Category Archives: Indigo Girls

Jul19

everything else is paperwork

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“We get to keep all the limitations we defend.” – unk

Well, I think I’ll post this video on a Sunday…because church. This is my church. Actually, every day is my church now. I do so love Carolyn Myss when she yells at us. Preach. Here she teaches us about animals communicating…like DUH.

And yes, I AM humiliated by humans who don’t understand animals. I’m embarrassed by and for my species. And for all of us who don’t see or grapple with our addiction to being superior. You know, like we were taught in school – top of the food chain. And it stood to reason we would next be taught that some humans are superior to others. Definable. A noun. As Tiokasin Ghosthorse (well, and The Indigo Girls) teach us, we are healthier when we define ourselves as verbs.

“The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine.” – The Indigo Girls

I listen intensely when the birds are singing outside my window. I desperately wish to understand what they are saying – because I know they are saying something important. And I don’t speak the language. Every once in awhile I catch a word, an idea, a meaning, on a soul level….and I know. Ahhhhh. Yes, that. Ooohh. Uh-huh, yes. And I have only one response: “thank you.” Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for allowing me, despite my deeply flawed humanness, to eavesdrop. Thank you for staying near.

The birdhouse outside my front door is part of a display I made in a planter box. Under the wide roof overhang of this mid-century ranch, it defies the modern aesthetic and alludes to country cottage, the style I much prefer. The French iron planter is stuffed with coir and small branches from the Hawthorne tree it faces. A few flowers drape over the side closest to the door in the shade. I rarely use this door. A chickadee has taken up residence and hatched her eggs in the little house. Those babies are gloriously loud! She hangs out in the Hawthorne tree, watching intensely, and sings the sun up. She is so happy and proud of her brood. That’s what I imagine she is saying, “look, listen…see us. Aren’t we beautiful?” I assure her that I, too, am made happy and proud that she has graced us with her family. I leave a small makeshift bath on the porch for her, worried how they will cope with the wildfire smoke.

And I sit inside and listen to Carolyn Myss for hope, for us all. The time stamp on this video is very deceiving – it was recorded over a decade ago. This is actually about healing, yours and mine and the worlds. And then how to…fill in the blank. Live. Be in the world and not of it. That’s always my goal, because that is where freedom is found. Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you, despite my deeply flawed humanness…for allowing me to accompany you on this journey.

When you are reading this I am on another journey. I’ve been asked to accompany a friend on her business trip to the Detroit Book Festival. Let’s go see what the paperwork has to say. I’ll share my experiences with you next week. Thanks for being here.

Nov3

I won’t let you leave my love behind.

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Something remarkable and normal has happened. As I said in my last post, I have been going through a bit of a tough time. So when I went to bed shortly after dark last night I said a prayer. I asked very specifically to be shown that I am being heard and guided – and I said, “either in my dreams tonight or in my YouTube feed in the morning.” Strangely, I didn’t remember any dreams. But as I checked in after reading email and messages, here was the first video in my feed:

Next question! I’ve written about Tiokasin Ghosthorse in prior blog posts. I’ll try to link those at the bottom here. He teaches us that in the Lakota language there are no nouns. They don’t need them. They know something we don’t in our Western culture: everything is a verb. Everything is in relationship to everything else, and everything is in process. We are becoming.

I’m writing this on Saturday (to post Sunday) and the election is 3 days away. Everyone is on edge. Friends and family I haven’t heard from in years are contacting me and want to know what will happen. Throughout my adult life I have often been employed, paid or not, to be a psychic. I do know where this is going. I know who will win the election and I know what will transpire afterward (btw, I have predicted them all accurately, as a few close friends could attest. They all argued with me prior to election day in 2016.) However, I am not telling. You do not need to know. If you never hear anything else I ever say, hear this: you never need to know. This was explained to me directly by God, who showed up in a dream in my 20’s, and did not look at all as expected. We argued about that. I wanted proof. He pointed at the television and started playing movies made just for me with my people in them, showing me things I could not have imagined. That gave remote viewing a whole new meaning…

Yes, I read tarot cards. No, I am not a fortune teller. That is not what the tarot is for. The Indigo Girls said it best: “the less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine.”

You will be fine. No matter what happens, and most especially no matter how you feel about it. Did you think that meant it would be easy?! Yeah, I make that mistake myself, hence the dark night.

We are having a spectacular fall here along the Lake Michigan shore. The weather is warmer than I remember in a long while. I think we had snow last year by this time. Yesterday it rained gently off and on all day while the sun shone. In many native cultures they say that means you are being blessed. I’ll take it.

Big, Beautiful Questions: https://apainterlyhome.com/category/tiokasin-ghosthorse/

Sep18

I hear the band playin’…

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Please remember, always click on the blog heading for the updated version as I often edit after hitting publish…

The cat woke me around six a.m. His bowl was empty. This is my favorite time of day, just as the sun is coming up. But I hadn’t slept well and I really didn’t want to get up. My son was already in the kitchen getting ready for his work day. He’s been staying here since his relationship broke up. Feeling he had no other choice, he left her with the house they bought together, her teenagers, the dogs they adopted, his dreams, and oh yeah, much of his self worth stayed behind, too. He has continued to be as supportive of them as he possibly can be, physically, emotionally, and financially. This has required considerable patience on my part (let alone my friends and therapist) – but then, I don’t want to be the mother-in-law who thinks her son can do no wrong. I’ve had one of those.

The day he called and asked if he could come here I felt a huge sense of relief. Finally. Watching the abuse he seemed determined to cope with was nothing short of painful. He was mimicking the scapegoat role I had so effectively demonstrated for him my entire life. Everything about us must be wrong because God knows we never did anything right. But perhaps some healing could finally happen. We are a multi-generational family of survivors – survivors of alcoholism, physical and verbal abuse, and blatant narcissism. Our awareness continues to grow as our healing unfolds.

He’s been here longer than either of us expected; the better part of two years now. It has not been easy. But most days I am grateful for this time to get to know him as an adult, to spend time together investigating family history, to address our mental and emotional dysfunction, to have the opportunity to do the healing work we both need and deserve. I’m in my seventies, he’s in his forties, and for the first time in our lives we are safe. We have a safe place. I wonder where that will lead us.

Most mornings I am up hours before him or any hint of daylight. I feed the cat first (the boss of me), make coffee and head back to my cosy room with a book. If I haven’t fallen back to sleep, I hear him in the kitchen but leave him in peace. Well, I leave me in peace, because let’s be honest – I am far too easily irritated when my thoughts are disrupted before I’m ready to talk. But this morning I wandered out and made us both coffee. Here’s why he is one of the few people (okay, maybe the only person so far in this life) I’ve ever been able to live with: he is funny. He is blessed with my mother’s sense of humor. My brother had it, too. I was not so blessed. He is funny right from the get go when his feet hit the floor. Wow that is impressive!

My auDHD does not allow me to think that fast. So when I caught myself scowling this morning, I circumvented my crabbiness by saying, “Help me out here, please. My face is stuck,” revealing my frown. I had just sat down at my laptop. He simply replied with a directive: “Hello, Dolly by Louis Armstrong.”

Little did he know it would bring tears. I was ten years old the year my mother took me to see the musical at the Fisher Theatre. It starred Angela Lansbury. God, growing up in Detroit in the 1960’s was magical. As a privileged white child, of course. But back then what did I know…

Mar15

I’m not havoc-ing it any more…

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Ugh. A friend reached out for advise this morning and I let her have it. The truth is that she’s been struggling for several years now with the same issues, and nothing is changing. And I’ve tried being nice. Being gentle. I’ve actually also tried being quite direct a year or so ago and that didn’t work either. She isn’t hearing me. She doesn’t want to hear it. She’s in an abusive marriage, and come hell or high water she is going to make it work. Except it won’t, of course. Someone will get sick. Or worse. It’s heart-wrenching to watch in someone you love. Here’s the tricky thing about narcissistic abuse – you’re confused all the time. You’re trying to figure out why you can’t seem to get along – and you don’t realize the actual issue, which is that your life is at stake. You’re a frog in a frying pan noticing an annoying warmth.

Let me give a disclaimer before going any further: no one is more stubborn than me. Nobody. I often say “been there, done that, still paying for that T-shirt…” In the school of hard knocks I am the perpetual student. I have lived a lifetime of being a “master codependent” according to Melody Beattie (and she would know, eh?) I grew up with a pathological narcissist and then I managed to marry two of them. I have PAID. MY. DUES. I am here to tell you that is the highest tuition of any school on the planet. Narcissists will wreak havoc in your life like a Tasmanian Devil. Chaos becomes them. And you won’t see it. Until you do, if you’re lucky enough to survive that long.

Perhaps we will talk about the liberation of learning to set (and keep) uncompromising boundaries. But let’s really, REALLY, for the benefit of the people in the back – let us LEARN HOW TO RESPECT OURSELVES. It’s an uphill battle in this culture where narcissism is coddled.

I’m reading a new book, IT’S NOT YOU, by Ramani Durvasula, PhD. Please read it. Yes, she has a million YouTube videos, but the book is a solid reference that will walk you through this process. I mean, read it right after you read CODEPENDENT NO MORE – again. I do not care when you first read it. I do not care how many times you’ve read it. Read it again. And I recommend you re-read Scott Peck’s People of the Lie, the sequel to The Road Less Traveled. Both books are more pertinent in my life today than when originally published. All of these books live on my nightstand.

A news report came out of Texas years ago: Texas did not have a no-fault divorce law (I don’t know if they do now or not) and so the plaintiff had to prove that the defendant was at fault for the failure of the marriage. The woman stated her reason for petitioning the court for divorce as HE IS A BORE. When the judge asked her to define bore she read from the dictionary: A PERSON WHO DENIES YOU SOLITUDE WITHOUT OFFERING MEANINGFUL COMPANIONSHIP IN EXCHANGE. That hit like a gut punch.

After the breakup of my marriage in my late 20’s I sought counseling. The therapist said something to me that shocked me. She said, “Every thought, word, and deed is either nurturing or abusive. There is no grey area in relationships.” I thought she was nuts. And I have spent five decades trying to disprove that statement. You try it. Because, when it was up to you…