Lenny and Me
Today, February 18, would have been my older brother Lenny’s 57th birthday. He died in 1965 at the age of 7 from neuroblastoma, a rare form of cancer. I think he would have been an architect, a really nice guy, and my biggest fan.
To honor his life and our continued connection even after all this time, I’m sharing a piece I wrote about him in 2001 in a writing group.
My brother Lenny and I were best friends. We shared a bedroom. We loved knock-knock jokes. He was only thirteen months older than me.
Lenny’s favorite toy was his Erector Set. We would sit Indian-style on opposite sides of the coffee table and build things. My six year old fingers were too clumsy with the small parts so I was Lenny’s assistant. I handed him girders and screws and read the directions to make a helicopter just like the one on the outside of the metal carrying case. Sometimes Lenny even let me hold the wrench while he tightened.
Lenny had an operation to remove one of his kidneys and the scar ran like train tracks above the waistband of his white cotton underwear. He liked to run around the living room in his underwear, wearing my red knee socks and his maroon long sleeve t-shirt tied around his neck like a cape. He told everyone he was Superman.
Lenny and I loved the Beatles. We had both of their albums and the 45 of She Loves You. Our favorite part was the yeah, yeah, yeah’s.
On one of our trips to the hospital for Lenny’s chemotherapy, I got to pick out a toy for myself at the hospital gift shop. I chose The Beatles Flip Your Wig game. Lenny and I always fought over who would get to be Paul. Neither one of us ever wanted to be Ringo.
Before Lenny got sick, we played dress up together. He was Mary Poppins and I was Bert. He wore my tan jumper, a plastic wig and my mother’s flowery high-heeled shoes. I wore my favorite corduroy pants and my father’s brown lace up shoes. We knew all of the words to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidotious” by heart.
Lenny had a scar on his forehead from when I hit him with my plastic teapot. We had Crazy Foam fights in the bathtub. He taught me how to pee standing up. He used to shine the black goose-neck lamp on me like a spotlight while I stood on the base of my mother’s Hoover upright vacuum cleaner, singing into the handle.
We both lost our voices from screaming the night my father took us to a wrestling match to see Bruno Semartino. He always beat me at Monopoly. He was tired a lot. His skin was yellow. He got really sick. And then he died.
I helped pick out the clothes for him to wear in the casket but I didn’t go to the funeral because the pediatrician didn’t think it was a good idea. Instead, my mom’s best friend took me and her sons to an amusement park that day, but I don’t remember anything, except the heaviness of Lenny’s silver-banded Timex watch, loose around my wrist.
How To Be An Adventurer
So many people think I am a spontaneous adventurer. But really, I’m quite the homebody. I’m much more comfortable hanging out in the comfort of the RV, working, writing, putzing, than being out in the world, exploring.
And yet that is exactly what I’ll be doing on the upcoming Heart Sparks Road Tour.
And so planning this road trip has been a constant back and forth of excitement and fear, and a whole lot of not knowing.
Some days I play on Google maps, using Roadtrippers.com and atlasobscura.com to find quirky places. Some days I reach out to people in a city along the route to see about getting together. Some days I drive myself crazy with questions that I have no answers for:
How far do I want to drive in a day?
How many days in a row do I really want to be driving before I stay somewhere for a day or two?
How long do I want to be on the road total?
Who do I know along the way?
How many miles off of my route should I travel for odd quirky things to see?
I know I don’t need to have every day and night planned, but if I have to be in Atlanta on May 9 for a workshop, I do need to have some idea of how long I want to take to get there.
So I’m practicing planning and staying open at the same time.
And it is exciting. It is also very, very uncomfortable. Some days I think I should just cancel the whole trip. I tell myself it’s so many miles, so much money, so many unknowns and things to think about.
And then I get stuck.
Sometimes it is the sadness of the lost dream of Marika and I doing this trip together. Sometimes it is the hugeness of figuring it all out. And sometimes the stuckness has no name.
Recently I felt a resistance that loomed larger than the idea of driving across Texas and I had to step back from the planning and sit with what didn’t feel very good.
I realized that I was avoiding taking the RV in for repairs for fear of what might need to be done, and how much it would cost. The RV has been mostly sitting, undriven, for the last two and a half years here it the beach. Things have rusted. Who knew what else might be wrong. And I probably needed six new tires, too.
I believe that money is energy. And energy needs to keep moving. I’d been so stuck in my fears of this looming expense, so afraid to spend money ANYWHERE, because of this pending expense, that suddenly, I was hardly making any money. And that was freaking me out even more.
And then I reminded myself that I had budgeted $2000 specifically for this reason-to get the RV road ready. But because I didn’t actually have the money in my account (it is coming in the first loan payment from my dad), I didn’t think I had it.
But money is energy. And that $2000 has my name on it. So I took the RV in and fixed the rear brakes, a broken spring, got an oil change, and several new hoses. And I only needed four new tires, and they’ll be in next week.
And while I was parked at the mechanic’s while they did the repairs, Cody and I stayed inside and I got to test out the self-containment system, another thing I was dreading. All this time being plugged into electricity, I wasn’t sure if the solar panels were still charging the house batteries, but everything worked. The water pump is making some noise, so I may need to replace it, but that’s actually something we’ve replaced ourselves before, so it’s just the parts.
When I spoke to Marika on the phone while I waited, reviewing what was going to be repaired, I started to cry. “Why?” she asked, and I said, “I’m that much closer to actually doing this.”
So this is me stepping out into a new way of living. This is about exploring and doing new things, meeting people I only know on Facebook and finding ways to be EXCITED about this new adventure.
[ssba]Into the Ocean
My new bathing suit arrived on Saturday. I tried it on that night and I liked it. On Sunday afternoon it was 80° in Paradise. Lots of families were on the beach and there were a handful of people in the water. I was ready.
I texted my friend Jo, who was happy to be my go-in-the-cold-ocean buddy. While I waited for her reply, I put my suit on, just in case. I sent her a second note and added, “I’m working up the nerve to go alone since there are so many people on the beach.”
I looked at Cody, sleeping off his recent sports-related limp, then I got a towel, put on my water sandals and starting walking to the beach. I had considered just walking down in my suit, then opted to pull pants and a t-shirt over so that I wouldn’t have an opportunity to feel self-conscious.
My neighbor Shirley was standing next to her husband’s new toy, a ‘65 Corvette still in the very early stages of refinishing. I told Shirley I was going in the ocean, that I had hoped my friend was going to join me, to encourage me, but instead, I was doing it alone.
“Good for you!” she said.
I asked her if she’d be willing to come with me. “Sure!” she said. “Let me just get my sunglasses.” She popped into their trailer and when she came back out I asked if she was in the middle of anything. “Oh just doing the watch me thing for Reuben.” I laughed. “And now you’re gonna watch me!”
“Yes,” she said, “I’ll be your witness.”
We walked to a spot on the sand and I took off my shirt and pants with only a flutter of knowing she was seeing me in a bathing suit. Shirley is in her early 60’s and goes to the gym regularly. I focused on my feet in the sand, strong-walking toward the water. The dry sand turned to squishy wet sand but then it got pebbly and rocky as the cold water gathered around my ankles. I was more focused on the sharp edges under my feet than the water.
I walked back to my clothing pile and put my water shoes on. “It’s too rocky,” I said, extra-tightening the straps and reminding myself that I shouldn’t have a false sense of stability, just because I have shoes on.
“OK, now you can go for it!” Shirley said, and I headed back into the water.
The pullback current was strong but, with my shoes on, I felt sturdier, braver, and I walker further out, bracing as a five-foot wave broke a few yards out and then rolled over me, up to my waist.
The water was cold but the sun took the sting away and I kept walking out. Another big wave crashed a little closer and I met the roll with my left shoulder, my body turned sideway.
The rush of the water was almost too much and I almost got knocked over “OK that’s enough,” I heard myself say out loud, but then turned back to the water and waited for another wave.
This time I intentionally let the water carry me so I could ride it. I didn’t get very far and ended up sitting on the bottom, but most of my body got wet.
I felt great. I felt strong. And it was enough.
I walked out of the water, onto the beach where Shirley was standing. “You did it!”
I raised my arms up, Rocky-like, and let out a big WooHoo!
Did I love it? Not really. I got pounded. I couldn’t relax. And it ‘s scary seeing a big wave breaking and rushing toward you.
But I love that I DID it, that I met my fear with strength and stability. And I had a witness! And yes, I’ll try it again. In calmer surf, and with a friend actually IN the water with me.
What big thing are you ready to meet head on? Do you need a friend to help you take action?
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A Sense of Belonging
Cody and his volleyball 1/22/15
When I first moved to the coast in September, 2012, I had no idea that it would be so hard to meet people. In fact, if I had known how difficult it would be to live someplace where I didn’t know anyone, I don’t know if I would have had the courage to move.
The first month I was here I was thrilled to discover a monthly kirtan group. I attended three times but the music was a westernized version of the Sanskrit chants I was used to, and the people weren’t very welcoming. I joined an over-50 singles meet-up group, but they were more interested in drinking than real conversation. I ventured further south to a different spiritual and again, did not connect with the energy of the community.
Friends said it would take a few years to really meet people, especially since I didn’t have co-workers. I was miserable. I spent a lot of time at home, crying, talking to Marika, and wondering if I was going to be alone forever.
But I kept trying. I found a yoga studio I liked and started seeing the same faces every Monday afternoon. Once, I even saw someone from class at the local supermarket, and that was a kick.
But I didn’t know anyone well enough to call them up and do something.
Each time I left CA and each time I came back it was different. That first time I returned, I was greeted by the regulars at Paradise Park who remembered me from my first visit. And now, two years later I have become one of those regulars. I have my designated spot, #60, and I have friends here.
Judi, who lives in one of the mobile homes in the park, has been a friend since my first time here when I was parked in the spot across from her. We chatted and hugged every time we saw each other and she loaned me her sewing machine when I was making prayer flags.
Judi is also the one who got me volunteering at the weekly food bank down the street. Judi has lived in the area for more than twenty years and knows everybody. She introduced me to the owners at Taco Temple and now I’m recognized there too. We’ve gone out for lunch, walked the labyrinth by the bay and, when Marika is here, Judi joins us for Marika’s famous homemade crab cakes. Next month, while Judi is house-sitting for a client, Marika and Mabel will even be staying at her house.
I’m friends with several other folks in the park now too. There is hugging and joking and several folks offer Cody a dog cookie when we walk by.
And I have several friends from yoga and other places that I get together with regularly for a meal or a walk and maybe even a game of Bingo next week.
The other evening as Cody and I were walking home from our sunset beach time, I saw Susie, a woman who lives in town and also volunteers at the food bank. She was walking up the bridge toward us, on her way to catch the last of the sunset over the bluffs.
She asked me about my day and I had some fun things to share. We talked about her former life as a hospice social worker and her dog Daisy, who has some spinal issues. She petted Cody and admired his coat and both of his eyes.
And when we were getting ready to part, I thanked her and said that this was one more great thing that happened today. She started to minimize the compliment and then I explained that, to see someone I know, that I like, that I want to talk with, in my own neighborhood makes me feel like I belong here, that I am part of the community. And she understood how important that is. We hugged as the sky lit up in a palette of pinks and oranges, then Cody and I walked home, hearts full of love.
[ssba]Ask and Let Go: A Lesson From Apples
The Morro Bay Winter Bird Festival happened this past weekend. Once a year people from all over the country come to see the amazing variety of birds in the area.
I’m the Hospitality Chairperson for the Festival and my job is to feed the attendees. We host an opening reception with food and wine on opening night. We provide fruit and breakfast snacks as well as coffee throughout the 4-day festival in the Hospitality Room. I also invite the local restaurants and hotels to offer specials for our attendees.
The day before the Festival, Marlys, the Board Chairperson and I picked up all of the food at Costco, then stopped at the local supermarket to pick up the produce they were donating.
In my conversation with the manager, I had explained that we have about 500 people over the 4 days and that we provide bananas and apples for the early-birders. She said she’d take care of it and have something ready for us to pick up.
Marlys and I were standing in the produce section, waiting for the manager to bring out the fruit. “I have no idea what we’re getting,” I said. “But I’m sure it will be fine.” Marlys was folding the corner of the shopping list back and forth, her eyes fixed on the swinging doors at the back of the produce section. She looked at me. “Have you always been this calm?”
“Not at all.”
I invited her to take a deep breath with me. She inhaled with her shoulders and her whole body lifted, as if she hadn’t taken a breath in hours.
“Breathing is the number one thing to do to calm down,” I said, slowly breathing again, “all the way into your belly.”
She took another breath and smiled.
“Whatever he brings out will be great,” I said. “And we can always buy more.”
“You’re right,” she said.
So often we fret about a situation before it has even happened. We get caught in a spiral of what if it doesn’t, what if I can’t, what if……
Instead of staying stuck in that anxious, worry zone, can you explore the actual questions you are asking?
What IF there aren’t enough apples?
Maybe you’ll hear those familiar voices in your head saying: “we won’t have enough, people will get mad, I will have failed….”
But what if you put those thoughts aside and came up with some Action Steps to answer the question:
If there aren’t enough apples we could:
Serve them sliced
Buy more apples
Make do with what we have
And breathe.
The key is, once you have a back up plan, LET GO OF THE WORRY. It serves no purpose except to drain you, stress you and keep you from feeling calm.
The manager returned with a bushel box of Washington apples and another box overflowing with bananas, more than enough to feed our birders. In fact, we had almost a dozen apples leftover at the end of the event.
So the next time you find yourself in a moment of worry, breathe, consider your options and let go. And trust that everything will work out.
[ssba]The Magic is Unfolding
“In a Whisper” by Andrew Ars
I used to think that, in order to work with clients, I had to live in a big city and work one-on-one. I used to think I couldn’t be an author because I loathed the idea that I would have to fly city to city for book tours. I used to think I couldn’t drive across the country without a traveling partner. For more than a year after I lost my dog Laddy, I didn’t think I’d ever get another one.
These limiting beliefs kept me stuck. They prevented me from doing what I love.
As I recognized and challenged and, ultimately let go of these beliefs, I opened up to other ways, and new possibilities appeared.
And now, I have published my first book and my new-to-me 7 year old dog Cody and I are going on a solo Road Tour in my motorhome, at my own pace, in great comfort.
Never in my wildest dreams….
Sure I have moments when I wonder how I’m going to pull this off, and how will I be able to pay back my father’s gracious loan, but I keep coming back to my why, and I know that this is my path. I know that I am on some amazing adventure, that this is so obviously a metaphoric Heroine’s Journey, that I’m going to learn so much about myself. And meet amazing people. That I can’t NOT do this.
I’m already learning so much. That I can do this alone. That it’s up to me to find fun things to see along the way and then make it happen. That I can ask for help, for financial support, for encouragement and planning tips. That just because I’m doing all the driving doesn’t mean I’m doing this alone.
So I am deep into the planning of the Heart Sparks Road Tour. I realized that being in the hot, muggy South in the middle of the summer would be miserable for me. So I’m shifting the dates, leaving Phoenix the second week of April with the intention of being in Asheville, NC, my furthest point east, by mid-May. I’ll start back west via Alabama, before it gets too warm. I’m not scheduled back here in Paradise until September, so I’m not yet sure where I’ll be in July and August. After logging all of those miles, I’m not sure how much more I’ll want to drive, but I know I won’t be anywhere where it’s warmer than 80°.
Here’s the route so far. If you’re within 200 miles, let me know…maybe we can get together for a Heart Sparks Party or collaborate on a workshop or ???? And if you know of a place besides a bookstore, where I could talk about the book and How to Give Up a Good Life For a Great Life, let me know……
And, if you’re ready to create your own great new life, I’m gathering a new group of Virtual Living Room Ladies. Email me for details!
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The Power of a Word, reprinted from Heart Sparks, the book
Every year I choose a single word as a compass, a guide, a solid reminder of what I want to manifest for myself. The word serves as a touchstone for me as I make choices through the year. I post the word in my bathroom and acknowledge it daily, asking myself “how can I be that today?”
The first year I chose the word BE. Because I was always planning, dreaming and imagining the future, I was rarely present where I was.
BE-ing was very uncomfortable.
It made me slow down and experience where I was, not where I wanted to be NEXT. It made me sit still and feel my emotions. I began a yoga practice and discovered that the simple act of breathing can calm me and bring me back to the here and now.
The next year my word was VULNERABILITY. I wanted to let go of control and open to things that I didn’t have the answers to. I was ready to feel what was uncomfortable and go even deeper.
I had so many opportunities during that year to practice this: with relationships, how I traveled, choosing to apply for a job that I didn’t get. And I had emergency open heart surgery. Talk about vulnerability and letting go of control. It was the most amazing gift of an experience to be in that space of pure vulnerability and realize how much I was loved and supported.
The following year I chose ASK as a reminder that, even though I had fully recovered, I didn’t have to do everything all by myself. I learned to ask for support, money, ideas, companionship.
More important, I learned that it’s not about having the answers but being able to ask bigger questions and opening to the silence that is larger than me for deep and true inspiration.
One year my word was INTEGRAYTION, intentionally spelled with the word gray in it because I wanted to let go of my extreme black and white thinking and live more in the grays. And I wanted to find ways to meld my two seemingly opposite work worlds together more, to let go of my all-or-nothing way of being.
A friend gifted me a beautiful necklace with the word stamped in silver and it was a lovely expression of further integrating my work with my personal life.
The last two years my word has been EXPANSION. I want more space in my life. I want to show up bigger, both inside of myself and how I connect in the world. I want to open myself beyond what I already know and do well, to what else might be possible.
Expansion is all about breathing deeper and living at the edge of what is familiar and comfortable. And moving into that opened space with courage and intention and faith.
Of course I had many opportunities to do this last year: with my back and my grief and finally writing and publishing Heart Sparks. And, scary as each activity has been, when I come back to my word, I see how saying YES completely supports my desire for expansion every time.
This year is all about adventure and newness and courage and connections, but I hadn’t been able to narrow my intention down to a single word. And then Reverend Tinker Donnelly of Heartworks, where I now attend most Sunday Spiritual Gatherings, offered the idea of life being an expedition, a pilgrimage, a PASSAGE.
She created a wonderful acronym to reminds us what we need on any passage:
P= Preparedness: Equipping ourselves with appropriate “gear and tools” for the journey. Consistent and regular spiritual practices.
A= Adaptability: Accommodating the road and/or changing direction when conditions prompt doing so. Willingness to move beyond the parameters of personal agendas and expectations.
S= Spontaneity: Capitalizing on what is present and exercising resourcefulness. Confidence and creativity applied to the needs of the moment.
S= Single-mindedness: Trusting the direction of our inner compass. Setting course according to the ‘true north’ of our innate sense of purpose and values.
A= Availability: Maintaining receptivity and openness to all that is on our path. Authentically revealing and discovering Spiritual Truth, without defense or pretense.
G= Gratitude: Loving the journey. Appreciating the experience of each precious increment of unfolding Good and consciously recognizing the gifts of every experience.
E = Enthusiasm: Demonstrating energized creativity. En Theos – Living an inspired existence!
I love how each of these words can support me as I venture into this new year, ready to experience things I’ve never felt or done before, ready for this unfolding PASSAGE.
What’s your word for this year?
You may come up with several. Take some time to discern the one that will best help you do and be this thing you are wanting.
How can using this word help you live a life you love?
Consider choosing a word that makes you uncomfortable, that will most clearly align you with who and what you are wanting to become.
I’d love for you to share your word with us by clicking on the Comments below. By naming it and claiming it, you really OWN it!
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[ssba]Happy End of the Year From the Beach
It’s the last Saturday of the year and it is such a blessing to be here. It’s cold and crisp, and then the sun rises over the hills and everything warms up. The hills all around me are bursting with so much green from the big rains we’ve had and the beach sand has shifted from the very high tides.
Cody and I walk on the beach at least once every day, sometimes twice if we can time it with the tides. At high tide there is very little walkable sand. These pictures were taken yesterday at low tide on our beach. It is officially Estero Bay, at the north the end of the six miles of sandy coastline that connects Morro Bay to Cayucos. Most of the time Cody and I are the only ones here.
I’ve seen warblers hopping on the sea kelp and a kingfisher regularly perches on the rocks above the surf. There are lots of shorebirds and gulls and vultures and a variety of hawks that sit on the telephone poles along the street just above the beach. And the red winged blackbirds have returned. I’m enjoying these last few days of the year in amazement and appreciation for where I am and for all of the love and support from YOU that has brought me here.
I will be here through February and then I’m heading to Phoenix for 2 months before embarking on the upcoming Heart Sparks Road Tour that will take me all the way east Asheville, North Carolina, a few hundred miles at a time. I hope to connect with many of you in person along the way!
Wishing you a most beautiful new year, filled with love and light and joy!
From my very great-full heart to yours,
The I Of a Hurricane – Finding Calm In a Storm
So many people I talk with say they are living in a world of overwhelm. They have so much going on, so many things on their to do lists that they don’t know where to begin.
Their lives are happening all around them and they have resigned themselves to the idea that this is just how life is going to be.
But really, we get to choose.
Imagine a hurricane. There is wind, and noise, and chaos. Anything and everything is flying and blowing all around and, no matter how hard you try, there is nothing you can do.
And yet, in the center of that crazy storm it is calm, quiet, still. This is the eye of the hurricane.
Life is often like a hurricane. So many things are happening all around us, we can’t hold on, we can’t keep up. We can barely run for cover.
But if we breathe into the eye, the I, of our lives, we can find calm. We can find peace. We can experience stillness.
When we come back to our own center, we are suddenly grounded, stable, quieted, even if the whole world is flying all around us.
Coming into the I is as simple as breathing.
When we focus on our breathing, we immediately detach from everything OUTSIDE of ourselves and connect INSIDE with our own life force, our breath.
Following our breath in and out is calming. Centering. When we focus on our breath, we aren’t thinking about carpools and deadlines and the piles of dog hair that need to be swept.
When we connect with our breath we aren’t thinking at all. We are simply breathing.
I know it sounds too simple. But try it.
The next time your world feels crazy like a hurricane, close your eyes and just notice your breath.
Follow your breath in.
Visualize it filling your lungs, your diaphragm, your belly.
Breathe deeply, slowly, consciously.
Then release with that same conscious awareness.
Stay connected with the rhythm of your breathing for several wonderful minutes.
And when you return to the outside world, notice how different you feel.
I guarantee you, the more often you do this, the more you will find that calm in the eye of the storm.
My new book Heart Sparks: 7 Practice For Loving Your Life is all about helping you claim more time for you and the things that really matter.
Available through amazon or order a signed copy directly from me!
[ssba]Unwinding: The End of the Year
As we enter the last month of the year, there is a tendency to rush forward, to make plans for next year, to set new goals, vision new dreams. But there are still 28 days left of this year to savor, unwind, and reflect on this past year.
These last weeks can be a time to celebrate where you are, what you’ve done, who you are becoming. It can be a time to grieve what you have lost, what you were ready to let go of and leave behind. It can be a time to feel and notice and say thank you for all that has happened, and all that is.
As I look back, I am so grateful to be back at the beach, after a year of not knowing. How two months in Arizona became eight, including the dreaded summer. And how I used that time being flat on my back to lean into the pain of sciatica and learn so much from it, to grieve some very old losses, and to finally write and publish my first book. And how I have opened my heart in new ways and am learning how to connect with and create new kinds of community.
In October 2013, at Patti Digh’s Life is a Verb Camp, I wrote “I want: to find and connect with tribe people where I live, to be able to look at Laddy’s pictures without it hurting so much, to write and publish and tour and workshop my new book, to feel more joy, more engagement in daily life.”
And now, a full year later, it is all happening. I am connecting with new communities, I have opened my heart to a new dog and, next year, I’ll be on that Heart Sparks Book Tour.
A big voice in me is saying, “Hey, when are you going to start booking the Heart Sparks Road Tour, contacting colleagues, planning the route?” And another voice answers, “In time, in time.”
For now I am lingering in the bitter and the sweetness of this past year, really embracing all I’ve been and felt and done to get where I am today. Sure, I’m having fun playing with the Road Tour vision, but I’m not getting obsessed. I’m engaging and letting go. Saying Yes and stepping back to see what happens.
It’s like casting your fishing line out into the water, then sitting back, relaxed, but with your eye on the bobber, ready to reel it in when you feel a tug. My fishing pole is baited and ready, and now I am resting back, soaking it all in, eye on the bobber, saying thank you.
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