While I’m off in the Pixie Sticks feeding my inner Artist, see Tut for good thoughts & inspiration…
Be well & feel, feel, feel!
Soul Trained 28 June 2007
Today, like many before it, I’m having a Shoegazm. I scored my magical little kitten-heels in the Village & my life’s never been the same. Historically anti-anything even close to flat, it took forever to find a pair for my pretty little feet. But these, these were meant to be mine o’ mine:
I paraded around in my anything but hushed puppies for months. So much so that the plastic heel wore away to metal. But last Thursday morning, at 7:15 a.m., I slipped across the cement in Penn Station. Nearly wiping out, I spied a shoe-shine shop, already bustling at the butt crack of business. I thought I’d just grab something to stick on there to get me to the office on time. But to my delight, I saw a certified cobbler & his cute little wife tucked deeply inside. Showing off my poor shoe, I explained my situation and lamented my lack of a spare pair. I needed new heels & soles & had meant to complete this errand for ages. “Just have a seat, honey, we’ll fix ‘em,” they said.
So there I sat, just long enough to conclude that shoe-shines are for men what pedicures are for women: People kneel at their feet, they come in pairs & everybody leaves with pep in their step.
And then what to my magical eyes did appear but my shoes, wearing completely new bottoms. & to top it all off, they were far superior to the original ones.
This evening, as I got the camera ready take their picture, I looked at my nearly-new-again shoes with love. As I did, I said to myself that they are my New York ruby slippers. At that very moment, a version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Eva Cassidy came on the cd player. When times were tougher in Seattle, I held on to my faith in a new life by singing that song to my sad self. I knew I’d get here eventually. & get here I did.
On an over-packed A train at rush hour tonight, when most people were busy being sweaty cranky-pants, two women took the time to tell me just how much they dug my shoes. To which I say, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…”
Ga-Ga for Gosling 26 June 2007
After re-watching Half Nelson for the 5th time, it’s settled: Ryan Gosling is my ideal man. Sure, all the typical Hollywood trappings might be hard to take, but I’m certain he’s worth the sacrifice. Not only is the man an incredible actor, but he’s got great politics too. See?
So let’s take his chest seriously & do a little something for Darfur. Here are a few links to get you started. If it weren’t 800 degrees right now, I might be more helpful. I can’t stop schvitzing, as my dear Darren would put it. But, really, given what’s going on in the world, that’s a silly thing to say, eh?
http://ga6.org/campaign/savedarfurcoalition
http://www.savedarfur.org/blog
Don’t forget to count your blessings as well as sheep!
What Happens in Lalla Land… 25 June 2007
…turns into Pixie Dust.
Well, I completed my 3-day soul-o vacation & got back to biz today. While I enjoyed the respite, a girl can only entertain herself so long. But, I learned much from my meditation marathon & feel relaxed & ready to take on the short week before heading off on my retreat. More on that later but just wanted to prep you, idahochrispy, for an extended period of Pixie silence.
As the mosquitoes have invaded my hot-house home, I’ll make this one short & sweet. I was reminded (again) today that the point of our spiritual path is to follow the fun. So ask yourself, “Where is my joy?” & then start jumping after it. Life’s too short not to smile much more often. After all, this human experience we’re having is limited by death. Better to sing like Frank, “Regrets I have a few…” than lament like what’s his name “Why didn’t I ever …?” It’s easy to over-analyze, swing from the monkey-mind & waste away many magical moments.
Take it from Handsome Lake (the best name ever), Seneca Iroquois Prophet:
Sit back & enJOY the ride! & stop asking, “Are we there yet?,” kiddies. (This one’s mostly for me.)
Sleep tight & please make the bugs stop biting.
Lalla Land 23 June 2007
Being home-bound this weekend, still sick but definitely on the mend, I’ve been riding the waves that can accompany such an experience. At times, I’ve been really grateful for the time/permission/necessity to rest, relax & recover sans any pressure to participate in outside life. Then this passes & the childish part asserts itself, bringing with it small heapings of self-pity, woe is me, as well as a wish for someone to come take care of me. Granted, I have some serious perspective on this issue so this phase passes pretty darn fast.
To feel better, I made myself a cup of tea today from the Yogi Cold Season Sampler. It’s a must-have for a sickie if you ask me, although no one I know can get through the “Throat Comfort” variety. It’s just too something. http://www.yogitea.com/
Not only do these delicious teas add a little boost to the healing, but each tea bag bears an inspirational message as well. I’ve been collecting mine in a jar & it’s nice to know all those good thoughts are keeping my kitchen uplifted in my absence. Today’s message was this: “When ego is lost. Limit is lost.”
This remined me that my time of healing today is not about me & what I want. Some greater purpose is at work this weekend & I shall surrender rather than complain or kvetch about my cold. The old ego doesn’t like be hushed but too bad. I’d rather lose limit!
So, sipping on my tasty tea, I picked up the new Unity Magazine. In an article by Mary Rose O’Reilley, I got the gift of poetry. These lovely words came from the fourteenth-century renunciate, Lalla (http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/L/LallaDedLal/index.htm), a name I’d never heard before:
My teacher told me one thing.
Live in the soul
When that was so
I began to go naked
and dance.
So that is my mission today, to commune with the Divine in me & all things, sailing on from my soul, naked & dancing. Well, dancing may be pushing it but I’ll do what I can. & I’ll let you know what living in Lalla Land is like.
From Bryant to Bob 22 June 2007
I started writing this from my favorite NYC spot, Bryant Park, on Wednesday evening. Circumstances & sickness kept me from finalizing but nonetheless, I begin there, beholding its beauty.
This second shot shows the “Reading Room,” marked off by a dusty skirt & tables under umbrellas announcing, “Words welcome here.” Out on the bright green lawn, stands a movie screen, awaiting Monday’s films shown under the city’s starry skies. This place-on a Wednesday night, where men huddle over chessboards, couples canoodle under the canopy & people sit solo, art in their hearts-is New York & why I love it so.
I rewind to remember Tuesday’s therapy session with Michael, after the Tui-Na Massage that freed up my feelings (& all the toxins too). While we processed that, we inevitably came back to “my growing edge,” holding out for uncrumby love in my life. My sticky wicket, I’m determined to lick it. But sometimes I struggle with how hard it can be.
Then, humming, I told Michael how I continually see the “Ready, Willing & Able” crew cleaning the streets. (http://www.doe.org/help/) Each time, I’m reminded of Bob Marley’s line from “Is this Love” about being willing & able to throw his cards on her table. I’ll hear it in my head for hours after, signaling me to let old habits lie & fly, free from those things that don’t serve the new me. For background, see “Let Them Eat Crumb Cake (not).”
As we wrapped up the session, I described my “ideal partner” & how I might as well aim high & ask for that. This dovetails well with an article I received recently from my sister, stating how the author found true love when she knew what it was she was looking for in her lobster. By writing down exactly what she wanted, asking for it & (here’s the hard part) holding out for her own “hero,” she eventually found him. (Clearly, said love still does annoying things & gets on her nerves at times. No one is claiming “perfect” can ever apply to a person.) It seems simple-the best way to get what you really want-is to ask.
Then Michael went to the closet & produced the Bob Marley album bearing my theme song. (Yes, my friends, the man has vinyl & does cool shit like this in therapy. See why it works so well.) We sat singing along to the song & I went on my way, ever so sure (again) of what I needed to do.
On the train ride home, the Universe seemed to be on the same page. First, I plopped my butt on top of this piece of paper:
Then, looking up, the posters above me preached:
1) “You can have what you’ve always wanted, just follow the Law. The Law of Attraction.”
&
2) “I’m in charge. Planning is power.”
And with that, I leave you to consider your list. I encourage you to ask for what it is you desire (& therefore require) in your home, in your heart, in your job, in your friends, in your love & in your life. Making it clear to ourselves is only the first step. But it’s one I’m reminded, repeatedly, I cannot skip. Bob says it best:
I wanna know – wanna know – wanna know now!
I got to know – got to know – got to know now!
& if I sound like a broken record, so be it.
The Urban Pixie
P.S. Have fun with the parentals, idahochrispy, & for god’s sake, don’t get car sick!
Just Breathe 21 June 2007
Well, I’m giving into the toxins & taking this show nowhere. On this soggy Summer Solstice, I’m officially one sick Pixie. My stuffy head thoughts are best kept to myself so I hope an inspirational quote can tide you over until tomorrow, idahochrispy. Thanks for caring about the sharing.
“Leap & the net shall appear!”
Or as I like to say today, “Fall & the bed shall catch you.”
Be well & smell for me.
Deep Issue Massage 19 June 2007
I got really grouchy at some point today. (All apologies to the bosses.) While I chalked it up to an irritating AMEX issue, I knew there was more to it. I just wasn’t sure what. At 6:00, I strolled down W. 28th to see if some flower power might help. Although much of the plant places had closed up shop, the few live leaves lining the sidewalks did boost me a bit. Then I headed East for my Tui-Na Massage.
While you get something other than Swedish-style stroking, this is not the “love you long time” type of massage. I hate to disappoint you. Tui-Na is Chinese deep-tissue therapeutic work & the word “deep” does it no justice. In narrow make-shift “rooms,” with sheets serving as walls, small but oh-so-strong Asian ladies work your body over. They play rough but boy, does it feel good. The spa I usually go to, Asia Tui-Na Wholeness, is where Gweneth (pre faux-British accent) had her infamous “cupping” done for those of you in the Hollywood know. But the prices at this place are all New York wholesale. For a mere $60/hour, they knock out the knots. (http://www.asiatuinawholeness.com/)
Tonight, mid-massage, I had some serious flash-backs from that whole breast cancer thing, circa 2004. It was as if my muscles themselves contained blocked memories & the motion set them free. The ugliest recollections I hold are from radiation or actually the pre-radiation “mapping” in which the body (I mean “my body.” Boy, that’s still so hard to say) became the cardoctopher’s page. The scene I saw today was the one in which I was strapped onto a table for two hours, told not to talk (it was easier for them that way) or move, while they drew on my bare chest with Sharpies & permanently tattooed tiny black dots around my breast. Who wouldn’t want to remember that?
The whole thing had been on my mind already today, as I had my last PT appointment this morning. Sent packing with my “lovely” lymphedema (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lymphedema) sleeve, I’d talked to Emily about how wearing it all the time was so not going to happen. My case is mild & it’s hot as hell, but mostly, I don’t always want the big to-do that comes with an obvious accessory. I’m fine, better than fine, I’m amazing actually. & that’s how I like to be seen on the streets.
(Here it is in all its beige beauty. Big Hand, I know you’re the one…)
So, as my Tui-Na lady rubbed me down tonight, the memories flooded back & the tears flowed freely. Afterwards, I felt refreshed & ready to take on AMEX & the world! On the train ride home, I meditated on making my limited supply of lymph nodes work overtime to take care of this arm issue once & for all. I believe in the power of my mind over this matter. As I did this, I felt some of the numbness I’d grown so accustomed to erode across my chest. For the first time since the surgery, I got one singular sensation that my right breast feels different than the left. I’d always been able to palpate it from the outside, with my hands, but tonight the unbalance came from inside my body, now brought back to lymph-life!
I’m convinced I’ll continue to let go of the lymphedema as I let go of the pain. While I’ll still wear the sleeve, I’m gonna focus more of my attention on making my second miracle happen. I’m ready to release, I really am. & part of that, is revealing here that the Pixie beat the Big C. Lucky for me, that story & my massage, both had a happy ending!
Life is a Cabergay, Old Chum 18 June 2007
Last night, to mark the final poetry session for the hot season, we took the troop out on the town. The evening began with dinner at the dark & comfortably-cool Arturo’s on Houston Street. Stuffed, we stumbled on to a poetry “reading” (I use the term all too lightly) that shall remain nameless here. (I’m trying hard to be an un-bitchy blogger.) Suffice it say, one seasoned spectator deemed it “the worst reading ever.” & that’s saying something. To make it through what felt like a brilliantly scripted SNL skit, we hit the drinks hard & saw no signs of stopping, despite the Sunday night situation.
We’d been planning a trip to Jason’s fave piano bar for ages but had never quite made it. Accordingly, I suggested we keep the party barge afloat & see what fun we could find at Marie’s Crisis.
Located in a dingy (in the best way) basement in the W. Village, Marie’s Crisis is exactly what the cruise director ordered. Strong drinks served straight up with show tune after cheesy show tune, belted out by a bevy of gay boys gathered around the piano man. & sing us a song, he did.
I knew each of us in our small group loved words, but I had no idea how happy hearing them sung would make us all. From Les Mis to Miss Saigon to Fame, the beam across our faces grew brighter with each new number. The show tunes (but not always the singers) were real crowd pleasers & our crowd, for one, was over the moon!
While we enjoyed many magical moments, the highlights of my evening were:
- In response to the rather ridiculous question “Are you gay?” the cute waiter responded, “Sweetheart, I work in a piano bar & sing show tunes all night. Is there any question?” Touché.
- When I asked Darren, the early-shift entertainer, if he could play one from Grease he said, “One, honey, pu-leeze” & with that, we worked our way from Hopelessly Devoted down to Sandra Dee. It was pure Pink Lady luxury, right Riz?
But most of all, I’m grateful for the pure joy visible on Jason’s face all night. Here he is, flash-free, but entirely in his element.
In between all the have-to’s of this life, here’s to inner piano bars. May you find yours & frequent it as often as possible. After all, we’re here to have a good time, aren’t we?
Must detox & catch up on all that lost sleep now. But don’t cry for me Argentina, the truth is it was so worth it!
P.S. Patty, please know we missed you so & sang (& drank) several for you, my dear. Happy Student-free summer!
Find some fun at:
Marie’s Crisis
59 Grove St
New York, NY
10014-3416
Cross Street:
Between Bleecker Street and 7th Avenue
Phone: (212) 243-9323
Happy Day, Dad! 17 June 2007
Today’s post is dedicated to dear old Dad, seen here in action.
Never one to turn down a curtain call or picture hanging project, my Dad’s as good with his hammer as he is with head, heart & hands. All good Iowa boys did the 4-H thing & he’s no exception! (He’s the only one that caught the greased pig, however.) He’s been known to spend much of his time with his nose in a book or 6,
but lately’s been busy keeping up with the boys. They enjoy Grandpa-time so much that last Christmas they gave him Jesus. If that’s not love, what is?
Rushing off to poetry class, I pause to thank you, Dad, for giving me life & love but mostly for the wonder of words. I know I wouldn’t be here without you!
