9/30/2011

WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO COME TO SEE ME?

Is it because I’m extraordinarily beautiful, a great singer, dancer, sports star, a published poet, a politician who promises to save the world, a brilliant scientist, a famous actor? I can’t bill myself as any of the above.

The reason anyone would want to come to see me is that they would experience someone with whom they could empathize with, identify with, be moved by, and perhaps be amused by. What I hope to offer is authenticity. I am authentically a person who has had many experiences, who is highly emotional, sensitive, passionate and expressive.  AND I’m learning that what I am at center is Source Energy.

 I want to create a space where others can also express themselves – interactive theater. I’m willing to take a risk in doing this piece. For sure, I’d prefer to have it be successful, but I’m willing to have it bomb. It’s part of my practice, my evolution.

AGING

It crept up on me

I was young

Supple

Slim

Somewhat of a brat

Thoughtless

Cokes after school

At Dake’s drugstore

Flirting with boys

Before I could catch my breath

I was married

On a hot day

Wearing a borrowed wedding dress

That I hated

Fast forward to a different husband

A daughter

Dream come true

A daughter I could name after my dead mother

A son

Along the way

Lots of lovers

None of them quite the One

Although each time I hoped

Finally

Son and daughter grown and gone

Where did they go?

Recognition

He’s the One

We moved west together

Who am I?

Where do I belong?

Who is this woman with wrinkled arms and legs and face?

Who is this woman with more gray than black in her hair?

Body hasn’t been slim for years

So many things I can no longer do

Cartwheels, handstands, backbends

Full lotus

I am bound by regrets

For the foolish things like cartwheels

That I don’t do

Then I berate myself for

Regretting the smooth skin

I tell myself to be grateful

For my good health

For the many things my body can do

I tell myself to be grateful

For so many many joys

Son and daughter

Grandchildren

Great  grand children

They’re far away

These great-grandchildren

They don’t know me

I don’t know them

My fourth husband is aging

His body is compromised

Heart, kidneys, prostrate

They don’t work all that well

He’s had to have several teeth removed

I don’t hear so well

I’m considering a hearing aid

If I start to wear a hearing aid

I’ll know I’m no longer young.

I’m sorry God

I’m sorry that I’m not more grateful

For what I do have

The brain still works fairly well

Although I forget more and more words

They sit on the tip of my tongue

The weird thing is

I’m happier now than when I was

Supple, smooth and slim

I no longer have days and days

Of deep depression

I no longer have nights and nights

Of desperation

I’m trying God

I’m trying to accept

The aging process

I’m trying to

Grow old with grace

Humor, and gratitude

ABORTION

My body prepares for mothering

I cannot sleep

I watch breasts fill with unwanted milk

Belly rounds, softens

All night I hear the child whisper within me

Will I ever sleep again?

My church demands

Life is life, thou shalt not kill

But surely God would not demand I birth this child.

Surely God would understand

In the clinic

The clean white clinic

They dress me in a clean white gown and

The clean white doctor with no face leans over me, and

The clean white nurse with her voice of comfort and no face

Holds my hand

When the quick deep pain comes, I squeeze her hand

So hard I think it might break

She doesn’t cry out

I don’t cry out

I think I hear the baby cry one long howl of protest

NOOOOOOO

But how can it?

It has no mouth yet

The clean white social worker at the clinic

Tells me it has no mouth yet.

They wheel my empty body away

I lie in a row with the others

Neatly in a clean white row

We of the gutted bodies

Where do they throw away the dead babies?

I forgot to ask.

I’ll never know where my baby is.

I light a candle for it in church every week.

A Bumblebee

This is about a bumblebee.

She is a multidimensional bumblebee, and

Like all bumblebees, she doesn’t know she is aerodynamically unable to fly

So she flies

She flies to find honey

She seeks honey, not only from myriads of flowers, but from stones and stars, snails and whales, clouds and crayfish

And everywhere she goes, she finds honey.

If you look closely, you may notice the body of this multidimensional bumblebee is a bit tattered

Her wings are a bit frayed

Her eyesight has dimmed with age

And yet she believes she is young and beautiful

And so she is

She buzzes indignantly when some flashy butterfly derides her, or when a human swats at her with one of those vicious swatters they’ve invented to put bumblebees in their proper place, which is, of course, OUT, because they are such a nuisance with their buzzing and sipping

This particular bumble will probably dodge all her would-be assailants, because just as she doesn’t know she is unable to fly, she doesn’t know she is destined to die.

So on she goes, season after season, buzzing and sipping, soaring and spiraling, singing her own version of whatever national anthem suits the moment.

The Vision

Last night I subbed for a yoga class at South West Community Center.

After the class, one of the students engaged me in conversation. This was the second time she’d had a class with me teaching. I discovered that she is friends with Jeff and Debbie! Among other things, we talked about the one-woman show I am writing, and she gave me a great idea! I’m truly excited. Now I know exactly what I am going to do.

This will be interactive, improvisational theater.
I will start with a script, maybe "perform" a couple of poems that say it all - like A BUMBLEBEE.

I will tell the audience who we are – that we are all connected. Like organs in a body, each one functions independently and inter-dependently. I will invite the audience to write a question or a statement on a piece of paper that will be provided. Then I will respond with action, story, sounding and/or dancing - whatever is inspired by the question or statement. I will ask Timothy and/or another musician to improvise with music. There will be opportunity for those who wish to improvise along with me.

I see myself in costume – a long flowing gown, one side is black; the other is white – yin/yang.

I would have this produced in Nia's Studio B and be paid for by donation.  After deducting  a percentage to the musician(s) and any outgoing expenses, all profit will go to Nia. 

It would be good to do this at least twice.

9/25/11

What do I really want to say to the world?

I want to say that we humans have the potential to live a beautiful life as co-creators. I consciously believe we are truly connected. Since I don’t always act that way, I suspect that subconsciously, I believe differently. I suspect that subconsciously I don’t trust others and even myself.

AND, I am doing my best to bring the conscious belief in love and connection to my subconscious so that I can act on this belief and share it.

I believe that our hope as humanity lies in the concept that we are all One, that we are connected.

Okay, so I could just sit on stage and say what I’ve just said, share the many poems and pieces saying the same thing in different ways. BUT I also want to entertain you and stimulate you as I entertain and stimulate myself. I want to share the flow of thoughts and experiences that travel through me at breakneck speed. I am constantly entertaining and stimulating myself. I’m thoroughly enjoying the process of writing, writing, writing.

So, now that I’ve answered the question:

Today I was listening to the radio as I was driving. It was an interview with a poet who has dyslexia. He told how difficult it was for him as a child. He finally learned to read, and it is still a slow process for him. There is something missing in his brain. It’s a neurological situation. He has compensated for this birth situation (I hate the word “defect”) and does read. He also writes poetry.

I thought about my friend and teacher who tells us that she had to compensate for dyslexia as well as some other difficulties. As I’ve heard tell in many such cases, she not only compensated, she has become outstanding in many ways. She functions brilliantly.

I thought about my own abilities. Almost everything on a physical and mental level has actually come fairly easily to me. I am flexible, well-coordinated and well-balanced. I am attractive and healthy. I never had to work hard to excel in sports or dance. Mentally I was equally agile. I was an outstanding student with little effort. I had talent as a graphic artist. I write easily and quickly learned how to spell and punctuate. I did have to put in some effort to learn lines as an actor, and I couldn’t bill myself as a singer. Neither of those small difficulties kept me off a stage or film.

SO, I didn’t work at much of anything. Although it’s been pleasant to have things come easily to me, I suspect that if I had to work harder to achieve what I wanted, perhaps I would have become more skillful than I am. Maybe I would have become outstanding instead of just a bit beyond mediocre.

HOWEVER, there’s no point in the game of “If only…”  I’d rather play the game of “I’m not separate.”

If I’m not separate, I can truly enjoy how others live their lives. I can benefit internally, empathize and identify with them with passion and compassion.

 PASSION 
What am I passionate about? – just about everything. I am a highly emotional person. I think I can answer the question, “What don’t I care about?” more easily, or “What don’t I like?” For instance, I don’t care much about the news. I don’t read newspapers or listen to the news on the radio. I just am not drawn to it. I don’t care about sports as an observer. When I am doing s ports, I’m passionate about it. since I am no longer involved in sports, I remember the passion I felt in the past – swimming – horseback riding – field hockey – la cross – volleyball. I remember running and running until my heart hurt. There was something passionately ecstatic about the pain. I haven’t done that since High School; although when I was on the swim team in college, I swam so much and so hard that I got bronchial pneumonia. Now I’m passionate Nia, yoga and teaching the classes I teach. I berate myself for not being more dedicated, for allowing myself to be distracted. I’m passionately distracted, easily distracted. I accept. What the hell. It’s time I allowed that I am the way I am. These days, the way I am is more happy than not. I was always a passionate reader of books. I love books, the feel, the sight, the content of some of them. I fall in love with an author, want to read everything he or she wrote. I feel as though I get to know the author when I read something he or she wrote, and there are no strings attached. After awhile, being fickle, I will abandon the person and fall in love with someone else. This leads me to how fickle I have been in falling in and out of love with people, at the same time being loyal in love, not faithful, but loyal. I have been faithful AND loyal to Steve for over 26 years. That’s an amazing record for me. Either he’s an amazing person – and he is –or I’ve grown up some – and I have – so it’s both.

EMOTION
 
Dealing a little differently with emotion, as Life is Art. So I felt depressed. Chose to use it rather than trying to change it. Turned on the radio - classic music station and danced my feeling. Some really interesting moves emerged. Felt really good to move with the feeling. Remembered Debbie's instruction to dance feeling from the core. Being alone helped me to dance just for me in relationship to the music, which just "happened" to suit the feeling. Somewhere along the way, maybe it was something triggered by Steve, the feeling merged into anger. Without music, I danced anger. Then the phone rang and I had a long talk with Martha, a co-creator. My feeling about what we are planning to do together - a degree of excitement and hope, also a bit of anxiety about learning the skills we plan to learn. So right here, right now, I have several feelings going on. They seem to be lodged mainly in my chest and diaphragm. Maybe having just eaten might be more significant than the emotions. So what I realize is that in terms of creativity, the screen or blank canvas to paint on is with me all the time. My major source is this body, mind, emotions and SPIRIT. Sure some of it comes from the outside - maybe 2 %. The outside just called (Steve) me to abandon this and join him in our trip to visit a friend. He calls. I respond. So much anger about Steve. Yet underneath the anger, so much love - or is there?

Streetcar Named Desire

9/19/11
This morning, when I told Steve one of my stories, he asked me if I was regurgitating. Tonight when I asked him about it, he said did I just tell the same stories over and over without resolving the issues they were bringing up. Yuck. I'm telling the stories that come to mind, gathering them together, so to speak, and then I'll see if any of them fit into a One-Woman piece. I'm thinking to ask other women to contribute their thoughts and stories about "Forbidden Subjects" and maybe it will be a Four Woman piece. It's amazing how I allow something Steve says to discourage me. I know that's not his intention. Maybe it would be best if I just kept writing and didn't share my stuff for now.


So last night, or maybe it was early this morning, I had a dream about “Streetcar Named Desire.” I had recommended Jeremy to play Stanley. Turns out he wasn’t good for the role, being an inexperienced actor. He didn’t make eye contact. The subject of making eye contact with students had come up earlier during the day. So here’s my” Streetcar Named Desire” story:


I had been cast as Blanche by the director, who was a bit of a hound. He complained about his wife, called her a bitch. Well, tragically, that same wife died in childbirth. At the funeral, the husband, who had spoken so negatively about his wife, was distraught. He was crying a lot. The play was cancelled. Damn! I never got another chance to play the juicy role of Blanche Dubois.

9/22/11

I didn’t write yesterday. Well, there went my commitment to write every day. I did write something on a yellow pad, which is in the bedroom. At least I think it’s there. And I can recommit. Wednesday, I audited a bit of Blue Belt. A lot has changed since Carlos left, new ways of doing things, not necessarily better or worse, just different. We were doing an exercise related to Principle eight, where we were dancing an emotion. I was having a good time with it, when Debbie came over and tapped me on the abdomen and said, “Emotion comes from the core, not from the extremities.” My first reaction was annoyance. After all, I’m a trained actor. I was sure I was doing it right. Then I realized she was absolutely right on target. I wasn’t dancing from the core. Damn. You’d think I’d remember such a basic thing. Maybe that’s what Salome meant when she’d tell me to stop “Acting” and be. I would feel frustrated, because I thought was being authentic, that I was really feeling the emotion I was expressing. I wonder what it would have been like if she’d told me to sense the emotion from the core instead of my arms and face. Debbie noted that as we age, we tend to stiffen from the core. I’ve heard (and repeated) the phrase, “you’re as young as your spine.” Thursday, when I taught a class, I noted the flexibility of the spine. I used sound and to get people to breathe more deeply. Wake up the core! I’m thinking that when I get this one-woman piece together, it would be great to have Debbie direct me. I suspect she’d be a brilliant director.

September 13, 2011

Last night Steve, Sarah and I attended Dr. Dream’s activation process. Mark spoke for the entire time while we sat in chairs. Most of the time we had our eyes closed. He and his assistant, Bliss, gave us drops of gem essentials on our tongues, essential oils on the palms of our hands, held tuning forks at our ears to stimulate our vibrations so that we could transform into the vibration of universal love. 

I was particularly moved by the image of us being part of the big puzzle, each one a unique piece which could find its proper place. I saw the big picture as a swirling mass of colors. My piece of the puzzle was pulsing and in its proper place. 

I’m noticing some difficulty in writing today. It’s not flowing the way it did the past days. This is a good time to keep writing. Last night I slept deeply. Steve and I made a reservation at a hotel in Lincoln City. I will cancel it today. Right now I’m feeling drained. That doesn’t make sense. I should feel energized. I do feel at peace; as if there is nothing I must DO. 

Merging. I thought to write about merging. Boundaries melt. I merge with another. At some point, we become one organism, breathing in and out. It becomes one breath, one huge pulse of breath; everything is so vibrant, almost to the point of unbearableness. Eyes are squeezed into deep blackness, so deep that they are no longer eyes seeing; they are blackness being. 

So there I am, writing. Steve comes in, sits down and proceeds to make a phone call. I ask him to go into another room. He doesn’t. I stop writing; get up and go into the kitchen. There’s food on the table. I eat. I do my best to be with the annoyance, anger at Steve for not doing what I asked him to do, anger at Steve for leaving things around, for not cleaning up after himself. I finish the salad he left on the table. I eat two pieces of bread from the bread he left on the table. I smear them with tofutti cream and orange marmalade that he left on the table. Now I can blame Steve for my imbibing more calories than are necessary. Now I can blame Steve for my inability to continue to write about Merging. Hah!! OR I can notice the surge of energy the anger gives me. I am more awake than I was. Yay. 

Mark Peebler returned my call and answered all the questions I had. I shared with him my “story” about the woman who doesn’t like my teaching style. I’ve advanced a bit in that I will NOT turn myself into a pretzel trying to please everyone. The particular thing she objected to – the use of imagery – is part of what I do and it is definitely something I will continue. We’re still “friends.” At the end of the conversation I said, “Vive la difference!” She’s French. We both laughed and went on our ways. 

Yes, I’m learning to empower by holding space rather than enabling by carrying someone on their journey. It’s interesting that when Mark called, I didn’t mind being interrupted. I was happy to talk with him. So much history with Steve. How can I erase it all and start anew, be in my vortex and allow each moment to be a new, fresh moment without all the baggage weighing it down?

9/16/11 Several days in a row, my ankles have been swollen in the evening. I researched what might be the cause. The simple causes could be too much salt, not enough activity and long periods of sitting. I’ll cut back on salt – which means eating at home, elevate my legs and move more. Watched a disturbing to me movie last night. The Sheltering Sky. Do I need to write about why I found it disturbing? I don’t want to write about that. Here we go again. I notice that I want to focus on happy thoughts. I’m learning that it’s better to do that, that happy or creative thoughts raise vibration. Yes, I notice that right this minute, my mood is somewhat low. That doesn’t feel good. I feel stuck, stuck in the images of the movie. It was not a happy movie. The people in it were rarely happy. It was certainly artistic and well done. So what! Okay, now I’m sorry that I saw it. But I did. And I can choose to let it go and go on. Today is a new day. Today I will drink lots of water, eat food without added salt and go to Siere’s three hour workshop. I will keep moving. I put on the elastic stockings Steve was given at the hospital. That feels good. The first class at Creekside Village went really well yesterday. Yay. What I notice is how easily I am affected by outer events and circumstances, how easily I’m pulled out of center. I have the power to maintain my center in spite of outer circumstances or events. Steve continues to leave the lights on, the cupboards open, the stove on. It does no good to say anything to him about it. I have been doing what I can to “leave no trace.” As I write, I think about what I can use in my One-Woman piece. What I’ve written so far seems absolutely yucky. Am I trying to impress? Am I trying to make people happy? Let that go, Kaycheri; it stops the flow, squeezes the life out of it. I feel stuck, squeezed dry, right now. I think I’ll take a bath and drink several glasses of water. I have the freedom to do that! Wow! 9/16/11 Several days in a row, my ankles have been swollen in the evening. I researched what might be the cause. The simple causes could be too much salt, not enough activity and long periods of sitting. I’ll cut back on salt – which means eating at home, elevate my legs and move more. Watched a disturbing to me movie last night. The Sheltering Sky. Do I need to write about why I found it disturbing? I don’t want to write about that. Here we go again. I notice that I want to focus on happy thoughts. I’m learning that it’s better to do that, that happy or creative thoughts raise vibration. Yes, I notice that right this minute, my mood is somewhat low. That doesn’t feel good. I feel stuck, stuck in the images of the movie. It was not a happy movie. The people in it were rarely happy. It was certainly artistic and well done. So what! Okay, now I’m sorry that I saw it. But I did. And I can choose to let it go and go on. Today is a new day. Today I will drink lots of water, eat food without added salt and go to Siere’s three hour workshop. I will keep moving. I put on the elastic stockings Steve was given at the hospital. That feels good. The first class at Creekside Village went really well yesterday. Yay. What I notice is how easily I am affected by outer events and circumstances, how easily I’m pulled out of center. I have the power to maintain my center in spite of outer circumstances or events. Steve continues to leave the lights on, the cupboards open, the stove on. It does no good to say anything to him about it. I have been doing what I can to “leave no trace.” As I write, I think about what I can use in my One-Woman piece. What I’ve written so far seems absolutely yucky. Am I trying to impress? Am I trying to make people happy? Let that go, Kaycheri; it stops the flow, squeezes the life out of it. I feel stuck, squeezed dry, right now. I think I’ll take a bath and drink several glasses of water. I have the freedom to do that! Wow! 9/17/11 Finally getting to write. I checked email, drank water, ate a banana, put radon water drops in my ears to “fix” my hearing. It was frustrating yesterday to be unable to hear some of what was being said. I suspect I will have to get hearing aids if I want to hear everything. Sometimes I do want to hear everything. We’ll see. It so often comes to the “not enough money” game. As I told Ken, I would LOVE to hop on a plane and see the opening of his new play. I would LOVE to hop on a plane and visit my daughter, son, brother and sister whenever I felt the urge. There are scads of Nia events, yoga trainings, visits to hot springs like Breitenbush I would adore to participate in. And wouldn’t it be fun to give gifts to people and organizations that help others? Oh boy, if I had scads of money, I would spend it freely. I would set up funds for my many kids, grandchildren, great-grandchildren - $100 per month for them to use in whatever way they want. They are all self-sufficient (thank God for that!), so the money would just be a little extra for them to play with. For sure I would LOVE to go to Esalen with Debbie and Karri. The deal is – I have enough for everything. We have a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear. I live an extraordinary life – really. Every day is FILLED with beauty and joy. I am so very grateful that my body – the shell that holds me – is in really good shape, and I have extraordinary tools to keep it in good shape and to even improve it. What do I mean by improve it? Okay, time for honesty here. Yes, I would like to be a bit taller, thinner, less wrinkled – a LOT less wrinkled. I would like it if my hair was a gorgeous auburn instead of a gorgeous dark brown with lots of silver-grey in it. Okay, the deal is, I could achieve some of these things – like being thinner, have fewer wrinkles, color my hair; BUT, I’m honestly not willing to do what it would take (in my experience) to achieve those goals. So there we have it. So it’s best to be satisfied, actually to be happy, with the condition of my body as it now is. So this comes to my definition of healing. The first, the absolutely very first step for change, is to honor where we are right here and now; to ACCEPT with gratitude where we are right here, right now, as the gift or gifts that have been given. That’s all I want to say about this subject right now. It’s a huge subject, one that is very much in consciousness. I sent Debbie an email requesting that I be part of Nia’s development in this area. I was always fascinated with how the body works, even to the point of considering the medical profession. The closest I got to it was my first marriage to a medical student. I took a quick course to become a medical technician and worked for doctors and in the University of Pennsylvania hospital hematology department. I have several stories about that time. One of the more amusing stories happened while I was in training. I was eighteen years old at the time. A young man, I believe he was a Harvard student, came to the lab for a sperm count. I answered the door, and after hearing his request, told him to go into the bathroom and place his deposit in the glass container which was there for his use. He proceeded to do what he needed to do and came out with container in hand. He had deposited his jism in the liquid soap which was in a glass jar instead of the empty glass jar. When I realized his mistake, I burst out laughing, and told him of his mistake. (Mind you, I was young. ) The poor guy turned beet red and said he didn’t think he could do that again. I assured him, between giggles, that he would have to wait five days to get an accurate count. He never returned. So, Harvard student, wherever you are, please forgive me for laughing at you. I hope I didn’t traumatize you forever.

I have an Esalan story. It was in the early 60’s. I took my two little children and left them with my dad and his wife in Phoenix, Arizona. I then traveled to California by plane and hitchhiked my way up to Esalen where I was scheduled for a workshop with Michael Murphy. In those days, it was relatively safe to hitchhike. There I was with my long hair and short skirt. I arrived at Esalen without incident. One truck driver made a “pass,” but when I told him I wasn’t interested, he didn’t insist, and he took me to gate. At the gate I saw a woman on crutches. Her foot was bandaged. When I asked her what happened, she told me that during a workshop someone had bitten her foot. I expressed amazement that she had returned for another workshop. She simply shrugged. I checked in and began the “Encounter” workshop I had signed up for. During the second or third session, a couple (man and woman) addressed me. They accused me of trying to arouse sexual interest, because I was wearing my long hair and short skirt. They said they were going to acost me sexually – both of them. I was truly frightened, told them I didn’t want that experience. I looked toward the facilitator to protect me. He said nothing and did nothing. I got up and left the room. I never returned. I made friends with three guys and spent the rest of the week in their company and on my own. One night the four of us were looking into the black, star-studded sky. We saw a vehicle that was clearly not an airplane. A UFO? Perhaps. Another night, or perhaps it was in the wee hours of a morning, when it was still dark, I was meditating by myself at the baths. A deep voice said one word, “Accept.” I took that message to be my personal mantra, and it continues to be a powerful message. I received the famous Molly Shackman Dey massage, and when I returned to Princeton, New Jersey, I learned it to use at the Experimental Department of the New Jersey Psychiatric Institute where I worked; but that’s another story.

ESALEN

9/11/11 Yesterday was a very full day. I think I might switch to writing at night. We’ll see. Mainly, I’ll write some every day. Today’s lesson in HOW TO TRAIN A WILD ELEPHANT is “Appreciate Your Hands.” Just finished reading the chapter. SO good. I am fortunate that my eyes are able to read; that my brain is able to comprehend; that my hands are able to perform THOUSANDS of activities. I love watching them dance. I particularly like my hands. They are extremely flexible and slender. Often when someone “reads” my palms, they comment on the strong line indicating my talent as a writer. My palms have many, many lines in them. I’ve yet to find someone who can read all the lines. The middle of the palms is indented and hot. I’m told I have healing hands. When I touch someone, they usually feel the heat radiating from my hands and receive comfort. It was a cold evening when Steve first took my hand to hold it. He was delighted that my hand was warm. His was cold. He’s often said that my warm hands was one of the major attractions. Well, I certainly didn’t plan to write about my hands this morning. I like letting the writing flow from and to wherever it goes. I was planning to write about sex this morning. Yesterday, after I told Leslie that Steve and I haven’t had intercourse in a long, long time, over a year I think, she suggested that I find someone with whom to have an affair. She also told me that when there is pain it means to NOT try to go past it to do a yoga posture. In order to sit on my heels, I’ll have to use assistance, rolled up mat and blocks or books. It’s just the way it is. I don’t know why my knees have gotten so stiff. They’re still flexible in other positions. Maybe it’s scar tissue or calcium deposits. I’m going to love them the way they are, the way they used to be, the way they will become. I’m going to allow that it’s really okay that they don’t work the way they used to work. Thank you knees for the way you support me, for the way you allow me to sit, stand, and DANCE. I’ve been impatient with you for what you are no longer able to do. Please accept my apologies. I love what you can do now and for what you used to be able to do. i promise to continue loving you as you evolve and progress. It looks like I’m not going to write about sex. That’s okay. It will happen in its own time and place. Maybe it won’t happen! Who says I have to write about sex? Well, it is and was a major part of life. It is and was, in many ways, a forbidden subject. It’s also a subject that seems to dominate. We are, indeed, a second and third chakra society. It’s time to evolve into the fourth chakra.

I have an agreement with Debbie to write about what's going on with me - not just the "happenings" but how I'm feeling. This may be a one woman show. Maybe not. No pressure. I promised to have a script for her by November. So how can that happen? I woke up at about 4:30 AM with my head buzzing and buzzing with thoughts - mostly about the past. Experiences I've had. Thoughts about the experiences I've had. Judgements. Baba once told me that I had a very busy mind. Debbie once, actually more than once, told me I over analyze. Last night she told me to get into my feelings. Right now I'm free associating. Yeah. That's the way to go for now. Just write write write everyday. Don't worry about the end result. It will evolve - or not. So what am I feeling right now at 5:10 AM in the blessed quiet of this room? Well, actually it's quite noisy. I have cotton in my ears to hold the radon water drops. I'm experimenting with this technique to rejuvenate the cilia in both inner ears. In some ways my hearing loss is annoying. I miss words. I compensate; sit closer; watch more intently. Okay. Here it is. I'm living with this fascinating man. I am mostly quite fond of him. AND I'm often so ANNOYED by his behavior. Here's a list of what I find ANNOYING. That's a feeling. When I'm annoyed, actually angry, it feels like all the cells in my body are screaming, are jangling. My legs want to run away. My voice wants to scream. My fists want to pound. My feet want to stamp. The list: Teeth. Swollen ankles and feet Posture Breaking agreements Leaving lights on Leaving the stove on Leaving cupboards open Leaving dishes and glasses around Books Papers All the illness Losing things Arguing with me Disagreeing with me Interrupting me Telling me what to do Being late How he handles money Yuck. Now I'm feeling really yucky. Okay, there must be some things I like about this guy. I'll make another list and see how that will make me feel. The list: His hair His eyes His general appearance. His touch His mind and the way he expresses himself Exploring together His sense of humor Reading aloud The way he supports and admires me His work with new energy Yeah. Steve is my best friend. He's the one I can really talk to. We've shared so much. I can be all the me's I am with him. I told him the other day that I have many personalities. So how do I feel now? I feel a core of love. I also feel sort of sad. Don't quite understand that one. I'm feeling a bit bored...like I want to stop writing. Yeah. Sure Kaycheri. Run away. If I keep writing maybe I'll touch on some scary feelings. I am scared. I'm just plain scared. That's a feeling I run away from. I'm feeling out of control. I'm scared that I'm not up to snuff. I'm scared of the snuff. So much death. Where did they all go? Where will I go? Is it just snuff? No one really knows. Well, it doesn't matter whether anyone does know. The thing is: I don't know and I HATE not knowing. Oh yeah, it's supposed to be exciting not to know. Well, right now, right this minute, I'm scared. I'm scared of being without Steve. I'm scared of being without me. Yeah. I'm scared of death. I'm scared of being helpless and weak. I'm scared of going deaf or blind or crippled or FAT. Oh how I'm scared of getting fat! When I see someone - and there are tons of someones who are FAT, I feel awful. What if I got like that? Even now, I sometimes wish I were lighter, less bumpy. Basically, I do like the body I'm in. It's strong, mostly flexible, nicely proportioned. I generally like the face and hair. So I'm scared that all that could change and that I could get FAT and crooked etc. etc. etc. Boy am I scared of the etcetera. SO, that's why I'm so mad at Steve. He's showing me some of the possibility that I might experience. I DON'T want anyone to have to take care of me the way I sometimes have to take care of him. I think I would rather be dead than that. Okay. I've touched on some of the real stuff. I think I'll let myself off the hook for now. I'll write every day. That's my commitment. I'll do that for two weeks. Then I'll see what's next. I promised I'd have a script by November. I can do that. This is the first step.