A Lesson in Forgiveness

I love podcasts! I listen to several a week on average. I was an early adopter of the audio content genre, latching on in the early 2000s. Back then most of the content was news. Then came audiobooks and finally serialized content via iTunes, Spotify, Earwolf  to name a few. Mostly I have stuck to iTunes and recently reverted back to engagement with physical books.

Last year, a dear friend gave me a physical book. I was alarmed in a fashion reminiscent of the idea of tap water being compared to toilet water in the hilarious film Idiocracy. (In the movie drinking anything but flavored drinks replete with electrolytes was unheard of.) At that point I had not read a physical book in years. In Italy, especially after Hunter was born I enjoyed the hands free option to consume content. Back then I believed one had not lived a full life without the joy of having Junot Diaz narrate his marvelous book This Is How You Lose Her. When I found audio version of The Color Purple read by Alice Walker I became ritualistic about listening to my favorite parts over and over again. I set lofty goals every year to listen to 10, then 15 and finally 25 books a year. I love to set and reach my goals; and this was especially rewarding.

Suddenly last year as the Savannah mornings grew crisp, and the nights became longer I found the time to peel open the pages of the physical book my friend gave to me. Dear reader the book's title The Summer We Got Free and author were not on my radar. The book itself although interesting, paled in comparison to the experience of setting time aside  to read a book with my own eyes. It meant doing something for just me. This little book and the modest gesture marked the beginning of my transition from a human doing to a human being. 

I have said it before and it bears repeating: motherhood is hard! Reading physical books while raising a child under the age of 10 is a luxury I did not make time for in my days or nights. I stuck to audio. And let's be honest I listened while scrolling through Instagram before bed or first thing in the morning when I had a few moments to myself. Then this book came into my life and I wondered where..how I would ever fit it into my routine. There wasn't time, or was there?

In a surprise to myself I made the time, and welcomed physical books back into my life. The best part of my new existence as a human being vs. a human doing is the acceptance of doing what I actually want instead of what I think is expected. I began to mix things up this year expanding the genre of podcasts I listen to when I am not reading in the free time I intentionally create for myself. While scrolling through my Instagram I saw a video clip of Jay Shetty on "Ellen". I hit the subscribe button for the Jay Shetty podcast and had episodes quickly added to my feed. He had a variety of guests Lala Anthony, Gisele Bundchen and Brian Grazer to name a few. I noticed Kobe Bryant was on the list of guests. 

Once upon a time in the mid-90s I was a Kobe fan. He skipped college and went directly to the NBA after graduating from high school. I had recently graduated from college and was in the throes of finding my way back to Rome, Italy after spending a semester there in my junior year. Kobe's father moved the family to a town outside of Rome while he played for an Italian league when Kobe was six years old. He learned to speak Italian, thrived in Italy and earned a place in my heart. 

Then in 2003 he was accused of sexual assault. The 19 year-old survivor refused to testify in the trial and the case was dropped. Kobe had this to say about the incident: "Although I truly believe this encounter between us was consensual, I recognize now that she did not and does not view this incident the same way I did. After months of reviewing discovery, listening to her attorney, and even her testimony in person, I now understand how she feels that she did not consent to this encounter." The accuser filed a separate civil lawsuit against Bryant, which the two sides settled privately.

Unfortunately his apology didn't cut it for me, and I exited stage left from the Kobe fan club. I avoided his Jay Shetty episode for the first few weeks. Then one day I determined I was missing out on hearing about his content creation company. It occurred to me that it took more energy to avoid him than to forgive him for something he apologized and paid for 16 years ago. Perhaps it was time to forgive him and myself to experience the message that was coming through him. 

I knew his short film Dear Basketball won an Oscar last year, but the title eluded my interest. Then trusting Jay Shetty, I hit play. That was my big lesson in forgiveness this year. Holding on to his mistake kept me from the joy of his success all these years. 

He is the father of four girls who are all athletes. Kobe believes sports are the ultimate metaphor for life, and he is highly articulate in spreading the message of sports, confidence and parenting. He is a strategic thinker who emphasizes process over results and the journey over the destination. Kobe breaks down the creative process, how to develop compelling characters and how he came to develop his production company. 

None of us are perfect, but all of us have something to say. We will never agree with what everyone has to say or how they chose to live. I used to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Now I take what serves me and leave the rest. 

If You Ask for What You Want, There Is a Good Chance You Will Get It

A brief description of EMDR

Over the years this little space I created to help my friends and family stay in touch with my comings and goings became a place for me to express my thoughts, hopes and some fears. In the last days of 2018 I used it to push through the end of the year with a flourish of consistency. I am beginning that practice earlier this year. I intend to post more frequently to close out 2019 strong. After all we start a whole new decade in a few short months.

And what a year 2019 has been. Since my previous post I landed a dream job at a local engineering firm. In fact it is one of the most prestigious engineering firms in the region. It came as a bit of a surprise to me a few months ago when a cursory glance at my calendar indicated that September 11 would fall on Wednesday. The job was still quite new and taking off so soon into my tenure seemed like one of the least favorable action steps I could take. Still I wondered if the alternative, going to work, was the best option available to me. Eventually, it became less of choice. A big presentation was due on Wednesday, September 11 at my new job.

As you may recall or if you are new to this space, I worked in WTC 2 and was directly outside of the building when the second plane crashed into the building and exploded. Being overseas for the last seven years both helped and hindered my healing from the horror I saw that day. On the one hand I was far removed from the memories and triggers of the day. On the other hand I was isolated because I chose not share the information. In Italy there were commemorations of course. I even tried to participate once only to realize the trauma was still very raw for me. This year was the first time I was in a new environment in the US with many variables outside of my control. The day did not go well for me. I was plagued by worry, fear and flashbacks. I controlled what I could. I asked my new boss to send an email asking for discretion around the topic because there was a survivor at the firm. I also asked that she not mention it was me. Not everyone got the email. It was a tough day. I called a close friend who put a name to what was happening to me: PTSD.

I was doubtful of her professional diagnosis at first (she is a licensed clinical practioner), but I trust her. All I could articulate was that I felt unsafe inside my own body. I wanted to be free of that fear. In that moment I surrendered. I let go of holding onto myself and reached out for help. My friend recommended EMDR, a form of psychotherapy used to treat PTSD. It is quite popular in military populations, and I have had exposure to it as a result. I did not think I had PTSD and never thought EMDR was something I would benefit from in my particular circumstance.

Frankly it was a lot to process quickly: (1) I have PTSD and (2) I need to go to therapy for something that happened in 2001. I often compared myself to the people who lost their lives, loved ones or their health that day. I suffered no such losses and therefore felt less deserving of healing. As I began to process those thoughts I came to see their disorganization and the need for reorganization.

I had my fourth session today. It is weird after all this time to speak about 9/11in the present tense. Namely because it was almost 20 years ago, and I am a vastly different type of human now. I am a recovering human doing. I have transitioned to a human being. That's a little something I learned in my sessions.

I also have a busy life and wondered if it was wise, necessary or important enough to make space for it. I had concerns about bringing this to the forefront of my life. This type of work is unsettling, but I decided to move forward with caution. It has been a challenge, but deeply and powerfully rewarding. Areas of my life long siloed are reintegrating into the whole again. The memories are intense, the connections are vibrant and exhilarating. Most of all I am learning that asking for help gets you the thing you want. And we are all deserving of that.

The Mystery of Lao Ma

Lao Ma

Last time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary all was right in the world at the Xenite RETREAT. I met and shared a conversation of a lifetime with Steven L. Sears. I asked all my questions and received all the answers, all of them. I was so content with myself, and where the journey led me. I was full and enjoying the emotional high gratitude can produce. I did not think it could get any better. In fact I had no idea what better could look like. The next morning I discovered exactly what better than one of the most exciting evenings of my life feels like.

When I arrived at RETREAT I overheard someone mention that Jacqueline Kim would attend. It was said with such relaxed nonchalance that I did not believe what I heard. I thought it was just something people said for fun at an event such as RETREAT. Ha, I said to myself, "Who else is coming to this, Alti..Xena herself!?" I could not allow myself to think about a live encounter with the actress that played Lao Ma in The Debt I and II. Yet, a small part of me understood that if my heart's deepest desire came into being the night before, then many new possibilities were now part of my reality.

Season three episode six takes us back to warlord Xena. Broken in mind, body and spirit, we see a woman determined and unbowed by her circumstance. Her shattered legs and thirst for blood fueling her rampage. She found a lover in bronzy Borias and has a fairly solid mission to wreak havoc in the land of Chin.

All is going as planned until it is not. Xena is betrayed once again, and this time she is being hunted like wild animal! This is when we learn that the meek Lao Ma, full of deference to her husband, was not her true nature. Watching Lao Ma save Xena and discover the immense power she had over herself and her surroundings was a spiritual awakening for me. That episode showed me how far Xena had come. I learned that Xena did not arrive with all the skills and intensity she possessed in the series naturally. She suffered a great deal. As the opening narration states she was forged in the heat of battle. Those conflicts were not always with exterior enemies. They were oftentimes intense internal struggles. The kind we all experience. Until the Debts, I thought I was alone in my struggles. I thought my suffering was unique. After the Debts I, had an awareness, however slight, that we might all be suffering in our own personal way.

Some of the best Xena episodes are the ones when we get a chance to see her backstory often filled with powerful, enigmatic female characters. Women with a complicated moral compass. Women I saw myself in as I navigated my own complex life. I watched Lao Mao move with the power of the divine feminine. She was more powerful than Xena in mind and spirit. I searched for a long time for my own Lao Ma. A strong female warrior type to teach me and show me the way. It was cold standing in the shadow of many so-called warriors and teachers. I experienced all the joy and deep sadness that goes along with giving away one's power. In those dark days I often thought of Xena and Lao Ma. How perfectly imperfect they were. Angry Xena on the precipice of motherhood. Powerful Lao Ma unable to reveal her true identity to her son. In those women I saw myself, a perplexing mix of conflicting emotions. In Lao Ma I saw someone I could be: a self-actualized energy shifter. A woman in full command of her agency and all the confidence that comes with that awareness.

We did not have the pleasure of understanding much more about Lao Ma's backstory. What we learned later with the twins only confused us more, but I digress. Lao Ma was my totem and/or koan. The character was a symbol of the woman I hoped to be someday, but also a riddle that if I figured out how she became enlightened, it would provoke my own awakening. I wrestled with this idea over the years, with no real answers on how to live the life I wanted. Unaware that my everyday actions were bringing me closer to my aspiration.

Me and Lao Ma

And so it happened, on my way back from breakfast, I saw the outline of Jacqueline's solid block LEGO hair. It is full of body, and the strands move as a collective to reveal a flourish of a bright, silvery patch under the top layer. I rubbed my eyes the way sleepy kids do in the movies, fists churning in my face. I chuckled to myself that I was hallucinating. Dearest reader, I was not experiencing hallucinations. This was not like that time in the amazon at the ayahuasca ceremony. This was real. Lao Ma's powers are real!

How can I describe this moment with mere words? Everything up until that point seemed to crumple into a ball of disappointing typewritten paper from the movies. There was a gravitational yank toward her. The combination of Lao Ma's You Came from a Vagina yellow t-shirt glowing in the sun and the scent of the Palo Santo stick she was burning set off an internal humming. It was quiet at first, but became louder as I approached her. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to spin her around and float above the campground wrapped in reams and reams of silky fabrics. I needed to giggle with her as she demonstrated how wisdom and healing can multiply feelings of joy and radiant understanding.

I stepped into the gentle smoke of the Palo Santo as it wafted into the trees, and somehow managed to play it cool. She was chatting with a few other Xenites about Lao Ma. She seemed surprised to hear the impact the role had almost 20 years later. We eagerly shared our stories. And by we I mean I let the others in the group speak because I was still thinking about us flying around in silken fabrics as she taught me everything she knows about telekinesis.

She loves boiled eggs too!

The next day we ended up at breakfast together. Would you believe she loves boiled eggs as much as I do? I watched her exercise the strongest boundaries I have ever seen when various people approached her throughout the day. Boundaries with people are something I am working on getting better at all the time. In many ways Jacqueline the actor/artist was very much a mentor, a wise woman with gifts some obvious, others yet to be known. She taught me how to give while receiving and she reminded me that it is always better to stand in the sun instead of someone's shadow. Among other lessons I learned from her that beloved weekend, she introduced me to Palo Santo. Since that introduction it has brought me some of the wisdom and peace I seek. Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

I posed for Lao Ma as an Oscar at the Cos Play party

Xena Taught Me Italian

As unlikely an Italian teacher Xena: Warrior Princess was, she was certainly the best. I am referring to the eponymous television series of the late 1990s. I was living my second Italian adventure from 1996 to 1999. I set lofty goals to speak Italian with better fluency, but I was not progressing fast enough. I desperately wanted to be fluent and make friends with my wildly fashionable neighbors. There were a few American television shows that were consistently dubbed into Italian: Baywatch, Friends and The Robinsons aka The Cosby Show. Italians could not say Huxtable so the whole thing became The Robinsons, but that topic should be dealt with in a separate post.

And so it happened that after Friends and before Baywatch, Xena: Warrior Princess aired. It was as banal a start as any of my other potent obsessions. A stoic, dark haired lady with bangs, clad in leather and weaponry. She was mostly in a bad mood in the early seasons. Nothing much to see. Keep it moving. The action was sometimes fun, but the critical piece was the dialogue. The language was simple and I could understand some of what was going on from the tone of voice and the action sequences. But, the devil was, as they say, in the details. I could not grasp details of the story arcs. This was during the early days of the internet and a quick search led me to Whoosh! Here I could find an episode synopsis. Once I caught up to the current season I was able to read what happened. By the end of the season I spoke Italian..well almost. Enough to have vivid conversations about fashion, food and culture with my wildly fashionably neighbors. After I finished with my graduate program I moved back to the States and watched the show in real time.

I tried in vain to find real life fans of the show, but no one I met watched with the same sense of wonder. The obsession was part nostalgia for those amazing years in Italy. The other part was the way the show portrayed an independent woman living by her own set of values and those values changed as she gained more life experience. There were tragedies for sure, but also a romance for the ages. I chose to keep my love for the show to myself and moved on to other pursuits. I never went to the conventions or cosplay events. I had a different relationship to the show, and it had nothing to do with the costumes. It was about the journey of self discovery, the adventure and motherhood. The show thinly disguised complex subjects of violence, love and forgiveness. It had one the best character development arcs ever.

The years passed and Xena faded into the background of my life. Then late last year one of my favorite episodes was on television. A strange sensation washed over me. It felt like running into an old friend that was once a source of great comfort. I began to poke around the internet to see how the years had treated my favorite characters. The years had been kind. I found the Xena Warrior Podcast (XWP). Three film students dissected each episode and gave lots of background information about the show's directors, writers and producers. It was as if someone flipped a switch on inside of a dark closed off room in my heart. Suddenly power, energy, and what felt like my my whole life force, was flowing into a long forgotten part of me. Then in the middle of season five they started talking about something called RETREAT. A weekend billed as an event where you can talk about Xena all weekend long and no one looks at you funny. I listened smiling with interest that slowly transitioned to hope and finally desire. A few key strokes told me everything I needed to know: It was a few months away in California just outside of Los Angeles.

The XWP hosts spoke about RETREAT as if it was paradise. I still thought of it as an extravagant indulgence. I could not travel across the country for a four day trip about Xena. A show that went off the air almost 20 years ago. The idea was ridiculous and crazy. I had just started my first full time job since my arrival in Savannah. It took me two years to find this job. The thing is the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could not, not travel across the country to talk about Xena all weekend with other fans who felt a deep connection to the show.

Retreat was almost three weeks ago and it was PHENOMENAL. I made it a priority and took the time from work to go. What about Hunter? I recently learned an important lesson regarding motherhood. I am a better mom when I am a happy woman. It is important for Hunter to see his mom passionate and excited about her life. As soon as I signed up to go an entire world of other fans going to RETREAT became available to me. I was dropped head first into the Xenaverse and it was marvelous.

Once on the ground at RETREAT things quickly escalated to an effervescent sparkle. All around me there were causal conversations. What surprised me most was the topics discussed were not hyper focused on the show, but around RETREAT itself. I had the greatest sense of belonging I have ever known. I found the others like me. 

In 1997 when Xena first cast her spell on me I quickly understood a particular writer had the strongest point of view when it came to her character. Steven L. Sears is best described as one of the architects of the Xenaverse. The driving force behind Xena. He wrote many of my favorite episodes. The ones that explored esoteric concepts, explored alternative histories, and stretched my imagination. He brought to life a flawed woman who easily demonstrated rage, sorrow and joy. Sometimes viewers were treated to all of those emotions in one episode. I wondered for years who is Steven L. Sears, and how did he form this character. I had the conversation in my mind often. To be perfectly honest, dearest reader other than Hunter, meeting and discussing Xena with Steven L. Sears has been my heart's deepest desire.

In the months leading up to this extraordinary adventure I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Looking any farther ahead made my head spin with confusion, anticipation and something dangerously close to the spiritual ecstasy St. Teresa experienced. This pivotal moment is depicted in one of my favorite baroque sculptures in Rome. A quote from her autobiography says it all: "The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surprising was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it."

I overheard that Steven L. Sears was at RETREAT as he had been almost from the first RETREAT six years ago. This was one of the reasons I could not think about RETREAT before I went. It was the thought of meeting Steven that stirred the most profound emotions.

Notes for Steven

After dinner I headed to the outdoor stage where Hey, King played theme music from the show replete with drums, strings and singers belting out the mysterious Baltic chorus. I thought I had died and gone to the Elysian Fields. In a tribute to the Amazon tribes often among the storylines of the show, there was a dance party around a bonfire. Would be dancers and patient observers such as myself methodically filled in the area around the fire. The night air was layered with a cool dampness. No rain just the influence of the humidity and high altitude. Soon a DJ pumped tunes deep into the night air and revelers danced without care for rhythm or circumstance.

Steven L. Sears wears a trademark Indiana Jones styled hat. He is easy to spot in a sea of women. To be clear there were several men in attendance but, us women easily outnumbered them. I did my very best not to appear creepy in any way but, I kept my eyes on Steven praying to all that is holy for an opening to start a conversation. A few minutes passed. I moved into the same row with him. One of the event organizers sat close to him. Their knees almost touching as they exchanged photography tips. Talking into their cameras about the myths around flash photography. Steven's attention was drawn away for a second. I slid hurriedly next to the organizer and blinked quickly at her. Trying to contain my excitement and focus my thoughts: "That's Steven L. Sears right? Listen, I am his biggest fan. It would me the world to me to have a conversation with him. Do you think he would be open to that?" She looked at me intently. Immediately understanding the import of the moment. "YES, he would. He loves talking to us about the show. He will surprise and thrill you. He will answer all the questions you have and go deep with his answers. Talk to him," she gave my hand an earnest, tight, squeeze and a gentle nod. The us she is referring to are the other Xenites. The official name of the event is the Xenite Retreat.

I shot up as if someone pricked me with a sharp object. I ran, at top speed, back to my room. I wrote out my top five questions for Steven. The top five questions I kept close to my heart. The ones I nurtured, pet and refined for 21 years. I whispered them as I wrote them down. The words spilled on to the paper effortlessly. My pen was the guide, but the words poured from my soul. The action was perfunctory. Just a tool to help me prepare for the discussion of a lifetime. This would help me keep my composure and organize my thoughts.

 I 

walked back to the bonfire with carefully measured steps enjoying every moment. Back in the seats around the bonfire the organizer created fertile ground for me. When I found my way to the seat near Steven she gestured to me as she whispered to him. I read her lips, "That's her, your biggest fan." And just like that I moved closer and began one of the most intensely satisfying conversations of my life. Every question prompted new questions. We spoke for hours tumbling from one topic to the next. My eyes fixated on his face as we discussed the origins of Xena. The how and why he infused her with so much power and vulnerability. Why he cares about women's point of view with the sensitivity he does. We discussed my favorite episodes. Why he left the show. What he did while he was gone. How the Hollywood machine works. It was fascinating. Think of the most precious moment of your life. Now conjure the most delicious food you have ever tasted. This is what that night was like. The most incredible part of all of this is that it got even better the very next day. Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

The Silvery Fox Rises

As a teenager family members warned advised that I could expect gray hairs early because my parents and grandparents began to grey in their twenties and earlier. I shrugged it off. I was 15. What did I care about turning gray in my twenties?  Besides I couldn't do anything to stop it.

As this genetic trait began to rear its silvery head in my late twenties as scheduled, I did not think much of it. It did not bother me until they started to pop up around the edges of my hairline. I plucked those in my thirties until my hair stylist noticed the thinning. She put a rinse on them and told me to stop plucking my hair out. She began to put a dark rinse on my hair every time I went, which at that point was a few times a year. I didn't notice how gray I was becoming until I moved to Italy and was left to my own haircare.

Overnight I was in charge of doing my hair myself and immediately noticed many, many gray roots sprouting. I tried a series of temporary and permanent hair color treatments. The henna experiment was an unkind period as it turned my grey hairs an evil shade of orange that was difficult to explain. When I became pregnant I found an all natural Italian alternative that worked very well. Overtime once every few months became a monthly "touch up". Soon I moved to twice monthly. You see where this is going.

My black but, receding hairline

I began to notice some thinning around the edges of my hairline. This is the area the greys are concentrated or perhaps they are the ones I see the most. They were taking the brunt of the constant coloring. Earlier this year I had a serious decision to make: My hairline or grey hair. In the weeks that I tried to stretch the coloring process someone would inevitably notice grey hairs coming in with a snide remark. Of course I know I should not care what people think, but it bugged me.

People mentioned it as if it was a unique discovery. One that required an immediate remedy. This applied to strangers and friends. Sometimes I would get a quiet nudge and a whisper: Hey you have some grey hairs coming in, they'd say. A relative suggested I keep hair mascara in my car to help with quick NECESSARY touchups. I spent sometime looking inward on this. Eventually I saw the truth. My grey hairs triggered people's insecurity. Not the other way around. Armed with that knowledge, I gained momentum.

The initial transition was gradual. I bought several headbands to assist. Within a few weeks it became obvious I was aware of my grays. That I was leaving them there on PURPOSE. Dear reader I wish I could tell you no one noticed and I lived happily, greyly ever after. The truth is everyone noticed, but they were kind and all those headbands I bought helped me ease into the new look. It was an adjustment for sure, but I slowly gained confidence in the look.

Mara Brock Akil

Most people think I am in my late twenties or early thirties which is a such a phenomenal blessing. There are sometimes, lots of times it gets weird though. People react in often bizarre ways. Either they don't believe me, not sure why I would lie about being 46, or they get mad. The grey hairs eliminated that awkward conversation. Now it is obvious that I am a woman with some life experience under her belt. No more age questions. No more surprises. Amen. 

I was still wearing headbands when I saw this picture of Mara Brock Akil. She recently stopped coloring her grays and was embracing "the power" she felt. This photo gave me inspiration and courage. She looked glamourous and beautiful in her greys. I knew then I was ready. I saw a way forward. I could be grey and stylish, which is something I have a deep desire to be.

I do very little halfway. Once I have an idea in my head I take it as far as I possibly can. When I found myself struggling with art I found a way to study art in Italy. Once I discovered Maya Angelou I devoured everything she wrote. Saw her speak twice and met her once, but I digress. We are talking hair today.  It took some research to find grey hair extensions. It is not something in high demand, but I found them. Varying shades of them. Everything from 20% to 80% grey. I went with 80% #becausemickie. After a few weeks I was ready for more. Let's kick this grey up a notch.

#becausemickie

My next look was 'both/and', a new concept the author Glennon Melton advocates. Sometimes things are both/and. She also says sometimes things are hard and we can do hard things. Self acceptance can be hard, but we can do hard things.

This time I went 80% grey and upped the ante with the addition of silvery/white highlights. It was a gorgeous look that was both glamorous and edgy. Braided hairstyles are temporary. After a few weeks I took the braids out. By then I grew a few more inches of (gulp) salt and pepper hair. I leaned further. I bought special shampoo to "whiten" my natural greys. Now they have a shimmery quality that I absolutely love.

It feels as though I am in my own skin for the first time in a long time. I feel attractive in a deeper way. It feels like the beauty on the inside is showing up on my head. This kind of evolution would not be complete without something to commemorate the change. And just like that I added Silvery Fox as a new pronoun. Yes pronoun because I am so over the alter ego phase of the aughts.

The Silvery Fox Rises

It Was Never about the Mouse

Division H 2019 Humorous Speech Trophy

Toastmasters is changing my life in ways I could never had expected. What started as a networking opportunity when I arrived in Savannah two years ago has become a propulsive and joyful part of my life. I have been basking in the joy of bonding with a supportive community of friends and friends I haven't yet. On a whim I entered my local Toastmasters' Humorous Contest. I was talking to a close friend about my September 11 experience and remembered how I stayed up all night September 10, 2001 worried that I had accidentally insulted a colleague. I was able to find a nugget of humor in that interaction and spin it into seven minutes of hysterical laughter. I knew it was a funny story and an even better speech. I had the audience on the edge of their seats the whole time and my finish had everyone asking if the performance (yes, I am calling my speech a performance) was fact or fiction.

I was empowered to talk about 9/11in that safe space, but I also felt quite vulnerable. I have given my 9/11 speech before and this time my body still shook and my voice still quivered. I was keenly aware that opening up in this way invited questions that might be difficult to answer. Top of mind for me is to honor my boundaries and respect those souls who perished that day. Sometimes I experience questions that don't respect those goals, and that is the opposite of fun. Morbid curiosity just is not my thing. I won without thinking too much about what was next. 

It meant travelling two hours outside of Savannah to Waycross, GA for the Toastmasters' Area competition was next. This was my first time competing with members from other clubs. It is hard to describe the competing emotions I felt. Lots of new faces, my competitors had props, costumes and varying levels of experience. There was lots of laughter throughout my speech and a collective gasp when I revealed the context of the story as literally Ground Zero. I won second place, which was an accomplishment for my first time, but I went home thinking about how heavy the experience was for me. Actually is was grueling. It was clear to me that the other competitors had much more fun. They were not up there on an esoteric quest.

The second place win meant I advanced to the semi-finals. I went home wondering what it would take to compete and win at a higher level. I started thinking about costumes, music and props. Yes, that is what it would take, but it would also take something less tangible than all that. It meant I would have to take the competition less seriously and have a great deal more fun.

I thought about how different of an experience I could have had if I told a funny story instead of one that I "found" humor in. I decided to give a speech about a little girl with the same name as a famous mouse. How she was relentlessly teased until she was ten years old when Toni Basil became a pop sensation with her song "Oh Mickie You So Fine". With the goal to have fun in mind I found childhood pictures of me embracing the whole Mickey Mouse thing. I even played the Toni Basil video and did a few of the dance moves. I did my best. I had props and a whole lot of fun. In the end I claimed the second place trophy. Dear reader this was the best outcome I could have hoped for because the finals are at the end of April in Atlanta, GA. I cannot compete in a speech contest in April because I will be in California steeped in my ten-year obsession with the greatest warrior the world has ever known.

 Until next time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

Diana IRL

It is always best to start at the beginning. And for me the beginning begins with Diana Ross. When I was a kid I was sure I was going to be a megawatt star when I grew up. I envisioned my childhood as a long, slow walk to stardom. But, when I turned 11, right when I expected to be discovered as a child prodigy with a unique-once-in-a-generation voice, I was asked to stop singing in the choir at school. It was a devastating moment to be sure. By that point in my life I had perfected holding the microphone, stage presence and a hurried autograph for fans. All that came crashing down around my tiny shoulders. What remained was my high esteem for Diana "the Boss" Ross. And so when by chance I emailed a friend happy birthday last month and she told me she was going to see Diana Ross I peed a little in my panties. I do not know this person very well so I tried to play it neutral.
Me: Oh really? W-ow.
Her: Tomorrow night. Jimmy got tickets. Amy and all the girls are coming. You should come we have sitter for Hunter
Me: Where? Errr..Where is Diana

Diana and her sparkly red jumpsuit in 1983

Ross playing?
Her: Downtown Savannah

She continued to text me with the pre- and post concert happenings. There was something about a well connected lobbyist visiting from Atlanta that I just had to meet. As hard as tried to follow the details, I was enraptured with the prospect I might at long last see Diana IRL. In 1983 I watched Diana enthrall thousand in her iconic Central Park concert wearing among other memorable outfits, a red sparkly jumpsuit. I vowed then that I would see her in concert some day. Dear reader that day arrived.

Can you believe there were tickets two days before the performance? I called another friend who just happened to be free and purchased two tickets just two days before the concert. The Johnny Mercer theater is a smallish venue. The seats I picked were on the ground level off to the left side of the stage but, far closer than I imagined would be available. It was a cold night and the icy air circulated in the lobby as we waited to enter the theater. My friend the birthday girl arrived shortly after. Suddenly my friend complained of how hot she felt. We all sort of stared at her when she began to fan her pelvic area. We laughed nervously with her until she said, "I'm hot, hot. I'm perimenopausal you know." Her boyfriend shrieked, someone guffawed and I stared slack jawed at them both. Without skipping a beat she laughed and threw her arms around him. Soon the concert started and I was transported to another place where doo wop and disco ruled. Of course there were several outfit changes. All the primary colors were covered. She mentioned her daughter Tracy Ellis Ross' show Black-ish. Tracey and I are the same age and I sometimes wonder how my soul did not end up in Tracy's body so that Diana could be my mom and I could play in her closet. I resisted the temptation to go too far down that rabbit hole.

Diana at the Johnny Mercer

She looked great. Her voice sounded amazing. It was a lovely night, and I could not stop being grateful for the opportunity to see her IRL at long last. Since my arrival in Savannah two years ago these serendipitous events have happened with more and more frequency. It could be coincidence. It could be right time, right place. No matter the reason or the cause, I am thankful for all the opportunities to experience once in a lifetime goals such as seeing The Boss in concert. Amen.

A Student of Modern Warfare

A few weeks ago I had the distinct pleasure to volunteer for The Gary Sinise Foundation's Snowball Express. Gary Sinise of Forrest Gump and CSI: NY fame heads up an organization that supports active duty Soldiers, veterans and their families. His foundation sponsors a special event: The Snowball Express. Each December the foundation hosts 1,750+ children of the fallen and their surviving parent or guardian at a five-day retreat. Last year they went to Disney World. One of my friends, female combat veteran, planned a trip to an Army base in North Carolina where the families would assemble before heading to Orlando.

Gold Star families hold a special place in my heart. They have made the ultimate sacrifice. I met of few of these families while we were stationed in Vicenza and the surviving spouses and children are so brave. At times I miss the close connection to the military and so welcomed the opportunity to drive the four hours to cheer the kids and parents as they boarded their flight to Disney. What I did not immediately understand was I needed to wake up at midnight to be there at 5AM when the families arrived at the airport in North Carolina. It took me  few days to wrap my head around the idea, but then I recognized what an extraordinary opportunity it was. I went to bed super early that Friday evening and woke up at midnight to get ready for an adventure. I was not disappointed.

The kids ranged from seven to 12 or 13 years old. They were ordinary looking kids. Nothing about them let on that they had lived through the nightmare of having a parent killed in combat. It was early and our exuberant holiday cheering may have slightly unnerved them. It was early for them, but we had been awake for hours. Once they were all assembled we waited on the tarmac for them to board the American Airline aircraft, and this is where it happened.

I saw a savage looking helicopter in the distance. It reminded me of a dinosaur. It was large, hulking and powerful looking. (It also matched my jacket, which was definitely a sign!) I heard some chatter around me about other helicopters, the Blackhawk and the Chinook, but the look of the Apache held my attention fiercely. I had never seen anything like it. I later learned it is a lot like a flying tank. It has a Rolls Royce engine, is mostly bulletproof and can climb to over 5,000 ft. per minute. These are the guys you call when something has gone wrong in the fight, and you need it fixed fast. After I stopped staring at the incredible machine I wondered why they were there, and the answer made me want to cry in earnest. Two Apaches escort the American Airlines plane with the children down the runway until the plane is airborne as a sign of respect, and just that small extra touch to remind the families of how special they are.

During the drive back the Apache became my newest obsession. I texted Hunter's Godmother when I got back to Savannah. Her husband flew Apache's in the Army and survived a harrowing firefight. She shared stories with me over the years, but back then I didn't know what an Apache looked like. My next stop was to find a book that could tell me more about the Apache. By all accounts Ed Macy's Apache is the best out there. The cover has these quotes: "Puts you right in the cockpit with your finger on the trigger. A truly awesome read." and "Thoroughly absorbing...A real find for students of modern warfare." I am not student of modern warfare, at least not yet anyway. In the meantime, this book and the trip to North Carolina have expanded my world view and for that I am grateful.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary. 

Magical Manifesting

Yes I wore gold lame to axe throwing

Happy New Year! Eight is my lucky number. It is also my favorite number. Big things always happen for me around the number eight. I knew 2018 was going to be smashing but, it far exceeded my expectations. I started off with wild experiments, hopes and dreams. I made the scary calls, sent the bold emails and trusted my instincts. The best part is the work paid off. I had an incredible year filled with joy and deep satisfaction. Yes there were a few unfortunate surprises to be sure. Turns out my cholesterol is on the uptick! And lots of false starts in the career sector, but I finally landed a job that is flexible and interesting. I planned a major power move with the negotiations, but that all changed at O'Hare airport last month.  That story will have to be told in another post.

Today's post is about two key events: (1) My Life Coach (2) My birthday celebration. My now coach began as friend when I first arrived in Savannah almost two years ago. (Yes, I am coming up on two years here!) We saw each at events around town. I even participated in some of her career coaching sessions, but there was some part of her practice and self expression that was just north of my boundary of esoteric. I am learning that some people lean into that. What I mean is they embrace or confront that which feels uncomfortable. I typically run turn away from circumstances that make me uncomfortable.

As 2018 began to wind down I determined I wanted to accelerate the positive vibrations in my life. Yes the esoteric vibe is rubbing off on me. Since my arrival in Savannah my life has picked up momentum. I love it and began to feel there is more out there me now that I am back in America. Italy was a great experience, but there were certain limitations that are no longer factors in my life. I made a conscious decision to level up.

And so it happened that when I was in NY I heard knife throwing and axe throwing were a thing. I love all sorts of weapons, but especially knives. This immediately caught my interest. When I returned to Savannah I made a list of activities I wanted to try. Axe throwing was in the top five. The nearest axe throwing classes are in Atlanta, which is an almost four-hour drive. I did not fuss about it. I wrote it in my book, set the intention to go axe throwing and closed the book on it for the time being. I did not fuss or worry about it. I let it be.

Within a few months a friend came to me with the idea of driving to Atlanta to GO AXE THROWING for my birthday. I was floored, ecstatic really is the word to best describe it. And that my friends is how manifesting works. Within a few weeks we were on our way to Atlanta for a day of axe throwing. I could try to explain the how and why manifesting works in greater detail, but I'm not sure I can. What I do know for sure is I want to elevate my life this year. I want to it fill it with joy, sweetness and success. Some of that could could happen with positive thoughts, but generating high powered positive thoughts takes some work. That is where the Life Coach comes in. We are almost halfway through our journey, and already my life is sweeter. I say a lot more about how I feel. I feel a lot more of what I say. And dear reader it is all about what you feel in your heart.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.