasn’t alone. A kindred soul, I’ve met online, commented. She absolutely knows what I am talking about. She knows this force. This power, and I don’t think she’d mind if I quoted her: “….when I am really creating or channeling something new, it feels like I am holding on to an electrical wire of high voltage. It’s amazing and intense, and a little uncomfortable….”

She goes on to say: “Part of me wants to avoid that intense feeling….I would love to get to the place that I engage it, court it and just write. But, I think part of the resistence is the loss of self that happens, and fear of what I might be able to accomplish. Maybe its a fear of our own power.”

Bingo. And the survey says….YES! She’s got it. A fear of our own power. A fear of the loss of self that happens. How many times have I squandered my power with a piece of chocolate, okay many pieces of chocolate, because I am afraid of losing myself, and finding my power? I resolve, truly and honestly, not to do this anymore, and not because of shame or to do so with will power. I resolve to because today, I believe is the first time I see how I just don’t want to anymore. I really don’t. I see this current, this life force as something captivating and powerful and brilliant, like a swan, and I want to get to know her. I want to turn her on her belly, so she can ride the current, like a swan and not a squan, and maybe even fly if she wants to.

People ask Meryl Streep how she does what she does. She can’t really say, and is afraid if she does, she might lose it. My guess, she knows how to navigate within her creative current pretty darn well- to work, to create, to build momentum. During the Kennedy Center Honors, where she was- honored- Kevin Kline recalled a young actress, who was doing Shakespeare in New York, and also working one, or maybe two movies. She was going home for the night and she hopped on her bike and rode home, and I don’t believe home was close. Kevin asked her what on earth she was doing, after a full day of working- building stamina, she said. Building stamina.

Stamina she has. She is one of three actors I have adored since I was a young girl, and she remains on the screen. The other two have vanished, and returned, and vanished again. She was/is building stamina, but she, if I were to guess was/is also managing her energy. Keeping it going. Bubbling. Moving. I believe all of us have this current, but not all of us will jump into it, aware and then know how to go with it. I’m attempting to jump in now. Or maybe I’ve been in it, but now I am going to open my eyes a bit wider and start swimming.

Today: that would have been a great happy ending to this post, and yes, I know it’s getting long, but I promise to be quick. It turns out after I wrote that post, I continued to be a squan, and here is what I have learned. To not learn how to master myself in this creative current, or at least attempt to, is becoming bad for my health. I mean how long can a beautiful swan be upside down before she gets discouraged, depressed, and bitter.

It turns out, my husband is right when he said I am bitter. I am. The more I squander, the more bitter I become. The more I resent the swans out there making life beautiful with their words, their art, their music, their life. And I don’t want to be bitter. It’s not my goal. My goal is also not to be depressed and discouraged either, but when we have this tremendous energy, and instead of moving it forward we squander, what else can the energy do? It’s repressed, and therefore depressed. Again, of course this isn’t what I want, but it is happening, which means something is of more value to me right now than feeling good, than creating, that channeling and navigating this current. If this weren’t true, I’d be a swan, and not a squan. In this delicate and complex place in my life where my desires of work and creativity dance and than seem to die, I am still a victim-  a victim to this pattern, and being a victim is not what I have in mind for me either.

It appears I am back in the shame, or at least the frustration. My husband told me the story about the dog who had his paw on a nail. Someone walked by curious about the dog with his paw on the nail. He asked the owner why he didn’t move it, and the owner said, “He isn’t in enough pain yet.” Sometimes, especially when we really, really want something, and feel something big inside, we need a lot of pain and conflict to set it free.  It helps us move through until wisdom comes, and with wisdom we leave that nail and embrace something far less painful. My hand is still on that nail. So the question becomes, what can I embrace now until I’ve had enough. I don’t know the answer yet, but there has to be a victor inside of me somewhere.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

The inspiration for today’s post began with a tweet from Oprah. She was responding to a man, who I now see from his twitter page is obviously trying to get attention by being really, really mean.

Here is the conversation: @Oprah- To me Whitney was THE VOICE. We got to hear a part of God every time she sang. Heart is heavy, spirit grateful for the GIFT of her. In which man who I won’t name says: I did not know God condoned illicit drug use. #Hypocrite. In which @Oprah responded: What I know for sure: God is love. Love does not condemn. I did not know God was in the drug law business.

There was also another conversation on Facebook after Madonna’s Super Bowl performance. A few people felt the need to condemn Madonna and make comments about who she is a person and so on. I felt a need to defend Madonna, maybe to defend the part of me that feels judged, knowing that we are not just what we show- that we are so much more, and at times, so much less. I also responded because I am so over seeing others (and myself) talk shit about people, especially, as a culture, celebrities.

The excuse, as I defended Madonna, is this is what happens to them because of the attention- they get admired and ridiculed, but this doesn’t make it right.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer, on her Facebook page, made an interesting comment about Whitney’s death- she called it “Death by Perfection.” As I thought about this further, the Whitney I loved in the 80′s and 90′s was sweet, beautiful and obviously THE VOICE, as Oprah said. Perfection was projected at her. She was the perfect diva, the perfect performer, having the perfect look, and voice. She had everything. Is it possible, there was a secret she was holding- a secret that said I am not all of those things. I am not as perfect as you think I am. In fact, I recall her telling us during an interview that she has another side, a side at the time, she seemed proud of. Is it possible, part of what she did was show us, and herself, how imperfect she is.

Addiciton or no addiction- just to say it was addiction that killed her doesn’t go deep enough. People say addiction is a disease, but I think it is a symptom of a much deeper disease. Whitney sang a song, Greatest Love of All- not having love for ourselves is our disease, and for most of us, it begins right out the womb, and perhaps before. We are a world of the walking wounded and rejected. Because of this, the culture can’t help but to tell us we aren’t okay- that who we inherently are is imperfect, or just as bad, we are told how perfect we are. We are neither. We just are and should be taken as such, and as such in each moment, but we aren’t. Instead we must define, concrete and project, and celebrities get this in enormous waves.

Life is difficult for us “common” folk, so imagine what it might be like for the famous, regardless if they conscioulsy sought fame out or not or how much damn money they have. Does it make us feel better to ridicule  them becuase we have a part of us that would like to famous, and rich? Does it feel good to be in awe of them because we feel so inadequate? How do you think it makes them feel when we give them all our shit? How do we feel when we are projected upon?

I have a few points to this post, I see, probably running off on a couple tangents. It’s a hot button for me, and from this post, I want us to really consider that we are all energy. What this means is we feel everything that is being projected at us, near and far. If we were a culture seeped in a lifestyle right out of the womb to know, and love thyself- then there would not be projection. There might actually be more love.

Yes, I am of the 2% of the population, according to some test, labeled as “the idealist.” I see what is possible, and I often, almost always fall short myself, and it hurts me more and more to see us so critical and condemning toward others.  My response to the twitter conversation from above: People condemn so to not feel that Love- but it’s there.

I condemned Whitney during the Oprah interview, which was the last time I saw her. Why? Because my mom was an addict, and I was the one who was more responsible than she was. It is a common role, children of addicts, play, and I saw Bobby Kristina being put in that position by her mother. This is my stuff. Truth may be in this for Whitney and her daughter, but at the time I was still angry by the responsibility I carried in lack of my mother’s,  and projected that upon Whitney.

I don’t know Whitney at all. And maybe Whitney probably didn’t know Whitney as well as she would have liked. I mean does anyone really want to throw their life away, as what has been suggested? And is Whitney’s death or life a waste because of what we think we know about her? This was HER life. This is OUR life, and it is of no one to say to us what is a waste and what is not. What is wrong and what is not. What is right and what is not. We come here for our own reasons. Our own lessons. Our own possibilities.

Our possibility, to my idealist mind, is one of the greatest lessons, a lesson that cannot be learned just in school or by some famous person who we want to be our role model or that can even be done in one life, and that possibility is to know our self, all of our self. Not only know it all, but love it all, and from what I see, we have hardly touchded upon the friendship, compassion and deep, deep wisdom that is in the self.

To tweet a respoonse to that conversation was a step forward in my evolution toward that love. I didn’t condemn the man who said this or defend or project. Instead I saw that the love Oprah mentioned is there- in all of us, and we condemn others so we don’t have to feel our own pain. Our pain can’t kill us. We only fear it might, and we get involved in all sorts of destrucitve behaviors because of that fear.

None of us are squeky clean, and when we are, we will be out teaching in love and compassion and not condemnation, superiority and judgement. To have compassion is to understand our human condition. To express love is to know that is what we are. That love is what we all hold and often try and ignore, but it’s there.

I know this wasn’t an ooey-gooey Valentines post, but sometimes we must go beyond the oo and the goo. I will leave you with this video of Whitney singing the Greatest Love of All. What brought tears to my eyes, is seeing how happy this woman was when she sang. That is a look of pure love, that existed even in her so-called dysfunction. That, maybe even more than the voice, inspires, and learning to love ourselves is the greatest gift of all, and it’s a process.

Please spread the love and the message. I’d love it if you did. Happy Valentines Day.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

Alright, so there might be some people who would envy where I live at the moment. There are others, who like me, think it’s a great place to visit, but not live. Los Angeles.  It’s a love/hate relationship for me, and unfortunately mostly hate. So why am I here? I have a talented daughter who I love and support. She is going to be on the big screen someday. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but believe me when I tell you- she is. She will. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so. But beyond her dream, we thought we might see if there is something for the rest of us here as well. So far, I’ve not found my something else, and therefore it remains a place of temporary residency for us, at least those of us who will not be on the big screen.

It has not been all bad. When I first got here, I felt like a girl cut loose- away from my hometown and upbringing, as if I had a secret that I finally got to live out. We took in the sights. Ate lots of good food. And then, I was isolated. My husband found work. My daughters at school- me at “home-” a tiny, overpriced rental in the valley. Then, a car accident. I know I didn’t come here for just an accident (or did I?). There has to be more because I am still here, but the only way I might find it here, is to go outside of my four walls and explore.

On Saturday morning, I had an impulse to go to Santa Monica. Husband still asleep from a long night of work, my two daughter and me, got all dolled up, and drove through traffic to be greeted by interesting characters, sites, and of course in any city, smells.

Our Santa Monica Greeting, followed by

a street full of entertainers…

and shopping….

A severely fresh & healthy brunch- and pretty tasty too @ True Food Kitchen

And what shall we eat...? Lilli, the 11-year old on the left does not like healthy food, as we can see.

Marketplace Scramble with Sweet Potato Hash

Gluten Free Johnny Cakes with Real Maple Syrup

After we eat, it's important to know- is my lipstick okay?

On our way to the beach, who do we see...? The woman giving Irish tea leaf readings. Oh, and a young woman puking. Sorry, no picture.

The sunset calls

Must cross bridge to sand and ocean, but before I do...a glimpse of sisters. Of my daughters.

A look back to see not much stops this great state of falling into the ocean.

Santa Monica Pier in the distance

Ocean= the only open space in Los Angeles

The seagulls paying respect to the setting sun....always a mystery to me- are they really honoring the setting of the sun, as I like to imagine. Tonight, mystery solved- at the moment right before darkness prevails, they dive into the waters and catch their dinner. Smart gulls. But probably not philosophical gulls, as I had hoped.

About the time where I got the text: "Whitney Houston is Dead.." More on this in my next post.

We stand, taking in these last moments. As close as the ocean is, it is rare we get here. And it is even more rare we go anywhere without our gadgets and gizmos, as we can see below.

Goodnight LA, and when I experience you..

I’ve been asked to help promote the movie, Good Deeds, coming out on February 24th with Tyler Perry. Although, I’ve not seen the film, but plan to, I said yes because of the campaign they are running. Each time someone watches the trailer, only a minute long, and shares the link, Lionsgate will make a donation to Covenant House. To learn more read below- and of course, watch the trailer and share. And then today, you can say you have done a good deed.

Namaste, The Soul Reporter

Tyler Perry’s GOOD DEEDS Announces Initiative to Support Homeless Youth

Tyler Perry’s GOOD DEEDS is very happy to announce Good Deeds:Great Needs, an initiative to support Covenant House, a non-profit organization that provides for homeless youth. Through GiftCardGiver.com, Good Deeds:Great Needs will be collecting unused gift cards and donating all collected to Covenant House. In addition, Lionsgate will be making a financial donation to Covenant House for every share of the GOOD DEEDS trailer! So make sure to watch and share the video!

To learn more and share Good Deeds:Great Needs, visit www.gooddeedsgreatneeds.com GOOD DEEDS also presents fans the opportunity to win a Valentine’s Date Night! Just head over to the GOOD DEEDS Facebook page and submit your “love story” for the chance to win a $500 Visa Gift Card! Contest can be found here: http://www.facebook.com/GoodDeedsMovie?sk=app_239455529470849

TYLER PERRY’S GOOD DEEDS opens in theaters everywhere on February 24, 2012.

The film stars Tyler Perry, Thandie Newton, Brian White, Rebecca Romijn, Jamie Kennedy, Eddie Cibrian, Jordenn Thompson, and Beverly Johnson with Phylicia Rashad and Gabrielle Union.

To learn more, visit: Covenant House: http://www.covenanthouse.org/

Gift Card Giver: http://giftcardgiver.com/

SYNOPSIS: A successful, wealthy businessman, Wesley Deeds (Tyler Perry) has always done what’s expected of him, whether it’s assuming the helm of his father’s company, tolerating his brother’s misbehavior at the office or planning to marry his beautiful but restless fiancée, Natalie (Gabrielle Union). But Wesley is jolted out of his predictable routine when he meets Lindsey (Thandie Newton), a down-on-her-luck single mother who works on the cleaning crew in his office building. When he offers to help her get back on her feet, the chance encounter with someone so far outside his usual circle ignites something in Wesley. This one good deed may finally spark his courage to exchange the life that’s expected of him for the life he’s always really wanted. A moving, uplifting drama about coincidence, courage, and the defining choices we make on our paths to happiness, TYLER PERRY’S GOOD DEEDS is written, produced and directed by Tyler Perry, and stars Perry, Thandie Newton, Brian White, Rebecca Romijn, Jamie Kennedy, Eddie Cibrian, Jordenn Thompson, Beverly Johnson, with Phylicia Rashad, and Gabrielle Union.

Official Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/GoodDeedsMovie

Official Site: http://www.GoodDeedsMovie.com

Official Twitter: http://twitter.com/GoodDeedsMovie

Today, I have a guest post at The Essential Feminine Blog, and here it is, and the rest is over there.

Be a good boy, and always let your conscience be your guide. ~The Blue Fairy

The other day I saw Jiminy Cricket on my walk. Just sitting there, as he does, not upon my shoulder, but upon the curb of the street. I took his picture, and wondered the message of this visit.

Most of us know who Jiminy is. He is the talking cricket created to be Pinocchio’s conscience (I’m speaking Disney version here). Upon meeting Pinocchio, he advises….The world is full of temptations. They seem right at the time, but they are sometimes the wrong things. In which Pinocchio says, I’m going to do right. The cricket says, I’m going to help you, and anytime you need me, just whistle.

As a teenager, my father played the part of Jiminy, but it became important for me to hear my voice…..To read rest go here.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

I helped save a bug. An itsy-bitsy one. I was outside, filling up the dog dish with water, when this tiny little bug flew into the water. In an instant it jumped out, dry, as if never wet, ready to fly. But then, maybe the wind blew, and it fell back in. This time , I thought, it might not make it out, so I helped it. I put my hand in, trying to flush it out. It landed on my finger, and after a bit of wobbling, it flew away.

Why did I help this bug? It’s spirit. It kept trying to live, and keep going. It inspired me to assist. My insight from this tiny experience- someone might see my spirit, and lend a helping hand (toward my desire to be a published writer). If not, at least I know I keep going even after being thrown in a dog dish full of water, which often happens- not literally of course.

Sometimes life feels shitty and yet somehow I remain committed. My bet is we all do. Maybe this is the miracle.

There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way and not starting. ~The Buddha

Keep striving, no matter where you are. Help is on the way.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter