My Summer of 2023 Renaissance

Last time on The Cat I was discussing options with my GYN. According to her, we had a bevvy of options from which to choose. I trusted her and was ready to explore. The first tool in her toolkit was low-dose birth control. It promised an end to the the roller coaster of emotions, pelvic pain and hot flashes. Sign me up!

The initial weeks on this protocol were phenomenal. I felt better than I had in months. My energy was up and my pain was down. My general outlook on the world was positive and optimistic. Low-dose birth control where have you been all my life? I wondered why I hadn't done this before. Things were looking up. I began to use the membership we have at the YMCA. Lifting weights, building muscle, and looking good.

By the second month the tides were turning, in the wrong direction. Summer was in full swing. Hunter and I decided to try FOUR different summer camps this year. With my job at The Savannah Book Festival my schedule gave me the flexibility to try camps with hours and locations that were previously out of reach.

Along with a diverse sampling of summer camps, Hunter had a two-week trip to Chicago, and I had a week in NYC planned for work. It all went off without a hitch, except for the mood swings. They were back. 

Spikes of fury and exasperation, some provoked others outsized reactions to normal inconveniences became frequent occurrences. A few other unmentionable symptoms kept me awake at night pondering the purpose of low-dose birth control and my harried existence. I traded my life for an existence. I was not living. I suffered physically in ways that sent me spiraling into despair one moment and feeling awkward and uncomfortable in my body the next. 

With the side effects outweighing the benefits, I ended my relationship with my GYN, and her protocol. Instead, returning to my acupuncturist and an herbal treatment plan. Within days I felt better. I emerged from a fog of incoherence like Italian Renaissance painter Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I was refreshed, sharp and filled once again with my robust, impulsive life force.

As I basked in the newness of my post-hormone replacement therapy emergence, an urge to celebrate my survival and reinforcement of my ability to trust myself above all else became imperative. 

What better way to celebrate my renaissance than with Beyonce's Renaissance tour. Until next time on The Cat.

When One Thing Ends Another Begins

Last time on The Cat I chose motherhood over career which was intimidating and the opposite of what I typically do. I am a Capricorn that means I am driven, goal oriented and safety seeking. Taking the leap out of full-time work scared me, but watching my son's face when I took him to school and picked him up everyday told me everything I needed to know. I made the right the decision, and it was going to be ok. 

I spent the weeks after TEDx adjusting to my friend's and family's recognition that I am a 9/11 survivor. That I struggle with that description was a surprise to many. There was a period of adjustment for us. In the meantime, I looked for work. Not with very much intention. I set parameters around the kind of work that could meet my needs instead of the other way around. After a few short weeks a software company came calling. I approached the process with a light touch. Unsure if full-time remote was what I wanted, they made me an offer that was too hard to refuse. 

Before I knew it I was working fulltime remotely with colleagues in three different time zones, using equipment and platforms that were both new and intimidating. The first few days were exhilarating. The weeks that followed were tough. A new industry and a culture that was foreign to me in ways that left me bewildered. As the summer came to a close and Ryan prepared to leave for foreign adventures, I realized it was not a good fit. Although it was a WFM position, it was not as flexible as I hoped. 

Hunter was stuck at a nearby summer camp where he watched more Disney movies than I have ever seen. It was the only camp that could accommodate my hours, but I wanted much more for Hunter's summers. I left the WFH gig and sought greener pastures. I spent the next few weeks supplementing summer camp with park days, play dates, and boardgames. Hunter and I spent time together doing things we both enjoyed. I also took sometime to figure out what was next for me professionally. I asked myself some questions such as how much cash do I have on hand, and how much do need? Not how much do I want, but how much do I need? Next I asked what I wanted. Flexibility was at the top of the list, and fun was next. I began to pray for a job that I would do for free, but of course would pay. It wasn't long before the position at The Savannah Book Festival sparked my interest.

When I arrived in Savannah in 2017 at the behest of one of my best friends, I networked. I volunteered, attended, and accepted every invitation that was extended to me. TEDx and the Savannah Book Festival being my favorites. I saw an announcement that they were looking for an Assistant Director. The job description was a good fit. It was advertised as part time, which meant I would have the flexibility I needed.

The outgoing Executive Director remembered my competence and outgoing personality. With a good word from her and my participation in online and in-person events the job was mine. I started my new position a few days later. The new job meant I would spend my days recruiting award-winning and debut authors to one of the most prestigious book festivals in the country. I spent the next few months reading more books than I ever had in my entire life in preparation for the festival. It also meant I would be reunited with one of my favorite authors, Douglas Preston. 

Some Words Are Best Said in My Voice

On Friday, June 24, 2022, the long delayed TEDx Savannah live event was held at the Yamacraw Center for Performing Arts. I love all things TED. It was one of my tethers to the cultural movements at home during the Italian years. There certainly were times I thought I could do a TED talk. Or wouldn't it be fun to do a TED talk, but I never imagined that it would arrive in my grasp, but it did.

The road to TEDx was a winding path of self-discovery, courage and mental toughness. I was a TEDx Savannah volunteer in 2018. It was one the most thrilling experiences of my life. I didn't understand then what moved people to take on such an opportunity for growth. All the work for applause didn't make sense. Things began to shift for me in 2019. I reframed the idea into what my message could mean for others. That my journey and experiences could add value to the lives of others began to take shape. 

That's the boldness of giving a talk such as TED or TEDx. I imagine super famous people are invited to give TED talks, but TEDx is different. As speakers, we decide that our message has value and pursue our chance to get on stage.  

I had a few hurdles to cross to get to that stage. Including a massive panic attack on my way to the most incredible mall in the world, which happens to be located across a massive bridge in Jacksonville, FL. There was also the emcee's email stating I had PTSD, which sent me into a spiral so intense that it altered my speech and my perception to accept that I do in fact have PTSD. Everyone around me knew it accept me. I was repeatedly reminded of that fact as I tried to distance myself from that reality, even in my talk. What a gift to receive. All of those experiences afforded me the opportunity to see myself as deserving of grace, tenderness and love.

The link doesn't go live for another few days. Big TED has to review and approve. Next steps are to allow the rest of this journey to unfold as the universe intends. I allow for things to stay as they are (unlikely) or something fascinatingly better to come into being a new reality.

I Leaned In So Far I Fell Over

Have you ever wanted to change your life? Have you ever had the feeling you were in the wrong place, but only to show you how to get to the right place? If you have then you intuitively understand the intersection of confusion and knowing that I have lived for the last eight years. 

Motherhood is complicated, and first-time motherhood is arduous terrain. A few weeks after my son, who is now eight, was born his Godmother uttered chilling words I will never forget, "From now on your life will be dominated by the search for efficient and safe childcare." The joy and satisfaction I had holding my son after I survived 14 hours of labor leeched out through one of the folds in his blanket. Her words hit me at me at my weak spots. Between the two of us Ryan and I have five healthy parents. That's plenty of hands to go around! However, as days turned to weeks, months and years, I found the reliance on family for childcare was a pipedream. Compounded by the fact that we lived halfway across the world in Italy when Hunter was born, it dawned on me that Hunter's Godmother was prescient. 

I viewed my career as an essential part of my identity. Independence is a requisite component to my happiness. It was why I worked so hard to graduate from college and grad school and secure a career. I could not, should not give that up to RAISE A BABY. EVER. No one I knew did this. My peers hired nannies or seemed to have a mythical set up that ensured their offspring were always cared for no matter what. What happened next in my journey was a surprise. 

My resourceful nature was key to balancing motherhood and career. My aunt stayed with us for the first three months after I gave birth. Then Ryan's mother for three months after that. By then Hunter was ready for daycare. I cried that first day at drop off but prioritized getting back to work. I needed my identity to be tied to my career. The alternative title, MOM, more precisely STAY-AT-HOME MOM terrified me. Waitlist navigation became an essential part of my existence. When the list for daycare, preschool, kindergarten and later specialized elementary schools opened, closed and how many were on the list dominated my life. 

One of us, typically Ryan, travels a few times a month. I juggled childcare needs and stuffed down any sense of guilt that tried to make its way to the surface. The juggling act was trickier Stateside. Although closer to family, they weren't as willing or available to us as we had hoped. 

Most unfortunately, I became determined to prove I could do it all. Buoyed by Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In, I continued to push for a defining career worthy of my experience, education and talent. I needed to be challenged and respected at work. I pushed, networked and applied until I got as close to my previous high-powered roles as I could. When I finally arrived at my cube back in Corporate America a sense of unease slowly began to creep over me like slug on the concrete after a humid spring rain. The title was impressive inside the organization, although coordinator had an administrative ring to my seasoned ear. The pay was better than any other since my arrival, but below my worth. 

I tried to treat Ryan's schedule as a minor inconvenience (he travels two to six months out of the year). An event to be managed. Something to be worked around. I reveled in the idea that everyone was looking at me marveling at how I got it all done. "Isn't she amazing.," I hoped they whispered as they closed their eyes before bed. This was cold comfort as the pandemic forced me to re-evaluate what matters most. Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

They Cause Gentle Ripples on Your Skin

I considered "2020 so wack" as a potential title for this post. Or "the great pandemic of 2020". However, there is no certainty that this will be over in 2020 because (1) folks are afraid to take the vaccine. Yep, I said it #facts. And (2) let's be honest, there is nothing great about it unless you look through the lens of opportunity, and progress. I am referring to both the broad societal reckoning, and all the things we are facing as we shelter in place together, alone.

July was my one-year anniversary at my first "real" job since returning to the States. And by real I mean it provides financial and social advantages such as a steady paycheck, 401(k) benefits, on site medical attention that includes prescriptions, and intellectual stimulation also known as stretching. 

In the few hours that I am not working, I spend time thinking about how to meet my unmet needs. I always need things, but the pandemic brought them into high relief. I have always been a seeker. Whether it is of knowledge, adventure, realization or love I have always been searching for a better way to understand myself. In truth we all are.

I took steps over the course of the last few months to embrace the search, and the payoffs are what I am here to share. It's a departure from my usual topics, but it remains in the vein of expression of self-worth and my passion for travel. It's also an invitation to join me because traveling alone can be fun but, travelling companions certainly deepen the experience. 

This all started with a few podcasts, first shaman to the stars: Shaman Durek, and as revelations are wont to do, his podcast led me to another. Aubrey Marcus fitness and gym guru led me to Paul Selig. Paul is a channel and the first time you experience his channeling it will be weird. This is Aubrey's word not mine. I would describe it as confusing at first because the being he is channeling, yes the being, is whispering to him and then he is repeating what was whispered. It is best described as an echo. What peaked my interest quickly became all consuming. I repeated the words he asked me to repeat. It wasn't quite a command, but his voice definitely has some bass to it. I didn't have anything to lose by saying a few words, I began "I know who I am. I know who I am in truth." Tingles gently rippled across my skin. I later learned the words are more than just words. The words are coded with vibrational accord. 

Dear reader I know you are wondering what the words in the previous sentence mean when they are strung together. My suggestion is to experience Paul Selig for yourself. With an open mind I think you will feel the gentle ripples on your skin too.

In the meantime, I did what any red-blooded American who was inspired by a double talking, middle age bearded man speaking about vibrations, truths and mystical teachings would do. I googled him. I didn't find a whole lot. At least nothing that deterred my interest. All I could say for sure was the words shifted the energy in and around me. When my younger cousin called in crisis a few weeks ago I encouraged her to repeat after me as I said them. Days later she called to thank me for making time to talk to her. She struggled to describe what sounded like ripples and a new awareness to my ear. She said, "Mickie remember when I called you last week and you told me to say some words? I don't remember the words. I just know they helped me." 

There are books. Several of them. They are not linear, and neither is time according to the teachings, but you interpret as you wish. I chose to begin with the audiobook, "The Book of Freedom". What's it about you ask? My efforts to describe the book feel like trying to explain the flavor of an avocado or fresh shrimp to someone who has never had either. Avocado is more about texture than any specific flavor. Same goes for shrimp, unless it's bad, but we are not here to talk about shrimp gone bad. Perhaps it's like trying to explain sex to someone who has never had it.

"The Book of Freedom" is about life, but not the life we live. Instead it's about the life we presuppose people who are special, richer, more famous, more beautiful live. It's about those people that are happier than us. That are more in love than us. That is until TMZ shows them doing something crazy such as running into a salon to shave their head, and you realize we are all here making mistakes, falling off the wagon, and making a mess.

With all this learning. I began to feel grounded and unshakeable and prepared for whatever would come next because one of the teachings of the Guides communicating through Paul is there is no destination. There is no end. It's all journey. I began to wonder how I would fare when an opportunity for growth came my way. That's how I describe challenges now: opportunities for growth. I was excited to put the vibrational accords into action. And then there I was in the middle of the first season of the Amazon Prime original, The Boys, when opportunity knocked.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

A TEDx Talk Deferred...

Last time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary I was gushing about my only in my wildest dreams opportunity to give a TEDx Savannah talk. I was beside myself with pride and joy when things began to take a subtle turn into what I am calling the unstable unknown.

It began in early March. Glennon Doyle released her third book in her memoir series, Untamed. To say that I was looking forward to this third installment is an understatement. I listened to the second in the series via audiobook with rapt attention after Oprah named it to her book club in 2016. I had not read that kind of raw honesty that managed to inspire while it shocked me since Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I could not stop thinking about Glennon's meticulously chronicled life and in particular her exploding marriage.

Then suddenly she met Abby Wambach and in quick succession dating and marriage. It was a lot to happen to someone who I thought I knew and understood. I was more curious than ever about Glennon. I thought she and Craig were working it out, but when she described what their sex life was like after she discovered he had been cheating on her for years, I was not altogether sure how they could move forward. Turns out they could not move forward, at least not as husband and wife.

I am not ashamed to admit that I am a Glennon groupie. I am a devoted follower on the Gram. So when she asked that we pre-order her third book I did. That allowed me to get have the book within day of the release delivered to my home. There was a book signing in New York that I hoped to attend but, my TEDx photo shoot was scheduled for the same day.

I highlighted my way through most the book within a few days. Savoring every detail especially that parts of her burgeoning romance will Abby. The book challenges women to put themselves first and let the rest burn, which is a radical concept because women are more often coaxed and cajoled to put themselves last. Placing the needs of their children, husbands and other obligations before their own. Here Glennon advocated revolt against all that. Focus on self and let the rest burn. Radical thoughts indeed.

When the book concluded, I was revved up with no place to go. I was finding my way back to a book that sparked the first revolution of my adulthood: The Celestine Prophecy. I recalled there were some sequels to it and began to look for them. Instead, a deep red background with gold lettering appeared in my suggestions feed: Mary Magdalene Revealed. It stopped me in my scrolling. This book called out to me in a familiar voice that I wanted to learn more about.

Within a few days I found myself besotted. It was moving, expansive and inspiring. The book is about the nature of love and the rightful place of the feminine in Christianity. It reveals what has been hidden from us.

As I sat fully immersed in the wisdom of the author, I was also working on the meat of my TEDx Talk. My talk is about authenticity and the only path to it is vulnerability. Both Untamed and Mary Magdalene were full of instructions of how to express those concepts. I was living inside my inspiration. I was eager to extol the joy of my self discovery when COVID-19 began to work its way into all of our lives.

The call came during my daily walk. It was one of the TEDx organizers. He called to say the event was being postponed. That was expected in light of the daily developments. He went on though. The event was postponed until next year. That last detail left me reeling, but I quickly saw the reality of the situation. The virus was only beginning to affect every part of our lives.

I am a Tedx Savannah 2020 Speaker

Me volunteering at TEDx 2 years ago

Seven years in Italy is a long time. It was a wonderful, most of the time. I am even grateful for the times when I wasn't living the dream. Now that I am back and just celebrated my third anniversary in Savannah I happy to report I am getting the hang of living in America again. I have fully reintegrated into American society. What does that mean? How is that different from say last year or the year before?
so glad that you asked. Last year and certainly the year before I felt very much the outsider with my nose pressed again the window looking in fogging it with my mouth breathing. I felt keenly out of touch with nature of how things move and work here. The rhythm of the language, the decrease in the number of seasons and the skittish, but sometimes rogue wildlife all took some getting used to.

Let's begin with the seasons. In NYC and Vicenza there are four seasons. Yes, yes, climate change has made them shorter and more extreme but there are four of them. Here in Savannah not so much. There are two seasons not so hot and too hot. Next is the accent. Once so strange to my to my ear. Who am I kidding? The southern accent is still unfamiliar to my ear, but there are some idiomatic expressions that are unique and helpful. More than once I have had the urge to us "y'all" instead of the plural you. It just fit the situation. I always forgo the urge and use something more natural to my natural way of speaking and say "you guys" or "hey". But my all time fave is: "It bees like that sometimes". Oh it is such a wonderful expression, and I get tremendous use out of it. Here it is in action: I went to that new comfort food restaurant. The food was delicious, but they got my order wrong and the service made me fee like I interrupted the server's lunch break. "It bees like that sometimes" is the perfect response.

I saved the best for last. The skittish yet oftentimes bold wildlife around here is a mystery and a delight. There is a gaggle of geese that commandeer the streets whenever they damn well please. There are easily 50 or more gees that will parade down the street here and we all know to get out their way when we see them coming. We had to rescue a turtle once, build a barrier to keep an armadillo out of the yard and finally deer can be seen grazing in the grassy areas of the sidewalks in front of the houses in my neighborhood.

In spite of the unusual challenges I have made incredible headway. Two years a go I volunteered at TEDx Savannah. First I created a role for myself that didn't exist, which allowed me to interact with all the speakers and organizers. Then I was invited to come back the second year to assist one of the organizers and this year I will be a speaker. Terry, my Toastmaster mentor has been gung ho about being a TEDx presenter for as long as I have known her. She believed the round of applause at the end of her talk would enrich her life and take her to heights yet unknown. I don't crave the approval of people I don't know. Instead I long for the approval of the people I do know.

However, I am learning that the only approval I truly need is my own. It is taking some time to get used to that idea but, I am on my way.

The 2019 Round Up

Turkey legs are a thing at Magic Kingdom

Although we are securely in 2020 I feel a 2019 roundup is necessary because it was such an amazing year. I found my footing in Savannah, both professionally and personally. To be sure there were challenges, but the rewards were better than I could have imagined, and I am grateful for all in equal measure. 

The highlights of the year were easily the Xena Retreat and the new job. To have one of those happen in the year would have been amazing. Instead I had the opportunity to spend three days immersed in my favorite television show and meet other women more obsessed than I am with Xena. Then when the timing was just right an amazing job opportunity plucked me out of obscurity. And just like that I was back in the corporate game. It is not the most exciting job, but it is in my field, near the house and I have enough flexibility to have lunch with Hunter once a week.  

We had dear friends from Italy spend the holidays with us. We took a quick trip to Orlando and spent a few fun filled days at Disney and Cape Canaveral. It was exhilarating to have a piece of my Italian life here with me in Savannah. 

I also chose to work with a life and business coach this year. I met Samantha almost immediately after my arrival in Savannah via Meetup. All the chaos you have likely heard about in the news is true, but the folks holding down the the fort at WeWork and are keeping the Meetup.com social networking platform alive, but I digress. I attended a few of Samantha's events and we soon became friends. She introduced me to a few other women online and a few others in Savannah as well. I watched the people she surrounded herself with grow, change and become more. Of what you may ask? More of who they are. 

It began to dawn on me that I had an unmooring after Italy. Seven years away from friends and family can do that to girl from time-to-time. With new adjectives and roles in my life I often felt adrift. I am American but, there are still a great many cultural obsessions that I missed out on and often don't relate to here. Memes, gifs., and a few Microsoft word shortcuts to name a few.

Let's welcome Samantha to the performance area that is my life. Although we are friends I wanted to change that relationship into something of a more professional nature. I had never done anything like that before. Your therapist can never be your friend. Same as professors, well perhaps professors can become your friend. That is a story for another day. Today we are discussing my decision to hire my friend as a business and life coach. 

When I approached Samantha with the idea she was surprised. She knew I had a business  idea I was trying to get off the ground. I had attended a few online workshops with her for that, but then I realized I needed to do some inner work to fix a vibrational issue. I knew she could help with that too. I was very clear with her: I want to vibrate higher and I think you can help me do that.  

We agreed to 12 sessions over the course of seven of the best months of my life. All of our sessions were online and recorded so that I could view them later if I needed (I have not needed.) She gave me books to read, The Four Agreements. Videos to watch, The Circle of Influence. There was even homework.

I was racing to work after dropping my son off at school one morning. A police officer stopped me for going 62 mph in a 55 mph zone. He let me off with a warning but, the traffic stop scared me half to death. Traffic stops gone wrong are allover the news and social media. Samantha helped me to pull apart all the fear and anxiety around the traffic stop. In some of our sessions we tackled 9/11, but mostly importantly she helped me regain the inner confidence I lost after a bout with postpartum depression and the house fire in Italy. There is always more work to be done, but the work I put in last year has set me up for a terrific 2020. 

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.