That which is all of you

Today I meditated, and I felt through all my chakras. And I saw again how my stuckness is in chakra 3 and 4. Power and Love. And that through my love of 3 and 4, my liberation of 3 and 4, I will become whole and fulfill my destiny.

I talk about destiny because I feel it. It’s a feeling in me, that I’ve always had. It’s consistently there and it always relates to voice, of being seen and heard. Of reaching many people. My destiny always speaks to me of the child, of the woman, and the man. My destiny speaks to me of love. My destiny speaks to me of innocence and kindness and creativity. My destiny speaks to me of community. Of human potential. My destiny speaks to me of transformation—the butterfly. And annihilation and creativity—the spider. And what is the symbol of love? The heart. And what is the symbol of wholeness? The circle. And what is the symbol of integrating opposites—the mandorla. The circles overlapping. And so these are my symbols.

What is unique in you that must emerge in this lifetime?

It is your duty to give birth to it.

During my meditation, I wrote something in my head.

It went like this:

Let’s assume for a moment that you do have gifts. That you possess something so unique and so beautiful that no one can touch it. No one can reproduce it or steal it. It belongs only to you and will be with you through this lifetime and possibly into the next.

And if you trusted and had faith in your gifts, you would know how to nurture and protect them as if they were your children.

And then what?

You must find a way to look unflinchingly at your inner truth. You must find a way in, and bring wholehearted compassion to all the dark corners of your being. You must love all of yourself. The pettiness of the ego, the fear, the hatred, the intense neediness of the child. You must love all of it. And through that love, you will find the secret gold of your empowerment, and the fullness of your unique gifts.

You must, by any means, find a way to let your ego work in service of your gifts. You must learn to work hard, harder than you thought you were capable of, not hard in the sense of rushing around and busyness, but hard in the sense of steadfast and devoted. A labor of love. That kind of labor—where it transcends work, and feels like deliverance of your soul.

And then, by all means, you must find a way to share the fruits of your labor. You must be willing to dig down deep and face the fear that keeps you hidden and keeps your vulnerability disguised. You must find a way to let this work by seen. Not by anyone. But by those who have earned your trust. One at a time, gradually, with gratitude and non-attachment, lifting the veil, sharing the truth of your soul.

I came here to liberate the soul from the constrictions of culture. The constrictions of gender, of identity, of race, of abuse, of neglect, of trauma, of avoidance, of apathy, of the illusion of isolation, of brokenness. I came here to teach you how to liberate yourself from the box in which you put yourself. I came here to remind you who you really are. That you are complete and full of love. That you are much more than your mind. Or body. That you are both a fully unique soul that lives on this planet in this precious lifetime, and you are part of something much larger than any one mind can fathom. Your heart beats in the universal rhythm of the one heart, the one love. This is the one love of Bob Marley, and Jesus, and Buddha, and Mohammad. This is the one love of Rumi and John Lennon, and Gandhi, and Martin Luther King Jr. And what about the women, hidden in history, who felt and feel this message? Who know this with out even speaking its name. Yes, them, too. Us, too. This is the one love of all of humanity.

We are all of evil and of good. We are all of darkness and of light. When we encompass all of who we are in love, we no longer suffer. We find our wholeness, and we can shine.

7.4 billion bodies. 7.4 billion minds. 7.4 billion souls.

One Heart.

Art Journal Lab: Soul Searching

For the past several weeks, we have been exploring the acorn theory of soul, as proposed by the late psychologist James Hillman, in his book, The Soul's Code: In Search of Character and Calling. As I often do with books that are poetically written, deep and radical, I am taking a long time to read this book. It was lent to me by a friend, and so I can't write ecstatic notes or underline my favorite paragraphs as I often do. Instead, I do what I did as a teenager. I copy long sections of the beloved book into my journal. There is something about rewriting the book into my journal that gives me the feeling that I am digesting the material more deeply.

The basic idea of the book, which has radically altered how I see my life and my relationship to its events, is: each person has a unique soul, which is invisible to us for most of our life, but as we pay more attention to our life and its history, we start to see signs, symbols, memories that point the way to our soul's code which expresses who we were meant to be. The soul is an acorn--containing all of our unique potentialities from before the beginning of life. The soul even chooses which parents it wants to born to. This calls for a radical re-invisioning of psychology's notion that the way the parents raise their child is what form's the child's personality and pathologies.

Soul is so elusive and perplexing, it feels like a scary theme to bring to my art journal class. And yet, I feel deeply energized and inspired by this kind of work. It feels exactly like the kind of thing I need to be doing. Both for myself, and others. In class, we have been trying different ways of imagining into each of our soul's to find understanding and meaning and to help us make choices that are in alignment with the soul's purpose.

These are the words that Hillman uses interchangeably for the word soul:

 ACORN    DAIMON    CALLING    CHARACTER    IMAGE    GENIUS    FATE   IMAGE    DESTINY

“These many words and names do not tell us what it is, but they do confirm that it is. They also point to its mysteriousness. We cannot know what exactly we are referring to because its nature remains shadowy, revealing itself mainly in hints, in intuitions, whispers, and the sudden urges and oddities that disturb your life and that we continue to call symptoms.”

Here is a poem I wrote to my art journal lab students, as an invitation to try on this theory for a few weeks, and see what they might discover about their soul's.

Imagine

even with your terror

and exquisite heartache

that everything that is

is exactly how it should be.

Your story of suffering

that you sometimes cling to,

your most secret unfulfilled longing,

your rage that you can barely touch,

your most outrageous largeness

that calls to you

(in the dark)

What if all of that were

exactly what your soul ordered

to live itself out,

to engage its depth and mystery

to grow it into the world

to become what it already is?

I have decided recently that I will be developing the art journal lab course material into an online course or an ebook. So I will be blogging more here on what we are working on in art journal lab as a way to continue to develop the material that I have been working on for the past five years.

In one of our recent art journal lab classes, I led the students into a guided visualization where they contacted their earliest memory, and then drew a picture of that memory. They then wrote in their journals--describing more deeply what the experience was like. Some of them dialogued with the child from the memory, to go even deeper. The process allowed each person to discover a seed of her soul.

My theory is: memories from childhood are moments of awakening to the soul. I believe we remember moments of childhood because there was something elemental there, some awareness of self or soul that was not there previously. What we remember is significant and says something to us about our unique destiny.

What is your earliest childhood memory and what about this memory resonates with your soul's callings or yearnings?

Better on the outside than on the inside

When we first arrived in Baja, and I was pregnant and we were camping on our land in Elias Calles, I wasn’t legal to work yet, but I needed to do something to occupy my time, to meet people, be of service, and to have a creative outlet. I decided to volunteer for the women’s organization, Manos Magicas. It’s a small group of women (Mexican, American & French) who met (and still meet) weekly in Todos Santos dedicated to helping women learn skills using their hands: sewing, knitting, making for the purpose of learning, community building and financial independence. The same day I showed up to volunteer, Marcela, and her boyfriend Sigfrido, showed up for the first time too. They were young, younger than me, and scrappy, scrappier than me. They were also from the big city, living on their raw piece of land, camping or more like squatting in their quarter-built house. It was a relief to make some young friends, who were Mexican, who spoke perfect English. We spent all our time together our first summer in Baja, and Marcela taught me many things in Spanish. One of my favorites was an expression in Spanish, that I immediately forgot, but adopted into my own vernacular in English, which translated to: better on the outside than the outside. She said this to me every time I burped, which was often, as I had an addiction to bubbly water and coke. Coca Cola that is. Mexican Coca Cola, which is holier than American coke because it has real sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup. A friend told me that Mexican coke is a high value item in the US now for $3 a bottle. But I digress.

The point is that Marcela introduced me to this expression as a way to make me feel better about my burping. And you know what? It worked. Because of her phrase, burping, or even farting, felt more like a celebration than something I should cover up or apologize for. After all, it’s better on the outside than on the inside. It also became a joke between us—the more pregnant I got, the more I felt that this phrase applied to me, not just about gas, but about the baby. I really wanted him out.

At first, I had wanted the birth to be 100% natural,  hippie style. I interviewed a midwife. I read books about how empowering an all natural pregnancy was. I drew drawings of my unborn baby. (There's another wonderful story here about the drawing I drew, but I'll save it for another time.) When I found out that the baby (now the force known as Emilio) had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and that I would have to deliver him in a hospital, and that Lucas would not be allowed to accompany me in the delivery room, I opted for the cesarean section, which was what Doctor Ariola recommended. (Yes my OBGYN was named Ariola). I was devastated at first, I hadn’t imagined myself to be the kind of person that had a c-section, it just didn’t seem part of the narrative. But then again, no mother has the birth she imagines. It’s the first lesson of motherhood. Things not going according to plan. Eventually, I had come to accept the cesarean, as scared as I was. After all, no matter how it happens, better on the outside than the inside. That was what was most important.

The day Emilio arrived on this side of life, outside the womb that is, was not the happiest day of my life, as so many parents claim. The day after his birth was possibly the worst day of my life. (Also another story.) That doesn’t mean I didn’t love the little thing as he first nursed me, both of us having no idea of how it’s supposed to happen, just knowing that it is. The first time I heard his voice, as I lay drugged out on the operation table, I burst into tears. It was a loud sharp cry announcing his lungs to the world, to us, his parents. The sound of his voice was a great relief, and proof, undeniable proof, even more so than seeing him, or holding him, that he was alive, and here. That he is a whole person, separate and individual and able to make sound. Then Lucas showed him to me and I was surprised by the darkness of his hair, and the amount of it. He seemed small, but somehow powerful already. A force of nature. He was so so much better on the outside than on the inside.

It’s not that it was a difficult or painful pregnancy. Things went smoothly mostly—at least his part did. He grew, and grew. And I grew and grew along with him. There was not a lot of pain and only a small amount of discomfort, which mostly resulted in the fact that we were living outside, in the desert sun, and I was hotter than normal, and could never seem to find enough shade or coolness to feel comfortable, until night time, which was when I retired, at 9 PM, to the tent, ready for profound rest. Mostly, I took long walks on the beach, alone, or with Lucas, looking for shells and rocks to add to our collection. I was somehow able to stay very present, not thinking too far in the future—how are we going to raise this child? What kind of education is he going to have? Those thoughts, the thoughts that most of my friends and family asked, did not even occur to me at all. I knew instinctively that all my energy needed to go into growing this being and putting all my creativity into that, not through drawing or writing or singing, the way I was used to doing, but just through being. Through soaking in the fresh ions from the ocean waves and the moments of pleasure when I could enjoy food. My pregnancy experience was unconventional, to say the least, and not even in line with the kind of person I had been before. I wasn’t much of a camper, or a nature girl. I had always loved nature, and had enjoyed camping the few times I had done it. But, camping was more like a background to some other kind of art project or experience. I didn’t have a very direct relationship to nature. Every plant I had ever owned had died. The first time I went camping with Lucas, I referred to the forest as “in here” as in “hey it’s getting dark in here as the day faded into night.” I admit I said it partly in jest, to play up the Brooklyn part of me, the part of me that is, as Woody Allen used to say, at two with nature. But the larger and deeper truth is that I am a hippie deep inside. I have never worn patchouli oil, and I do not have long stringy hair. I never really dug the grateful dead (though some of their songs are pretty catchy, I admit), and I never call people “man” or use the word “groovy.” But inside, I am about as hippie as you get. I believe in peace and love truly and madly. I believe almost everyone is too uptight, or at least spend some more time in nature contemplating the sky. I often feel I wasn’t really made for the world that I became myself in—I feel far too large, and strange and messy and indefinable.

Now, six years later, the term better on the outside than on the inside can refer to just about everything that’s important to me. It has become a central theme of my work. What is inside? Or rather, what do we keep inside? What do we not show? This is what I am most interested in. Sometimes it’s just trapped gas, or a baby that isn’t ready to be be born, but other times its the fear that is just beyond the reach of our awareness, or the really rough novel we’re writing in secret, or the dream we dare not share in case someone else laughs or judges us, or the tear just under the surface of the duct, that would prove our fallibility if were to appear in the corner of our eye.

Yes. I say, better on the outside than on the inside lest that feeling, or thought, or work of art stays stagnant and unfelt, unimagined, unlived. We are lucky to be born into this world, and if we are alive, then we are meant to live. We can barely live if we cannot let what is inside, out. I know this from experience. I have had times in my life where I did not want to live because I could not transmit my inner world. The loneliness of being shut out from our very own liveliness is heartbreaking and often, dangerous. I believe our humanity is at stake when it comes to whether or not we can forge through our fear and risk emotional, mental and artistic expression.

I say, yes, always yes, it is better on the outside than on the inside.

Marcela, if you are reading this, please do send me the Spanish version of that saying.

Our land when we first arrived on it. Our French friends helped us clear the land to make space for our camp.

Marcela & Sigfrido at their home. We called them Sigcela.

7.5 months pregnant at Cerritos Beach.

Showing off our solar panel at our camp.

Learning how to make rugs from fabric scraps at Manos Magicas.

Two months after Emilio was born.

Last night was like coming out.

Photo credit: Barney Edmonds, (my dad)

Last night, at La Esquina, I sang & played 19 of my original songs and 2 Bob Dylan covers, in two sets. The first set with an acoustic guitar (plugged in) and the second with an electric guitar (really plugged in.) With his hands, Lucas played the bass, and with his foot, played the bass drum. Or in the second set, he played the drums with his right hand, and bass lines on the synthesizer with his left hand. 2 for 4. Dos por Cuatro. Four instruments for two people.  If you count voice as an instrument.

I invited everyone I could think of that might be interested, and I performed with everything I had. I felt excited, shiny, vulnerable, raw, nervous & ready all at once. I still haven't fully processed all of what happened last night. But for now, I want to share with you my first feelings and thoughts.

Most of all, from the bottom of my heart, I really want to thank all of you who were there to witness and to be entertained. It truly means everything to me that you were there. After all, what's the point of being a performer if you don't have an audience? What's the point of being a songwriter if no one hears your songs?  Those of you who read my blog or know me personally know how much I believe in the encouragement of creativity & truthful expression, in fact, it's what I pretty much live for. I do what I can to encourage people to live out their dreams, to keep making their art, no matter what kind of self doubt they have. I do this for you, and I also do this for me. I need to dare myself to live out loud, risking ego, in order to fulfill my soul’s code. It is never easy to come out of hiding and share yourself. I do it, not because it always feels good, or because I am confident, I do it because there is something in me that tells me that this is my destiny. It doesn't always make sense. But the songs keep coming and the need to sing never goes away.

It's hard especially, for a girl, or woman, to hold your own value enough to say, "Hey, I have something to say, and I would like to be heard." This is something I have struggled with my whole life, as so many of us have. It takes tremendous courage to show up for yourself, and then ask people to witness you. I hope that this act of being and living out my rock-n-roll self, will inspire others to to take similar kinds of risks. After all, hiding, while sometimes necessary, can become a destructive habit for oneself and the world. The world needs to hear all the true voices.

I am often inspired by this line in the introduction of Lena Dunham's book of personal essays, Not That Kind of Girl: "There is nothing gutsier to me than a person announcing that their story is one that deserves to be told, especially if that person happens to be a woman.”

Here is an excerpt from a response I wrote to an email I received from a friend/singer who came to the show:

"Last night was the culmination of MANY years of work. 2 years (since I started my daily practice of singing & playing.) 12 years (since I first started writing songs). 27 years since I first picked up an electric guitar. 42 years (since I dreamed of singing and performing). It feels good (and vulnerable) to finally unleash all this musical stuff that I have been dreaming of, working on, and creating.

I eventually want to integrate these songs into a live act of storytelling that also explains my journey of empowerment, from being a shy & quiet "good girl" to living my dreams out loud as a woman.

Thank you for witnessing. I am honored."

I will end with some excerpt of lyrics that were sung in the two sets. Each of the 21 songs represented.

Wolf Spider
you’re draggin' the dragonfly down.

Don’t let the bastards get you down,
you are a verb, and not a noun.

the vagabond that’s wrapping at your door
is standing in the clothes that you once wore.

i know now there’s only one sin
don’t you know honey, it’s the split within?

When I grow up
I wanna be a song-singer.

i’m yours for the taking
for mending, stealing, baking.

I know I’m no longer a kid
and I can’t pretend
to be immortal.
I can’t pretend
not to care.
I can’t pretend to be free
anymore.

There ‘aint no hiding in the moonlight
there’s no fooling the stars.

when you see this from above
the parts are fingers of one glove

The city lights go down
I can see you all around

no sabía quien era
quien era hasta que te vi,

no sabía queera
una flor hasta que florecí     

electric set

How does it feel? To be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone.

you’re a lucky guy
cuz you get to hang with me
all the time!

I’m so dutiful
it makes me want to fall.
restless big & small.

i can’t feel me in you
i need a point of view

electric morning
no acoustic
no separate fingers!

oh, i got caught up in sunshine today!

I took photographs today
in my close up way
to make the pain okay

the state i’m in
I feel nervous and brave and exposed

She’s a rock-n-roll thing.

She knows how to do her thing.

when i’m thinking of you
will we be two?

Stay tuned for practice recordings and home studio recordings—I am going to be continuing to share the process & products of recording my songs.

Photo credit: Julie Edmonds (my mom)

Photo by Barney Edmonds

Photo by Julie Edmonds

Photo by Barney Edmonds

Photo by Julie Edmonds

We will be doing the show all over again on April 14th--hopefully with some new songs!

Time to Rock!

These photos were taken when I was pregnant with Mio, seven years ago, six months after we moved to Baja. We were camping out in Elias Calles, and one day we got a little dolled up and drove into Todos Santos to watch the Oscars at Buena Vida (my favorite pizza place that is now closed.) I put my camera on the dashboard for this series. We will be making this same drive in a few weeks to perform our first gig at La Esquina, my favorite venue! This is a moment I have been dreaming about for a long time.

Lucas will be playing drums and keyboard and bass. Yes--he will be playing more than one instrument at a time. And I will be singing and playing guitar. Maybe a little dancing.

Inspired by Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival, we will be playing two sets--a folk set and then a rock-n-roll set. Each set contains my original songs written over the last ten years and one Bob Dylan cover. When Dylan went electric and got booed by his folk fans--he kept playing because he did what he had to do. He wanted to plug in. That moment continues to be so inspiring to me. Plugging in my guitar is so empowering. I even wrote a song about it. It's called Dangerous Instrument and I will playing it on Thursday, February 25th at La Esquina, in the second set, of course.

Long live Rock-n-roll!

The Story of Inside/Outside Ping Continues

Ping used to be a city dog, and so was I. He went on regular walks on hard side walks—sniffing the other dogs’ messages. He was cooped up all day in our apartment, and tried to escape every chance he got, and succeeded several times, creating heart-pounding adventures for us, and for him. Once, he was able to sneak into our upstairs’ neighbor’s apartment and finish their left over chocolate birthday cake, another time he ran across the street, a main highway in Oakland with very fast cars, and ended up trapped in someone’s backyard.

In 2009, Lucas and I packed our 1980’s Toyota Land Cruiser (which waited until we arrived at our destination before it literally collapsed and was never driven again) with a small percentage of our enormous amount of belongings, as well as Ping, and with our unborn son in my belly, we drove down the Baja Peninsula from the Bay Area, to meet our uncertain destiny. We had some savings, a piece of raw land that we didn’t yet own, and some used camping gear, and that was about it.

Ping adjusted to country living quite quickly, and soon found his true calling as at the best watch dog in the world. He has a skittish and serious nature that lends itself well to barking at anything that moves, including pieces of dust and figments of his imagination. We live on a homestead that is one and a half acres in the middle of what is called a Tropical desert. In the summer it’s like living in the tropics, we are prone to hurricanes, loads of bugs, heat, and humidity, but also the desert turns bright green, and wildflowers bloom all over the valley. During the winter it is cool in the evening, and warm and crispy dry, during the day, but the landscape is brown and crusty. Nature makes sure to deliver a gift with every loss, and a devastation with every gain.

Since arriving in Baja, Ping is free to roam the land, smelling and exploring whatever he wants. Barking at whomever he wishes to bark at (real or imaginary). His beast nature is in alignment with… well, nature. This arrangement is blissful for him, as well as for us, but it also has its down sides. Being a country dog means he is covered in dust, fleas & ticks—this made him go from an inside to purely outside dog. He was no longer an inside dog. I really missed that part of my relationship to Ping, as inside tended to be way I had mostly connected with him. He is my first dog, and as a child, I feared dogs, not understanding that barking was a form of communication and not an aggressive act meant to destroy me. When Ping first barked loudly at me, as a puppy, out of frustration, I cried, I was afraid he was going to bite me. My husband laughed at me. But since, I have learned to trust him deeply—and happily stick my hand inside his mouth, whenever necessary.

Two summers ago, there were a lot of lightning & thunderstorms. We live at the foothills of the Sierra de Laguna mountain range—and are prone to all sorts of mountain weather.  The sound of thunder, as is true with most dogs, often triggers a flight response in Ping. Sometimes he cowers in the corner, shaking, but many other times, if he can, he runs with no thought to where he is going. He runs straight for the highway, as fast as his long legs can carry him, which is very, very fast. This happened a few times when we were not at home, and he got hurt—once being hit a little by a car, luckily only a little graze, and another time, he had ripped the pad off of one of his paws. The sight of this was unbearable, as you can imagine, but he recovered.

We realized that if we wanted to keep Ping alive, we would have to turn him back into an inside dog, or rather an inside/outside dog that has to be locked up when we leave the house, just in case thunder comes, and he runs. This shift has meant yet another major quality of life increase for Ping. He now officially has the best of all worlds. The comfort and coziness of the indoor human lifestyle, mixed with the sheer raw freedom of beasting around outside. (This is what we all have, if we take advantage of it. Emilio, now 6 certainly does.) Ping’s updated status has benefited me, as well. We are closer again, and I am more aware of his presence, and our relationship. I admit it is my habitual nature, of being a city girl for 35 years of my life (though I spent most summers in the countryside), to be an inside person. We live in such a gorgeous spot of raw nature, and yet I spend most of my time indoors. I really do forget to go outside, if I don’t have to. We live half a mile from the beach, but I can’t even remember the last time I walked on the sand. Fortunately, we have set up our homestead in such a way that it requires leaving the house. We have two buildings (and a third guesthouse is currently in construction, more on that project in a future post)—a kitchen casita, which is one main room, with a small kitchen, living and dining room. (It also includes a space that has evolved into a music practice space and recording studio. More on that later as well.) And then the other building is our bedroom—2 bedrooms and a bathroom. (Another side note: Emilio just spent his first whole night sleeping alone in his bedroom, with the help of a brand new Star Wars Bad Guy Cozy Blanket).  We have an additional bathroom, just outside the main space—adjoining the front patio. This requires leaving the front door to go to the bathroom. This might sound inconvenient to some people, who are accustomed to a different lifestyle. But it is so great that I must leave the house in order to change clothes, take a shower, or go to the toilet. At night, during my short walk from the living room to the bedroom, I always make sure to pause and look up at the sky, and it always reminds me of why we live here. So that we will never forget the stars. So we will never forget that we are nothing with out nature, and that nature is within us, as well as around us. I forget this every day of my life, but everyday, something always shows up to remind me.

Last week, Ping received his first treatment for Heart Worms, which is a parasite that can affect a dog’s heart—causing to enlarge it and make it work extra hard. His treatment went well, but now he has to be kept from getting excited for 2 weeks. This means no roaming free, no running & barking after dogs or cows or mosquitos. This means being back on a leash for peeing and pooping. So today, I took Ping on his first morning walk. I was impatient—trying to rush his process. Not letting him check every scent he wanted to check, not letting him take the path he wanted to take. It was the busy time of the morning, and I had to get Emilio ready for school. I had to drink my coveted coffee. I had to get back inside. After a short walk where he peed/made his mark a few times, I took him back in the house so I could continue with my indoor morning routine. I took Emilio to school and when I came back Ping was barking politely at the door. Lucas said: “He needs something and I have to go, can you take care of it?” I said” “He doesn’t need something. I already took him out, he just wants something.” I took him out again, grumbling. Once outside, he insisted on walking down the deep slope towards the arroyo (dry river bed) near our house. He stopped several times to sniff, and continue his peeing/mark making. Then after several minutes of walking, he found his spot to poop. Then I started to relax more—realizing that this is his usual outside routine, which happens while I am “busy” with my inside routine: writing emails on my computer, or fretting about some imagined event in the future. I had a moment of deep compassion for him, remembering that he is a beast, and he needs to do his thing, outside. And then I thought this is yet another blessing of something that could easily have been dismissed as “annoying” or “inconvenient,” but really was a wonderful opportunity to get out of my head, and observe the isness of nature. It’s always there, we just usually ignore it. But animals, they can’t ignore it. It’s necessary to them. And I believe it is necessary to us too, after all, are we not animals as well as human beings?

Do you have a story where an animal or other aspect of nature taught you or reminded you of something unexpected, or took you out of your unconscious routine?

p.s. It also must be noted that Mexico is Ping's third country of residence. He was born in Taiwan, and was rescued from being lunch by a woman who flies all over Asia rescuing dog's from being eaten, and then flies them back to the US to be adopted.

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Who am I and what am I doing here?

How do you describe who you are or what you do to someone who doesn’t know you or to someone who thinks they know you?

This is one of the hardest things to do, especially if you aren’t sure, or if you know that in your most authentic version of yourself you defy traditional categories, or if you feel you are a complex and ever-changing combination of contradictory patterns, ideas, feelings, thoughts and experiences, or if you are in the process of manifesting something new in the world that belongs to your destiny that is continuously unfolding before you.

I am always practicing to clarify what I do (or who I am) in words, so that the next time someone asks me at a cocktail party (I don’t get invited to lots of those, but the next time I do, maybe I'll be ready), I can tell them what I do in a brief paragraph that captures their imagination, with out having their eyes glaze over in confusion or boredom. It has never felt right to use traditional or singular words to describe myself: musician, artist, therapist, teacher, writer, coach. I can be all those things, but it's not just any one those things that I am trying to be in the world, but really a combination, a synthesis. An integration. I believe this is the new way to be in the world. I think specialization is becoming antiquated, and so are traditional career paths. The leaders and trailblazers of the new earth are pioneers, warriors, multi-passionates, transparent and vulnerable sharing their message through owning their personal story. This is my unfolding path, and I believe this to be true for many others all over the world.

The other day I had a glimpse into a possible bio to put on the front page of this blog for someone who doesn’t know me personally, and has never visited before. If my goal is bring more strangers into my web of inspiration, which it very much is, it feels important to create a quicker way for people to understand who I am and what this blog is about.

What I wrote is not that brief, but it is as brief as I can possibly make it at this moment in time. It's not perfect, but I think it will do, for now.

Zoë is a rock-n-roll poet, heart & soul revivalist, integrative philosopher, champion for the inside arts, student & teacher of the Self, art healer, child of the 70’s and mom in the process of reinventing motherhood. Her mission is to create an enchanted life of meaning, synchronistic with the manifestation of her unique soul and to inspire others to follow their own extraordinary journey.

Zoë's greatest loves, besides friends & family, people in general, especially children & even certain dogs, include:  passionate & clever indie rock, dance of all varieties, comedy, improvisation, social practice art, fashion & graphic design, true deep stories, sad songs, mythology & Jungian psychology, children’s books, Fisher Price toys, tarot, embracing duality, inspiring documentaries, the open sky, wildflowers, hugs, creative collaborations and elegant theories that connect everything in the universe.

Brooklyn born and bred, she and her California redwoods born husband have transplanted to a stunning piece of raw desert in the foothills of the Sierra de Laguna Mountains, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, on the Southern Baja peninsula of Mexico, where they are pioneering both a homestead & careers that suit and engage their idiosyncrasies, while raising their wild & kind-hearted Mexican-born son. Eschewing the needs for comfort, ease and certainty, in order to embrace a do-it-yourself life in the desert, with lots of tools (digital & analogue), inspiration and bugs. They are continuously in the process of building & growing a life from scratch, that is freer & messier, slower & simpler and yet, more complex.

This website is a testament to the love & creativity, truth & beauty that continuously flows out when we are present and engaged with everyday life, when we are listening both to our inner world of intuition & heart, as well open to the feedback that our environment provides. It is also a record of the creative byproducts of life fully lived. It emphasizes process over perfection. Compassion over judgment. And love over fear. It is a celebration of nature & culture, and their fascinating exchange. It is a form of integration of Zoë's many selves, including especially, the more vulnerable shadow—giving space for expression of both darkness and light, the deepest longings and breakings of the heart.

Zoë is here to live out her soul’s code--Creative Magician of Self—and to share the inspiring tools that will help you awaken yours.

It is never too late to be who you already are.

Secret Powers, a short conversation with Emilio

A conversation between Lucas and Emilio, who just turned 6 the other day:

Emilio: Your secret power, Dada, is your funniness.

Lucas: Oh, and what's mamma's secret power?

Emilio: Sadness. And laughter.

Lucas: What's your secret power?

Emilio: Fart balloons.

Me: And observation.

self & other

The paradox of humanity is that we want to be ourselves and yet we want to connect with others. We are taught to believe we cannot have both. We come to feel that in order to be ourselves we might risk losing the other because the other is afraid of our otherness. And if we connect, then we must say goodbye to that which makes us totally unique--our point of view. Connection & Separation. And so it is a dance between the two as we evolve.

But what if we got conscious enough so that we changed society simply by being different—by being more tolerant of difference, by being more compassionate towards ourselves and others?  By being whole within—our society would become whole without. It is the light of consciousness that helps us find the way, and yet, it is the hardest thing to do because it means feeling our darkness. Acknowledging and then reclaiming our shadow is so threatening to the ego because we must face that in us which we have judged as distasteful, unacceptable, shameful. Shadow work requires courage and courage means feeling our feelings--not shrinking, not puffing up--but hanging around with our fear and our uncertainty and our desire.

When we get more comfortable with our feelings we get better at connecting and when we get better at connecting, we feel more comfortable with feeling our feelings around others, which leads to deeper & more meaningful connections. And this is how society changes. One connection at a time. First to the self and then to the other.

What if we used our power and our love and our creativity to change the way are with ourselves, and with each other? What if each of us was committed to caring more? To sharing more? What if it wasn’t something to make fun of or be embarrassed about—caring? What if it were natural to treat each other as family, as if, we truly belonged to the same thing? What if we could truly feel that at the deepest level we were inseparable? And what if, at the same time, we also celebrated how different each of us is? What if we delighted in difference and saw it as a perfect manifestation of diversity? What if we could embrace both at the same time?

Ourselves and each other.

Unity and diversity. In mystery.

Can you picture this?
 

Flow on Faith

I’ve been going through a thing. I don’t want to call it a block because it’s not a block, exactly. Block implies to me that you are blank, with no ideas or nowhere to go. What I am experiencing is just a different phase of the creative process. As Lena Dunham’s character Hannah, in Girls says in her unapologetic, yet defensive way, when she is struggling in grad school : “I’m more in a pre-writing phase.”

I am doing research for my story that I am writing. It’s my attempt to make sense of my life up until this point in a way that might teach something about what I have learned about the the path of human development, the spiritual path, the path of the artist. I have written different versions of this story. It was an 8 part blog post. It was a self-revelatory performance art piece in grad school. It’s in the lyrics of my songs, my poetry. It was countless starts of essays and monologues. It was the start of a feature-length script. But none of these quite got at the live wire inside me that needs to be plugged in.

What is the story about? Simple. It’s the story of how I learned to do the things I thought I could not do.

Including, most especially, how to tell my story.

Last month I saw a psychic for the first time. Her name was Althea. She told me that I needed to focus on this writing project, (which will include my songs and will end up as a performance as well as a book or some other art form that hasn’t been invented yet) and that it would be done in two years, and then after that, everything would easily flow out of me. In two years I will be 43. I can wait that long to be plugged into myself. But it will be hard because I tend to be very impatient with the creative process. This is why I teach the creative process—to help me to slow down. To help everyone to slow down. Althea told me what I already knew but absolutely needed to be confirmed by someone who wasn’t me, who didn’t know me, but is gifted in the other kind of knowing. She was. She also said I lived in paradise and that I had finally found peace after many years of suffering. Also true.

And so I see that this is my moment to weave my webs, make my connections, bare my soul. It will be hard. It will be painful. It will challenge me on every level of experience. But I see no choice in the matter. It must be done.

And in the meantime, I am fretting about here, my blog. This space I have created to share my process. To make contact. To check in. To record. To reflect.

I keep wondering how can I keep this up during these times that my words aren’t quite ready to come?  When I don’t have my own words to share. And then I remembered: I can share the words of others. I have been reading & listening voraciously and I love sharing other people’s words when my words are still cooking.

Here is what I have been reading and listening to:

How Should A Person Be? A novel by Sheila Heti
The Art of Asking An audiobook memoir by the artist/musician Amanda Palmer
The Hero Within A Jungian self help book about archetypes and human development by Carol S. Pearson
Handling the Truth a book on writing memoir by Beth Kephart that my dad lent me.
The Life Changing Art of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. A surprisingly inspiring audiobook by a Japanese woman who has made being tidy an art form and has given me new hope for putting my life in order.

Not exactly on purpose, but sort of, I am reading only women writers.

It’s all research. Research for the many ways we can tell our story. Eventually, and possibly quite soon, I will be teaching this to others. This storytelling thing. It’s not a decision. It’s a way of life that I am growing up into. It’s, as Tara Mohr refers to callings, an inner assignment.

Everything I read turns me into a kind of chameleon of voices. I try on different voices which leads me deeper into my own point of view. It is a process of discovering one’s own voice through trying on other's voices. This is what many singers do. There is a whole book about this process called Steal like an Artist by Austin Kleon. I will post quotes from it soon, even if the writer is a man.

What I just learned about chameleons in the terrarium/aquarium basement of the Pittsfield museum where I went last week with my mom and son, is that they are falsely believed to change color in order to hide. But it is not really the reason. They change colors in order to reflect their social intentions or responses to temperature change, in their own reptilian limitations: to express themselves. Trying on others’ voices is my way of figuring out where I stand. It’s the process that happens whether I want it to or not. I am newly embracing my particular processes lately. That is the joy of being an artist—embracing your way of doing things, using instincts to get you where you need to go, and above all, trusting the process.

Something in changed in me about this process of writing recently. I realized that what was missing was my faith. But I had no idea how to get it back. I find faith to be the most important ingredient to art. I lose it and find it constantly. What brought be back to faith this time was a conversation with my husband who, with out training, is a great art coach. I learn a lot from him, rather than the other way around. We decided together that coaching can only be as good as how well you know the other person. Coaching, like therapy, and teaching, and parenting, is a relationship above all else and it must acknowledge the special and unique truths of the individual’s (coachee’s) needs, goals, limitations and gifts.

I started this post thinking I had nothing at all to write. And where do I find myself now? Having written something true about where I am really at. And I will leave you with a quote, as I promised I would deliver one:

This is from A Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell, which I read last summer as primary research for storytelling. I started a few blog posts about it, but never published them. This book is mind-blowingly important for the survival of humanity. I will revisit it over and over. I will share.

“Man in the world of action loses his centering in the principle of eternity if he is anxious for the outcome of his deeds, but resting them and their fruits on the knees of the Living God he is released by them, as a sacrifice, from the bondages of the sea of death. 'Do without attachment the work you have to do… Surrendering all action to Me, with mind intent on the Self, freeing yourself form longing and selfishness, fight—unperturbed by grief.'"

Here, on this blog, I lay the byproducts & fruits of my alchemical experiments, the labor of my gifts, at your knees.

Take them or leave them, either way, destiny is within & without.

What is Zoëlab?

I have been trying to write an About Page for this site that encapsulates and describes what I am doing here and why. It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to write because it means so much to me, and it is so hard to describe complexity.

Here is my second attempt. My first attempt is on the first version of ZOELAB 365. I have also been working on the My Story page, which is an internal biography. Its not quite there yet, but it's getting there. I welcome constructive feedback from you, my beloved readers.

Part of my intention with this blog is sharing how I learn and how I teach. How to be an artist, how to develop one’s voice, how to be more honest, more compassionate with self and other, how to be more balanced, how to be integrated, how to be a parent, how to have harmonious relationships, how to improvise, how to create the life of your dreams, how to create meaning, how to sing, how to meditate, how to create useful & beautiful things, how to heal the split, how to understand one’s self, how to mirror, how to heal narcissism, how to integrate male and female, how to stand up for what you believe, how to be authentic, how to be vulnerable, how to be human, how to draw, how to create regular practices, how to achieve major dreams, how to listen to intuition, how to share one’s soul, how to incorporate disparate parts of self.

Here, I share what seemed unsharable to my previous self. Here, I track my process of stepping courageously out into the world with uncertainty, and faith. Faith in love and creativity. Faith in the human spirit to elevate us into our evolutionary destiny. Faith in human potential. Here, I share the uncertain & revelatory process of spiritual awakening, while integrating what I have learned from my failures, successes, studies & self-taught adventures in: performance, improvisation, dance, theater, film, photography, drawing, poetry, comedy, meditation, graphic design, hair design, clothes design, expressive arts therapy, psychology, spiritual philosophy, songwriting, singing, playing music, creating a life off the grid, pioneering, confronting death, integrating parts of self, working with the unconscious, true storytelling, daydreaming, travel, desert living, Baja, DIY projects, how to learn, rock-n-roll, cultural criticism, holistic health.

I am in love with learning, transformation, truth & beauty. I am in need of healing and I am in need of connection. A mysterious path unfolds before me. It’s like a giant puzzle, and in short intense spurts the pieces of that puzzle appear before me, and I place them in their context. My destiny is not completely clear, but I know it has to do with this blog, public speaking, travel, creating an artist residency/retreat center, performing storytelling and music, being a champion for the everyday arts as well as the shadow of our Culture: namely: the feminine principle, shit, garbage, emotions-especially fear & shame, the heart, imagination, shame, play, children, the spirit realm. My destiny also includes: videos, children, social practice art, being a voice of inspiration and revolution, rock-n-roll, poetry, bringing the teachings of Jung & the expressive arts to the mainstream, being an aesthetic bridge between new age spirituality and artists/intellectuals, writing about philosophy, inventing new forms of art and ways of being, synthesizing the arts, psychology, education & spirituality. I know it's a lot. But I see no choice in the matter.

As I chronicle the process of building a life off the grid, in Mexico, motherhood and its stages, developing my career, I also work on larger projects. Much of what I share is the material for larger projects: videos, books, albums, live storytelling & talks. Each project emerges out of my synthesis of my ideas and needs for healing and growth. As I learn of a new calling or aspect of my callings, I learn how to grow myself up for the task required. This has already happened several times in my life. How I went from being a shy, quiet girl who was rejected as a child actress—to a trained performer and teacher. How I went from being someone who couldn’t sing to someone who could. How I discovered and developed my ability to write songs. How I went from a person who hid out of fear of criticism to someone who transparently shares my failures and vulnerabilities and struggles as equally as I share my dreams and gifts.

And it is here that I chronicle my everyday challenges & learning, as I also share and manifest my dreams. It’s a space of integration of all parts of self, and all parts of the human experience. A space of non-judgmental awareness, humor, fun, play & emotional expression. I invite you to bring your whole self here to meet me. Share your comments, questions, wonderings. Email me. Dare yourself to be vulnerable and authentic. Let’s change the world through our uncertain/heart-based faith in love and creativity. Together, let’s live in presence, imagining a future that lives up to our human potential as unique individuals and our interconnectedness humans living in a natural world. Let’s revive the dying living room arts of friendship, conversation, storytelling, letter writing. Let’s restore the arts to their proper place in culture—woven into the fabric of our everyday lives. Using art for its true purpose: to celebrate & elevate humanity. To give voice to soul. To create soul. To connect. To return to individual & universal wholeness. Let’s acknowledge and celebrate the larger truth that unites us in aliveness.

Jardin de Niño Diaries, Part Four

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We break for summer and I decide that when school starts again in August, I am going to start the mural project. This will require planning. This is not my strong point. I have never painted a mural before. Here's my idea: to paint a jardin de niños literally. I want the mural to be a garden of children who are half kids/half trees, cactus, flowers and plants. The wall had been painted again and so I already have a good background for the mural. The first plan is to trace the kids bodies in the form of the plant they want to be. I use a permanent marker. I write their names on each outline.

Then hurricane odile hits Baja. When we check out the school we see that the entire roof and one of the walls to the outside classroom is gone. There are papers and books and garbage everywhere. I look at the other wall. The paint is gone, and so is the permanent marker outline of the kids bodies. Not a big deal to re-do, but it is a bit shocking what wind can do. The building got a power wash.

The hurricane pulls the rug from under us. Everyone is in shock. We continue to live in fear of the next one. Or the rain. Any rain. Slowly the creatures come out of hiding and I want to reach through the isolation. I decide I am going to start hosting the first Mariposa Night. The theme is "Stories of the Storm." I start to ask people to share their stories. Again, reaching beyond my shyness into connection with others. It starts out a bit clumsy. I am unpracticed after being a holed up hermit all summer. I wonder if people are ready to come out of hiding. I want to draw them out. I want to draw myself out.

Lucas suggests I try to raise money for to rebuild the Elias Calles school. Then I think of Vanessa, the teacher—how she could share her story of the hurricane and her experience at the Elias Calles school.  She is shy too, and very young and inexperienced, but she knows it will help raise money.

On Mariposa Night Lucas picks her up on the way to Todos Santos. She is all dolled up, with makeup and her hair down. She looks beautiful and nervous when she arrives. We buy her a margarita that costs more than her weekly salary. Then I wonder if she is old enough to drink. I am nervous too. We tell our stories and Vanessa is last she shares her concern for her “pollitos” little chicks, expressing a deep affection for the kids and the community in Elias Calles. They have taken her in, even though she lives in La Paz. We raise 1800 pesos. About $130.

The money sits in a jar in our house for months. My classes start at Cuatro Vientos, and I don’t have time to even think about the mural. And then one day Vanessa asks me—maybe we can use the money to buy paint for the school? Of course. Why did I not think of that? I buy paint for the background, for the mural and for the classroom. The week before that Vanessa had asked the parents to come and clean the school yard. It had not been cleaned since the summer weeds grew, turned to grass, nor since the hurricane.

I arrive with Emilio and Lucas. Vanessa is there with her husband and infant son. A few other parents are there. I walk over with Emilio. I bring garbage bags to pick up the garbage that is scattered all over the school yard. The men are carting large amounts of cement rubble and dried weeds by wheelbarrow to a dump pile in the open field behind the school. We sweep, we throw away all the destroyed books. After a few hours of working in the twilight, the yard starts to look decent again.

The next week Vanessa informs the other parents that we will be painting and some of them show up that day. I have bought yellow for the inside of the school. The room is quite narrow, but big enough for this group of 4-10 kids (at any time the amount changes.) It was built to be the bodega of the school but the kids have been using it for their classroom. We paint the outside wall: blue for sky,  green for grass, and brown for earth. The mural will be added in parts over the following weeks.

The following week week I ask the kids to choose if they will paint a flower, cactus or tree. Then I ask them to form the shape of their plant with their body, and I trace an outline in the wall in pencil.

What I have learned from my involvement with the school is how to be flexible. I often don’t know what’s going on, and I have little understanding during the meetings. Vanessa cancels class last minute  when her baby is sick or she has some teacher related meeting she has to attend for her training. I have learned to absorb patience and humor when all else seems out of my hands. One time Vanessa forgot the key to school in her home in La Paz and the kids had to climb through the window for the entire week.

To be continued...

Life as Art Manifesto, First Try

We have faith in love & creativity as the underlying forces of evolution. We are at a crucial moment in time—a crossroads, where humanity is in grave danger. We can allow humanity to self-destruct, allowing the baser aspects of humanity: apathy, greed, violence, addiction, control to win over the elevated parts of humanity: compassion, creativity, passion, connection, joy, kindness or we can make the hard choice to take responsibility for ourselves, as individuals, and see the underlying truth of universal oneness. Within and without. We can start to awaken the truth behind our collectively accepted delusion into the idea that we are separate. From the place of separateness we compete, and create hierarchy and inflict deep suffering on our ourselves and each other.

We have inherited a split and fragmented world that is reflected in a split and fragmented psyche on the individual level. There is a fundamental flaw in the way we approach life, this is learned, and not part of the essence of humanity. The split. We tend to see things as either/or.  We force ourselves to choose, over and over, between self & other, male & female, republican & democrat, east & west, power & love, mind & body. Creating, at every turn, a hierarchy of choice. Instead, we must acknowledge that a balance or overlapping of two opposites is the space where truth resides. The list of splits is infinite in itself. For every truth its oppose is also equally true.  However, true love is whole because it contains everything within it. The opposite of Love is not Hate, but rather, separation. Underlying so much suffering in this world are feelings of fear, loneliness, shame, and inadequacy. This does not have to be so, but it requires great emotional risk to allow ourselves to connect, to belong to each other. This is a process that can  happen only one moment at a time, one relationship at a time.

When living Life As Art, we are not prescribing any dogma or adhering to any hierarchy. The one universal truth is is the universe itself. The totality. In this way, we acknowledge the source of our longing and the object of our longing is the same. We are simultaneously subject and object of our experience. We see the two sides of everything, but we do not take sides. We compromise between the two. We balance. We soften our hearts to allow for both. We acknowledge the ego, we can even love the ego, but we do not let it rule. We see it is as the smaller or unique self that plays an important role—it becomes a mirror for the universal spirit. A celebratory expression of god. The unique individual is soul’s expression of spirit, if we can allow its whole truth to shine forth, with out judgment. Judgment, used here, refers to value. Non judgment acknowledges that all experience is subjective, and therefore, no experience is intrinsically more valuable than another. Any experience is fodder for our art, and through art, we create our life. Through our life we create our art. This is the language of the soul that must be included, woven into our culture. We do not choose rationality over emotion, but rather, we allow them to co-exist, honoring their dual greatness and necessity for living. Even hate or violence—if it exists, we acknowledge it—we do not turn away from it—as then it would surely try to make itself known in a far more dangerous way. We learn to express hatred and violence instead symbolically—through storytelling, or games, or any art form or our choosing. This is how it is done in traditional cultures—the shadow is integrated into the rituals and rites, instead of being acting out unconsciously.

Living life as art, we celebrate the all of life through ritual, storytelling, & artmaking of all kinds. We acknowledge both our darkness and our light and locate ourselves at the center. We create space and silence for our creativity. We know ourselves, and make highest use of ourselves. We reach for our destiny through integrating our past. We exalt the beauty of life as it unfolds. We acknowledge our fears and bravely transmit our hearts.

Last Day of Kindergarten

Tadeo, Itzel, Jocelyn, Vanessa (La Maestra), Emilio, Marcito, Haide, Maria Jose, Antonio, Angel y Gralya in front of the mural project I did with the kids all year. Vanessa and I finished the mural the day after and added their names.

Yesterday was Emilio's last day of Kindergarten. Surely a day of mixed feelings for me. This day marks the end of early childhood, and the beginning of middle childhood. From the Freudian point of view, he is moving from the Oedipal phase that is marked by intense emotions, especially towards the parents, and a focus on the phallus (Freud was male centric) and into the Latency phase, which is more social, connected to the world of friends and people away from home which lasts until puberty. This new phase is the one I have least experience with as a teacher, a therapist, and a nanny. As with the end of every phase of parenting, I have mixed emotions. At first, when the realization hits me, I have a profound sense of loss where I cry cathartically for an hour, then I quickly recover, and feel a new sense of freedom and excitement about the unknown next phase.

I think for Emilio, who hasn't developed nostalgia yet, the day had less significance. Though he will be participating in a graduation ceremony in a few weeks, which is quite exciting due to its promise of sweet and a performance by the kids. Vanessa, the teacher, had requested that all the kids wear their uniforms the second to last day of school so we could take photos of the kids. The kids were supposed to wear their uniforms everyday. But as the year wore on, us parents stopped bothering to put their uniforms on the kids. Seeing them in their uniforms again, reminded me of the first day of school. Emilio had a great year in Kindergarten, and made great progress with his Spanish. He had extra help from our Peruvian neighbor and friend, Silvia, who is a very animated and fun teacher. She and I also do Spanish & English conversation once a week.

In Mexico, the Jardin de Niños includes both preschool and kindergarten, 3-5. At 6 the kids start primaria. In September, Emilio will be going to the primary school in Elias Calles, which shares the school yard with kindergarten. It is a two room school house--the kids, age 6-12 are split into two classrooms, taught be two teachers.

I started shooting photos of the kids in their uniforms, but then I realized Angel was missing. He is considered the rough kid, but I have a very special place in my heart for him. He has an artist's eye. I found Angel hiding in this tree. He was trying to avoid being in the photo, because he was the only kid with out a uniform. I pleaded with him to join the photo, but he was ashamed. Marcito's grandmother put a white playera on him, while he wiped the tears from his eyes. It was heartbreaking. But he did make into the photo. There he is below: second row, far right. Emilio is far left.

Gralya, first row, far left, didn't want to be in the photo either. But I have no idea why--she is pouting and separate for the photo on the top of this post, but now she is in the photo, but still pouting. She will be graduating along with Emilio.

Marcito and Itzel. Marcito will be graduating, but Itzel has two more years.

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Parenting Breakthrough

Being a parent has its ups and downs, just like everything. Sometimes, I feel amazed by the brilliance of my son. I sit in awe of his exuberance, his strength, or his ability to name his emotions, as I secretly allow myself to a little bit of credit. Other times, I find my son's rowdy energy to be annoying and disrespectful, triggering the hurt little girl inside who felt disrespected and attacked by the group of boys (including my brother, my cousin, and family friends) I spent time with as a child. I recognize that, with parenting, just like everything else, the areas we struggle with the most are opportunities for healing, growth and transformation. In other words, parenting kicks my ass and Emilio is my greatest teacher.

This thought occurred to me yesterday, during a particularly trying day. My husband and I have designated two days a week to be "Mommy Days": days that I stay at home to take care of the house, and spend time with Emilio. These days are also often the days where I am in the flow of my inner life--I am often deeply called to write, to draw or play music. On those days I feel pulled in three directions: between house work, time with Emilio and time spent with my rich inner life. My hope is that blogging will be a way to tie all of them together. But it isn't easy. 

Yesterday I found myself giving up on the overwhelming pile of house work and just pulled just in two directions. What I just noticed is that every single thing that I love to do is just exactly the thing that Emilio has no tolerance for. I am in the house with Emilio, he is deep in imaginative play with a guitar capo that he has turned into a character with a funny voice, and I suddenly have a brilliant thought that I must write down immediately before I forget. Just as I sit down at my computer, Emilio appears before me struggling to climb into my lap, trying to block my keyboard by pressing random buttons. Or Emilio is outside banging a broken piece of cement with a shovel, and then I grab the ukelele and practice my new song, and after a few strums, he is suddenly inside the house, glaring at me with his angry face, saying: "no!" Or later on, when we do a project together involving fun things like blowing out the insides of eggs and decorating them, I get inspired to do a blog post, and start taking rapid fire photos of the process. He blocks the object I am trying to take a photo of, and I get angry and storm off like a little child. We make up, but I realize that he doesn't want to let me do anything that fills me, only what fills him. On some days I have an easier time accepting this reality of parenting, that we are to prioritize the needs of ours child over ours. Not always, but often. But on this day, I feel more resistant to this idea. I am tired and I have ideas that need to be expressed. I want to create. I want to daydream. We are at a standstill. Later, I come up with a compromise. I want to read for 20 minutes, while he plays. After that, I promise I will play with him. I set a timer, and get back into reading Not That Kind of Girl (for the second time). He plays by himself, but very near to me. We are both lying on what we call "the couch" (which is really a narrow cushion from an old camper we no longer own that we keep on the floor.) It's barely big enough for the both of us. When the timer goes off, Emilio is outside playing and he doesn't hear it. I don't say anything and keep reading. Eventually he comes in and I bring up that it's time to play. I don't remember how exactly it happens, but suddenly we are in a live game show and I am speaking in a loud, showy voice with a very bad English accent, and I am announcing Emilio as the contestant that will be sharing his experiments with the live audience. I respond to everything he says or does with an over the top reflection of how amazing he is, repeating his full name and imploring "the audience" to give a rowdy round of applause. It turns out to be a sort of interview--about his work in his laboratory in Elias Calles, and how he is going to share his experiments with world. This process draws him out. He is beaming. He plays along. He starts to take on the same bad English accent. The next trick of the show is him sharing his best Kung Fu moves. "The audience" and I gasp in amazement. This acted out play goes on for a half hour or so, and after a while I start to lose steam. I tell him I need to pee and take a break. He wants it to continue. "Mommy, do that voice." "I need to rest. I'll do some more later."

That voice--that's the actress me. The trained improvisor. The performer. The kid who loves to play. It's also fed by the wounded healer. The part of me that instinctively knows what the soul needs to heal. This isn't his healing, it's mine. My healing needs co-mingling with his immediate needs for play and attention. I am giving my child the very reflection that I so deeply needed as a child. I wanted desperately to be drawn out. This is my gift for others. So it turns out there are some art forms and desires that Emilio will allow me to do, but the trick is not going off into a corner and doing them by myself. The trick is to draw him into the arena with me. To reflect not just him and his shiny self, but to include my own. And in this way, we build relationship. And this is the lesson I am re-learning, ever deepening into. Parenthood is about relationship. Self and Other. This is the model we want to give our children: compromise--by acknowledging both self and others needs. Modeling is one important way that kids learn. The other is play.

Recording "Rock-n-Roll Thing," First Try

Okay, it's time to return to my first blog post of the month, where I listed subjects of blog posts that I would write if I didn't care what people thought. One of the items on that list was sharing my music (and bragging about it.) This is one the most vulnerable of things for me to share, and yet, I know it's time. I have been pouring my creative energy into writing songs, singing, playing guitar and (more recently) ukelele every day for the past two years. I am ready to take the plunge, and share my songs and the process of making music.

This is the summer that we record my newest songs. I have 10-20 songs never recorded and most of them never performed in public. I don't know what you will think of them, but I love them.

Lucas and I have had a living room band, called Garafön for ten years. Lucas is an amazing multi-instrumentalist. For Garafön, he  plays drums, bass and sometimes writes catchy & beautiful unfinished rock/pop songs. He also plays: piano, guitar, accordion & penny whistle. We will be doing the recordings together on Garageband. The last time I recorded (in a real multi-track way) any music was 2003, in NYC, with my all-lady band, Social Service.

I am going to share with you one of my most recent songs, which Lucas and I performed for the first (and only time) at Mariposa Night in February. Mariposa Night is a community multi-arts performance and guerrilla gallery event I launched earlier this year through Art For Life, my community arts organization & business in Southern Baja.

The title for the song was inspired by Emilio, who told me he was a rock-n-roll thing way back when he was 3. He's almost 6 now. His latest favorite song is: Ring of Fire. The kid has taste. We listened to it together this morning in the car.

This was our first recording of Rock-n-Roll Thing. Just a test. A first draft to check the sound. We will be re-recording it very soon and adding more instrumentation. I would like to speed up the tempo, and the vocal performance could be better. I am sharing this with you to show the process of making music.

Here goes:

Zumbathon

For the past five months, twice a week, I have been teaching a dance class of my own creation called Dance Lab. It's been one of the most positive & thrilling experiences of my life. And it's gotten me in really good shape. I created the class based on a variety of influences in my life--my extensive training in acting & improvisation, my dabbling in modern, ballet, tap, swing, salsa dance, my grad training in movement & dance therapy, my longtime practice of pilates, yoga & meditation as well as my deep love for making dance playlists and holding dance parties.

Before I created Dance Lab as a class, I did the same practice in my living room. And before that, I occasionally went to a Zumba class taught by an incredibly vibrant woman in her 60's named Jan. Jan is a powerhouse full of love of dance. I hadn't been to Zumba for a long time because I now have my own practice, but my friend Dominique invited me to join her on Friday for a Mexican Zumbathon at the Eijido Building (a community center) in Todos Santos. When we arrived to the giant space, there were 40 Mexican ladies in spandex leggings and neon tops waiting to dance. And then off in the corner was a group of 4 Gringas, including Jan, and her daughter (also a Zumba teacher) in the same type of outfits. In another corner were 3 Mexican men, wearing matching outfits--all in black. Dominique said she felt like the Sharks were about to fight (or have a dance-off with) the Jets. I laughed in recognition. Then we burst out into song "I want to live in America." But we were the outsiders, living in Mexico.

Finally the music started, and one of the Zumba instructors (pictured right with the Don't Walk Dance T-shirt on) began dancing in the front. She had so much dance pizazz, it was amazing to watch. And then every one followed her moves, everyone, that is, except me. Now here's the  point of my story: although I have always been a dancer of some sort, and am often the first one to get the dance party going, I have never been very good at absorbing dance routines. Trying to figure it out puts me in my head and out of my body. I suddenly can't tell my right foot from my left. It's frustrating. And it's no fun. This is why I created Dance Lab, it's a space where you don't have to learn steps, but instead you can create your own (taking inspiration from particular dance forms, but with out having the pressure of being correct.) Zumba is all about learning steps and moves. I want to love Zumba because I love to dance, and I love to dance with others. But instead, I feel like I am spending all my energy trying to follow the moves instead of dancing and expressing myself.

I was reminded of this once again at the Zumbathon. But this time I tried something different. If the moves were easy to follow, I would follow them. But the moment they got too complex for me to follow, I just did my own dance. And through doing my own dance, I felt my body come alive again. It was inspiring to watch the  six different teachers-- Gringas and Méxicanas & Méxicanos do their moves with such confidence and joy. What I loved most about the  experience is just the feeling of being around a lot of people dancing. The energy is infectious. And there I was, in the back row, sometimes dancing with the crowd, sometimes doing my thing. My very own one-lady Dance Lab.

Cowboy Photoshoot

Last week Mio came into the house out of breath.

Mio: Can I have a special present?

Parents: What for? For what occasion?

Mio: Just because I want one.

Lucas: That's not a very good reason. What if I just asked you for a special present?

Mio: Okay, I would give you one. What do you want?

Lucas: (thinks for a moment) What I really would love is for you to put on the black cowboy hat I got for you at the Segunda (thrift store), jeans and cowboy boots and to let me take pictures of you.

Mio: (who usually resists us when we want to take photos of him) Okay. (And he never even asked for something in return.)

Mio promptly got dressed into his cowboy outfit, and posed very cooperatively for Lucas for twenty minutes. I came out with my camera to get another angle on the momentous occasion. Ping, our dog (who was imported, not by us, from Taiwan) was drawn in to the photo shoot as well, but he forgot his cowdog hat.

THE CASE OF THE KALEIDOSCOPE AND THE PLASTIC JEWEL THIEF

Emilio loves to collect what he calls jewels. His jewels are made of different materials, some are plastic, some are glass or stone, but what they all have in common is that they are translucent and brightly colored. One day he noticed that his kaleidoscope contained an enticing assortment of jewels. He then promptly took a hammer and smashed it open so he could steal the jewels. I admit I didn't at all stop him, but watched his quest with amazement and fascination. And then I photographed it on top of our refrigerator (we have a chest fridge. )

Art is there for us to make beauty out of the human experience.

The thing that I have always wanted more than anything, is to be an artist. To make work that is of value to our culture—so that it can show culture what it misses about nature.  I see it as my duty to share the shadow of my particular experience, instinctively knowing that it reflects the experience of others. Maybe not everyone. But at least a few thousand or maybe even millions of others. That is still a very small percentage of people who live on this planet. I can’t move forward through life with out needing to make something out of it—on some mornings I feel anger, and then underneath that, a deep wounding. A feeling of being misunderstood, small, as if I am turning into dust. And then a need to turn that feeling into something beautiful, something that suggests the mystery of its wholeness—its beauty and struggle. A poem, perhaps. A song. On some days I want to propel myself into the spotlight—letting a certain rowdy energy flow through me in the form of song, rock-n-roll abandon. A voice that carries with it the repressed rebellion of my teenage years mixed with rage for growing up female, and almost never feeling seen for all that I really am. Sometimes the scientist shows up, and wants to explain away this feeling—to understand it and put it in its proper context, to measure it. To find a solution. Sometimes I want to track something until it becomes just another aspect of nature’s design.

Sometimes, I want to sit in a deep and fulfilled silence. Opening up to the sensual information that permeates my entire body. I want to let this happen, while images-- me lying face up in the a sea that is filled with the disintegrated words and thoughts in my head. This too, is art. I am coming to see that all experience of humanity is art when we open our eyes just a little bit wider, and we let wonder back in. When we let the child’s eyes, and the woman's instincts, and the man’s power, when we let all of our experience back into our awareness, we are moving into life as art. When we make choices about our awareness—what we want to put our attention on in any given moment, we are living life as art. When we soften into, even just for a moment, the inexpressible longing that emanates from our heart. This too, is art. For when we engage in the soul, as Thomas Moore writes, we are creating ourselves. The transient & elusive material of the soul is unreachable, except by through art. Jung saw this process as alchemy, though he did not think of it as art. I do.

There is anger in me about something. It is the split between art and life. It is the split between artists and non-artists. That art is somehow reserved for the special people in life, and the rest of us, well we just drone through life, asleep. I refuse to accept this piece of culture that we have inherited. I am ready to change culture by magnifying, elevating the beauty of the everyday experience into art. Everything can be art. Who believed this? Andy Warhol. I believe he was very misunderstood.  Many people forgot what a humanist he really was. His message of art was that we are all artists—and that is what he attracted to him—underdog dreamers who wanted their first chance to be elevated. The mistake he made, and they made, was that his ego got in the way, and he didn’t empower his followers. He didn’t tell them that it wasn't his duty to make them a star. It was up to each of them to find the star within themselves. This mistake cost lives, even his own. In religion, it has been the same way, but to a much higher degree of destruction. The greatest artists, just as the greatest spiritual teachers of humanity, knew the secret was in all of us. And yet, our culture cuts us off from seeing that only that special person over there is gifted, and we must worship him in order to be free. That is absolutely incorrect, and I know this with all certainty. The true message of those heroes that we adore, that we feel inclined to worship, was that god is everyone of us. The art that flows out, that is god. The love, that is god. Our essential nature is all the same. The way it looks, and the way we access it, the way we express it—there are a billion ways, a trillion ways. But we are all artists, or can be if we choose, all we have to do is realize that this is so.