Ro

The big news this week revolved around Rosie O'Donnell and Elizabeth Hasselbeck and their opposing values and opinions about the war, the troops, the president and friendship. It was very painful to watch them yelling at each other on The View the other day, and a disappointment that Rosie's tenure on the show ended so abruptly.

I have been very invested in many ways about Rosie as I am a devoted reader of her blog and have been taping the show daily. It was my "something to look forward to" after a day at work. Life just is easier when there is something to look forward to, even if it is just a TV show.

Maybe it is sad that I am so drawn to her celebrity and her life, but I do find inspiration there. Inspiration isn't easy to find at any time in life, so you have to go where you can feel uplifted sometimes. I ask myself if it is healthy, because after all, it isn't real. I don't know her, and she does not know me. Yet, because she is so open and honest about her life and her values I feel like I do know her. I can't say I agree with everything she says and does, but I agree with her right to do so and say so!

And so I have been in a couple of family arguments myself, trying to defend her words and values to people who have only heard the spin in the media which twists her thoughts terribly. I felt the passion of trying to make the point, even when people thought I was foolish to defend a celebrity I don't know.

I wouldn't say she is a hero of mine, because I really try not to have heroes, but rather I am interested in her and enjoy her politics, her humor, and her heart. I give her my utmost respect for making it in show business when people told her she wouldn't, and for not fitting into the mainstream. She is big and beautiful and she is OK with herself. She is a true role model.

Most of all, she knocks my socks off because she has no interest in ever being politically correct. She is truly free, and able to speak her mind no matter what! I LOVE that about her and it is something that I know is not easy for her.


I see the trouble it gets her into and yet she does not back down, she does not care who judges and she does not go back and obsess about it. These are lessons I am still trying to learn and I am much older than she.

Artist, actor, talk show host, writer, mother, philanthropist, and stranger friend.

GO RO

Peace Out

Playing on Launch Cast: Joni Mitchell, Album: Blue, Song: All That I Want. I am on a lonely road traveling, traveling... when I think of your kisses my mind see-saws.

Arlo

The Guthrie Center in MA, in the Old Trinity Church is the site of the 1965 Thanksgiving events that inspired the song and film, Alice's Restaurant made popular by folksinger Arlo Guthrie.

We discovered the center a few years back when we were up in the Berkshires and it has become one of our favorite places to go. The former church sanctuary is now a stage that comes alive when Arlo and family perform. And there is so much reverence, peace, and just an uplifting feeling in that church that I feel spiritually renewed after a concert.

Arlo says that the energy stays in the walls for all to feel when they enter and I believe that.

I have to say that I knew of the song and the movie, but that was where my knowledge and interest stopped until we started to visit the Guthrie Center and attend all the benefit concerts there. First of all, Arlo is quite a story teller and comic, and one hell of a musician. The venue is small and intimate, not a bad seat in the house.

His son Gabe, daughter Sarah, son-in-law Johnny Irions, and 4 year old grand-daughter, Olivia played with him this past Sunday night. They hang out with all of the audience members and are just real live down to earth folk.

They are the royal family of folk music headed up by Arlo's deceased dad, the Rock and Roll music Hall of Famer, Woody Guthrie. Woody died of Huntington's Disease mid to late 60's. The Guthrie Center is devoted to raising funds for many agencies that care for people with Huntington's Disease.

Our concert nights at the Guthrie Center are like going into another world... a comfortable, safe and joyous place, where we can lift our voices together.

Just like a church is supposed to be....

Photos by Bill.

A Voice

I always wished I had a good singing voice, because there is nothing in the world that I love better than to sing. But I stink at it... can't carry a tune. Although nothing makes me feel better than to belt out my favorite songs, I know it is something that I do not do well.

But as I grew older, I learned that the maybe the voice I always longed for, came in a different form. Maybe my voice could be heard through my writing.

Finding my voice has been a journey for me and I am still on the road.

I read today that if you want to become a writer that one needs to blog three times per week to get the practice. So I guess I need to step up my writing from here on in and hope that fellow bloggers will stop by and get to know my voice.

Letting Go

Topics are all over the place tonight.... letting go is the one that is the most obvious with all the body/mind messages that I have been having for two weeks.

But maybe it is more than letting go... could the main issue be trust? TRUST that everything will be OK if I do let go? Letting go should be a natural process in life... not to be resisted. Letting go of the anger, letting go of the children, letting go of all the should of , would of, could of... letting go of the fear that is paralyzing and keeping me stuck.

Feeling stuck is such an uncomfortable feeling that is just growing and growing and interfering with my day to day functioning lately.

I look at that photo and try to imagine my energy flowing like that waterfall...free flowing. I am trying.

A bump in the road of life...

Photo... courtesy of Bill

Acupuncture

Today, I went for my first acupuncture appointment. I was very nervous, but I was soon put at ease by the practitioner. She sat and asked all the routine health questions and not only did she write down all the information, but she was figuring out what the mind/body connections were to help her figure out where she would place the needles. She zeroed in on "letting go, frustration, and over-worrying."

She said that for the first session she would only use 7 needles, and build up to the 12-20 which is average.

I wondered if the needles would hurt, I wondered that ALOT! I had this picture in my head of me running out of the office screaming like a cartoon character with porcupine needles stuck into my back.

So she started the needles and it did not hurt at all, actually I had to ask if she had already put them in. As she explained, I did feel some pressure and then some itching which is a good thing. The practitioner left the room and gave me a bell to ring if I started to feel any pain or if I needed her.

After a few minutes, I felt very heavy, very heavy.... which she said is a very good thing. I was hoping she would come back and she did. She said often people will fall asleep at this stage. But I knew the nervous Nelly in me would not let me feel comfortable enough to fall asleep.

So I felt very weird in a way, and then deep emotion swept over me. Tears started to fall and she said to go with the energy, so I did.

The needles were in for about 15 minutes, for the first time. I also have homework. I have a small hammer with needles on the end that I can use for my foot. The needles do not puncture the foot.

So after it was all over, I was feeling very relaxed and happy with myself because I have wanted to do this for a long time and I finally got brave enough.

I have another session next week.

So I am drinking lots of water tonight, because she said that in order for the acupuncture to work, I have to have water.

So.... my first session done.... I am looking forward to the energy getting unstuck... mind and body.

Amen

If we took peace as seriously as the soldiers take war, we would live in a different world.

The Comic Spirit

It was 1964, and we were headed back from the World’s Fair in New York City. I was with my mother, my aunt, my sister, and my two cousins; it was a very big deal for us to travel to NY.

My cousin and I were 11 years old, she born in June and I in July. It was fun having a cousin the same age and we shared many experiences together over our life time.

We had stopped at the Howard Johnson’s (the home of 28 flavors of ice cream) for dinner on the way home. After we had finished eating we were able to order ice cream for dessert.

As the waitress was taking down our selections, my cousin looks up at the waitress and asks her what the flavors were. The rest of us started to laugh at the thought that she was asking the waitress to rattle off 28 flavors.

Well for some reason on that particular day, that incident made us laugh and laugh and laugh. My cousin and I got so silly that we could not stop laughing and finally we were sent to the car to calm down, while everyone else finished eating their ice cream.

We went into the car and instead of calming down, we kept laughing and laughing and laughing. As the years have passed, I don’t remember what we continued to laugh about, except laughing itself, and how good it felt to be so out of control laughing with my life long cousin. Life was good.

When my mother, my aunt, my sister and older cousin came out of the restaurant they stopped dead in their tracks to see the two of us still laughing up a storm in the car. They all burst out laughing and came over to the car amazed that we had not calmed down yet. They got into the car and we all laughed and laughed most of the way home.

Over the years, family gatherings have lessened as the family has grown so big, but we would still spend every Christmas Eve together. For years we would re-tell that story, and when we tell the story, we start to laugh, and laugh and laugh… and get everyone around us laughing.

Now we can look back and say that the incident was not a particularly funny incident to warrant all the chaos that followed. No, there definitely was something more, something on a profound level that connected us in laughter that day.

While I know that since that time, many funny things have happened to me, but when I tried to think of them for this assignment, I could not think of one. The first thing I thought of was that day in Howard Johnson’s more than forty years ago.

This afternoon, I attended a baby shower and all of my family was there. I went over to my cousins and asked them if they remembered that day in NY and what we were laughing about. You bet they did, and we retold the story for my cousin's daughter and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

So there you have it, a funny experience (which may not be that funny to some) but the bond that it provided has proven strong over 40 years later.

Desserts

Five things to remember about stress:

1. Five deep breaths once a day is self-healing.

2. Visualize what ultimately makes you feel good... a place, a sensation, or person.

3. Walk away and gain a new perspective

4. Play tic-tac-toe - win/win

5. Whose issue is this that you are stressing over? If you have no control...you can pray. Worry is a waste of energy.

6. Stressed spelled backwards is desserts!!

Cycle of Life

Waiting
A Poem by Faith Wilding

Waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting . . .
Waiting for someone to come in
Waiting for someone to hold me
Waiting for someone to feed me
Waiting for someone to change my diaper Waiting . . .

Waiting to scrawl, to walk, waiting to talk
Waiting to be cuddled
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to play with me
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to read to me, dress me, tie my shoes
Waiting for Mommy to brush my hair
Waiting for her to curl my hair
Waiting to wear my frilly dress
Waiting to be a pretty girl
Waiting to grow up Waiting . . .

Waiting for my breasts to develop
Waiting to wear a bra
Waiting to menstruate
Waiting to read forbidden books
Waiting to stop being clumsy
Waiting to have a good figure
Waiting for my first date
Waiting to have a boyfriend
Waiting to go to a party, to be asked to dance, to dance close
Waiting to be beautiful
Waiting for the secret
Waiting for life to begin Waiting . . .

Waiting to be somebody
Waiting to wear makeup
Waiting for my pimples to go away
Waiting to wear lipstick, to wear high heels and stockings
Waiting to get dressed up, to shave my legs
Waiting to be pretty Waiting . . .

Waiting for him to notice me, to call me
Waiting for him to ask me out
Waiting for him to pay attention to me
Waiting for him to fall in love with me
Waiting for him to kiss me, touch me, touch my breasts
Waiting for him to pass my house
Waiting for him to tell me I’m beautiful
Waiting for him to ask me to go steady
Waiting to neck, to make out, waiting to go all the way
Waiting to smoke, to drink, to stay out late
Waiting to be a woman Waiting . . .
Waiting for my great love
Waiting for the perfect man
Waiting for Mr. Right Waiting . . .

Waiting to get married
Waiting for my wedding day
Waiting for my wedding night
Waiting for sex
Waiting for him to make the first move
Waiting for him to excite me
Waiting for him to give me pleasure
Waiting for him to give me an orgasm Waiting . . .
Waiting for him to come home, to fill my time Waiting . . .
Waiting for my baby to come
Waiting for my belly to swell
Waiting for my breasts to fill with milk
Waiting to feel my baby move
Waiting for my legs to stop swelling
Waiting for the first contractions
Waiting for the contractions to end
Waiting for the head to emerge
Waiting for the first scream, the afterbirth
Waiting to hold my baby
Waiting for my baby to suck my milk
Waiting for my baby to stop crying
Waiting for my baby to sleep through the night
Waiting for my breasts to dry up
Waiting to get my figure back, for the stretch marks to go away
Waiting for some time to myself
Waiting to be beautiful again
Waiting for my child to go to school
Waiting for life to begin again Waiting . . .

Waiting for my children to come home from school
Waiting for them to grow up, to leave home
Waiting to be myself
Waiting for excitement
Waiting for him to tell me something interesting, to ask me how I feel
Waiting for him to stop being crabby, reach for my hand, kiss me good morning
Waiting for fulfillment
Waiting for the children to marry
Waiting for something to happen Waiting . . .
Waiting to lose weight
Waiting for the first gray hair
Waiting for menopause
Waiting to grow wise
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my body to break down, to get ugly
Waiting for my flesh to sag
Waiting for my breasts to shrivel up
Waiting for a visit from my children, for letters
Waiting for my friends to die
Waiting for my husband to die Waiting . . .
Waiting to get sick
Waiting for things to get better
Waiting for winter to end
Waiting for the mirror to tell me that I’m old
Waiting for a good bowel movement
Waiting for the pain to go away
Waiting for the struggle to end
Waiting for release
Waiting for morning
Waiting for the end of the day
Waiting for sleep Waiting . . .

“Waiting” was performed at Womanhouse in Los Angeles sponsored by the Feminist Art Program, California Institute of the Arts.