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Sunday, March 18, 2012

Getting Unstuck, The F-Bomb, Baldness by Belaying, Secret Climber Names, and Other Life Mysteries

Don’t look, Mom.  My mom doesn’t relish my rock climbing obsession.  Moms worry.  She's admitted to not having time to read my blog, so I hope that this post is no exception.  I also hope you technical rock climber types will skip this, as my terminology and descriptions will offend your sense of rock climbing propriety.  See top left … “Next Blog>>.”
For the rest of you, a confession.  I love getting high.  It happened for the first time last summer in Big Cottonwood Canyon.  I went to watch rock climbing and I got roped in, literally.  The rush of getting to the top was incomparable.  I had to do it again.  And again.  And … yeah, again. 
With the exception of a couple outdoor climbs last summer, most of my early attempts at “getting high” were at the indoor climbing gym, several at the insane hour of 6 am. Among the highlights, besides climbing: developing more defined and stronger muscles in my arms and legs, not to mention all the girl chatter with my gal pal climbing partners, and making so many new friends.  Oh ... and there was a Groupon to Momentum, the gym where I climb.  Anything with a Groupon has to be a good time.
Fast forward.  Eight months, a climbing gym membership, and pair of fit-like-a-glove climbing shoes later I found myself climbing outdoors again.  Through a friend, my climbing partner, Rachel, and I learned of a group going to Little Cottonwood Canyon for a climb in the sunny if not balmy early afternoon in March. 
We exchanged names and then the leader of the group did a quick equipment and experience assessment.  We split up into groups and hiked to the start of our climbing routes.  Rachel and I asked to go with the leader of the group to The Schoolroom, a five pitch route. 
The “long crack.”  The first pitch (section) was doable.  It was either the second or third pitch, and I must admit I don’t recall which, when reached what I affectionately dub the “long crack.”  The “long crack” was a climbing obstacle course unlike anything I’d attempted outdoors or in the climbing gym: few holds, slippery rock, and one long, annoying crack.  My foot kept getting jammed in the “long crack.”  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.  Double grrrrrrrrrrrr.

The f-bomb.   One step up … then dropping below where I started … I felt excrutiating pain from slamming my foot into the crack and my knees against granite.  I didn’t’ know how to create any forward and upward motion on slippery rock.  Then I slipped.  F-bomb.  Rachel gasped.
I used to swear much more than I do nowadays.  Corporate America has polished me in that way, if no other.  “Did I really hear you say that?” Rachel nettled me from behind.   I said it again.  Ad infinitum.  
Getting unstuck, my perennial life lesson.  Ironically, or not, the “stuck” thing has been the bane of my existence.  Stuck.  Trapped. Ensnared.  Baffled.  All of the above.  The contrast between being physically or mentally stuck is hardly distinguishable. 

“I have no idea how to get out,” I said as I craned my neck up to where I needed to go.  My brain kept mentally capsizing.  At one point, Rachel said, “are you done?”  “No!” I fired back.  DNF.  That acronym for “did not finish” is so not in my vocabulary for climbing or life. 
Inchworm.  Inches along the “long crack” seemed like miles.  Up an inch, then another, and another.   Like Confucious said, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.”  And a climb of 700 feet or so begins or continues when you stop overthinking, pull yourself out of the crack, hold onto whatever you can find, or pretend there’s something to hold onto, and send.  All of the sudden, the route wasn’t nearly as difficult as I was making it.
If there is anything rock climbing has taught me (and again), it’s to be where you are, not ten feet ahead and definitely not looking back.  I have had to re-remember that rule yet again in climbing and in life.  Once I completed the “long crack,” nothing else in the climb – which for us went above The Schoolroom to another route -- was as difficult.  That is not to say the journey to the top was lacking in difficulty from my rather juvenile climbing perspective.

Baldness by belaying.  Rappelling to the bottom was easier than I thought it would be, except I was last and had to wait for what seemed like forever.  Another life lesson I'm learning: patience, in short supply lately.  Once I finally began my descent, my long hair blew forward with the high wind.  More than a few precious strands of hair ripped out of my head as they got sucked into the belay device on my way down the mountain.  If I had had to rappel much longer, I’d have a mullet-like “do” on my left side.  Note to self: ponytail. I'll never forget again.
Sweet landing.  Once we reached the start of the route, we hugged our lead climber, threw on our jackets, gorged on trail bars and water, and chatted about our secret climber names.  Not telling mine.  Never.  It’s perfect.  **Smile.**
Special thanks to Rachel and my many other climbing friends for their love and encouragement.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Happy New Year Late ... My 100 Point Happy List for 2012

2012 is finally becoming a reality.  For the first three weeks, I survived in a coughing-my- head-off time warp.  Now that I am fully functional, I am on a one-woman quest to make every moment happy. 
So what is happiness anyway?  A state of mind?  A place? An experience?  A meal?  A person?   My self-defined “happy place” usually involves friends and family.  I like to share.  And I’m going to try harder to be true to myself.  It’s that simple.  So without further contemplation, here’s my happiness list for 2012:
  1. Visiting my son in New York City
  2. Sharing Sunday breakfasts with my daughter and her dog, Daisy
  3. Watching children play
  4. Shopping for bargains with my girlfriends
  5. Writing comment-generating blog posts
  6. Taking fabulous photographs
  7. Creating online posters and prints
  8. Visiting my parents
  9. Talking on the phone to my parents
  10. Exploring and analyzing astrology for me and my friends
  11. Listening and dancing to Celtic music
  12. Writing poetry
  13. Drinking cranberry and pomegranate tea
  14. Rock climbing and hiking
  15. Laughing with my friends
  16. Hot stone massages
  17. Making yummy, healthy dinners
  18. Teaching Junior Achievement
  19. Meditating
  20. Getting and staying organized at home
  21. Having dinner parties
  22. Learning about social media
  23. Having a quiet day
  24. Latin, country, contra, and rock ‘n roll dancing
  25. Expressing joy at the happiness of others
  26. Doing volunteer work in my community
  27. Reading books on my Kindle Fire
  28. Attending ladies night
  29. Lighting candles
  30. Playing the stock market
  31. Being completely myself
  32. Doing yoga
  33. Figuring out new ways to cook spinach
  34. Wearing sundresses
  35. Repinning pretty pictures on Pinterest
  36. Being thankful for my amazing life
  37. Standing stage front at the State Room and the Depot
  38. Honesty
  39. Wearing my German socks
  40. Mud Rang facials
  41. Saying thank you
  42. Watching the tulips peek out of the earth in the spring
  43. Making homemade bread
  44. Listening to world music
  45. Heart-to-heart talks with my besties
  46. Being in awe at the creation of the mountains
  47. A warm mug of hot cocoa
  48. World music on a slow Sunday afternoon
  49. Going to Zumba class
  50. Getting all dressed up, even for work
  51. Running on the beach
  52. Realizing life is too short to waste even a moment
  53. Urban hiking
  54. Helping friends solve problems
  55. Playing my flute
  56. Making tacos for my friends
  57. Wearing black lace stockings
  58. People watching
  59. Listening to a friend
  60. Thinking and speaking in French
  61. Being understood
  62. French cooking
  63. Looking at colors
  64. Recycling
  65. Reading and occasionally saying big words
  66. Sunflowers reaching for the sun
  67. Feeling my muscles
  68. Luxuriating in raspberry body wash
  69. Playing practical jokes
  70. Knowing that life is always more than fair, in the end
  71. Long, passionate kisses
  72. Having just a little bit more courage than I realized
  73. Making earrings and then wearing them
  74. Sharing homemade veggie soup and a long conversation with a friend
  75. Sitting in front of a cozy fire
  76. Forgiving myself and others for what happened in the past
  77. Going to the zoo
  78. Using my day spa Groupons
  79. Making people laugh
  80. Seeing eclectic movies
  81. Releasing my concerns
  82. Ringing bells
  83. Exploring foreign lands
  84. Pondering the meaning of life
  85. Smiling
  86. Wearing soft t-shirts
  87. Point and counterpoint
  88. Giving more than my fair share
  89. Perusing the Urban Dictionary
  90. Earning respect
  91. Wearing my heart on my sleeve
  92. Sipping limeade
  93. Jogging
  94. Sitting on my patio in my pj’s on a warm summer morning
  95. Staring at the moon and stars above my house
  96. Sledding and skiing
  97. Speaking and living my truth
  98. Taking long, luxurious baths
  99. Red roses in a vase in my dining room
  100. Watching snowflakes fall
This is a long list, and, incidentally, it wasn’t generated by my fears of the Mayan forecast Galactic Alignment on December 21, 2012.  I merely want 2012 to be a smidge happier.  Some activities and places have been jettisoned from my life in order to make room for happiness.  Waiting, wondering, and worrying did not make the cut ... so 2011.  It’s time to re-embrace life with a renewed sense of, well, RAWR.  Starting now. 

Monday, January 9, 2012

My Excellent Christmas Adventure to the Big Apple

I nearly forgot to mention about my trip to the Big Apple last week to visit my son for Christmas.  Let me tell you all about it ... in a New York minute. 

After arrival via the Santa express at 6 am on Christmas morning, I rode the comfortable and safe MTA to the Upper West Side.  As is the case with every trip, the subway ticket machine sold me tickets, then the little monitor said I didn't have money on my subway card, but the kindly gentleman provided me a special envelope and form so I can reclaim my $25 by mail.  I've been home a week and haven't taken care of it yet. 

My son greeted me at his apartment across on the Upper West Side about 8 am or so.  Present opening and a light Christmas breakfast of orange juice and cinnamon bread freshly baked by my daughter were first on the agenda.  Coffee helped to compensate for me getting but three hours sleep on the plane.  My son is the only other human on the planet who really "gets" how I like my coffee prepared, ie a dash of coffee with my milk.  In the afternoon, we took a walk through the entire expanse of the wintry but still lush and beautiful Central Park from Cathedral Parkway to Columbus Circle, had drinks at the Russian Tea Room, indugled in some window shopping on Fifth Avenue, celebrated Christmas evening mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral, wove through thick crowds watching skaters at the foot of the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, and capped off the evening with a Christmas dinner of Boeuf Bourginon at Cafe du Soleil on the Upper West Side.

Boxing Day, or the day after Christmas, we engaged in casual after Christmas (mostly window) shopping in Soho, Union Square, and Herald Square, home of the world's largest department store - Macy's.  Among the finds: shining armor (knight sold separately), ostrich eggs, and halfway-to-heaven-yes-this-is-fashion platform shoes. There was a lunch detour for "street meat" (a gyro) for me and a salmon and cream cheese bagel sandwich from Russ and Daughters for my son.  I had a bite of that scrumptuous creation and bagels will ne'er be the same again!  I insisted on going past my ever favorite Flatiron Building with its window display of coffee cups.  I love that building!  The day ended at Times Square for some views from an eighth floor bar at the Marriott Marquis and a birds eye viewing of all the lights and commotion yet again. 

The next morning, we rode the bus to Costco in Spanish Harlem for some gift exchanging.  The samples and food court are the same, but the cheese section beats the one in Murray, Utah where I shop hands down.  After a walking and taxi detour, we continued to Jackson Heights in Queens to a predominantly Indian neighborhood where we ate an Indian buffet.  I tried on elegant saris in several stores.  I still cannot figure out why Indian women pay hundreds of dollars for beautiful sequinned fabric that ultimately has to be tailored into the sari, but so (or sew) it is.  We sauntered on the tiny street of retail shops: a velour Spiderman blanket was tempting, not to be trumped by the green jackfruit. 

Sleeping late became habit forming and it was noon by the time we took the subway to the Village for lunch a long-awaited $17 hamburger and fries (yes!) at the Spotted Pig.  Boutique window shopping in the Village and Soho gave way to a trip down Canal Street through Chinatown to the South Street Seaport (by where the mezzanine of the South Tower of the World Trade Center used to be) in search of a shorter theater ticket line (impossible).  We settled for picture taking of Brooklyn and New Jersey skylines at sunset, and then made another attempt at walking through Macy's to see if there really were any after Christmas bargains (nope). 

We walked to Harlem the next day and happend on a glimpse of the famed Cotton Club! We had fried green tomatoes at Dinosaur BBQ.  We walked ALL the way down Broadway for several hours.  A cadence ensued as we marched the blocks from 125th Street to 59th Street.  We landed at Columbus Circle in time for happy hour at Nougatine in the Trump International Hotel.  Did I say how much I LOVE the Tuna Tartare?  Well so much that the ladies next to me at the bar ordered it upon my recommendation, and yes, they were eternally grateful for my suggestion.  When my son graduated from Columbia, I gave him no choice as to where his graduation celebration would be held.  Nougatine or bust, because every time in NYC, I have to have my Tuna Tartare fix.  Why doesn't Market Street make this stuff?  Don't answer that.  We even went to the uptown TJ Maxx in search of crepe pans and evening dresses.  The selection wasn't much better than at home, but by then my cold had seized control of my body and brain so shopping was the last thing on my wish list. 

My week of fun came to a dramatic close.  I'll spare the details here, but I was incredibly ill.  I had to travel home, but not before a visit to the lively Hells Kitchen for lunch at a Balkan eatery.  Hells Kitchen looks really intriguing and I want to explore more of it on my next visit.  I headed on the E train to the Air Train to Terminal 3 at JFK Airport. 

I LOVE you, New York!  I think the Big Apple is one of the world's greatest cities to engage in my beloved sport of urban hiking, in my case up to ten miles a day.  My son is such a great host because he knows the city quite well and I got the insider's scoop.  I'm lucky to be able to visit often with a free place to stay and immerse myself in this American treasure of art, fashion, architecture, history, culture, and cuisine where even the hot dogs are a treat (hint: if you go, eat your hot dogs at Gray's Papaya for best enjoyment at a low budget price).
















Saturday, November 5, 2011

Ceremonial Sauna: My First Sweat Lodge Experience

When weakness is cleared from your Heart
your prayer will reach the glorious Beloved.
~Rumi♥

Friday afternoon.
I was second to last to escape the office at 5:01.  After a quick stop at Sunflower Market for bread and cheese, I shoehorned my way into the next lane and the next, and headed home.  Friday early evening traffic was abhorrent.  Cars oozed out of left turn lanes at every intersection. It was as if time was racing while the cars ahead of me stood still.  In my mind, I was rehearsing the checklist of things to bring to the sweat lodge.  Swimsuit, sarong, towels, food, change of clothes for later, and an offering.

My religious beliefs, in a nutshell.
As I drove, I told my friend Connie that I was going to a sweat lodge.  Immediately, she was concerned I was leaving Catholicism.  Truthfully, while Catholicism is always in my heart, it hasn’t been in my schedule for a while, like maybe since Easter.  I wonder if I subconsciously worry about lightning striking after spending Easter mass in the very back of the sanctuary on the floor chatting and laughing with my favorite mistake til we finally left after communion.  And I am very quick to acknowledge that I embrace my truth in all religions and spiritual practices.  I was Mormon when I was married and would be lying if I didn’t admit I agree with a few facets of Mormonism to this day.  My new love is Rumi, a 13th century Persian Muslim poet who was dubbed the most popular poet in America in 2007.  Rumi isn't a religion, per se, but I read him religiously and rejoice at his words.  All of that said, I am a spiritual seeker and find myself in thankful awe at the organization of Earth and its inhabitants in such poetic and even sometimes painfully chaotic fashion.  It's a creation I cannot explain.  I feel the influence of God and angels in my life, even on the bad days, but I'm hardly evangelical.  I light candles and meditate on the couch at home.  And so the sweat lodge was an extension of my spirituality, not my religious preference. 

A former boyfriend had gone to a sweat lodge in Park City a couple years ago.  I was intrigued by his description of native chanting in a heated structure.   I was hoping to go with him sometime, but I more or less lost touch with said boyfriend and his friend who promised to invite me to their sweat lodge "soon."  So it caught my attention when I met Phillip and learned about his sweat lodge work.

My grand entrance.
True to form, I arrived at my destination in a whirl.  The address was on a familiar thoroughfare, and I only got a tiny bit lost.  I was on the phone so not as fully engaged in getting there as I should have been.  Still, I wanted to be early to connect with a friend I'd not yet met in person and get oriented for the evening's journey.

When I saw a few people encircling the crackling fire, I knew I was in the right place.  Phillip motioned me and others toward the entrance to the unassuming backyard off 7800 South in Sandy.  Who would've ever thought all this goes on right behind Harmons???  I was directed to walk behind the sweat lodge, which was a round, shorter than me structure no more than 16 feet in diameter.

I was the only sweat lodge attendee dressed in a hot pink bathing suit, purple and ivory tie dye cover up dress, navy clogs and a double breasted navy wool pea coat.  Imagine.  With my hot pink paisley bag toting all the requisite items on my aforementioned list, I looked like a bag lady extraordinaire.  I made a comment to Phillip that my outfit reflected his instructions on the email he sent about the sweat lodge.  Everyone else had brought clothes to change in a nearby teepee.

I met Kim, my facebook pre-friend, and also Gypsy, Brad, Alan, and Brent and others.  Elizabeth greeted me and invited me to wave smoking sage onto myself to clear any negative energy.  I thought about and tried to release the negative energy of the day and the week as she walked around me with the receptacle of sage waving the thin puffs of smoke towards me.

Settling in.
The light and motion of the fire mesmerized me.  Although I was surrounded by others, I was in my own world of thoughts, feelings, and concerns.  It felt so good just to sit there and try to make sense of the events of the week.  I always think I know where my life is heading, but in reality, life can be a blind journey, in my case, oft taken at 90 miles per hour.  The unexpected surprises us and creates new risks and opportunities. 

As we sat by the fire, a few more people walked into the circle.  I asked for water and a kind gentleman named Hanley offered his watery green juice.  "It has celery, cilantro, and other green vegetables in it," he said as he handed the jar to me.  It was sooooooooooo good!   "So you have to send me the recipe," I said, hinting we should become Facebook friends.  He advised that he mixes green veggies – whatever ones he has on hand -- in a juicer.  That easy.  The cilantro really enhances the flavor and it quenched my thirst, to be sure.

Orientation to the sweat lodge.
Phillip gave an introduction to the sweat lodge or “ceremonial sauna.”   Sweat lodges are held on every continent of the world and date back to the 5th century BC.  The ceremonies include drumming, singing, and chanting, and vary depending on who is leading the ceremonies.  The hot rocks are called “Grandfathers” and we were told to refer to Phillip as "Uncle."  He told us there would be four rounds.  I assumed these were not like a round of golf or we'd be there all night.  Someone did ask how long the sweat lodge ceremony would last and he said an hour and a half or two hours. 

"Is the sweat lodge as hot as Bikram yoga?" I asked.   Bikram was my staple activity during my seven month tenure of FUNemployment.  "Yes, but not the same and not consistently," he said as he explained that the heat came in waves then subsided.  Phillip asked if any of those attending were family or in a dating relationship.   The protocol is to keep those in familial or dating relationships apart and not even across from each other to prevent their energies from crossing or connecting.  I also asked if we could exit the sweat lodge if the heat was unbearable.  Yes, but once out, the only time to re-enter is after that "round" has ended.

We changed into our "sweat" attire of minimalist, light clothing.  For me, this meant merely removing my clogs and coat.  We huddled around the campfire with towels wrapped around our shoulders.  It was nearly dark.  Several men were adding wood to the fire.  Phillip instructed us on how to enter the sweat lodge.  Very carefully, unless you are a midget, as the ceiling doesn't reach four and a half feet.  Phillip went in first, followed by the ladies.  The gentlemen were last to enter.  We each grabbed a maraca-like shaker and once again waved sage onto ourselves before entering the dark sweat lodge.

Round 1: Ask.
All the attendees moved through the sweat lodge bent over or crawling in a counterclockwise line.  We laid out towels and blankets.  I could see the shadows of prayer ties on the ceiling.  Phillip explained there were 104 prayer ties.  Once we were all seated on the earth, we sat in silence as six glowing rocks were brought to the door of the lodge, one by one.  Phillip used antlers to place the hot stones on the earth in the center of the room.  Each rock was sprinkled with cedar, then the cedar was brushed with sweet grass against the hot stone.  When the seventh rock was brought to the door, Phillip said "Welcome, Grandfather!" and we all chimed in. 

Then the door to the sweat lodge was closed.  The glow of the rocks was the only light we could see.  The darkness of the sweat lodge was convenient.  Water was poured on the stones to create steam.  As Phillip explained, the darkness gave us a sort of invisibility to each other that allowed us to "do what we needed to do, release what we needed to release" without self-consciousness.   And because of the darkness, I was not nearly so concerned about whether my swimsuit cover up was really covering me.

Before the ceremony was underway, we heard the gentle tap of rain on the roof of the structure.  It made me feel that much more warm and cozy inside the heated room.

Round one was about asking.  How do we receive if we don't ask?  This basic principle is found in the Bible, "ask and you shall receive," and is quite prevalent in other religious teachings.  Several years ago, I learned Vedic mantras, an oral tradition taught in Hindu temples.  Mantras, too, are a means of asking.  Even new age spirituality such as manifesting or law of attraction is replete with examples of intentions, or asking the Universe to supply a desire.

Phillip opened with a song.  I cannot come close to remembering the words of the many songs sung during the course of the evening.  Gentle and powerful in tone, the songs were akin to chanting, except the chords spanned a wider range at times.  For those who were conserving energy, using the shaker was an alternative to singing.  The language, for the most part, was Lakota, one of three major dialects of the Sioux Indians.  Lakota is also a city in North Dakota.



At the end of each song and other part of the ceremony, we said "Aho" which roughly translated means "I understand" or "cool beans."  The yoga class equivalent would be “Namaste,” except we said “Aho” several times in each round.   I did a little research and learned that "Aho" is sometimes is used to say goodbye or shortened to "Ho."  It's one of those words where you want to be sure you know what you're saying lest it be taken out of context.

When round one concluded, Phillip opened the door and a gush of cool air entered the sweat lodge.  Relief.  With the door opened, seven more hot stones were brought to the doorway, and Phillip moved them to the center of the room with antlers.  We said "Welcome, Grandfather," or "Welcome, Grandmother" to each one.  Again, the glowing stones were sprinkled with cedar and brushed with sweet grass.

Round 2: Relationships with others.
When the seventh stone was in place, the door was closed and round two began.  Phillip poured water on the stones to create steam.  We were told to consider our relationships.  Family.  Children.  Friends.  Spouses.  Lovers.  Past.  Present.  Future.  It was a time to reflect on my relationships with others and to be amazed that my journey has put the right people into my life at just the right time.  And it was also a time to ponder that maybe I was in the lives of others for a reason.  After we sang a song, we were told to verbalize our intentions with respect to our relationships.   All at once.  Aloud.  The room was abuzz with voices.  I heard a couple of people softly crying.  I really couldn't hear what the women next to me were saying so I chimed in and voiced a few intentions for people close to me.  It felt good.  We concluded with more singing.

If you do your homework on Google (the font of all knowledge presently), you'll see that sweat lodges have a slightly checkered history.  People have died from exposure to excessive heat and smoke.  By the end of the second round, I was sweating more profusely but at no time was the heat intolerable for me.  I could feel that my entire dress was drenched as was my swimsuit underneath, but I felt fine, not dizzy or lightheaded.  Because of the water poured on the hot rocks, the room was full of steam which was scented by the cedar and sweet grass.  In addition to any spiritual benefits, I am sure that my sweat lodge experience was at least on par with a facial at one of my 85% off Groupon day spas.  My endorsement herein is not for all sweat lodges, only for the one I attended last night.  I would suggest you know how to exit the sweat lodge before you set foot in it and also that you ask the sweat lodge leader what precautions have been taken.

Round 3: Relationship with self.
Another seven stones were brought into the sweat lodge.  We were told that round three was to highlight us as individuals and to allow us to release those things that no longer served us.  It was about forgiveness, letting go, moving to a better place.  After a song, we verbalized simultaneously.  Then there was a shrill scream.  And another.  And another.  It was good that I didn't jump from the alarm of it or I'd have gone through the roof.  All the screams were from the same woman whose name escapes me and she probably wouldn’t want it known anyway.  Actually, there was one tiny little thing that I needed to release.  Sometimes the little demons are the most powerful and potent ... and toxic.  Die negativity, die.  Let it go.

I thought of August 2011.  I found myself questioning everything in my life, most of all, my recent attitudes and behavior.  I lapsed into a bit of a bluesy depression, which I learned later in the month may have been triggered in part by anemia.  Ladies, take your iron pills.  And see a doctor if you need to.  Please.  Anyway, during my sad and sorry ponderance, I bemoaned that I was too self absorbed and not nearly so caring and generous as my ideal me and that life was becoming one pleasure seeking event followed by the next, and maybe a few Facebook posts about all of it.  My passion for children and for helping single moms had been abandoned to the next big thing, or so it seemed.  Once I built up my iron and got over pneumonia, I knew that the people who needed my help were right in front of me and that sometimes even a kind word makes a whole lot of difference in someone’s day.  And I asked at work when we were going to start teaching Junior Achievement in the local schools again.

When the door was opened at the end of round three, we saw that it was snowing.  The person who remained outside with the fire had long since taken our shoes into the tent nearby to keep them warm and dry.  White flakes floated to the earth outside as seven more hot stones were brought to the doorway. 

I asked why the stones were also referred to as "Grandmother."  The stones represent the Creator universally speaking, so depending on each person's beliefs, that could be a man or a woman or other.  I was so reminded of my friend Michele's words "God is a woman!" in reference to my account of one of my previous romantic relationships.  Phillip further explained that the ceremony was not confined to one religious tradition and in his previous sweat lodges, he had sung songs even from Mormonism, with active Mormons in attendance.  He’d used Islamic and Buddhist chants and songs from other religions in his ceremonies.

Round 4: Gratitude.
Round four centered on gratitude.  Until we are thankful for what we have, we are unprepared to receive more.  This is a tough message for someone going through a tough time, where another day means another disappointment.  Phillip reminded us that the energy of each circle of attendees was unique, even if we attend another sweat lodge.  What a great remembrance that no matter where we are, we should savor every second of our journey.  We sang still more songs, including a chant to the song "Amazing Grace" near the conclusion of the ceremony.  We took a few deep breaths and the sweat lodge ceremony was ended.  So many beautiful words of wisdom were spoken and resonated with me, only to be lost to my memory as I prepared to exit.  Inside I was rejoicing because I made it through the ceremony, and because I could not wait to eat the multigrain bread and jalepeno cheddar cheese I brought to share with the group.

Back to reality.
Phillip instructed us to leave the sweat lodge carefully because we were somewhat "removed" from our bodies.  He admonished that standing up too quickly may result in falling down.  The women scurried to the tent for a bit of warmth.  We changed to dry clothes.  Soon everyone was in the tent, pulling fruit, bread, cheese, and even KFC fried chicken out of bags and into the center of our circle.  Food hadn't tasted quite this good for years.  It was simple but surreal.  We talked quietly and one by one, people began to leave.  The night was ended.

My new friend Kim and I walked to our cars as big flakes of snow fell on our heads.  I felt better, lighter, and relaxed, almost blissful.  After meditation, burdens and frustrations were lifted and taken from me.  I doubt I’ll be a regular monthly sweat lodge attendee, but I will definitely go again and encourage my Salt Lake friends to go.  To transcend beyond the material world for two hours was a sublime way to spend a Friday evening.  Aho.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Upmteen Things I Re-Learned This Summer

Summer arrives with a length of lights
Summer blows away
And quietly gets swallowed by a wave
It gets swallowed by a wave

-- “Summersong,” The Decemberists

Think outside the box.
The T-Pain Green Team unraveled the day of the concert. My usual volunteer base who were already consumed with boating and wine parties, so I went to T-Pain’s base (ie 20-somethings) and lined up a Green Team team in record time.
Keep it simple, stupid.
Most of the hiking trails I’ve pursued have jogs and junctures where you can choose between a few simple, well placed steps or a web of complicated ones to get to the same spot two feet ahead. Way more often than not, the simple way is better, not only in hiking but on life’s trail generally.

Urgency is an illusion.
When I was first divorced, I learned the concept of “waiting for a better offer.” This of course means saying “maybe” to allow time to weigh options. It isn’t always best to chart your course weeks or months in advance because inevitably you’ll be denied other opportunities. I bought tickets to Journey months before the concert and thereby gave up the chance to hear The Decemberists, for free. What a pricey opportunity cost that was.
Live in the now.
On my first rock climb and the subsequent ones, I learned you need to know where you’re going, but you can’t look too far forward or back without losing focus. And looking down may have disastrous consequences.


Bliss has no economic value.
The Uros people live in reed huts on manmade floating islands in Peru’s Lake Titicaca. Despite no creature comforts and few sources of income, and … no bathrooms, they smile from their toes.

The biggest and hardest blind leap of faith you take may be to not leap at all.
Why do we always have to do something to feel like life is moving forward? If I’d made the forceful choices in April I was contemplating, I’d have quit my job, sold my house, and wandered the world. Within the next few months, life brought me “aha” moments, unexpected visitors, and conversations I visualized but thought could never happen.
An ounce of preparation is worth a pound of cure.
Bring bug spray. Use lots of sunscreen. Make sure your clothing is weather-appropriate. And be ready to run from a moose or a bear or a lightning storm at a moment’s notice.

Get over your past.
Revenge and resentment about hurts and wrongs are toxic to your body and spirit. And … all of the above cause wrinkles. Give someone another chance, even if you think they don’t deserve it, and the results may please you immeasurably.
Sleep.
I caught pneumonia in August. I’m not sure if it was 12 airplane rides in three weeks, playing golf in the rain in Delaware, running through Peru in winter without a warm jacket, or too many early mornings and late nights spent catching planes and buses. Let’s just say, I’m going to be way more careful about getting adequate rest going forward.

What you think about, you bring about.
When I sold Mary Kay (and no, I never earned a pink Cadillac), I tired of hearing this dorky phrase. And yet … it might take months or years, but your thoughts more often than not play out in your life like a script from a made-for-television movie. So pick the good ones. Visualize running into someone you danced with months ago. And whatever you do, don’t visualize that the guy (or gal) you’re dating is in love with someone else!

Silence is golden.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, hold it close, think of it, savor it ... don’t tell. The one exception would be those times when you feel in your heart you need to let someone know how much they mean to you. And you should.

Embrace the intangibles.
This summer I had a few frustrating discussions on the have’s and have not’s. What the “have’s” have could all be taken away in a flash, so why should the size of our bank accounts divide us? Whether we have or have not material wealth, however, matters little. Tangibles get lost and rot. Intangibles – joy, love, affection, caring, compassion, passion, friendship, honesty, respect, integrity – are the real treasures life offers us.
Life is full of surprises.
When I left for Peru, I thought I was leaving behind an unkempt yard with a handful of gigantic weeds. By the time I’d returned, my “weeds” were covered with my favorite flowers, sunflowers.

Dance.
You never know when it will be your last chance. Sadly and unexpectedly, my Salt Lake friends and I lost a sweet friend this summer. When I go, I want to transcend to my next world dancing, maybe not jigging to the Young Dubliners but a soft and gentle slow dance.

It's okay to change your mind.
My boss keeps Dove and other chocolates in his office as a treat for the employees. I had gotten into a three-chocolates-a-day habit to keep myself and friends in those infamous Dove fortunes. Then one day, I decided I was done. My longstanding love for chocolate evaporated in a single day as if it had never existed. And it’s okay to change your mind, too.

Perspective is everything.
When I returned from my trip to Peru, it seemed as if someone had shrunk the Wasatch Mountains during the ten days I was gone. The giant rise of the Andes I saw and hiked through during the previous week made “my mountain” seem diminutive by comparison.
Life is more than fair.
I believe this with all my heart. Even those in the most humble or difficult circumstances have something amazing in their lives – unique experiences and opportunities, splendid natural surroundings, or wonderful relationships, to name a few -- to offset their difficulties or pain. As I watched a woman in Peru pick up trash in her neighborhood, my thoughts turned to her view of the beautiful Andes Mountains.  The awesome Sacred Valley was her “office.”  Look for the “more than fair” in your life and you will find it.


Saturday, July 23, 2011

Making Monday Magical Was a Drop In the Bucket for Mitch Barrett


It's a drop in the bucket
And a bucket in the pond
And the pond fills the river
And the river rushes on
And every river swells a river
Until the power can't be stopped
And what becomes a mighty ocean
Started with a drop
--Mitch Barrett
"Drop In the Bucket"

Life is more than fair.  Polyanna, yes.  But oh so true once again.

It all started last Friday evening when I made an appearance at the Snowbird Mountain Music Festival with a couple of friends.  I spotted Ricochet House Concerts' Ruth Naccarato standing next to a charming long-haired gentleman and I practically sprinted over to say hi.  Before I knew it, I was shaking hands with decorated and much heralded singer/songwriter/storyteller Mitch Barrett.  When Ruthie learned I couldn't attend last Saturday evening's headliner event featuring Mitch and his band, she asked "What are you doing Monday night?  We should have a house concert."  And instantly a magical Monday evening of Appalachianfunkyrastafolksyblues music was born.



Mitch Barrett wove hand-pieced songs and stories into a brightly colorful mosaic quilt of Appalachian life.  Creatures like cosmic possums live in his world.  And Barrett, from Berea, Kentucky, brought the folklore, myths, and stories of his mountain people to life with songs like "Paper Bags and Cardboard Boxes" and "Paper, Scissors, Stone."  Barrett's song, "Sacred Yard" painted images of plastic roosters, bird baths and concrete Buddha's.  He is champion for a simple life, devoid of the trappings of careers and possessions in favor of cultivating the light within:

Everything is sacred every breath of air
Be careful what you're thinking sacred every thought's a prayer

It's the ordinary day people you talk to every day
Incantations and prophecies from the mouths of babes
You can talk about the weather or the foods you crave
It's the feeling you project not the words you say

The audience of 30 or so invited guests were undaunted by rain early in the first set.  Barrett's playful spirit was evident throughout the evening as he danced to the beat.  He sang about southern women in "Viola," "Christiania," and "Pearl."  I was captivated by the rhythmic southern love melody "Shady Grove."  Barrett included in his repertoire a couple of traditional mountain music tunes: "no need to pay royalties on those," he noted.

In between songs and sometimes during, Barrett's southern drawl put color on life in his Appalachian home with stories about neighbors, home and family.  If there's anything I miss about my years in the south, it's the lure of the accent, the words spoken smooth and slow. 

Barrett asked in the kindest, most caring way if the nation's economic downturn had affected those in the audience and our friends and neighbors.  It's humbling to appreciate that the inquiry came from a simple man who several described that night as one who travelled with barely a bedroll when attending the Rocky Mountain Music Festival some years ago.  Barrett described how his now ex-wife, or as he prefers to refer to her "the mother of my children," concurrently informed him she was leaving him and that she'd entered him in a songwriting contest.  Nothing like softening the blow.  Barrett is to be credited for acknowledging her hard work, along with his own, on their music and their CDs. 

The second set began with "Jack Gone Huntin'," a story for the children.  Barrett is the consummate storyteller: "I'm not lyin', I'm telling a story," he said, garnering a chuckle from the audience as he hinted of his CD named for that very punch line.  The legendary Appalachian music box appeared and Barrett played it as if it were a harp as he told more stories.  Storytelling gave way to a starry sky, and twinkling stage lights.  Mitch brought Ruth and Reba onstage to sing with him.  Several sing alongs later, the evening culminated with "Drop In the Bucket," a tune that evokes the feeling of being aboard a boat on the rolling Mississippi.

It's been said that a song remembers when.  With five of Mitch's CDs already loaded to my computer, I'll remember the magic of Mitch's Monday night music for a long time.

Mitch Barrett CDs
Pearl
Soft Lies
Birds Fly South
Drop In the Bucket
Heart & Soul 
I Ain't Lyin' I'm Telling You a Story

Websites
Mitch Barrett
Mitch Barrett (MySpace)
Mitch Barrett (Facebook)
Ricochet House Concerts (Facebook)

Band
Mitch Barrett - Vocals, guitar, Appalachian music box, storytelling
Owen Reynolds - Bass
Eddie Green - Guitar
Melody Youngblood - Vocals







Monday, May 30, 2011

Lessons From the Enchanted Forest: Cambriah Heaton and Kinfolk

I am doing my best to keep my head on straight
I am doing my best
I am doing my best to keep the madness at bay
I am doing my best
Put here on this planet to do my very best
Oh yes my best!
-- Kinfolk

Kinfolk's Cambriah Heaton shared her enchanting world with Ricochet House Concerts Wednesday in a magical performance that left the entire audience spellbound.  With her delicate, whispery voice, Cambriah shares the secrets of the vast universe with poignant lyrics and warm melodies.  Her fairy-of-the-mystical-forest aura leaves no question that she's an old and wise soul, in spite of her youthful appearance.
Kinfolk opened Ricochet's outdoor concert series with inspiring songs about love, life and nature from their CD, set to be released in August.  Kinfolk is the spritely Cambriah (vocals, guitar), along with Chad Taylor (bass) and Nicki Singleton (fiddle). Together, they played two sets to a crowd of musicians and music lovers alike.  The upbeat lyrics to "Fortune Cookie" spoke to me, as if from a crystal ball:

You have the ablity to overcome obstacles, said my fortune cookie.
So I took one look as I read it and thought, okay let's go cookie.
You got to pick up your feet. You got to set the pace.
Once you set yourself in motion you've practically won the race.


Cambriah's messages are not naively spoken but are sourced from her deeply human experience of life, including losing a child.  Her daughter Mandalynn's ashes are front and center onstage when the group performs.  "She is our angel," said Cambriah.
As Cambriah introduced "Mountain Song" and "Earth Song" her passion for nature as both a healer and a rich resource emerged.  Everyday love songs such as "Typical Love Song" and the endearing "Morning Lullaby" rounded out the program.
The sunsoaked ambiance of Ruthie Naccarto's backyard was transformed to an azure sky and a cool breeze by the beginning of the second set.  And the mood turned quiet and pensive as Kinfolk sang "Reasons" and "Blessed Be."  "Love Wild," an impassioned tune about wrestling angels while love takes flight, energized the crowd one last time.  I left Ruthie's backyard inspired and a little wiser, almost as if I'd spent an evening under the tutelage of an angel.
Website
Cambriah
Ricochet House Concerts - Facebook page 

Set List
Where Have You Been
Mountain Song
Eyes of Ours
Fortune Cookie
Doin' My Best
Long Roads
Penchant for Habit
Typical Love Song
Morning Lullaby
Earth Song
Reasons
Blessed Be
Love Wild