Sapphokinesis

JUDE ALEXANDER and THE TAROT GAME

2012-01-07T13:47:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed that talented efforts born of true passion seem to jump out at us? Take fine art, for example. A work of art that is experienced in technique or done by a schooled artist doesn’t always measure up to work that springs from true inspiration. I believe this is true with many things, but I never associated it with the tarot community until recently.

A year ago this month, a woman named Jude Alexander received author copies of the tarot game she created. The game emerged spontaneously and sincerely out of the group of tarot enthusiasts she belonged to, all women, for about 14 years. All were seekers looking for new ways to understand the tarot and perhaps taking it to a new place. In fact, Jude didn’t actively look for a publisher. It all happened spontaneously.

I had the pleasure of a reading with Jude and her game via Skype just before the Christmas holiday. I must say, the experience was much deeper than I had anticipated. Skype made the experience quite genuine, as I felt like I was sitting right across from Jude. Of course, that may have been her warmth, sincerity and the passion she has for the game reaching across Grandmother Spider’s great internet web.

My query was general, sort of a “what do I need to know at this time?”, and in response Jude did a three card reading. The game not only offers cards for interpretation and inquiry, but there are blessing coins and other question cards that pull you deeper into thought. This surprised me. Not the game’s components, but the intensely private realm it encouraged me to address out loud. For example, at one point the game asked me if there is a role in one of my relationships that I’d like to redefine. At first I was reluctant to answer, but like the seasoned adept she is, Jude, working in smooth tandem with her game, didn’t let me off the hook. With a calm and encouraging demeanor, she helped me sidle up to that question until I was comfortable with her and willing to offer my answer. It was very personal, venturing into an area about my father at a point when I was very much wishing our relationship was different. In fact, it was the topic of discussion between my partner, Leslie, and I frequently in relation to current events in our tightly knit family.

This highlights the penetrating difference between The Tarot Game and a one-on-one tarot card reading. While a good, intuitive tarot card reader, one who is experienced and confident, may allow or encourage a reading to become an interactive experience, The Tarot Game is interactive by design. It helps the querent identify personal frustrations and then offers actions and affirmation to help deal with them. So, for the querent looking for a deeper experience, The Tarot Game offers an interactive journey into timely introspection and spiritual self-analysis. How wonderful!

At this time, 500 games have been sold and tarot enthusiasts out there are being challenged, provoked and intrigued by its inquiries more than ever before. Jude is also training group facilitators to broaden the experience, and given the passion and sincerity she brings to the game, I would venture to say her facilitators will be equally as sensitive. I can’t imagine she’d have it any other way.

The Tarot Game is available on Amazon and on The Tarot Game’s website. I’d also encourage you to hook up with Jude on Facebook. This is a unique and innovative way to explore the age old Tarot, and I highly recommend it.

The Tarot Game on Amazon
The Tarot Game's Website
The Tarot Game on Facebook

WHERE THE DEMON TICKLED ME

2011-12-30T19:14:00.000-08:00

It’s been ten months since I worked in Corporate. It no longer sets the tone for my life. The economic need to work is (ever)present, but the Corporate lifestyle doesn’t control my inner clock or dominate my thoughts. On a deeper, more personal level my corporate career went hand in hand with an intense desire to provide for my family. My career doesn’t define me, but this self-imposed role as family provider by and large does. I’m not the only source of income in the family, but I put a lot of pressure on myself regardless. When I was laid off last February, that burning need to provide continued. No one can accuse us of just sitting around.

In spite of this or maybe because of this, 2011 has been an intense year. It started with huge change, then settled into a splendid Summer, followed thereafter by an educational Autumn, and then a busy Winter/Christmas season. Like Christmas lights on a conifer, sparkling life lessons were everywhere!

I’ve come to think of my life lessons as lessons in training demons, life’s demons. The kind everybody has. Some people carry theirs with them allowing them to make trouble. Some drag them behind, where they are seen and never forgotten. I visualize my demons as little gremlins locked away in a small steel cage in the dark, cold basement of my psyche. They look like gelatinous ink spots, or like the kind of gooey toy that sticks to the wall when you throw it. They have long, sinewy tendrils that can borrow deeply in the mind and emotions to gain anchor. The earlier they take root, and the longer they remain there, the harder they are to extricate. The roots grow barbs.

My demons aren’t ignored, no. I’m convinced they are meant to be tamed, transformed, and absorbed gradually over time, as though it were the most important thing to do in a person’s life. I’ve worked hard to extricate many of them, tendrils and all, from where they had locked their greedy barbs into me. Consequently, there is only one key that can release my demons from their dank little cages, and I gave that control to the Great Mother a long time ago. Every once in a while, I bump into something I must learn, and so the Great Mother riles the little beasties until one sends a tendril up from the basement to where it gets close enough to become … ticklish.

And so it happened this Christmas.

In our family, Christmas is my department. Leslie has other departments like cooking, vehicle affairs, and ensuring we don’t dress like rodeo clowns, but it’s up to me to expedite the holidays. So, I began thinking about Christmas in October. This is when I usually begin shopping. In the past I didn’t stop shopping until the wish list was fulfilled and certainly not when good sense prevailed! It stopped when I thought enough was enough! But this year funds were low and there were other priorities. Our daughter is a typical 14 year old in many ways, but she worked just as hard as Leslie and I did all summer long. How could that be ignored? There was even a time when it looked like we’d have to skip Christmas all together, and truth to tell that made me feel panicky. I couldn’t indulge myself as I usually did, so I self-imposed an incredible amount of pressure to make every gift meaningful instead.

Our tree was lovely. It was a gift from friends of ours, which was a timely blessing. And we decorated the house with our 27 years’ worth of Christmas doodads. We couldn’t do much shopping until almost the last minute, but when we did we stayed within our tight budget. At the last minute I got full payment on an art commission that enabled us to finish Elizabeth’s gifts when the funds would have run out otherwise. Another timely blessing. I wrapped gifts right up until the end, and after finding all sorts of wrappings, ribbons and beautiful gift tags in the garage, I was able to make every gift package a work of art. I indulged myself with this, and it made me extremely happy. When Christmas morning came, every present under the tree was beautifully wrapped and each was meaningful. They were there because we put them there, with hard work, and we did so as a family. Consequently, we had invoked the true spirit of Christmas, making it a more meaningful holiday than we’ve ever had. It was beautiful. We put the Yule Log and Christmas music on, and opened all our gifts.

My internal conflict, where the demon tickled me, was in a bleeding desire for approval. Oh I know this demon. Would this Christmas be good enough? Would my hard work be appreciated? Would my family be angry because there wasn’t as much under the tree? As irrational as it seems, all these worries and more, as connected as they were to my self-imposed role of provider, plowed a path of insecurity through my brain during the entire month of December. And as Christmas approached, I battled with this demon, knowing full well that expecting approval from a 14 year was unfair and quite ridiculous and that my family appreciates everything I do.

When Christmas was over, I had a terrible case of the blues that lasted a few days. Recognizing this demon, and facing just how deep set my insecurities around provision, approval, and responsibility are took a lot of energy.

But then it was over, and I felt fine and ready to write about my experience.

Now 2012 approaches, and I don’t think the winds of change will stop any time soon. I feel that circumstances will continue to evolve for me and my family, and then one day we’ll wake and think, “Wow! How did we get here?”

When that day comes, I’ll remember that many timely blessings, the love of my family, and both my inner and outer work had everything to do with it.

Happy New Year!

YOU ARE PERFECT

2011-12-21T10:42:00.001-08:00

2011 RECAP: Roll With Change or it'll Roll Right Over You!

2011-12-15T16:42:00.000-08:00

The year 2011 started off quietly, although I continued to be under a lot of stress in the office. But then February rolled around and I was laid off as part of a firm-wide reorganization where most everyone in the nation with my role was eliminated, as well. I have to admit I was relieved and spent the next few weeks decompressing. The job hunt has been intense and regular ever since, although it’s been very slow. I’m a middle manager, and categorically my position has been hit hardest in corporate America’s efforts to downsize and restructure in response to fears about the U.S. recession and global economic difficulties. My guess is that when I do get back to work, I’ll fall back on the secretarial skills my grandmother insisted I get coming out of high school.

Leslie, Elizabeth and I have spent all summer attending various venues with my art, and those of you who know me on Facebook or Blogger know I’ve been writing about our experiences all summer. We’ve done art and music festivals, large events in the city, and a number of smaller events. I’ve been involved with the Art Guild of Pacifica, as well. So, even though the job hunt is tough, I’ve always wanted time to focus on my art like this. Doing it together with Leslie and Elizabeth is a bonus.

Rest In Peace, Dear One

Thelma

(Donna’s Grandmother)

1921 – 2011

Thelma passed away in her sleep over night in June after a long time in Wallingford’s Regency House. She went quietly, and she will be missed. What’s strange is that I feel her everywhere around like I did when she was living. Almost right afterward, her younger sister, Tootsie, passed away, as well, leaving none of the Creech brothers and sisters on the planet. Now their children are the older generation.

Making Connections

A spectacular bonus to this year has been the way we’ve connected with people we’ve known and loved for a long time. Leslie got together with her niece, Tami, after a long time of estrangement. We drove out to Sacramento in April to meet Tami and Sarah for a delicious meal at one of our favorite restaurants. Now, she and Leslie speak regularly over the phone and are connected on Facebook. Tami had weight loss surgery recently and is doing very well with it; this has inspired both of us to consider having the same. Leslie will go first, we think, because it will make a huge and significant impact on her arthritis. Tami tells us that Leslie’s sister, Michele, got married to a very nice man. Congrats, Michele; the third time is a charm. Also, Leslie has reconnected with Nancy an old friend from the past who was almost lost to cancer this year (more than once). I’ve been blessed with reconnecting to cousins from both sides of the family and now touch base with them regularly via Facebook. Sending love to Cath, Deb, Ellen, Pam, Elise and everyone else!

R.I.P. Jack and Hello Teddy!

In May of this year, we lost our Golden Retriever, Jack, to an unexpected problem with his gastro-intestinal system. He was put down suddenly, and we were all there to wish him farewell as he crossed the Rainbow Bridge. We all miss him, but I think Daizy misses him the most. People think animals don’t have feelings, but Daizy was definitely grieving for Jack. She had nightmares and lost sleep, as well. When we thought she was getting depressed, we got another little puppy at the humane society near Coyote Point. Introducing Teddy, our Beagle/Jack Russell mix, who was put on the planet specifically to keep Daizy on her toes. He’s active, fun, and just plain happy to be here. It took a month or two, but Daizy accepted him and is now a different dog as she’s re-established her role as canine matriarch and security chief of the Faber Pack. But still, when Daizy sees a Golden at the dog park, she races over to see if it’s her big boy.

High School Rocks

Elizabeth is having the time of her life in her freshman year. Her grades are good, but her social life is even better. If you know our daughter, you know that she is a social adept who successfully manages both her obligations and friends with agility and success. She goes to football games, does flash mob exercises in drama class, and has friends over all the time. When they’re here, you can hear them squealing out of the window upstairs at all the cute boys walking from the high school down the hill. At the same time she navigates some of the dangers of high school with grace and caution. We’ve been on the periphery of more than one of her friends or acquaintances dealing with eating disorders, suicide, and even rape. We are thankful Elizabeth has a good head on her shoulders and is well adjusted. She learns from these things and takes each lesson seriously. We are so proud of Elizabeth. She’s had a great year!

Pacifica Becomes Home

There is a something special happening in Pacifica, California, something people on the outside probably don’t know about. When we moved here two and half years ago, I had no idea it existed. Rather, I was focused on the town house we’d bought and the difficulty I anticipated in commuting to the city. I was perfectly oblivious, but no matter. My awareness or lack there of didn’t change the fact that wonderful things were happening regularly in the lovely coastal town that lies quietly between San Francisco and Half Moon Bay. The heart of Pacifica lies in its sense of community, and at the very center of that is a strong commitment to the arts. And even more wonderful, I find myself fitting in. There were many things I didn’t expect this year, but feeling Pacifica become home was one of the most unexpected yet welcome of all.

Merry Christmas!

We approach this holiday season very thankful for our health and happiness. We’ve gotten much closer as a family, although we are considerably more frugal and watching our pennies carefully. While we have a feeling 2012 will continue to be quite the roller coaster ride, we hope that it brings good fortune and prosperity to us and all of you in the ways that matter to you the most. In the meantime, we’re hanging in there. We’ll see you on Facebook!

EXPECTATIONS

2011-12-15T10:06:00.001-08:00

PHOTOS ★ ART GUILD OF PACIFICA'S OPEN HOUSE

2011-12-05T11:27:00.000-08:00

NEWS FROM DONNALOUISEFABER.COM

2011-11-20T12:53:00.000-08:00

We're gearing up for the holidays at donnalouisefaber.com and this is the latest!

☽★☾☆¸.✿¸.•°”˜`•.. `.¸..♥.✿ ღ★ ✿.•´¯`•..¸★¯`•.¸☆☽★☾

There are only two more Holiday Boutiques in the San Francisco Bay Area between now and December 25, but you can find custom gifts from donnalouisefaber.com on-line through Christmas!

SPEND $25 IN OUR ON-LINE HOLIDAY BOUTIQUE AND RECEIVE A CUSTOM PENDANT FREE!

As holiday shopping gears up, visit Leslie and I on November 26 in San Bruno at 1555 Crystal Springs Road from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. We'll be there with many other talented artisans from the area (and plenty of surprises, I’m sure). If you spend $20 at my table, you’ll receive a free pendant. This $20 SPECIAL is only being offered on November 26! Then, you can see my exhibit with art and gifts also for sale in the 2011 Art Guild of Pacifica Open House. Visit me and the work of 50 other artists on Saturday, December 3 and Sunday, December 4 at the Sanchez Art Center on Linda Mar Boulevard from 1pm to 5pm each day. There is a reception Friday evening, December 2, from 7pm to 9pm, as well, when you can meet all the artists. Support artists in your community!

VISIT OUR ON-LINE BOUTIQUE HERE!

New Blogpost: Celebration of Craftswomen Recap (including a list of my favorite artists from the show) … “This is how I went into last weekend; floating on a strange combination of anticipation, hope, and exhilaration, and expecting success with no reservation. I was so thrilled to be an emerging artist. Twenty of us were picked from over 600 applications, and it was incredibly validating. Still, I don’t know quite where to begin this article. I feel like I’ve climbed a mountain to get to this point.”

☽★☾☆¸.✿¸.•°*”˜`*•.. `*.¸.*.♥.✿ ღ★ ✿.•*´¯`*•..¸★¯`•.¸☆☽★☾

Add caption

Learn more about our gift baskets here!

ART GUILD OF PACIFICA OPEN HOUSE

2011-11-17T15:47:00.000-08:00

Coming soon!

CELEBRATION OF CRAFTSWOMEN

2011-11-04T22:27:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited about this event coming up next week. It is absolutely huge! My work and the work of several other "emerging artists" is included, after being picked out of over 600 applications! How validating! So, I'm in the zone preparing. Visit celebrationofcraftswomen.org and see my piece "Sheila" highlighted on the "Emerging Artists" page. Most of all, I hope to see you there!

Look for my work on the "Emerging Artists" page of their website!

THE FINAL WITCH: Morgaine is Calling

2011-10-31T09:40:00.000-07:00

Spender Stanhope's
Morgan le Fay

Morgaine is Calling

Morgaine, my love, are you calling me?

From beyond the lusty, soulful seas
Of retrograde calamity!

Supreme, you once reigned over me;
When distractions outweighed reality,
A glorious mistress named Destiny.

Yes, She tests us all again and again;
And as planets come ‘round, doubts may set in, but …
Lo! New journeys are ripe to begin!

Morgaine, my heart, your day is done!
No karmic bondage, no smoking gun;
For tenets once binding are long since unsung.

But know this …

You are my moral compass,
My lamplight in the black;
You are what keeps me straight & true,
Though your call harkens me back.
~
I look fondly on the past,

But seek refuge in the present.

Even though …

Morgaine is calling.
©January 29, 2008, Mercury Retrograde, Inferior Conjunction

“The term Archetype began with Carl Jung. In Jung’s terms, ‘archetype’ is defined as the first original model of which all other similar persons, objects, or concepts are merely derivative, copied, patterned or emulated. These patterns derive from a universal collective consciousness which in metaphysics is called the Grids, Akashic Records, Sea of Consciousness, that which creates our reality. In this context, archetypes are innate prototypes for ideas, which may subsequently become involved in the interpretation of observed phenomena.” (author unknown)... Archetypes are visual symbols or energetic imprints that exist in our psyche. They can often convey messages that verbal and written communication cannot. As simple energy patterns, archetypes are often neutral. The subjectivity of our personal experience and the way we are perceived by others, and how those two perspectives interact, interpret those archetypes and how they manifest in both light and shadow aspects in our lives. Upon feeling our archetypical energy, we give it form embodying it in the mainstream in popular film, fiction, drama, and the world’s religion and mythology. These embodied archetypes, when viewed retrospectively or in sequence, become the colorful tapestry of our personal mythos, our story." Excerpted from a Blogpost dated January 28, 2008.

Jessica Walters as Morgan le Fay
in tv's "Dr. Strange"

I wrote the poem above in 2008 at the beginning of a significant transition in my life. It wasn’t the first time Morgaine encouraged me through a difficult period, but it was the first time I was able to unload enough emotional baggage to finally feel free.

As Archetypes go (and witches for that matter), Morgan Le Fay from the Arthurian legends, or Morgaine as I prefer to call her, is one of my personal favorites. I’ve written much about her in my blog here. I find her most fascinating because as I changed and grew, she changed and grew in my pop-culture lens right along with me. As the evil Sorceress Morgan Le Fay, she was one dimensional, bent by the mainstream media to be an evil witch, focused on power, conquest, and the evil use of magic. She made countless appearances in comic books and also some on television.

Then, I discovered Marion Zimmer Bradley’s “The Mists of Avalon”, and Morgan became Morgaine, Sister to King Arthur Son of a Hundred Kings, and a Priestess of the old religion. Like the witch Elphaba in “Wicked”, she became multi-dimensional in her story and likewise when applied to my personal growth and changing archetypes. I devoured that book and Bradley's other works hungrily, convinced the author experienced past life memories rather than simply creating fantasy. The stories were too rich. They resonated too strongly within me.

Morgan le Fay
by Anthony Frederick Sandy's

Morgaine is my favorite, the most meaningful, and the final “witch” in my Halloween Countdown. I also realize this is a personal posting that may not make much sense to you. She is special to me for many reasons, but for now, her mysteries include these messages:

Don’t let others steal your power. If you’re too hung up on how others feel about you, or too hung up on the past, you’re giving it all away.
The goddess is everywhere. When modern spirituality began to change, She didn’t disappear; she simply took a step back to let the nonsense play itself out.
Be aware of what lies behind the veil. Everything we perceive is subject to the lens we view it through.
Everyone is entitled to their point of view, their own voice. Anything less is a conscious or unconscious ploy for control.

Have a wonderful Halloween!

And now a few words from Mimi & Eunice ...

2011-10-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

STEEL CAGE

FIXING STUPID

LOOKING FOR PROBLEMS

DRAMA

TRIGGER

EVERYONE'S FAVORITE COPING MECHANISM

LET THEM GO

HALLOWEEN WITCH #5: Malificent of "Sleeping Beauty"

2011-10-30T10:27:00.000-07:00

Aside from Snow White’s “Evil Queen”, who is well known and very horrible, “Sleeping Beauty’s” Malificent is a 9.9 on Disney’s richter scale of evil. Contrary to popular belief, however, Malificent is not a witch but an evil faerie; on a par with the Fairy Godmother, only selfish, jealous, and narcissistic. She was the fairy that didn’t get invited to Princes Aurora’s christening and then got really, really pissed off about it.

Rather than go into a bunch of descriptive information that you can see for yourself in the video below, I’d like to take a look at this spectacular villain’s staying power.

First, she’s been in a number of movies, video games and novels since her first appearance in “Sleeping Beauty” fifty years ago in 1959. This is in addition to having a solid presence at Disney’s theme parks, where she appears in the night time spectacular “Fantasmic”, is on stage regularly and plays a strong lead in Halloween festivities.

At this time, Malificent is stepping into the mainstream and set to appear in ABC’s latest epic fantasy drama “Once Upon a Time” this Sunday night – tonight, in fact. Played by “True Blood’s” Kristen Bauer, she is supposed to make a single appearance as the Evil Queen’s nemesis, with rumors of a recurring role. What I’ve seen on line looks delicious.

Most surprising, however, is that Disney has a live action movie in development right now and scheduled for a 2013 release. Entitled aptly “Malificent”, rumor has it her Nefariousness will be played by Angelina Jolie. Fans in the know spend a lot of time speculating over who should play that role, as you can see below, as well. There are rumors that Tim Burton of “Alice in Wonderland” may direct, although I’ve also read that “Black Swan’s” Darren Aronofsky may do the deed. I’ve had enough of Tim Burton, thank you very much, so quite frankly having Helena Bonham Carter play Malificent is simply out of the question. I don’t know how I feel about Aronofsky. I saw “Black Swan” and was aptly impressed, but his use of CGI was subtle and his character’s descent into madness was somewhat understated. I don’t know if subtle and understated is what Malificent demands. Nor do I know if Aronofsky’s work delves deeply enough into pop-culture fantasy to follow her all the way into the depths of hell.

With only one more witch to salute by Halloween, which is tomorrow, let’s take a moment to savor the shapeshifting demoness Malificent.

Her message is this: The next time someone gets on your nerves, I mean REALLY gets on your nerves, don’t hesitate to transform into a giant dragon and pound the shit out of them. Just make sure you don’t trip and fall off a cliff when you’re doing it.

All rights to the creators of these videos.

HALLOWEEN WITCH COUNTDOWN #4: Snow White's Evil Queen

2011-10-28T19:13:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from Countdown #1: The Witch. There are big ones, small ones, fat ones, and tall ones. I've been called one, felt like one, and look like one frequently. I've cast spells like one, had 'em bounce back on me like one because I wasn’t doing it right, and felt regrets like one ... even if it's only regret for having my hair messed up by the open window in the van. In corporate, there were times when I had to act like one, so naturally when I got home I caught hell for being one because I couldn’t change gears quickly enough. I’m glad that isn’t a current issue. My friends wonder if I used to be one, and I have at least one hater out there who maintains the belief that I truly am a witch.

Oh please.

I firmly believe that deep down, every woman is a witch, in a kitchen-y/healing/intuitive kind of way (granted many women have simply forgotten this), and every witch is wise. I've done a number of artistic pieces reflecting that belief, as well. Like the tarot, witches and witchcraft inspire my art because categorically they peek into the mysteries of womanhood and strive to explain its secrets.

Writer’s Note: This is a re-re-worked version of a blogpost I wrote in 2008.

There is something inherently pathetic about a witch who won’t do her own dirty work. If you’re going to embrace the devil in your psyche, the least you can do is wield the poison apple yourself. This is the lesson learned by the Evil Queen in Disney’s “Snow White”, the subject of our Halloween Witch Countdown #4.

One may argue that The Evil Queen, also known as Queen Grimhilde, is not a witch, but a royal matriarch, and therefore is disqualified from this tribute. I would disagree with that. Any woman who is narcissistic enough to get hung up on her beauty, for example, or riches, or power, and then kill someone to protect it, should be elevated to witch status … um, evil witch status, that is. After all, every woman is a witch, and every witch is wise, right? Walt Disney certainly understood this. Glinda from “TheWizard of Oz”, as I’ve stated previously, was incurably annoying, but she was, most certainly, what we might consider a good witch. It is interesting to note that Queen Grimhilde, voiced by Lucille La Verne, was also Disney’s first “serious” villain in a full length feature, and has yet to be surpassed for excellence in sheer malignancy.

One must acknowledge the presence of OCD, or obsessive compulsive disorder, in most all of these evil women, as well. Cruella had to have a Dalmatian puppy coat. Trying to realize that desire in a number of nefarious ways finally did her in. The evil queen, Narcissa (what a name!) in Disney’s “Enchanted” had a thing for her stepson. I’d rather not analyze that too closely, thank you, and not just because he was a completely self-centered dolt whose teeth were way too big for his face. Yet, despite calling on her powers as a shape shifter and turning into a dragon just like Malificent (from “Sleeping Beauty”), who by all counts was an evil feary and not really a witch, she managed to be outdone by Love’s First Kiss, which is about as pathetic as it gets.

Disney’s Evil Queen is a regal bitch who probably started out as a scullery maid. She happened to be graced with good looks. Perhaps she got lucky enough to find the King alone in his office when, after a difficult day on the stock market, he needed a good blow job. She was happy to oblige, after which one might speculate it was her good looks that found him enamored of her, so much that he had his first wife tossed unceremoniously from a parapet. The king neglected to reveal that he had a daughter by his first wife, who was also lovely, although very young. She, of course, was quickly banished to the Kingdom’s projects, where she shacked up with seven little people, because, after all, there can be only one good looking bitch in the castle. These little people took advantage of Snow White for house cleaning services and singing with woodland creatures when they weren’t in the diamond mines slaving for the precious gems upon which the Kingdom’s failing economy was based. Before too long, the Kingdom would be forced to purchase those precious gems from other countries such as Far, Far Away, and the seven little homeys would have no choice but to work at Kingdom-Mart, where they would be fired if they were caught whistling on the job. In fact, it was this crash in the market that drove the King to his own death shortly after being married.

What made Grimhilde, now the reigning matriarch in the kingdom, so darn special was that she could read crystal balls. Some women are just born gifted, I guess. Soon, scrying became her chosen tool of divination, and she used it to find and promptly dispose of other young, lovely and nubile ladies in the realm. Nobody knows why she ended up with that annoying Magic Mirror, but it was he who couldn’t keep his big trap shut when the banished princess got old enough to be competition. Maybe one of the little people, thrust into a personal alcoholic hell after losing his job, couldn’t keep HIS big trap shut in the local pub. After all, he couldn’t get any insurance at Kingdom-Mart and so his addiction was never treated.

Anyhow, The Evil Queen sent a Huntsman to kill the princess, and demanded her heart be returned in a pretty little box. I just love little boxes. She threatened the Huntsman with death if he failed. Naturally, he did, and if that wasn’t enough, he tried to deceive her, as well, because he needed his job desperately providing that you just can’t find good help these days. The Evil Queen, an alchemist at heart, descended into her dungeon laboratory, where she drank polyjuice to look like the old woman who worked in the Castle’s laundry.

The rest is history.

The fact that the Evil Queen sacrificed the very thing she coveted to get what she wanted, her beauty, is what perplexes me the most. It is, however, a testament to the severity of her OCD, which is undoubtedly what she would blame if she were arrested for premeditated murder and put on trial. She wasn’t, of course. People in true power, no matter what time in history, can get away with raping the country they live in, and having others killed for the sake of convenience. This, after all, is fact and can be seen time and time again on the internet (however, now in mainstream media).

The moral of this story, if there is such a thing, is two-fold. First, let’s acknowledge that the Kingdom did not have a decent plastic surgeon. If it did, the Evil Queen would never have bothered with the Magic Mirror and the whole crises could’ve been averted. Second is the age old axiom, if you want a job done well, you have to do it yourself.

Pretty box or no, if Grimhilde wanted Snow White killed, she should’ve put aside her class bigotry and racism and ventured into the projects to do it herself to begin with.

WITCH COUNT #3: The Scarlet Witch

2011-10-28T09:19:00.000-07:00

I’ve had an adult crush on The Scarlett Witch for a little over 10 years. I wasn’t focused on her as a kid, but as I grew up, something about her looks and powers attracted me. It might just be a fantasy about wearing the red spandex. I’m pretty sure as comic books go, she’s one of the few if not the only mainstream or primary Marvel character that is a good witch. So why the Scarlet Witch won't be in the new Avenger's movie rather than the Black Widow (boring) is beyond me.

I identify with Wanda Maximoff aka The Scarlet Witch, number 3 in my countdown to Halloween, because she’s been through so many iterations during her life and career. I went through many iterations before figuring out who I was, too. It was like the writers and artists had a hard time settling on the details around what made Wanda special. Wanda has the ability to manipulate probability, which I think is pretty damn cool. But they dorked around with the origin of her powers, the breadth of her powers, what kind of magic she wielded, and the level of control she exercised over them the whole time she was in print. Nobody screwed around with Wonder Woman. She was who she was right from the start, more or less. Nobody dared screw with her mythos either (until recently and WTF? is that about, anyhow).

I think manipulating probability would be incredibly awesome, not just at a Black Jack table in Vegas, but also in daily life. All chattering about destiny and synchronicity aside, a significant portion of life seems random to me (being in the right place at the right time and all that), so manipulating probability seems the perfect way to stack the deck just a wee bit more in one’s favor, right?

Initially, Wanda’s hexes were short rage and limited to her line of sight, which is totally metaphorical. The ability to affect change in our lives, particularly when we’re younger, might be limited to those things we think we can see clearly or understand. It also implies a desire to control our lives, particularly when we’ve had rough beginnings and need to heal, like I did. Wanda’s hexes were unconscious for a time, and now and again they backfired. This is so me, as well. As a young adult, many of my reactions were unconscious, and much of what I thought I had under control backfired. Then I learned how to respond, rather than react all the time, which was life altering.

The writer’s introduced Chaos Magic “a form of magic so dreaded and horrific that all of Earth’s sorcerers made a pact …” … sounds pretty gross, doesn’t it? The entire world is made of chaos magic, folks. It’s called CURRENT EVENTS and, man, it’s happening right now. The Janese earthquake, Joplin tornados, the recent and on-going stock market uncertainty, the latest depression, the mortgage foreclosure crisis, unemployment, cancer, HIV, hunger. There has got to be some nasty super villain out there fucking everything up! We need a superhero now more than ever. We Americans don’t call upon Laxmi or Ganesh. We call upon Superman and Batman to save the day! Maybe that’s why the current rush of superhero movies is doing so well. We need “The AVENGERS!” If that isn’t chaos magic, I don’t know what is.

In the end, the writers decided that Wanda’s powers were a combination of her mutant ability to affect probability and Chaos Magic. Not too far after that, she became almost omniscient in the ability to utilize endless possibilities. And so this is where I’d like to leave it … with endless possibilities.

In this life we are walking through chaos wielding our own form of personal magic, which for me is creativity. It doesn’t matter if it’s making art or writing. Creativity is the weapon I have against this changing and often frightening world. It’s how I keep from being overwhelmed. It’s how I attempt to stack the deck in my favor.

Ask yourself if your creations are “powerful enough to alter reality”, “rewrite the entire universe” or “cause multiverse-threatening ripples”.

I don’t think we need the power to warp reality. It’s warped enough already.

We only need endless possibilities.

Such is the power of the Scarlet Witch.

Source.

WITCH COUNTDOWN #2: Endora from "Bewitched"

2011-10-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

Imagine this. You’re an ageless but mature beauty, an immortal in fact, not tethered to the physical world. You come and go at will and in a clap of thunder, riding the winds of high drama and high fashion like an expert. You are effortless and free, without suffering even one hair out of place. You’re more fabulous than Bette Davis, more dramatic than Joan Crawford (even your eyebrows are superior), and you make Shirley MacLaine’s past lives seem mundane. You are a classic renaissance woman, irreverent and self-possessed, and you wield the power of the gods with a wave of your hand.

You have one problem.

Your only daughter, the light of your life and heir to your magical legacy, married a chimpanzee. She adores this chimpanzee and insists on living with him. Nothing you say or do will deter her.

If you were Endora, from the series “Bewitched”, you might certainly see circumstances this way. She absolutely loathed mortals, so why wouldn’t she consider Derwood an ape?

Endora is the second witch in my Halloween countdown and one of my absolute favorites. Why? Because beneath that scathing and caustic demeanor and that fabulous sense of style, there beats a good heart. It’s true. She cast a number of charms on Derwood, including one that made everyone hate him and one that gave him an unfailing memory. She also hexed her fair share of business deals. In fact, she did everything possible to undermine her daughter’s marriage, but she never really hurt the blundering jerk.

Endora didn’t send Dum-Dum to the moon or to purgatory. She never zapped Dustin into the gaping jaws of a tyrannosaurus rex or a hungry great white shark. She didn’t put him in the path of a runaway train or the under the tires of a Cadillac.

No.

Beneath the flamboyance and indignation, Endora wanted her daughter to be happy.

WITCH COUNTDOWN #1: The Wicked Witch of the West

2011-10-26T12:10:00.000-07:00

I almost let Halloween drift by without paying tribute to one of my favorite iconic characters.

The Witch.

There are big ones, small ones, fat ones, and tall ones. I've been called one, felt like one, and look like one frequently. I've cast spells like one, had 'em bounce back on me like one because I wasn’t doing it right, and felt regrets like one ... even if it's only regret for having my hair messed up by the open window in the van. In corporate, there were times when I had to act like one, so naturally when I got home I caught hell for being one because I couldn’t change gears quickly enough. I’m glad that isn’t a current issue. My friends wonder if I used to be one, and I have at least one hater out there who maintains the belief that I truly am a witch.

Looking beyond the word's negative stigma, I firmly believe that deep down, every woman is a witch, in a kitchen-y/healing/intuitive kind of way (granted many women have simply forgotten this), and every witch is wise. I've done a number of artistic pieces reflecting that belief, as well. Like the tarot, witches and witchcraft inspire my art because categorically they peek into the mysteries of womanhood and strive to explain its secrets.

So, with that introduction, I'll begin the Sapphokinesis Halloween Countown right here with one of my all-time favorite witches. Ponder The Wicked Witch of the West from the acclaimed “Wizard of Oz”.

At first, this Evil Tyrant of the Silver Screen seems to be a one dimensional, monochromatic parody of evil. She was perpetually doomed to play second fiddle to the effervescent Glinda, who will forever reign as a gay icon. I mean, you can't walk down the Castro in San Francisco without seeing Glinda's condescending smile beaming down at you from a greeting card. If you’ve seen Kristin Chenowith perform recently on television, you know what I mean. Then, author Gregory McGuire helped us get to know The Witch in his book, "Wicked". Once that became a broadway musical, The Witch got a name. Elphaba and her personal mythos became an icon shortly thereafter, and that iconic status reverberates frequently in the newest crop of musical draemedies, like “Glee”. The song “Defying Gravity” is an anthem for emerging personalities everywhere. It was an anthem for me.

She was a modern woman, this witch, who was unable to recover from a broken heart. When she got hung up on the wrong thing so intently that she tortured pathetic Dorothy over it, she simply couldn't swing back.

And what was it she got hung up on? Booze, drugs or sex? No. It wasn't even a man.

It was shoes.

A pair of ruby slippers.

Hilary Parry: The Girl Next Door Who Reads Tarot

2011-10-14T09:19:00.000-07:00

I’ve been read by many tarot card readers, and I’ve had all sorts of readings. I’ve had very, very bad readings, and I’ve had some good readings, too. Even some wonderful ones. So my experience and discernment ensures I identify and focus my energy on readers who are in touch with good ethics and professionalism.

I read the cards myself, but have done so only once for another person in the last few years. I use the cards as tools of personal query and spiritual discovery, and they are extremely inspirational to my work and creativity.

I am connected to a group of tarot readers on-line. These are tarot professionals who take their work seriously. They do professional readings, they charge for their time and effort, and they have a client base. They meet about the tarot, present on the tarot, and in many cases write about the tarot on–line and in published works. They make it a point to attend tarot symposiums like RS11 and SFBATS, for example, to make connections and to congregate with people of a like mind. They all have a solid presence on Facebook, Twitter, and now Google+. Theresa Reed, The Tarot Lady of Milwaukee, is one of these women. I bumped into Hilary Parry on-line after she became Theresa Reed’s tarot mentee, and Theresa promoted her work. I had no qualms about Hilary’s ethics given the company she keeps.

Heeding the call of her heart much like I do with my art, Hilary Parry has just launched her own professional tarot business. And as part of her promotional introduction, I was fortunate enough to get a free reading that consisted of two questions.

Our interaction was entirely over the computer, so I put my questions in a message. Hilary provided the readings back to me the same way. Given that she and I have never met and have never talked on the phone, I was very impressed with the precision of her work. Her interpretations of the cards in answer to my queries were not just spot on, but deep and multi-dimensional. Hilary gleaned the most profound layers, the unseen gems, of the reading and brought them intuitively to the forefront. This is the profound difference between a “reader” who relies on definitions and established symbolism, regurgitating already published information, and a gifted intuitive. The intuitive uses her gifts to weave the truest and most pertinent meaning of the cards into a metaphysical tapestry, and then communicates or articulates her discoveries in a way that is understandable to the querent.

I highly recommend Hilary’s services.

You can find Hilary at tarotbyhilary.com and on Facebook.

You can find Theresa Reed at thetarotlady.com and on Facebook. Theresa is currently redesigning her website, and as soon as she launches, I'll add a link to the side bar here.

2011 MEMBER'S EXHIBITION

2011-09-24T20:53:00.000-07:00

SUMMER RECAP or THE HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS ARE UP AT WALGREEN'S AND I'M STILL UNEMPLOYED

2011-09-07T10:14:00.001-07:00

It’s already September. Summer is almost completely past, and my thoughts drift to the holidays. I hit the job search zealously daily with Leslie’s help, as she’s got a keen eye and finds job listings I somehow miss. I’m sending as many appropriate resumes as I possibly can, and there are at least three a week that would’ve been a sure hit just seven years ago. My qualifications haven’t changed; in fact, they’ve gotten better. But, boy, the job market sure is different.

Leslie and I had an adjustment to make over the summer. There is little we can do to change our situation that we aren’t already doing, and it can be very frustrating. So, this is a lesson in waiting, like what I went through for a year and a half in the office before I was let go, and getting accustomed to it is a process. We get weary of the relentless media coverage (sewage) – lowest jobless rate ever, lousy housing market, international unrest, weather calamities and the worse economy in 70 years --- but, HELL NO, we’re not in a depression! Over the weekend, Leslie and I stopped into Borders at the mall. It is five days away from shutting down nationally, and everything, including fixtures, was marked up to 80 percent off. We were looking for a card rack for our art booth, but I left there feeling nauseous. It was as though I’d witnessed the dismantling of the publishing industry, and it was simultaneously symbolic of all other hardships. What isn’t falling apart is being picked apart. Yet, despite the ongoing barrage of destruction and sadness (recently punctuated by the 10 year anniversary of September 11), our family remains very close, communicating, and pinching pennies like nobody’s business.

Elizabeth has settled happily into high school right here in town. She’s thrilled with its proximity to the house and has already had friends over. This changed Leslie’s routine dramatically, however. Her entire day revolved around pick-ups and drop offs, and she’s had to get used to being less of a rolling stone. We’re also saving a boat load of cash in less gas consumption.

Our sizable collection of comics and action figures has come in very handy. I’m also excited about my big art show coming in November. I’ve got two holiday boutiques happening in November, as well. I want to write a book and lately have a feeling of urgency for this I didn’t have previously. Leslie’s creative side manifests in the kitchen, which everybody is happy about. She’s perfected many of her recipes, having time in the day to work with them, and so we are eating good, fresh food and wonderfully tasty delights regularly. These are all activities we didn’t have time for when I was working.

If you recall, we lost our Golden Retriever (Jack) in May. Shortly thereafter, Teddy (half beagle, half wire hair terrier) joined our family. He has doubled in size, and his presence has changed Daizy’s role in “the pack” significantly. She takes her responsibility to family security more seriously than ever. She’s protective at the dog park, in the car, and at the front door, and all of this can be problematic. Teddy’s puppy-like nature is contagious, however, and he and Daizy have a lot of fun which, on an average day, means a lot of noise, so we make frequent trips to the dog park. Recently they’ve worked together to solve problems like how to break out of the back gate, how to efficiently dissect a roll of toilet paper while spreading it around as much of the living room as possible, and their favorite activity which is passive aggressive tag team pan handling (she’s passive, he’s aggressive). They are both highly competitive yet still affectionate, which to me implies they’ve accepted one another as siblings. Leslie tells me there is another Golden Retriever in our future. Oh my.

I know what got me all introspective. Yesterday, Leslie and I went to the Laundromat. It’s been years since we’ve done more than a few blankets there. We found one in town that has new, super-efficient machines that get everything really clean. So, we brought a full week’s laundry, had a lot of fun juggling quarters, and reveled in the memories. We’ve been together for 27 years, and at the start, had to use the coin laundry in the Avenues regularly. There, we competed with a full house of busy San Franciscans for the use of machines, and it helped to be a linebacker. Nobody works a Laundromat like my Leslie. We’ve been through so much together since then. This latest period is just another chapter; a lesson in patience, frugality, and family harmony.

All the Halloween decorations have been up at Walgreen’s for two weeks, and I’ve been unemployed for six solid months. When this respite is over, I want to be confident we used the extra time well and creatively.

Have a lovely Autumn!

CAN ELEPHANT GIRLS FLY? Reflections Inspired by Jane Devin's Memoir

2011-09-01T11:55:00.000-07:00

CAUTION: SPOILER ALERT!

Jane Devin and I have orbited one another’s outer blogosphere since I started blogging in 2008. Her writing and the issues she tackles give me pause. I started reading her memoir, “Elephant Girl”, a few days ago and was immediately captivated. In the first five pages, I wondered who Clyde was, and within seven, I was shocked, uncomfortable and completely locked in. Half way through, I was summarizing it for Leslie, who asked “what’s happening?” every time I picked it up. So, I read passages out loud frequently.

I know Jane as well as you can know anyone on the internet. She is full of strong opinions, launches fearless dissertations on heavy duty topics, and is outgoing about her disdain of faith based spirituality or new age mysticism. Crazy parents, brutality, and the cycle of poverty are rendered personal by her blogposts, but it never occurred to me that most of what she wrote was based on first-hand experience. I thought perhaps she was an expert on the topic of childhood sexual abuse. I was shocked and heartbroken to read the truth.

I am impressed by Jane’s willingness to be transparent. In her book, she reveals innermost fears, insecurities, and hopes. She owns them despite their crushing weight, and then spends considerable time expressing frustration and even despondency when life goes awry. Perhaps she exercises her demons this way, which is what I do in my artwork from time to time. Jane writes that more than anything she is afraid to lose her strength, the ability to bear that enormous burden without breaking. She acknowledges constantly stretched thresholds of stress. In fact, that is what the title “Elephant Girl” is about; remaining unbroken in the face of relentless adversity.

In my perspective, seen through a lens of both faith-based spirituality and new age mysticism, Jane is the quintessential Aries woman. She is fiercely independent, but also needful, highly opinionated but still impressionable, outspoken yet suffering from either a case of uniquely horrible timing or being completely tongue tied at the worse possible moments. This duality is a spot on Aries quality. My daughter is an Aries, and I’ve had numerous close friends of the same sign. They can be brilliant, self-possessed and insufferable, but more than anything they must live their truth. Who they are can by no means be compromised. To do so would have dire personal consequences. In a world where people pick and choose their delusion du jour, this is problematic.

In her book, Jane rails against bad things happening to those innocents lying in the path of destruction. I can’t escape the suspicion that they (we) are pawns in some ridiculous Asgardian game of chess. Somewhere out there, I’m convinced, the gods are laughing at our misfortune. Perhaps that’s why I cling to my beliefs the way I do. Personally defined ideals of reincarnation, karma, and the benefits of maintaining a positive attitude are infinitely better than the alternative, which to me is simply unacceptable. I spent young adulthood completely pissed off because I wasn’t strong enough to deal with sadness. I wasn’t ready to peer into that bottomless pit. Jane, on the other hand, puts on night goggles to take a long, piercing look at the darkness, and then writes about what she finds there.

MJ's behavior in the book has me thinking about mothers. My mother was neglectful and finally completely absent, but I know mothers who suffered from grave mental illness. So what was MJ? I just don't know, but I find myself pondering the gulf between mental illness and sociopathic behavior. Mental illness by definition implies something broken that can be repaired. Sociopaths (not autistic or handicapped individuals) have remorseless fits of violence against others for no particular reason. The propensity for cruelty is etched within them. Some people are born without sight or a limb and others without a conscience or empathy. Sociopaths function well in the framework of society and have enough on the ball to be secretive about their behavior. Think of Scott Peterson, who I’m certain is thriving in prison. Concurrently, one of the first symptoms of true mental illness is a loss of perspective, the inability to view how your behavior is perceived by others. Sociopaths know they are different and cover themselves up in order to satisfy predatory needs.

One might ascertain that the elephant is Jane’s spiritual animal or totem. She dreams about them, empathizes with them, and they often appear to her in the mundane world. In the Hindu culture, the elephant God Ganesha is the remover of obstacles, and I have no doubt plenty of obstacles were removed in the publishing of this memoir.

Growing up, I was more cheetah than elephant. I was born in the year of the tiger. I seemed prone to sudden fits of activity, followed by necessary rest. I was capable of extended hissy fits, but also a great, rumbling type of purring. I was burdened with claws that wouldn’t retract, and I had an awful lot of personal baggage, not unlike a cheetah dragging it’s freshly killed gazelle up a tree. I’m glad I didn’t have a child before I was ready, because I’m quite selfish. If I had a baby in my early 20’s, I worry I would have repeated my mother’s magic disappearing act instead of learning about compassion and nurturing from my family. Truth to tell, I’ve always been restless. Now, approaching fifty, I feel more like a dragon. I am bristly, hot headed, prone to grand flights of fancy, but no longer burdened so I am capable of flight. I have confronted and come to terms with my sadness. However, in a world that is almost too painful to endure, I am willingly tethered to Leslie like a balloon. She holds my ribbon, and her earthbound energy keeps me from floating away.

Despite having spent much of her life feeling inferior, inadequate or somehow to blame, I believe Jane found her worthiness. Finding mine is what saved me. Perhaps the lengthy struggle with pernicious anemia, being gravely ill for so long, caused Unworthy Jane’s demise. Maybe the Jane who was repeatedly snagged in the web of careless people was sloughed off like dead skin, the seeds of self-loathing planted by perilous childhood snakes, lightning bolts and shadow burned away, leaving only rich fertile soil where Genuine Jane could then grow.

And grow she did.

Jane emerged decisively as the woman who put the blood, sweat and tears into this memoir, which is no small feat. Only someone with the strength of an elephant could pull that off.

Somewhere along the way, the bell rang and Jane earned her wings. Emerging like a phoenix from the ashes of pernicious anemia and plans of suicide, she hit the road to prove that Elephant girls really can fly.

***************

Purchase the Kindle version here.

Purchase the paperback book on Amazon here.

Learn how you can support Jane's book tour here.

"Like" Jane's memoir here.

Visit Jane's website here.

Follow Jane on Twitter here.
The illustrations above are mine, all rights reserved.

****************

There is no doubt ... Elephant girls can fly.

I'M NOT READY FOR HIGH SCHOOL

2011-08-17T11:51:00.000-07:00

Today is Elizabeth’s first day of high school, and for the first time in our family’s history, she doesn’t’ have to be driven there. I can’t count the number of times Leslie has drive up and down the El Camino since Kindergarten. In fact, it was only 10 years ago when I took a photo of our “baby” in her Hilldale uniform, oversize backpack at her feet and grinning like the Cheshire cat, on the morning of her first day in 2001.

It’s been six months since the commencement of my involuntary sabbatical. Six months! I feel that I’ve made good use of the time, but I can’t escape the sense that the clock is ticking. I really don’t want to return to Corporate, but I need to work. So, I hit the computer every morning looking for a job. Leslie and I do it together, as she has an uncanny ability to find opportunities I overlook. I’ve had a number of phone interviews, and a few face to face, but it’s challenging out there.

The ginormous collection of comic books and action figures I’ve dragged from one side of the United States to the other has been a boon. I’m glad to be an obsessive collector, and equally happy that I am willing to let these treasures go when it matters most. What if I was a hoarder?

Leslie has made a grand adjustment to my constant presence, as well as all my clutter, my artistic crap, and my gregarious opinions and commentary. We had a rough patch or two, but things have become harmonious again. I’m thankful for that.

Everything the media says about how economic difficulties affect our children is true. Elizabeth is quite concerned and asks difficult questions like “Will we be homeless?” We explain everything to her in understandable terms and without completely freaking her out. She’s been remarkably resilient and has worked very hard alongside us on various projects. But no, we don’t expect to be homeless … ever.

While this has been an intense summer for all us, the last week was really tough for Elizabeth. Her feelings got hurt as friends from Middle School seem to move on without her. They made plans to go to the mall, apparently oblivious to the fact that all their conversations on Facebook are completely transparent. She worries about where she’ll fit in at school. She’s been so preoccupied that she overshot a step coming down the stairs a few nights ago, fell down four stairs, landed awkwardly on one foot, and slammed her chin on the cabinet at the foot of the stairs on the way down. The cabinet was heaped with clothes purely by chance and so her chin hit ample padding instead of rock hard wood. I experienced a moment of sheer panic when I thought her jaw was broken, but we iced everything right away. When she woke up the next day, I was braced for the worse, but she only had a bit of knee pain and no swelling anywhere. I consider that a close call.

The summer has been difficult in a lot of ways, but as usual every dark cloud has a silver lining. We lost Jack our Golden Retriever in May, but got Teddy shortly thereafter. Jack was a painfully handsome, strong silent type, and Teddy is short, fuzzy and funny. Daizy has become a different dog since losing Jack, as if his absence has forced her maturity. I lost my grandmother not too long after that, and while I grieved for her, she was ancient, very sick, and ready to move on to her soul’s next adventure. Leslie has become closer with her niece Tami, as well.

Let’s see, what else has happened …

London had rioting. The stock market dipped lower than ever, and people lost portions of their 401K. I suppose it’s a good thing that many had already cashed out to pick up the slack in unemployment. The media has referred to this period as a recession, when in fact we’ve been in a depression since 2008. The president even went on national television threatening to withhold social security payments, as if we didn’t have enough to worry about. What was he thinking?

This feels like being in the movie “Goodfellas”, and Leslie and I are the wise guys in prison for a while. We’ve got plenty of time to cook spectacularly creative dishes, and we’re making the most out of sidebar opportunities, but we’re completely on our own. There are no relatives helping us financially, and no friends with extra cash to toss around. People have their own responsibilities and obligations; and in fact, many people we know are in the same precarious situation.

We remain here with our fragile pride and beat up egos, thrust unceremoniously through constant change of the most personal variety. It is our duty to grow and change for the better within the fabric of our lives no matter how challenging doing so becomes. Anything less, like wallowing in misery or raging at the injustice of it all, would not only be pointless, but would leave an indelibly negative mark on our daughter’s fragile growth at an important time in her life. And so we hang in there, even if it takes some pushing and pulling between us to establish the harmony we’re used to.

I wonder if this even compares to what our daughter Elizabeth is dealing with now on her first day of high school. How does this compare to her search for a bosom friend, her first real boyfriend, or even her first kiss.

I can handle unemployment. I can even handle the world going to hell in a hand basket.

But high school?

I don’t think I’m ready for high school.

HOW I WRITE

2011-07-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

I described my writing process to our daughter Elizabeth, and this is how she interpreted it. It's called "How Nana Writes". She calls me Nana and has called me that since she was less than a year old. Leslie is Momma, and I'm Nana (pronounced Nonna, which rhymes with Donna). This is how I write.

REMEMBERING THE BIG RED DOG

2011-07-17T20:17:00.000-07:00

Read our tribute to Jack here.

HONORING THE MUSE

2011-07-02T19:27:00.000-07:00

It’s just a day and a half away from our Fourth of July event, and I am deeply embroiled in all the activities that make me happy. I’m hot gluing rocks and jars, tweaking captured faeries, and putting finishing touches on signs and framed art. All of this is the product of our family’s creativity. Some of Elizabeth’s crafts will be for sale, and none of it would happen without Leslie’s ceaseless support.

Over the last few days, we’ve had good fortune on the art front. I was chosen to participate in the prestigious “Celebration of Craftswomen” event in November, which is held at Fort Mason in San Francisco. There are a total of 200 artisans in its entirety, and I was one of the new artists picked out of thousands of emerging artist entries (according to the woman who organizes the event). I feel like this puts my art on the map and empowers me to call myself an artist. I remember hoping I’d have the confidence to seriously pursue this only a year or so ago.

I also joined the Art Guild of Pacifica, which is my way of supporting art in my community. They’ve got the Craftswomen event listed on their site, and I hope to participate in their upcoming member’s exhibit in the Fall. I’ve started to feel quite at home here in the lovely coastal town of Pacifica.

All of this good fortune in creativity makes me ponder the muse. I am thankful for inspiration in my life, but I know it stems from somewhere else, someplace ephemeral. There continues to be a special someone or something who ruffles my feathers enough to rouse the feelings I need to begin and complete each artistic journey. In fact, most of my recent work happened once we returned from Connecticut three years ago; at which point I was unburdened from detrimental relationships and friendships, old emotional baggage rooted in the past, once and for all. Then, I got settled back in the Bay Area and encountered people and circumstances that lit my spark again. All of my recent full color pen and ink work emerged from that small flame.

So, I dedicate the event on the Fourth of July to my persistent muse … the spirit of my creativity, the inspiration I find daily, and the place she's held fast in my heart.

Thank you, dear heart, my darling muse for lighting the spark of my creativity.

I yearn for your kiss of inspiration again and again.

Fourth of July at Leo J. Ryan Park, Foster City

2011-06-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

Come visit our booth on

Monday, July 4, 2011
at

Leo J. Ryan Park

Foster City

FOURTH OF JULY
FESTIVAL

COYOTE MAGIC

2011-06-21T13:54:00.000-07:00

Coyotes are everywhere it seems gracing us with their symbolism and magic. I see them, I hear them, and so do my closest and most special friends. So, I did a little research and found this wonderful article on said topic ... all rights reserved by the author and the photo is from The Daily Coyote.

Coyote, Power Animal, Symbol of Wisdom, Family Orientation, Illumination

By Ina Woolcott

Coyote's medicine includes understanding that all things are sacred and that yet nothing is sacred, teaching us that only when all masks have fallen will we connect with the source, illumination, stealth, intelligence, singing humans into being, childhood trust in truth, teaching us how to raise our young, they bring rain, give one the ability to laugh at one’s own mistakes, placing the North Star, shape-shifting, teaching balance between risk and safety, trickster, devilment, cunning, wisdom, folly.

Amongst some native tribes, coyote is referred to as the trickster and there are many tales about the coyote. They are known as the great one and the foolish one - they don’t consciously try and trick us, rather they reflect back to us our own capacity for being clever and stupidity.

When we are being too serious about life, Coyote may appear to teach us to laugh at ourselves and life’s ironies. Be prepared for your sense of humour to arise in full force in line with what is happening around you and to you. They also remind us that whatever we do to others will be done to us. You get back what you give out…

The Coyote teaches how wisdom and folly go together. In others mistakes we see our own foolishness and can learn from their mistakes.

The coyote’s energy is linked to simplicity and trust, spurring renewed innocence and a childlike wisdom in the world. Coyote's howl touches your soul, reminding you of your primal connections. People with this power animal adapt easily to new situations. They also usually have close families, especially when children are involved. Coyotes normally mate for life. They reside in the sides of hills or in underground dens where their family is pretty much safe. Coyote people will sometimes go to extremes to protect and nurture family members. Sharp cutting words that hurt another should be avoided. Energy bursts are common if this is your power animal, balanced action is necessary for overall well being. Coyote medicine people often put other peoples needs before their own - remember to give to yourself equally.

Although they prefer open grassland and thinly wooded brush, they are able to adapt to almost any environment. This means that they have been able to survive and flourish, growing in numbers - in spite of humans interference who for a long time have been trying to wipe out coyotes by trapping, shooting or poisoning them. Condors and other birds have instead almost become extinct from eating poisoned meat! When hunting prey, the coyotes don’t use speed, but rather they pounce and snap their jaws.

If coyote enters your life, you must look at something you have been avoiding. They are mirrors for the lessons we must learn so we are able to walk a good sacred road. The mirror will be held up incessantly until we finally get the picture.

Like coyote, we can either work with others to get what we want, or we can dive into a lake to catch a reflection. We can dispel troubles or invite them carelessly.

If you are stuck in a rut, call on coyote as an ally for negotiation. Or be grateful that he showed you a trap that you are caught in, or a way that you are fooling yourself. Powerful teachers when it comes to relationships coyotes are, as it is when we are in a relationship that we often fool ourselves the most. Coyote is not out to get us, but to teach us, whether we are willing students or not.

source

Elizabeth is Artemis

2011-06-19T19:54:00.000-07:00

We took Elizabeth to San Francisco Archers today to participate in their community outreach program. She was there earlier in the week with her Happy Hall campers and really liked it. It's very awesome and empowering. I couldn't help but see Artemis, the Maiden Goddess of the Hunt, in my daughter each time she pulled the string!

When Telling Turns Out Alright

2011-06-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

Read the first part of this family story here.

Last Sunday night was one of those nights when things happen for a reason. Remember that post I did over a week ago about Elizabeth’s friend who threatened to commit suicide? We were eating in one of our favorite restaurants tonight and this very girl and her family were there, as well. Talk about serendipity. We almost went to another place instead. We were all at 8^th grade graduation, and I even saw this girl at the 8^th grade dance afterward. There were plenty of chances to bump into her parents, but we didn’t bump into anyone. Last night her mom came over to speak with us, and we shared a really heartfelt conversation.

The little girl is doing well, but it was a close call. She was in observation for 72 hours and has received a diagnosis. But the good news is that her family is tightly knit, is supporting her and things are going well. Leslie and I were both really happy to hear that. Everybody shared a big hug, and the little girl came and hugged me too ... which was nice.

It was nice to have it all come full circle.

What's Coming Up Next?

2011-06-13T19:41:00.000-07:00

I’m really excited about this summer. I’ve had the time to focus on my art at long last and I am definitely making the most of it.

I’ve entered three separate competitions and/or juried events including the “Figures & Faces” call for entries at the Pacific Art League, and the “My Art Contest 2011 Fantasy Art” competition on line. I’m also excited to place an entry into the 33^rd Annual Celebration of Craftswomen, which will be at Fort Mason Center on November 11 through 13. Celebration of Craftswomen is also a juried show and San Francisco’s largest women’s fine crafts retail fair with approximately 200 participating artists. It is the only show in Northern California exclusively for women artists, as well.

Leslie and I will have a booth at the 2011 Foster City Fourth of July Festival (the only fireworks left on the Peninsula) and we’ll present original, framed works of art, prints, cards, and my privately owned collection of classic comic books and collectibles. I’m also going to focus on my custom gifts here, and with any luck we’ll muster a client or two. We hope to be at San Rafael’s Food & Wine Festival on August 13 (more on that soon) and possibly the Castro Street Fair in San Francisco on October 2. Acceptance would be simply awesome! I'll have more information on all events as arrangements firm up.

Finally, after talking about for a long time, look for original framed works of art, original cards and more in our brand new etsy store. We’re adding things on a regular basis and invite you to take a look. As always, prints can be purchased at www.donnalouisefaber.com (see the Galleries) and in my Redbubble shop, but if you want a custom framed original work of art, etsy is the place to go. You can also contact me directly for original art, custom tattoos or a commissioned piece.

I hope we see you at some point over the summer! I’m just so excited about everything!

Keep creating!

D❤

Change is like Puppy Poop

2011-06-10T13:23:00.000-07:00

I woke up to the world about fifteen years ago and stopped reacting and began responding instead. Suddenly, my heart was plugged in where once it was held back for safe keeping. It was a primarily spiritual awakening, but it was emotional, too, as I’m convinced that our spiritual and emotional bodies are intrinsically linked. I began to notice the repeated presence of certain animals almost immediately and gradually I realized each had symbolic and personal meaning.

We had a macaw from 2002 to 2005. He was a beautiful bird, had lots of personality and was very deep emotionally. He was also an intense task master who demanded my full attention. When I strayed, he bit me. Have you ever been bitten by a macaw? It’s extremely painful. His name was General, and he was one of my greatest teachers. From then on, I saw birds everywhere.

Wild parrots, a sign of the Goddess, are all over San Francisco. I bumped into them frequently near the Embarcaderos where they took over a local park and on Dolores Street where they’d invaded palm trees. They were all over Connecticut, too, nesting in telephone poles and causing all sorts of trouble. Hawks frequently circle the mountains near our home, and I can hear them vocalizing when I walk the dogs. Great Blue Herons have been a personal spiritual signpost since I saw my first in the year 2000. They affirm I am right where I should be. While we lived in Connecticut, I worked on an enormous 1,500 person pharmaceutical campus in Wallingford, and every day on the way in, a Great Blue heron stood in the pond assuring me that even though I didn’t like being there, I was there for a reason. Here, I was gifted with very special time with my grandmother. Symbolically, birds are a sign of the intellect or thoughts, and they remind us to be watchful, particularly hawks with their visual acuity. I believe they want to put us in touch with our blessings.

Dogs, on the other hand, are all feeling. They understand the world through their nose, but they feel and communicate with their heart. Jack, our Golden Retriever, was a very direct communicator, and when he needed to go out for a walk, he made direct eye contact with me and wouldn’t let up until I put my shoes on. Daizy, our Boston Terrier, is quite cerebral, and when she wants something, like more food, she points to it with her nose. Of course, we saw the depth of her heart when she grieved over losing Jack, who recently passed away. Teddy, the new puppy, is learning very quickly and uses his eyes, nose, paws, voice, and other bodily functions to communicate his needs quite effectively. He’s got all bases covered.

A few night ago, as we drove homeward on highway 101 down the hill into Pacifica, I saw a coyote. It was standing atop a bluff silhouetted by the dusk sky. I hear plenty of coyotes singing at night, but I’ve never seen one. This was clear as day, however, and it caught my eye immediately.

The coyote is considered a trickster by native americans. He reminds us to tackle life’s challenges with a sense of humor, much like the Devil card in the tarot’s major arcana. Some believe he brings shifts of balance and consequently an ending somewhere, representing the natural cycle of life and death.

The next morning, my grandmother passed away in her sleep. In the 10 years she was in convalescent care, she fought raging UTI infections and sepsis, hallucinations brought on by powerful antibiotics, and increasingly intense dementia. She’d returned from death’s door more times than I can count, but she left this world with little fanfare or drama. Her heart simply stopped as she slept, and she departed quietly and peacefully in the night. Thelma’s death wasn’t unexpected, but it shifts the balance in my life a number of ways by closing the door on the past, yet urging me to remember how she helped me when I was a child. It puts me poignantly in touch with my gratitude.

Thelma’s obituary was posted on line and whoever wrote it rendered her grandchildren (my brothers and I) anonymous despite our having played a major role in her later life. There is a lot of water under that bridge. Floods. I found this incredibly irritating and most hurtful, and I started to get hung up on it.

While walking the dogs yesterday, I noticed two Red Tailed Hawks riding the drafts together and singing songs of companionship with screeches and chirps. They were beautiful. Then, I lowered my head just in time to see a monarch butterfly cross in front of me. When I looked up again, there were four hawks instead of just two, and they were singing and playing in pairs. It was breathtaking and gave me pause.

Like the coyote, the butterfly’s message is about evolution and change. While they are beautiful, they pass through an entire lifecycle very quickly, embodying the ability to navigate change successfully. In fact, change happens whether we want it to or not. It is best to roll with it, lest it roll right over us. The hawks remind me to remain focused on what makes me happy, but not to the detriment of my responsibilities. There is always the need to balance economics with creativity, which was something my grandmother was good at in her day, and something I struggle with currently.

So, what’s the short version here? First, change, like puppy poop in the house, happens. Accept it. If you don’t watch for it, you’ll step in it. If you do, don’t dwell on it, just deal with it. Like puppies that get into everything, blessings are everywhere, but if your heart isn’t open, you’ll miss them. We may not get what we want in life, but we’ll get what we need. This requires faith, which is another good reason to keep your heart open. Life is a gift, and our time here is limited. But, like the hawks and the butterfly, perhaps if we observe change, our blessings will double.

Eyes open.

Heart open.

Faith.

It’s all good.

Tell

2011-05-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

On Friday, Leslie and I picked Elizabeth from school at the usual 3pm. She had a great day, and we were all on our way to the dog park with the long weekend ahead of us. She’s graduating from 8^th grade next Thursday, and we’ve got to shop for shoes and a few other necessities. The first thing Elizabeth told us is that one of her girlfriends made a frightening confession to a group of them over recess. She said she’d been sexually molested by an 18 year old high school boy that she knew. It happened the night before. He made her do things, and he wouldn’t let her out of the car. More, the girl seemed terrified of telling her mother.

Thirty seconds went by, long enough to let this sink in. And immediately I started to feel sick … and worried. The knowledge of this child’s danger mixed with my own memories, feelings and impressions, created a nauseating stew. If you or anyone you know was predated in childhood like I was, if the veil of ignorance has been somehow lifted from you, you know this isn’t something to take lightly. Elizabeth was intensely concerned and expected me to deal with it. In the background, her girlfriends did, as well. But it was 3:30 p.m., I didn’t know this girl’s mother or how to reach her, and all the students left campus a half hour ago. I called the school’s counselor and had to leave a voicemail. Then, I called the Vice-Principal a number of times until I finally reached her.

To her credit, the Vice-Principal was very concerned. I think her biggest worry was that the troubled girl, having left campus, was out of her reach. And indeed from her perspective this was third hand information. She said she had to discuss this with the guidance counselor and think on it. That was good enough.

For maybe ten minutes.

The child’s safety began gnawing at me. I needed to know if she was alright. I needed to know. We all needed to know.

I couldn’t find her mother’s phone number. Information didn’t have it, and there was nothing on the internet. Elizabeth texted the girl, and she didn’t answer, so I called her phone myself, and kept trying every 30 minutes or so. At first there was nothing.

At about 7:30 p.m., she returned my call. She was crying hysterically and made little sense. I couldn’t understand most of what she said, but I heard loud and clear that she thought her mother was going to beat her up. Then, abruptly she hung up. Moments later she was texting Elizabeth. She berated her for telling, and said repeatedly she didn’t expect to live through the night. Her anger and confusion was intense, but Elizabeth remained steadfast through the exchange. She knew her friend was in crisis and took none of her insults personally. Then, the child began texting about suicide.

Elizabeth looked at me seriously and said, “Nana, she’s told me she knows how to kill herself if she has to. She knows where there are pills she would take.”

I called the police department, and they took my complaint very seriously. They knew where she lived, and I gave them all the details I knew of. From what we could tell, and it was all gleaned from the text messages she never stopped sending, the police took her to the station and spoke with her about what happened. On the phone with Elizabeth and in a holding room alone, she expressed continued anger and blame. She was still afraid of her mother and kept declaring her life was over. I felt relief knowing she was in a safe place, and even though her mother wasn’t in the picture yet, she wasn’t alone.

At 11:00 a.m., Elizabeth and I were watching a movie and the girl called one last time. She’d been admitted to spend the night in the hospital and was much calmer. Her mother was with her, and they both spoke with Elizabeth expressing their gratitude.

I doubt the turmoil in that family is over. Elizabeth still receives messages ranging from “you are my best friend” to “it’s all your fault”. She understands it’s appropriate to take a step back. I plan to take her into school first thing Tuesday, touch base with the Vice-Principal, and make sure there is no concern about retaliation of any kind.

While I’m rarely at a loss for words, I have trouble expressing how impressed I am with the strength, patience and perseverance our daughter demonstrated through this whole mess. She never lost her perspective. I know she’ll never forget this, and her friends, although one step away from what happened, will remember, as well. The girls will remember that no means no, and the boys will remember that the 18 year old high school kid is being held accountable for his actions.

I am also extremely grateful that as I was struggling with my feelings, each time I thought I'd reached a dead end trying to contact someone, Leslie pushed me to take it one step further.

We hope it turns out alright for everyone involved, but we’ll never forget what we learned from this.

What do you do if your under age schoolmate tells you she’s been molested?

Tell an adult. Someone you can rely on.

Definitely.

Tell.

Say Hello to Teddy

2011-05-24T21:36:00.000-07:00

Leslie and I went to the SPCA on a whim, feeling Jack's loss more than ever today and knowing that Daizy was missing him, too after having slept alone last night for the first time (she snores so LOUDLY). We found this little fellow. He's part beagle, part terrier, comes when you call him, knows how to sit, does his business outside already, is very vocal and loving, gets along with Daizy (who has already established she's the boss) ... and is only 8 months old!

I'd like to introduce you to Theodore Jackson Moxie Faber. Jackson is in honor of our Jack. Moxie is for Ray Caspio's grandmother who just passed away (attn Kevenn T Smith, too).

The name he answers to is Teddy.

In Memory of Jack

2011-05-24T12:12:00.000-07:00

Our Golden Retriever, Jack (also known as Jack Boy, Jackson or most affectionately by Leslie as simply J.A.) came to us in December of 2005. He was a roly-poly Christmas puppy at only 8 weeks old. His father was a raucous, leggy Golden, who banged and scrabbled at the back door when we saw him in Modesto. His mother was an elegant, almost regal canine, who watched us with accusatory eyes. He was the last of the litter, and cried the first night we had him until Elizabeth climbed into the laundry basket with him. Jack was indescribably cute and perfectly puppy-like in all the right ways. We adored him immediately.

Jack grew into a goat-sized adolescent quickly, as large breed puppies will do, and began to lose his downy coat. As he changed, he gained in mischief what he lost in cuteness. He got into absolutely everything, and trounced all over our 12 year old Golden, Casey, which caused her physical pain, so he spent much of his time in the kitchen behind a gate. There he chewed up every cord he could find, destroyed numerous kitchen appliances before we could puppy proof the room, and shredded puppy pads thoroughly all over the floor. Jack was an escape artist, as well, and in our absence, once left the kitchen to torment our macaw, General. General never recovered from that nerve wracking experience and had to move on to another home. Constantly jumping, scratching and nipping, he was thoroughly exasperating and impossible. More than once, his ride in the car, however precarious for the driver, could have been his last. He almost made the trip straight to the SPCA.

In June of 2006 we moved to Connecticut, and Jack took his first ride in the belly of the beast, a giant 747 that was loud, cold, and terribly frightening. We watched his crate move up the conveyor belt into the cargo bay through the window of the plane and could see he was trembling. We worried about him through the flight, and when we picked him up at JFK’s cargo warehouse, he was brought out in his crate on a forklift. Jiggling back and forth, he was clearly terrified. However, we were certain he would bolt, so we didn’t let him out of his crate until we made it to the hotel in Connecticut.

When we opened the crate, what emerged was a completely different dog. In the hotel room, we kept his dog crate visible and it served as a behavioral reminder. Jack watched it with one eye as though he expected it to wake up and swallow him again. Large movements like opening the sofa bed for Elizabeth made him flinch. But shortly he became focused, happy, extremely eager to please and prone to only the tiniest moments of fancy. He managed an impulsive escape once to run blissfully and happily through the halls of the Marriot Courtyard with Elizabeth running behind him. Who could blame him? What a glorious fiasco! He co-existed peacefully with us in a hotel suite for three weeks before we were able to move. It was an amazing transformation.

From that point forward, Jack grew into a prince. It was as if he emulated his rowdy father as a pup, and in his adulthood became more like his mother.

We were there living in Connecticut in 2006 when we got Daizy, and she was just a tiny loaf of bread. We introduced her to Jack carefully and he greeted her with gentle love. Our home became their playground. When they played together, Jack tossed her about by the collar, and took her tiny head in his jaws without ever hurting her. He would lay prone in order to level the playing field as she danced and yipped around him. That was something he continued to do right until the end. Jack leveraged his size only when something tasty was at stake, and he’d simply put himself in the forefront and ensure Daizy didn’t have access until he was finished. They became a unit although they had vastly different personalities. Jack was all heart, gentle and compliant, and Daizy is cerebral, willful and diligent. Right up until the end, he tolerated her pushing him around incessantly, licking his ears obsessively, and getting into his bits and pieces whenever she felt like it. Most recently, they wouldn’t be separated at the dog park, so Daizy navigated the big dog side with ease and confidence to be near him. Jack wasn’t as social with other dogs as Daizy was and spent most of his dog park time exercising superior olfactory senses around the perimeter where other dogs wouldn’t bother him. This was due to an encounter with an aggressive dalmation that bit his flank. He enjoyed his dog park time, and greeted all the humans enthusiastically, but he was cautious with other dogs. His memory was long. He and Daizy would return to one another every so often muzzle to muzzle with deliberateness, and then go about their separate business again I image to relish the bountiful banquet of olfactory delights the dog park was.

Over the next three years, and thoroughly enjoying Daizy’s presence, Jack grew into an exemplary dog. We left Connecticut, returned to California, and the mature Golden Retriever that returned with us wasn’t terrified to go back on the airplane, rather he was accepting of it. He was a prince in the hotel, too. Our family, humans and dogs alike, seemed to be truly in synch here in Pacifica, where he and Daizy had an almost 360 degree view of the outside, where together they went in the car almost every day, and where neighborhood dogs provided an even more delightful bouquet of smells and experiences.

Leslie was acknowledged as the pack leader in our home. The dogs both loved her dearly and wanted to be near her constantly. They knew instinctively when it was time to get Elizabeth at school. Jack demonstrated natural compassion by helping Leslie at the stairs. She’s always had bad knees, and at times when climbing the stairs were difficult, Jack would ascend first, wait at the top, and extend his neck so she could hold his collar to step up. He braced himself for her. When she went to bed, they went to bed. In fact, I was out of town once on business, and Jack slept on my side with his head on the pillow all night. Next to being in the car, being on the big bed was his greatest joy.

Jack’s relationship with Elizabeth was particularly special; after all they’d grown up together. He treated her like a sister, although she had no fur and had two legs instead of four. Daizy considers Elizabeth a bit of a nuisance, but Jack only wanted to make her happy. He got better walking on the leash, learned tricks, and bestowed smooches simply to please her. He even posed deliberately for photo sessions with her iPhone (yes, he was a poser!). Once at the dog park we saw a completely different side of Jack. A big black dog approached Elizabeth who was standing next to me, and for some reason Jack considered it a threat. He came between the two of us with tremendous intent, rushed at the dog growling, and then acted proud of what he’d done. They say dogs can read energy, so only he would know what the danger might have been. But we didn't get angry with him. He was expressing his love.

Seating was of particular concern to Jack, and I wonder if it wasn’t some sort of pecking order he observed. If he couldn’t have his place on the couch each evening, he’d sulk deliberately, or stare wide eyed at Leslie until she couldn’t’ stand it any longer and made seating adjustments to accommodate him. He always had to have the second passenger seat in the car, as well. Once we drove to Los Angeles and made him a big space in the back of the van so he could stretch out. He chose instead to remain curled up like a croissant on the second passenger seat next to Elizabeth for the entire 7 hour trip, moving only when we walked him, which was frequently.

Jack would spend his mornings and evenings lounging on his couch, with his head resting on the arm so he could stare at Leslie sitting in her lounge chair. He demanded his toast every morning, as well, so we gave it to him. Although Elizabeth was the exception, he wasn’t much of a kisser, and rather gave full body hugs using the length of his torso. Jack wasn’t crazy about dog cookies, most times couldn’t care less, but he ate them so not to be outdone by Daizy. He wasn’t much of a barker either, but turned into one at Daizy’s insistence. Jack hated to be left home during the day, and if he didn’t get his daily time in the car, he would brood and sulk again. But car time was his favorite thing, just like being on the big bed, and he would sit in the passenger seat with his nose at the open window, smelling the world, and closing his eyes in canine bliss. His intense happiness was completely sincere and a sight to behold.

We considered Jack a prince, and he was in every way, fully matured and having left his troubled youth behind him. He had one weakness. He ate toys. Not all the time, but in less than a four year period, he needed two major abdominal surgeries to clear blockage. The first was just as we were leaving Connecticut, and the second was here in California less than two years ago.

Last Friday, Jack began vomiting. It wasn’t alarming initially, but within a day it was symptomatic of GI blockage, so off to the vet we went. He took a turn for the worse a day later after receiving his true diagnosis. A sizable portion of Jack’s large intestine had telescoped or turned in on itself, shutting down his GI system, and accumulating toxins quickly. The doctor said he had an infection, as well, but the root of the problem was scarring from previous surgeries.

As a family, we made a hard decision to spare Jack the numerous painful surgeries that would be a gateway to a severely decreased quality of life. We cried a lot, but came together at the vet’s office to say our final good-byes. It was obvious Jack was in pain. His flame seemed to be barely flickering and even his coat, usually shiny and luxuriant, seemed muted. He took his special time with Elizabeth, resting his head in her lap as she said her farewells. When the doctor arrived with the syringes, he was compliant. Jack actually liked the doctor, gave him hugs despite being sick, and knew he was being helped. He laid down on his side willingly, his head still up, and we all thanked him for being good to us. When he fell asleep, his head gently held by the nurse went limp, and Elizabeth began sobbing. Soon we were all sobbing and reluctant to leave him even though the deed had been done. He looked like he was only sleeping.

In the car, Leslie extended Jack’s collar to Daizy. Obviously, she knew something was going on. She sniffed it up and down with focus and determination and must have learned everything she needed to know because she wastes no time looking for him. She hasn’t shirked her protective duties, and she checks in with each of us from time to time. We’ve noticed she misses the affection he gave her, and the physical contact. So, she’s taken to falling asleep on my chest in the mornings. Daizy and Jack are two completely different dogs, one made of the heart, the other of brains, and I wonder how she will evolve in his absence. She’s a big dog in a small package, but she’s always had his companionship. I think another dog in the house would make her happy.

The space Jack left behind in our family and our home is huge. We all miss him terribly. I’ve never been a dog person, but I got to know Jack. I feel his absence poignantly appreciating that he didn’t’ start out the Prince he was went he left us. It took patience, process and the passage of time to turn him into the wonderful dog he was. Jack made quite an impression on me, and I can’t escape the feeling of loss he left behind. I wish I could because I hate it. Elizabeth wears his tags around her neck on a chain, and the rest of his jewelry is hanging on the rear view window of the van. He’ll be given a private cremation, and we’ll receive his remains in a sweet little urn that will have his photo on it.

We’re not sure how we’re supposed to get used to being without him yet. But time is relentless. When you lose someone you love, it feels like time should stop. But it doesn’t. Instead, time marches on, and ironically heals with an unending measure of days, weeks and months.

Jack, we’ll miss you terribly.

Good voyage, dear one, and thank you for loving us.

Rest in Peace, dear Jack Boy

2011-05-23T12:37:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth wrote this piece for Jack when she was 11 years old. I'm working on a memorium blogpost, but this is so sweet and entirely appropriate. We miss you, Jack.

❤

Desert Dog
by Liz Faber

In his eyes
a desert
at night
a ring of ebony
another
of shining gold
none of them perfect
all jagged
never perfect
but always.

When you look at him
you see an old mutt
his face white
the rest a worn out rust
but when you feel him
you feel a puppy
his smile so pure
drool dripping off
his rough tongue

His life
a journey
a maze
started out
in a desert
but somehow
got to me
I don't know how
only he
my puppy
my old dog
knows the secret

His mother
the sun
his father
the moon
his brothers
the sand.

But there's one thing
that I know
he's my puppy
my old man
my dog
and I love him.

COMIC BOOKS ❤ ACTION FIGURES ❤ TOYS

2011-05-16T08:50:00.000-07:00

When we were at Half Moon Bay’s Pacific Coast Dream Machines event on May 1, some lady, a kid really, dropped a post card into my hand advertising a car show event at an elementary school in Daly City. They were looking for participating vendors. Given the state of panic the California school system is in, I wasn’t entirely surprised that an elementary school PTA was willing and capable enough to throw such an elaborate event. Leslie and I thought it was a great idea, too. Our booth is like George Jetson’s briefcase. We can haul it anywhere, press a button, and it pops up. Does it matter what we fill it with?

This time we filled it with my private collection of action figures, comic books and toys. I’ve been ready to part with these treasures for some time, but after being nickeled and dimed to death at a few tag sales, I was at a loss for the right venue. What happened was kind of amazing and more fun than I’ve had in a long time.

The middle aged men came out first. These guys were more interested than anyone; and they were discerning collectors looking for something very specific: a scary clown, KISS figures (had ‘em) or Star Trek (left ‘em home because I didn’t think there would be interest … FAIL!).

After that, there were four kinds of booth visitors, as follows:

The obsessed collector, drawn like a moth to the flame, was shiny eyed and acted kind of stupefied. These folks wanted everything, and probably spent more money than they should have. I was cool with it.
The “I have it” guy already has everything, and it's either in storage, in his garage, or at his mother-in-law’s house. Classic X-Men? He’s got it. Spawn? He has that, too. And each is certain his collection is worth at least a hundred grand. I met one fellow who lost a collection when his house burned down. These guys had so much to talk about and with them I indulged an apparently endless mental supply of super hero trivia. I had no idea so much useless information was in my brain. Then, they’d leave, only to return shortly to stare at the shiny treasures again.
The third person was your average walk-in who wasn’t into action figures or comic books as much as they were attracted to one specific thing. Do you have Green Lantern? Do you have Godzilla? Chucky & Tiffany was a big hit, and I sold one set of “Rocky Horror” figures. I lost my Wonder Woman Barbie to this kind of collector (at a good price, though), and my Lady Death figures, too (sigh). One man who collected Wolverine returned four times to gaze longingly at my Secret Wars Wolverine (didn’t buy it though). Oddly, my Bewitched Barbie remains unclaimed.
Then, there were the kids; loads and loads of mostly little boys who were absolutely and unequivocally awesome beyond words through the whole thing. They eyeballed what they wanted, disappeared, and reappeared dragging their parents (and their parents’ cash) behind them. After that, they hung around talking animatedly about this and that or looking at the backs of hanging figures, even the smexy ones, memorizing every detail. They were incredibly cute and a running undercurrent of excitement and possibility.

I can’t tell you how much fun I had personally at this event talking about action figures, super heroes, the goings on a Marvel and DC, and the numerous movies coming out. People LOVED hiking that trip down memory lane with me, and I certainly didn’t mind carrying the backpack. The day went by so quickly, too. One minute I was setting up, and the next minute I was unloading the car into our garage. It made me long for the days when a comic book store was a prosperous business venture. When was that, the mid-eighties?

The good news is that there are still boxes of comic books and yet more action figures in untapped corners of the garage, and we’ve got another, bigger school carnival coming up in mid-June.

I admit it.

I’m 47 years old this August, and I’m a complete geek.

Or it is nerd.

I’m not sure what it is, but I’m definitely one.

Definitely.

PACIFIC COAST DREAM MACHINES: Our First Art Event!

2011-05-11T07:30:00.000-07:00

What a week it’s been. It started with a series of horrible tornados and mass destruction, then the common girl married her prince, and the #1 bad guy was caught and killed. Is this real life or a Disney movie? While all this was going on, preparation for our far less dramatic art event at Pacific Coast Dream Machines was in full swing as last minute details piled up like rubber neckers on the freeway.

Saturday, Leslie and I went to check out the venue at Half Moon Bay airport which is right next to the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Classic cars, antique airplanes, monster trucks, motor cycles, all sorts of toys, and many vendors like us would require lots and lots of space! It was an ideal location. The event itself was free of intense rules and regulations, providing us a unique opportunity to get an understanding of how these events flow. The downside is that it gets windy out there. Saturday there were 30 mile an hour ocean winds tearing a path across the tarmac which made us both nervous. I’d spent the last two weeks namby pambying every piece of art, each matte board, every frame, handling all with kid gloves and stressing over any even potential scratch, and I was going to hang it all in the middle of a tornado? I also had plans to bring some gift baskets, one of my custom scrapbooks, and framed sticker art. I scratched the idea because I was afraid they would be ruined.

As luck would have it, the event coordinator was there. He checked us in and showed us where we’d set up. He also strongly suggested we put something in place to reserve our space just in case. Leslie and I raced back over Devil’s Slide to do our final errand at Lowe’s and then over the hill to our house to pick up our stuff, so we could erect our canopy in Half Moon Bay before sundown. So there we were, just us and a bunch of antique airplanes, lugging cinder blocks, hammering steel rods into the hard ground with a cobalt mallet to tie it down, and we did it all in gale force winds. When the tent was fully expanded, we held our breath, but it proved all sorts of rules about aerodynamics, as the wind simply blew through it, as opposed to tearing it to shreds, which is what I was afraid of. Relieved, we went home to keep an eye on the weather.

On Sunday, the three of us were out of bed early, at the airport, and set up well before the 10:00 a.m. start time. The weather was flawless, sunny and breezy, without a gale wind to be felt. There was almost immediate interest in my work, which was a combination of older black and white abstracts, new full color renderings, and one or two odd pieces to spice things up. They were all framed and matted to perfection. One fellow named Robert purchased a framed print of my dragon spirit guide, Gregor, for his girlfriend. That was encouraging. All day long, there was interest in my dragon, along with considerable interest in the piece entitled “Oh Lydia!” for obvious reasons given the audience (if you’re familiar with the piece and understand there were bikers around). I was asked about commissions, gave out many cards, and answered questions about my style and approach. Kirk Prentiss, an old friend from a previous job, turned out in his own toy, a snazzy motorcycle, to lend his support.

We worked our booth as a family but still found time to check out our surroundings. Elizabeth rode an electronic bull and got flung outside the padded ring. Leslie scoped out our neighbors and was happy no other artists were around. Together, they played with remote control race cars on a groovy little speedway one vendor down. We worked our booth like a family and had some fun, as well. When we got home Sunday night, we were all too tired to unload the van, ate something nice and hot for dinner, and crashed!

This experience allowed me to indulge a long desire to beautifully frame as much of my original art as I could and get it out into creation. Symbolically, it was an affirmation of my creativity, my confidence, and my self-esteem. It also took my work to the next logical place after having launched a website devoted exclusively to my creative endeavors one year ago. More than that, however, Leslie supported this effort emotionally, encouraging me when it would be so easy to succumb to pragmatism. I find it difficult to put into words how much her support through this has meant to me.

Now, we have everything we need to enter other events in the Bay Area. There are too many art and wine festivals to count, and all sorts of other interesting events and venues. We will explore all of them. In the meantime, rest is the order of the day.

Check out our new etsy store here!

WHAT I ACTUALLY SAY

2011-05-02T14:04:00.001-07:00

Art Imitates Life

2011-04-29T17:40:00.000-07:00

Today, Leslie and I had to return to Acme Display in San Francisco to pick up a different set of grids for the www.donnalouisefaber.com booth at the art event in Half Moon Bay this weekend. I discovered this macabre group of mannequins in the back room and found myself fascinated. I think they're awesome, but Elizabeth was creeped out.

I wonder, how do they make you feel?

www.donnalouisefaber.com
www.sapphokinesis.blogspot.com

D❤

CRABBY

2011-04-27T07:05:00.001-07:00

TAKING STOCK

2011-04-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

I was born to unprepared parents whose greatest flaw was selfishness. I was another child of the confused and self-absorbed “me” generation, and it was obvious to me even then they were more concerned with themselves than their children. I hold no ill will toward them but don’t cast pearls before swine either. Despite their carelessness, I grew older with my self-esteem intact, and it saw me through a number of dangerous childhood traps. These experiences left their mark, but my guardian angel was reliable. My soul’s charter in this life did not call for rape or repeated physical abuse. I was spared the absolute worst, and therefore a fear response is not etched indelibly in my psyche. Rather, self-confidence was lacking, and in its place was sheer nerve, which was like spitting in the wind at times. What good is having the nerve to spit when the storm is on, if the saliva ends up blocking your vision?

Guilford Center © Leslie Faber in 2007

In my adulthood, I was “adopted” by an enlightened spiritual mother and given the gift of worthiness. This prompted self-confidence, which blossomed like a rose and manifested change quickly. I was a vessel, and She turned me upside down. Anger, fear and resentment were emptied from me, carrying the debris of outworn relationships with it. This was a difficult transition that lasted almost ten years, but it was poignant to my learning curve. Compassion, capability and courage rose up in its place to iron out the kinks in my life, always with a knack for pushing hot buttons. As time went on, these buttons burned less and I learned to trust my intuition.

Now the world stands on the precipice of immense change. We live in incredible, spiritual and historic times. I feel its winds blowing strongly. The gate is unlocked, and as I stand in the open doorway, I feel new, cathartic energy flowing in and the negative energy that rises to challenge it. These leviathans battle on the horizon and misfortune is the global culture’s dish of the day. When served in hearty portions, which happens frequently, this misfortune changes lives on all levels. We are prompted to embrace love or cleave desperately to fear.

Six weeks ago, I was involuntarily separated from my job in the fall out of a financially motivated, confidence bashing, denigrating corporate merger debacle. The year and a half process was an exercise in purging personal demons, the roots of which had grown deep into my professional worthiness. I was familiar with the purging process because it happened to me in my relationships previously, but I was nonetheless eager for it to be over. Also. when you’re reorganized out of a job, they want you to believe it isn’t personal; but believe me, it’s completely personal. When I was finally released, I was ready to go, and I was physically and emotionally stressed. I was also frightened.

The merger left me in doubt of my professional capabilities and unwilling to navigate corporate life any longer. I wondered if it was because of my experience or in spite of it. Obviously, the two were inexorably linked, but which came first? Which was real?

Preparing for Pacific Coast Dream Machines has directed my energies to something creative and constructive and begun to return my confidence. Leslie and I overcome each small challenge working toward May 1, and I feel more and more like myself. Doing it together makes it sweeter. We’re investing personal finances when we should be storing nuts for a difficult economic winter, but my bones tell me the time is now. Now or never.

As I take stock of myself, I am relieved to rediscover one very significant personal fact: I am almost fifty years old, and still, I will not succumb to fear.

I discovered my grandmother, who’s been in a convalescent home for over 10 years, was recently put on hospice care. She’s 90 years old. When we were in Connecticut three years ago, I was blessed with time to be with her, and it was difficult to leave, but I had to do what was best for my family. This highlights what haters out there don’t realize. I do understand what family is, and in fact, I am fiercely devoted. I am equally clear on people who pose as family members or friends but are uncaring, selfish, and manipulative in their rationalizations. I have discernment, and these haters and I have spent enough time together in this life.

Thirty years ago, I was let go from my first job out of business school. They gave me $360 in severance pay, and I used that money to print the first issue of a newsletter called “Feminine Connections”. I was passionate about that newsletter. Publishing “Feminine Connections” led me to a lesbian couple in San Leandro, one who wrote and the other did art. When I visited California to see them over the Fourth of July weekend in 1985, they introduced me to Leslie.

I didn’t succumb to fear when I moved out of my mother’s house at 16 because her husband hit me. I didn’t let it hold me back at 21 when I moved from Connecticut to California the first time to be with Leslie. I didn’t let it deter me when Leslie and I moved cross country. And I won’t let it stop me when I’m belittled, insulted or threatened by haters.

I have a unique opportunity to pursue my creativity before economic demands assume their position once again.

I embrace this opportunity.

I am unafraid.

And I can’t wait to see where it leads me.

Adventures in Unemployment

2011-04-20T07:22:00.000-07:00

Hey, what are YOU doing here??!?

I saw the most amazing thing today. Leslie and I were driving down El Camino in South City near Kaiser, and way up on top of one of the street lights sat a big raven. It was a common raven, you know, which looks like a crow, but is at least five times bigger. And buzzing around it like a very angry buzzing bee was a humming bird! It was so amazing! We could only see the duo because they were set against the blue sky’s background. That little hummer was angry with the big raven, and was diving and hovering around it, trying to drive it off. It was very brave. And the raven sat there ignoring it. There were trees close by, so I thought maybe the little hummer had a nest nearby. At the very least, it considered that area its turf and didn’t want the raven around. Fascinating.

That was the first thing.

We did a bunch of errands, a whole lot, and got a lot done gearing up for our street fair on May 1.

The last thing I did was attend a mandatory workshop at the EDD, which is the California State’s unemployment training “thing”; I’m not sure what it is really, but this class was mandatory to getting my unemployment check, so I had to be there. Stuck. It turned out to be a two hour session with a pedantic instructor who was determined we see her superiority. And what was covered was rudimentary. Not sophisticated, but for people who aren’t hip to the computer and how to write a resume, I suppose it was pretty handy. The lady in charge, I’ll call her Becky, said that the week previous she had a group of 35 people from Sutter Health, doctors, nurses, everybody. No one is exempt from job loss these days.

The folks in my group were such a cross section of the workforce, it was a trip! There was a waiter, software engineers, project managers, and a marketing manager. One lady used to be a recruiter for Planned Parenthood in the East Bay but they’ve closed all those down due to lack of funding. The one that really stuck out was a woman who was previously the Vice President of Philanthropy for the San Francisco Zoo. She was in charge of fund raising, and enrollment is down so they let her go. With a few exceptions, everyone there seemed really bummed out, and while I’m sure economics has a lot to do with it, the bashing each person took by their experience was right on their shirt sleeve, so apparent. I could totally relate.

I thought “Wow, so many people in the country are in this state and no wonder people are in such a bad mood all the time!” In fact, completely randomly and right in the midst of the class, someone started banging on the door to the training room and when Becky tried to open the door to see what was going on, held it shut, which completely freaked her out. She looked at me with scared eyes and said, “Oh my god what is going on?” Turned out to be a guy trying to install a sign on the door, which accounted for all the banging, and he opened the door in front of everyone and was MAD that she was interrupting his work, and actually told her off! I had to laugh; it was pretty random, very off the wall.

As it turns out, this mandatory training class was in the same building as welfare. I figure if someone got angry with unemployment and told them to shove it, they could go directly to the next room and get in line for government assistance. Becky said that no one knows where the actual Unemployment offices are because they are kept confidential. Apparently, a few years ago, one discontented unemployment recipient went crazy and massacred a bunch of Unemployment staff. Since then, they’ve kept those offices under wraps.

File this experience under “Adventures in Unemployment”.

All is well.

D❤

My Squirrel

2011-04-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

Hello?

Today, I went walking in Golden Gate Park. It was my favorite lake area, right off 42nd Avenue at Fulton. We used to take Casey there (our beautiful Casey, RIP) years ago, even before Elizabeth was born. There is a spot on the opposite side of the lake,a lovely place, and I stopped there to see what I could see. Within moments I was surrounded by ducks, tiny birdies, and then seven squirrels, in the tree around me.

This one little chippy hung around for the longest time and was quite bold. She got within 6 inches of my phone, which I used to take these picture. My phone camera is the pits, so these good shots prove how close she got. I walked away finally, and she continued to appear in front of me, as if to be absolutely certain I hadn't found something scrumptious in my pocket.

I have been blessed by good squirrel energy in the past. The Summer of 2009 comes to mind. I'd just gotten my last job and was grappling with confidence issues around my art work.

Here is excerpt from my blogpost dated April 13, 2009:

However, squirrel symbolism is highlighted first and foremost, particularly at spring time, encouraging me to recover those nuts I’ve put aside to focus on my new job. In real time, we’ve had one little nut hoarder scurrying industriously around our yard since we’ve moved in here, leaving little holes dug up here and there. It had a run in with our Boston Terrier, Daizy, one evening a few weeks ago that brought Elizabeth into the house huffing and puffing about a doggie/squirrel stand off at the base of the palm tree, and did I know that squirrels can growl? Despite that direct message, it never occurred to me to think about what it was saying. Not until now, that is. We finally named the squirrel Nutmeg, and you might be interested to know that Nutmeg has recently found a companion. Now there are two of them racing around like Red Bull lunatics. But this particular nut wasn’t just waiting to be taken out. It was waiting to be turned out! And riding the wave of Amma’s abundant energy, I launched my artwork publicly on Cafepress and RedBubble. This was a leap of my faith for me, and an indication that my confidence continues to develop. I have my friends to thank for encouraging and embracing this.

The timing of these little visitors and their reminder is good. I'll keep this message in mind as I prepare for the show coming up on May 1. I'll see you in Half Moon Bay at Pacific Coast Dream Machines.

PACIFIC COAST DREAM MACHINES EVENT ON MAY 1

2011-04-10T17:15:00.001-07:00

Come see us at the

Pacific Coast Dream Machines
event in Half Moon Bay, California, on
Sunday, May 1, 2011
from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Discover original art that has not been for sale to date
and other treasures in our booth!

Beverly Drive

2011-04-08T21:40:00.000-07:00

ON THE ROAD AGAIN ...

2011-04-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

Last week was intense. Leslie’s oral surgery on Tuesday was more difficult than we thought. The infection spread and the doctor had to traumatize much of the flesh around the original tooth to clean it up. Of course, we didn’t hear about this until her post-op appointment on Friday, and a large bruise had blossomed across her chin. By the time yesterday rolled around, she was more than ready to hit the road. Elizabeth bounced off the walls. Birthday money burned a hole in her wallet, so to her this is an extended shopping trip. Yesterday was all about prep for me, i.e., getting ready to leave. But it’s been years since we just took off like this, and I was eager for it, as well.

Worried

As we left the concentrated Bay Area, Jack (the big dog) got visibly worried. Our bags were packed, and to him it meant going on an airplane, which is his least favorite thing. There are monsters in the belly of an airplane, you know, and they are very, very loud. We made plenty of room for him and Daizy in the back of the van, but he categorically refused to use it. Instead he kept himself rolled into a tight donut on the passenger seat next to Elizabeth. We got our groove on, as the wheels turned beneath us, and Elizabeth found the perfect road trip music by an artist who has “really good hair”.

A lot has changed on Highway 5 since last we drove this stretch 10 years ago. There is so much development, grapevines that weren’t there, and cell phone reception all the way down the line, too! We bumped into a group of macaws making their way home from San Mateo. The scenery passed by, lush and fertile green hills speckled with cattle, sheep, and spring lambs. I found it soothing. Harris Ranch was an olfactory treat for the dogs, and Jack sat up and lifted his nose straight into the air. Livermore Labs was a curious combination of technology and agriculture. Elizabeth was fascinated. Leslie is always happiest when she is moving forward.

I’ve had a rough year and a half.

To me, being on the road felt like freedom.

If

2011-04-02T11:59:00.001-07:00

Are Bullies Just Babies?

2011-03-25T11:24:00.000-07:00

I find it ironic that our daughter, Elizabeth, is dealing with bullying at school around the same time I was getting pushed around at work. First, she had her hands full with a disgruntled ex-friend who acted out feelings of anger on the internet, and then, most recently, we had a go round with an adult bully; one of Elizabeth’s teachers.

Now that I’m home, I’m more tuned in to my family. Elizabeth has always shared her day with Leslie after school, but by the time I got home tired and stressed, it was old news. Elizabeth is sharing more with me, usually over homework or projects. She has one teacher (of course, I won’t get into names) who has created a confrontational environment in the classroom, and as a result students are afraid to ask questions. It’s clear this teacher wants to consider herself sarcastic, when in fact her students perceive her as a bully.

A few weeks ago Elizabeth told us about how this teacher frightened a very shy student in class by asking rapid fire questions aggressively and then continuing to prod for an answer when the student wouldn’t or couldn’t. This and other issues with rude teachers prompted us to share unsolicited parent feedback with the principal via email. Then, just last week, this same teacher turned her fiery consternation on Elizabeth. Liz asked a question in class (after being out the previous day), and the teacher answered by leaning right into her face and yelling at her so loud Elizabeth could smell her nasty breath! She was intimidating and threatening, and everyone in the class heard her shout, “NO! We’re not gonna do that yet! We don’t even have what we NEED to do that yet!” Wouldn’t it have been more appropriate to say, “We’re not there at this time”? Obviously, not yelling would be preferable. So, Leslie and I made a formal complaint to the principal and asked how it would be handled.

We attended a round table meeting just a day or so ago with the principal, the teacher, and Elizabeth. This is apparently part of the formal complaint process. Prior to our meeting and after having personally confirmed our claim by interviewing more than a handful of students who witnessed what happened, the principal shared our email message with his teacher. In our meeting, she responded with what I thought was slightly genuine, albeit definitely well-rehearsed sincerity. I’ve conducted many meetings around staff conduct at work, and I find often times they know when they’re crossing the line. This kind of person may take immediate responsibility for what they’re hearing, and claim they didn’t mean it, but it’s usually to cool down the heat. To them, it’s a calculated risk.

Judging from the principal’s direct communication over the table on what is and isn’t acceptable behavior in a teacher, I’m wagering they had an off-line discussion. The teacher shared that she had a group meeting with her classroom prior to ours and gave them a “safe word”. She asked them to call out the word “banana” each time they felt threatened or intimidated. Isn’t this putting the responsibility for her conduct on them? I’m pretty sure safe words are reserved for bondage and discipline or S&M games more so than for school. Also, in our meeting, the teacher was open and verbal about needing Elizabeth’s approval. “Didn’t I use your work as an example, Elizabeth?” Ha. Ha. She wanted everyone to laugh it off, but it was clear to Leslie and I that she needed the strokes, even from a kid. Leslie wanted to make some salient points about teacher's ethics, which she did with grace and intelligence. I wanted to make sure we were heard and was satisfied. Elizabeth knew we had her back. In the end, we all felt better for having met.

I’ve discovered that bullies are a curious bunch whose modus operandi is to make their bad behavior your responsibility. It’s happened to me at work and in friendships. It can happen in loving relationships, parents do it to their kids, it obviously happens between classmates, and now we’ve experienced it with a full grown adult and student role model. Of course, it also happens for tragic reasons such as sexual or physical abuse, when young children are robbed of their empathy and compassion. But that is a much deeper topic. Currently, the television show “Glee” addresses this with both humor and pathos, and I’m just so impressed with what they’re doing. Take Sue Sylvester, for example. She is a role model for brazen bullies hiding a golden heart. They’re also addressing bisexuality in students, homosexuality, and with the character Karofsky, they’ve taken on what can happen when an individual is personally conflicted about these things. It explores how that confusion can be acted out as real threats and violence.

The average bully wants your attention, expects that you will agree with them, and will go to great lengths to make you when you don’t. What motivates this behavior might be a fear of feelings like inferiority, unworthiness, or sexual ambiguity. I find that beneath the crusty exterior of a bully lies an intense childlike desire for attention.

It is the nature of a bully to make their problem your problem, and to belittle your efforts, actions or experiences, in order to make theirs feel superior. Whether or not we choose to take on that burden is entirely up to us.

* * * *

Read more about cyber-bullying here and here.

Perfect Faith

2011-03-24T07:13:00.001-07:00

Reflecting on 2010: Dragons, Demons and Dilemmas

2011-03-22T22:16:00.000-07:00

I wrote and posted this originally on April 25, 2010, almost a year ago. My work experience had begun its determined uprooting of personal demons signaling the commencement of a major life lesson. Anticipating Amma’s 2010 visit, I was focused on the resultant inner work and heeding esoteric signals in the world around me. As I address my feelings and pursue healing after what I experienced in the workplace and as I process my most recent visits with Amma, I find this extremely helpful. It’s as though this specific personal lesson has almost come full circle.

At last.

The one line in this piece that speaks to me the most is this one uttered by Gregor, "This fear is crippling, Ssssister, and must be conquered."

I hope you enjoy reading this combination of fact and fiction as much as enjoyed writing it a year ago.

Amma’s visit is less than a month away. She is scheduled to be at the Hindu Temple in Sunnyvale in mid-May. This year I’ve minimized my involvement in preparation because I need to focus on myself spiritually. Her approaching visit has taken on a surreal approach; however, one that snuck up on me. As usual, She ensures all my hot buttons are pushed so I know what to focus on. It is exhausting!

Last night, I was up for three hours after 2:00 a.m. thinking. I watched Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke in “Helen Keller”, and thought about determination. I wondered where my self-confidence and resolve had gone. From the corner of my eye I saw my deceased cat, Remos, strutting down the hallway. His presence typically ushers in a new lesson or point to be made.

The last few days have been brutal. Wracked with worry about work, I’ve failed miserably at juggling the demons rising within me, the feelings and insecurities … the hot buttons. My emotions ran unchecked. Hunkered down with my family, where I feel safe and good, I rifled through these issues, and began breaking through the blockage.

My eyes closed. The television faded into the background.

This was my prayer.

I called my dragon.

The great and mighty dragon, Gregor, my spirit guide, emerged from the shadows. Although in astral form, I beheld his shimmering scales, the immensity of his wings, and heard the crack they made against the wind. He was all around me. Our astral selves entwined together, and I felt immense relief.

“Where have you BEEN?” I cried and felt him smile down at me.

His answer was honest and somber.

You have not called me, Sssssister.

But his response was heartfelt, full of compassion, almost indulgent.

He knew my quandary immediately.

And then he spoke.

The Goddessss approaches and Sssshe is the Queen of Swords, The Remover of Masks. She turns over ssstones in her path with her razor sharp blade. Under each stone hides one of your coveted habits. Ssssecrets and desires must be exposed to the light where you see them, recognize them, and acknowledge them. No more can they be hidden away, cloaked. They tempt you with the sweet taste of delusion and pull you away from the true path. No. These sssshiny glamours must be irradicated no matter that your perspective feels less sssparkly for that, too, is delusion.

Under one ssstone hides false friendships, or people thought to be kinship sssspirits. These children harbor an investment of something other than who you are. They were kindred once, but as lifetimesss passss, this is forgotten. The astral cord, that which keeps you bound to one another lifetime after lifetime, sssspeaks to both of you, coaxing memories, feelings, and love.

Possssibilities seems endlessss for such a partnership renewed! Yet fear prevents full ascendancy. The astral cord is broken, and you are no longer dealing with kin.

He paused to breathe deeply, and I could hear the dragon’s coals rumbling and burning in the depths of his massive chest.

This, too, was an illusion.

Is nothing real, I thought?

But he ignored me and went on.

The Lady’s ssssword flashes again to unearth a stone beneath which hide both fear of failure and fear of disssapproval.

Arousssed by career uncertainty, these demons, present since you were a child and prone to reinvention, rose up to provoke deep sssseated inssssecurity. They are the sssame demon in a different form, mirror to one another Ssssister, and their inky black tendrils are entwined so one is barely discernable from the other.

Remember, Ssssister, fear is the mind killer … for everyone.

The Queen of Wands (Click on image to learn more about this piece)

I began to understand the double edged sword I dealt with. I still felt the pain of loss, the emptiness of the broken silver cord, but I understood more.

He went on.

This fear is crippling, Ssssister, and must be conquered. This is my task, as well. I will help you.

I felt relieved.

Seek the lessons in these discoveries, Ssssister. Ssseek the Earthbound Mother for your answers and know that understanding is the first step toward healing.

He meant my spiritual mother, Amma, of course.

This morning as I wrote this blogpost, I got my head in order, and a shimmering, green hummingbird paused to sip from a flower just outside the open sliding door. It was directly in line of my sight.

It felt like the Great Mother telling me everything would be alright.

Relief.

Amma 2011@ Individual Blessings: Bless Me Mother For I Have Sinned

2011-03-21T18:41:00.000-07:00

This year, Amma will be back in the Bay Area for Guru Purnima, a celebration open to the public, from July 15 - July 17, 2011. Keep an eye on her website for details.

I was at the Sunnyvale Hindu Temple most of the day Thursday and Friday enjoying the first public programs of Sri Karunamayi’s 2011 US Tour. Many of us call her Amma, which means “Mother” in Her native Telegu, and I’ve seen her for 10 years mostly in the Bay Area. This visit was important to me. I’ve recently lost my job and find myself at a crossroads. What do I want to focus on going forward? I thought intensely about my health, my relationships, how I manage stress and my creativity in the days prior to the program. I’ve also been able to help more than usual, though I’m careful to balance the needs of my family, as having more time is a beneficial side effect of unemployment.

The first of Amma’s no cost public programs was individual blessings, during which any person can approach her with a list of private concerns or needs. It’s a carefully orchestrated event that may last up to a full day and include 400 or 450 people. She asks for silence or our best efforts during this program and gives each of us her undivided attention when we approach her.

Aside from many spiritual aspects, and simply from my perspective, of course, there are two very important points to smoothly facilitating this day. I mention this because it seems that people need Mother’s reassurance more than ever, and I can’t help that it rouses the meeting and event planner in me. The first point is preventing the front door from becoming a bottleneck, and the second is gently controlling the crowd, which implies addressing everyone’s concerns sensitively and compassionately as they wait in one line or another for their time with Mother. Seekers must enter the hall without shoes and remain silent. There is considerable activity around this, and because the front table is the only thing that stays in one place, questions tend to land there. With a crowd of 400, the front door can become a bottleneck quickly, and as a result seekers get worried and anxiety mounts. As luck would have it, Thursday’s program was intimate with a little less than 200 people in total. The door didn’t turn into a problem, and I was relieved because I was working there!

The second important component to this program, from my limited view, is what I would lovingly refer to as crowd control. The responsibility for this falls upon the ushers, also devotees and for the most part local volunteers (aka sevites). Most attendees are indeed very serious about their one-on-ones with Amma, but Thursday’s group felt more intense than usual, which is no surprise given the state of the economy and our world in general. Many people juggled personal challenges like limited time off from work, responsibility to their families, and a lack of funds, much of which we heard about at the front desk; but still many were generous with donations. As activity happened around lining up to see Mother, their agitation grew, I felt, some even bordering on desperation. To their credit, the ushers kept it organized, addressed each and every concern, knew when to make an exception and allow someone to step ahead in line, and then did gentle damage control around those who noticed and didn’t approve. I thought they were awesome.

Amma was, as ever, a picture of harmonious serenity. The relatively small size of the crowd meant She could take her time with everyone, and so she did, stretching the morning time period well past 1 p.m. before she left for a very brief break. She never, ever reacts to any of the noise around her, and rather focuses her attention completely and totally on the individual in front of her. It’s quite uncanny, but her attention never wavers.

I got in line for my individual blessing at about 1:30 p.m. and the first thing I noticed was the ruckus. This crowd was loud and active. The ushers worked very hard and very patiently, but people were demanding, asked questions, and tried to cut in line for no particular reason again and again. It was all very distracting, but like at the front desk, to me it demonstrated how upset Her children are at this time.

My Altar Space

Finally, I had my chance to approach Amma and lay my concerns at Her sacred feet. She was lovely, and gave me a big, big smile. Oh, how I needed that. She also noticed my hair. I got my hair colored yesterday, and decided to redden up the blond in the front which took the color differently, way differently! The back is a deep red, but the front is like a Lucille Ball hair-do on fire, harkening me back to another visit with Amma in Chicago almost 10 years ago. Is this my subconscious effort to be noticed? Some things never change. After giggling affectionately for a moment, She looked me right in the eye and asked me a very personal question. And that’s when my tears started. Suffice it to say the subsequent moments with Amma were powerful. There are times when she doesn’t say a word, but during this visit she addressed me verbally and very directly. I left her feeling shaken.

Each time I see Amma, it is a successful visit; even when our contact is minimal. This time, however, I spent a number of days reflecting on my needs, and then a day in silent reflection. Doing so left me open and receptive to the power of Mother’s divine love.

What I considered a successful individual blessings program is a testimony to the enormous amount of work done by the Bay Area Coordinator and volunteers before, during and after Amma’s visit. Smriti, the Coordinator, has a clear vision of what she wants, and puts love into every detail out of a strong desire to make the program as good as it can be for Ma. In my 20 year career, I’ve done parties of up to 2,000 people, small cocktail parties, sit down dinners, community service events, and themed office parties so I can confirm it’s a lot of work under normal circumstances. However, staying on task when Amma is present, when all we want to do is space out on Her energy, is a major accomplishment. The way Smriti cares about the quality of Amma’s programs takes it to the next level for the benefit of every person who may connect with Sri Karunamayi during the Bay Area Program.

The two days spent with my Spiritual Mother were personally impactful in ways I’m still fully realizing, still processing. I know this is the case because my family keeps asking me if I'm preoccupied with something. I guess I am on the deepest levels. I want to get my impressions down in writing, but I continue to make emotional and intellectual connections, and so my perceptions are mercurial. Even as I wrote this, I found myself getting long winded or changing my mind.

What I do know for certain is that my personal urgency and the issues in my life are no more or less important than any one person in the crowd on Individual Blessings day. It’s true that the Divine Mother helps those who help themselves. Yet if we’re meant to have a certain experience no matter how difficult it seems to be, I know that we are meant to learn from it in the end. I wonder if perhaps I've gotten a bit better at going with the flow, or a bit closer to surrendering the illusion of control.

It’s taken me a year a half worth of hard core life lessons simply to get the hang of being right here in this moment.

I'm happy with that for now.

* * * * *

You may be interested in more posts and information on Amma, Sri Karunamayi, as follows:

See more photos and a brief video of Friday’s homa (vedic fire ceremony) here.
View Amma’s website including tour information.
Enjoy a meditation video featuring the Sri Mrutyunjaya Mantra by Karunamayi here.
Read about my family's visit with Amma in Fremont here.
And search my blog for posts on Amma's visits in past years including 2008 and 2009.

Jai Karunamayi!

D❤

The White Swan of My Spirituality

2011-03-14T02:02:00.000-07:00

This photo is by Lorcan Keating, who lives and works in San Francisco. Lorcan successfully captures the vast subtleties of the world around him with his lens, focusing primarily on San Francisco neighborhoods and wildlife. He can be found on Facebook.

Swans are revered in Hinduism, and are compared to saintly persons whose chief characteristic is to be in the world without getting attached to it, just as a swan's feather does not get wet although it is in water. The Sanskrit word for swan is hamsa or hansa, and it is the vehicle of many deities like the goddess Saraswati. It is mentioned several times in the Vedic literature, and persons who have attained great spiritual capabilities are sometimes called Paramahamsa ("Great Swan") on account of their spiritual grace and ability to travel between various spiritual worlds. In the Vedas, swans are said to reside in the summer on Lake Manasarovar and migrate to Indian lakes for the winter. They're believed to possess some powers such as the ability to eat pearls. They are also believed to be able to drink up the milk and leave the water from a saucer of milk adulterated with water. This is taken as a great quality, as shown by this Sanskrit verse:Hamsah shwetah, bakah shwetah, kah bhedah hamsa bakayo? Neeraksheera viveketu, Hamsah hamsah, bakah bakah! (Source: Wiki)

It’s been a long time since I was completely stress-free. I’m convinced that when stress is turned up high, it blocks any good vibes from getting through, particularly when you need them the most. It took almost a month after leaving the office, but I’m feeling much better than I was previously, and just in time, too. Sri Karunamayi begins her U.S. Tour in the San Francisco Bay Area, and Leslie, Elizabeth and I were fortunate enough to be one of the first people to see her here today, on the first day of the first city in her tour. She landed in San Francisco International Airport, direct from India, after being in the air for 16 hours, and made her way to the family hosting her in Fremont. We were there with about 25 of other devotees to meet her. I want to be as open and relaxed as possible so I can absorb as much of her positive spiritual energy as I can.

Sri Karunamayi is revered in India as an embodiment of divine motherly love, due to the love and affection that she showers liberally on people, animals, and even plants, the spiritual knowledge and guidance that she gives freely to all of humanity, and the humanitarian works that she has undertaken. "Amma," as she is affectionately called by her devotees, is simply the Telugu word for "mother," Telugu being Amma's native language. (http://www.karunamayi.org/)

I’ve looked forward to this visit for weeks, and it was precipitated by several days of intense and deep thought. Everything I’ve had rolling around in my head, along with residual sadness, came to the surface to be inventoried. This has happened before. I re-evaluated by work experience, current relationships, and what I’d like to do with my life, where I’d like to focus my attention, going forward. I thought about the people I love, my creative efforts, and the current state of our fragile world. All this and more then bounced into my dreams last night. First, I was in a giant ashram full of different rooms and women wearing spiritual whites and sari’s running around getting ready for Amma’s visit (an obvious corrrelation). Then, I was in an office in a new, temporary job working for a woman who clearly didn’t like me (deja vu). Granted, I’ve had this particular dream more than once since being laid off. I was doing a Power Point presentation for her and couldn’t get it right no matter what I did. She fired me finally, and I left the office building carrying a queen size mattress (an awkward burden, much like rejection), dragging it, down a large, dark woodland road (an unknown dark place). As I walked, a tall blonde woman I didn’t recognize crouched by the roadside to nurse her baby (nurturing new ideas and directions). A long parade of white domestic cats, all shapes and sizes, padded ghostlike across the road and into the woods behind her. They were on their way to Amma’s program, too. I’m no expert on dream symbolism, and I usually have little interest in white cats, but I can guess on much of this.

I don’t insist my family attend Amma’s programs. I get wrapped up in it on the days I can be there, but Elizabeth is usually in school, and Leslie is usually busy running everyone around. They end up in the background, waiting and watching. I figure a person doesn’t have to directly participate to benefit from the wonderful vibrations of Amma’s positive spiritual energy. It’s like a contact high. You don’t have to smoke the peace pipe to get the buzz. However, this home visit, outside of her programs, is special and typically for devotees who help. I don’t feel like I did much, not compared to The Bay Area Coordinator’s efforts, but I was invited for the third time. It is a unique opportunity to have special time with Amma outside of individual blessings and before more structured programs focus her attention on the hundreds of people (typically thousands in India) who bring their sorrows, wants and worries to lay at Her feet, revered as She is as the Divine Mother's earthly representation and Saraswati.

Amma in Fremont on March13, 2011

The family that hosts Amma is a traditional Hindu family, and so are many of her devotees. When we entered their home, one of Amma’s bhajans (spiritual songs) played. The house was decorated in Hindu fashion just for the ocassion and filled with a diverse blend of people; some traditional Indian, some hippy looking types, and others completely Western in appearance. There were white sheets spread out all over the floor. Color is of particular importance, although I don’t know the details. Amma asks us to approach her in all white at programs, as well. She arrived with traditional fanfare, looking no worse for the more than 24 hours spent traveling, and spoke to us in her sweet voice, as people clattered and chattered in the background. Her children were anxious this day, nervous even. Thank the heavens She’s arrived because Mother Earth is shaking all to pieces.

In her brief darshan, Amma focused on planetary influences and was very sad about what's happening in Japan, indicating that human greed and selfishness is at the core root of these disasters. She reminded us about the Sri Mrutyunjaya mantra, an ancient vedic healing mantra, and told us about the many homas they’ve performed in India, focusing on this month specifically. Check out the mantra here. You don't have to sing it. Just play it, and it works by healing and warding off negative energy whether you believe in it or not. She mentioned that human beings are struggling psychologically with depression, anxiety, and confusion. Yet, she also laughed easily with us, assuring us that San Francisco is a very spiritual place. Then, she blessed the Prasad, and it was passed around. Candies, nuts, and other treats infused with her spiritual energy were given to everyone. By the time she wrapped it up, I was completely buzzed, thoroughly high on her pure, spiritual vibration. I watched her walk through the small crowd toward her personal room for the night, and noticed that her braid, the tiny tip of which peaked through the bottom of her shawl, was almost down to her knees.

She is the white swan of my spirituality, and when She glides quietly and gracefully away from those of us who want and need her attention so very much, I miss her immediately.

Due to my personal disdain for modern day religion, these spiritual experiences are the closest thing to “religion” my family and I have. My love for the Divine Mother resides in my heart, my devotion or bhakti is personal, and as far as I’m concerned the Goddess is everywhere and for everyone. She has many faces so Her children can find one to identify with. The Holy Mother, Virgin Mary, Athena, Hecate, Saraswati, Durga and even Kali are all aspects of the same to me. I believe very strongly that we all have the right to our personal faiths without persecution, and I don’t appreciate it when others cram their experience down my throat. This has never happened to me in the 10 years I’ve seen Amma. The Hindu trappings, like the ancient religion itself, are not prerequisite to being in Her presence. I take what I want and need from the experience and leave the rest. It was unnerving initially, but I’ve noted that some people who return learn to release that intimidation and adhere to the Hindu practices in programs when it’s spiritually necessary or done out of respect. Like taking yours shoes off at the front door.

No matter what the guidelines are, and no matter if I do or don’t adhere to them, what matters is that Amma has made an enormous personal impact in my life; greater than my parents, my grandparents, and all my relatives put together. With the exception of Leslie and Elizabeth, She has been a singular most positive influence. She helped me access and realize my worthiness, and gave me spiritual and emotional healing at a time when I was drowning in my own broken nature. She’s also been there in very tangible and somewhat unexpected ways.

Now, as I sort through the feelings accumulated over the last year and a half, I’m relieved by the certainty that my Spiritual Mother is here to help … just as She helps all her children.

Learn more about the upcoming Bay Area Program here.

Jai Ma … ❤

Tsunamis, Global Fear, Gift Baskets, and Mid-Morning Tea

2011-03-12T00:52:00.000-08:00

I'm enjoying this period of time I have fondly dubbed my career sabbatical, and I'm filling in the spaces with intense creativity. My spiritual mother, Sri Karunamayi, visits the Bay Area next week, as well. One of her programs is on March 19, coinciding with the “supermoon” and the day prior to the first day of Spring. Just like so many buds waking up as the weather changes, my personal issues bloom reminding me of what I should focus on when She is here.

This visit, I’m thinking about a lot more than myself.

It would be simple to say the morning started with a bang, but it was more like deathly silence. My family and I woke to news of the devastation in Japan and discovered ours and other coastal towns were in a lockdown position, waiting for a tsunami. There was an official warning here which closed the schools, and had people hunkering down to gather their emergency supplies. Although Elizabeth hoped to get a day off, she didn’t because her school is in a different district. We drove down the long road that leads out of the valley, to the top of the hill, and then down to the ocean, and it was quieter than an average Sunday morning. People congregated at the hill’s top, their cars parked, and eyes peeled on the water in the distance. The news coverage had citizens fleeing their homes, even the people who didn’t need to, seeking higher ground, and blocking the main roads. It reminds me of the earthquake in 1989 when I motored home on a Muni bus while watching San Franciscans gathered outside with portable televisions and cases of beer. Today, the big wave never arrived on the Pacifica coastline, not like it did in Hawaii and Santa Cruz, but it didn’t matter. People were scared to death, regardless.

Spring Mini-Basket

Still the day marches onward, and after dropping off Elizabeth at school, Leslie and I searched for a good place to photograph my latest project. I’ve been up to my eyeballs all week in custom gift baskets purchased by an extremely supportive friend here in the area. Leslie and I found a wonderful spot at the public library and took photos that seem staged with a backdrop. She channeled her inner site scout for this project and nailed it down perfectly! Next stop was our friend’s place of business to drop off the baskets. I didn’t expect her to be there as her schedule is unpredictable, but she was, and we enjoyed mid-morning tea and lively conversation. It was good to see her. She’s a lot of fun, tells great stories, and is an inspiration to me in many ways.

While we were enjoying our tea, I received a voicemail message from my former counterpart in Houston. She got her pink slip today, making it official: the company riffed (aka layed off) every single one of us in the West Region, with no exception. This virtually confirms there was a plan over a year ago not only to eliminate the position, but each of us personally along with our demographically appropriate annual salaries. I know it’s business, but it still feels personal, more so now because it’s happened to all the people I worked with and still care about. I hoped at least one of us might be an exception. More than a month after being let go, I’m reluctant to return to Corporate America, and I’m still not sure if this is because my confidence took such a beating or because I’m ready to move on to something else. For example, it’s obvious gift baskets won’t pay the mortgage. Leslie thinks getting my real estate license is a great idea (and something she and I can partner on), but I can’t imagine absorbing that much information and deploying it effectively in this complex market without an experienced mentor. I know if that is what I'm supposed to be doing, that's what I'll do, and I think it would be super to have something Leslie and I can do as a team. I'm just not sure it's the right thing yet.

Family Movie Night Basket

It’s hard to keep up with the amount of information on the web regarding astrological inclinations around yesterday’s disaster, our emergence from the age of Pisces into Aries, and how Uranus is ushering in a long period of intense change and transformation, the hard way. The devastation in Japan, grouped with civil unrest and revolution around the globe will make the American stock market and consequently our economy and job market more unpredictable than ever. To this potpourri of uncertainty, we must add the numerous leaking nuclear reactors in Japan, and the miasma they are casting into the air around them. Someone on Facebook referred to this as an isotropic tsunami and recommends everyone on the West Coast supplement their iron intake with kelp.

I know I’m standing on the precipice of intense personal change. I don’t know where I’ll land when and if I jump. I ask myself repeatedly, “What is my destination?” I don’t know the answer to this, but this I do know:

Whatever my destination is, I refuse to arrive there scared to death.

I want to be informed, but I won’t be crippled by what I’m hearing.

This great orchestration of global change, is out of our control, and in the hands of The Great Mother.

I'll keep creating, and I won’t live in fear.

Liberated by a Legacy Firm Drone

2011-03-02T00:50:00.000-08:00

This morning, I woke up thinking about the dungeon that was my previous job. I worked with some terrific people, and while the thought of that place still irritates me immensely, and I’d much rather never have to think of it again, I wonder about them from time to time.

Coincidentally, a colleague and my former counterpart in Los Angeles called to check up on me earlier today. She’s a nice, genuinely caring individual. Like me, she did not get the job she applied for, but the company kept her on an additional six months to do real estate work her replacement isn’t qualified to do. Her replacement, by the way, is a secretary from the other side of the merger, and she has no operations experience. My previous counterpart informed me that my replacement is an employee from the other side of the company, too. So, I looked up this successful candidate on LinkedIn, and it seems she has no operations experience either.

Our perky colleague and former counterpart in Houston, a real firecracker, is still being strung along. She began the interview process just after Christmas, about the time I did, and was informed a few weeks ago the race is on between her and one external candidate. A man. That external candidate was in the office she manages interviewing yesterday with a high level executive. My perky colleague, however, was not invited to do the same. This high level interview happened in her office, behind a closed door she could see from her desk. It lasted about 45 minutes. When I spoke with her today, it sounded as though she were one Tinky Winky band-aid away from flying into a billion tiny pieces.

Leslie and I were sitting in front of Peet’s coffee when I got off the phone. I was drinking the usual afternoon latte, a habit I haven’t tried to break yet, as I considered what I’d been told. The general consensus might be that across what was “our” geography, the position my counterparts and I applied for and didn’t get has been filled with outrageously unqualified candidates from the other side of the “merger of equals”. In fact, the entire action looks perfectly premeditated.

It took a moment for this new perspective to sink in. At first I sat there, my head racing, feeling irritated and stressed out all over again. To date, I’ve considered this a learning experience, which is what I tell myself when I’ve been intensely fucked and can’t find a hidden benefit. Then the tears fell. If they knew all along they would replace us with legacy firm drones, what was the point of all this? Why tell me I’m a strong candidate only to shoot me down later? Was it so we wouldn’t miss the pleasure of banging our heads against the confusing ambiguity they called change management or so we could enjoy being de-valued as our responsibilities were stripped slowly with little explanation? Oh wait. It was so we could fully imagine the terror of being unemployed in what is undoubtedly this century’s most dramatically publicized and fear inciting recession; thereby being scared shitless enough to do whatever they asked us to do and willingly overlook the strong possibility our efforts might be for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, I realized this lets me off the hook.

Over the last three weeks, I’ve worked on living with the learning experience theory above, and wondered how long it would take my confidence to bounce back. My outer Donna, the big girl, was aware of the set up and knew it was not to be taken personally; but inside … well, that was another story. My inner Donna, the little girl, fretted and even obsessed over the certainty of what I did wrong. The job was only a quarter of its previous responsibilities, and would be surrounded by rude and inconsiderate peers, but this seemed inconsequential. What did I do that made me inadequate for this job? Suddenly, that little, red head, freckle face Donna, the unconfident girl with buck teeth and a dorky pom-pom hat, was liberated from the burden of her self-imposed unworthiness by the knowledge that the firm hired people who weren’t even close to qualified, and probably had plans to dumb it down all along.

A company that treats support services with disdain and utter carelessness is a nightmare to work for in a post-merger environment. The professional staffs who don’t meet their numbers won’t hang around long. But because support services don’t generate revenue, those staff might as well wear targets and wait to be picked off, terminated due to cost savings. As the new firm approaches its utopian state, this will increase with the integration of real estate locations and sophisticated self-service human resource, benefits, and finance systems. Finally, the end result will be a largely automated and highly sophisticated internal services function that sits just one hop, skip, and a jump away from complete and total outsourcing.

If I were still working in the Shared Services dungeon, I'd start mustering up what dignity I have left; because if the process of elimination doesn't wear you down, the ferocious job market certainly will.

Good luck.

D❤

What's On The Easel

2011-02-28T08:46:00.001-08:00

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: Gregor (Guardian Series #2 of 4)

2011-02-26T22:02:00.000-08:00

Guardian Series, #2: Gregor © February 26, 2011 by yours truly. This is the second in my Guardian Series, and you can see the first one here. Done in pen and ink with silver highlights on Arches paper, the original is 12"x17", give or take. It will make its way to my art site once it’s scanned. This is the third portrait of Gregor I've done since first becoming aware of him two years ago almost to the day. As it's been buzzing around in my brain for a year, I’m very happy it’s on paper and done the way I envisioned it.

I received five sheets of Arches paper from my friend Lambi in Greece. She does almost all of her art on Arches. This paper appeals so intently to me at this time because it’s really thick (just like I am) and once you commit to it, you’re in it until the drawing is done (just like a relationship). My previous portraits of Francine were all about flexibility. I layered paper as my perception of each version evolved. With this paper, layering is out. I have to let myself go wherever the paper pushes the marker and hang with it when it happens.

Right now, as I navigate this crossroad in my life, I’m all about going with the flow; and as usual, my art is a reflection of where my head is.

Gregor: My Dragon Spirit Guide

Here is the first portrait of Gregor , and you can read about it here on my art site. Read about how he emerged into my awareness here. And there is more fiction type stuff here.

The Queen of Wands
(a self-portrait of sorts)

This is the second piece, in a self-portrait entitled “The Queen of Wands”.

More:
My FB Page
Lambi's Magic Island

Adventures in Decompression

2011-02-23T00:20:00.000-08:00

Mental Clutter on the Shelf

It’s been a bit over two weeks since my last day in the office. I was laid off on February 4 and my journey with de-stressing began.

I guess I was very tired because I’ve done a lot of napping. I’ve enjoyed the luxury. At the same time, my brain still thinks it’s going back to work in two days and has to get everything done by Monday morning. So, I’ve got four lists going on simultaneously. One is for home projects, one is for art website changes, one is for art business, and one is for generally creative ideas. I’ve organized my creative space including some furniture assembly, re-organized Leslie’s patio at her direction, and re-decorated Elizabeth’s room.

There is the usual stuff. I’m paying the bills and partnering with Leslie on financial planning going forward. I’ve updated my resume and comb the internet for jobs daily. I’m planning Elizabeth’s summer, which will be busy, and I’m in the middle of a series of art works. I write a blog post whenever I’m compelled. Lately, that’s a lot.

I’ve been through the kitchen phase. For two weeks, the kitchen was spotless before I went to bed. That passed. I’m still in the laundry phase. Every single piece of laundry is done, including the piles that build up when the bulk of it is sorted in the hallway. I sense that phase will end soon.

The days go by quickly, and although I don’t have to be, I’m just as busy as I was when working.

I hope my brain figures out what’s going on before too long.

I'm hooked ...

2011-02-19T12:21:00.001-08:00

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: Ganesha (Guardian Series #1 of 4)

2011-02-16T22:44:00.000-08:00

"Ganesha" Guardian Series # 1 of 4 © February 16, 2011 by Donna L. Faber, all rights reserved. This is the first in a series of images on Arches paper, and it was done using permanent fine ink and silver markers.

This inspiration for this project started with an original piece of art my Grecian friend, Lambi made for me and sent from Europe. She uses Arches paper all the time, and it is strong enough to handle the multiple layers of texture and color she applies. I love the piece she did for me, which is called “Full moon over mermaid with lotus”, but I also fell in love with the paper it was on.

When I went in search of Arches paper, I found it at Michael's Art Store, where there is a small 8x10 pad retailing at $75.00. There are perhaps 10 sheets in all. Say what? I couldn’t justify spending the money now, so I whined about it on Facebook instead. And then, to my utmost surprise and amazement, my friend Lambi took it upon herself to send me four sheets from Athens. What a sweet and genuine gesture! I’ve worked with this paper for three days, and it is the most luxuriant, plush, and textured surface I’ve ever used. It takes water color paper to the next level, and adds an element of surprise to what you’re applying to it by directing the pen unexpectedly from time to time. It’s exciting!

I'm focusing on personal Guardians with this series, those who watch over us, remove our obstacles and keep us safe and protected. Ganesh has always watched over my family, and about two months before my last job ended, I became focused on him intensely. I knew Big Brother would take care of me, but I had no idea that the obstacle he had to nail to do so was my job. When we ask the gods and goddesses, any diety, for assistance, it is best to prepare for anything! They rarely give us want we want, but always give us with what we need.

I’ll post this to my art site soon.

www.donnalouisefaber.com

D ❤

On the Road to the Next Chapter

2011-02-12T10:49:00.000-08:00

"On the Road" by Liz
This is the view to the Pacific Ocean from where we live.

I arrived at work one lovely San Francisco morning six months into my last job, and a company-wide voicemail message announced a merger and public offering. What came next was a year and a half of merger angst and position dismantling, inclusive of workplace ambiguity, a viral and almost pathological disregard for common workplace respect, intense trepidation, and then interview interrogation. By the time they laid me off a week ago, I was relieved. I’ve been through a merger in the past, but the difficulty I experienced here was epic, making this the most difficult period in my career.

This week has been about de-stressing and decompression, an on-going process, I’m sure. I had no idea I was so wound up. I’ve slept a lot as my inner workings reassemble, and the strangest thing keeps happening. I might be standing in the hallway when I have a random office memory. My muscles tighten up and I get a sick feeling in both my head and heart. This is what I felt like for a year, and why I was in so much physical pain all the time. I had to repress these feelings to work. Then, I remind myself it’s a thing of the past , the tightening and sickness subsides, and I feel relieved and surprised; giddy even. This gets less intense each day.

The last time I went through a period of unemployment, we were in Connecticut. I left a job in San Francisco after 19 years because my career had stalled. We sold our house in South City just before the real estate industry tanked and moved across country. We had fun for a while, furnishing the house and all that, until the novelty wore off. When it was time to go back to work, I discovered the job market had followed the housing market into the toilet, as well. Even the market in New York City was tight. It was a half year before I found a crappy position that paid less than half what I was making in San Francisco and was boring as hell. I predicted we would return to the Bay Area precisely one year later, and that we did.

My job right now is to unwind, get my head together, and find my balance. As the present evolves, I gain greater objectivity. Looking back, I have no regrets. I’m pleased I had the strength to stand up for myself at work when it became necessary. I imagine kowtowing or kissing ass might have increased my chances for continued employment, but I just don’t have it in me. Thank goodness. Instead, I’ve completed a life cycle; a turbulent one that has created personal and professional strength in me, and I’m preparing for the next chapter.

The difference between this and Connecticut is that I’m in the place I love. The Bay Area is beautiful and action packed. I’m reminded of this each time I see the Pacific Ocean in the panoramic vista just down the street. Tomorrow will take care of itself, but in the meantime, I’m going to make the most out of every moment.

There is, however, one thing I can state with absolute certainty.

The next time I hear the word “merger”, I will, without a doubt, run screaming in the opposite direction.

Create Peace: More on Cyber-Bullying

2011-02-09T11:36:00.000-08:00

Create Peace

Read the first post on this right here!

From where we sat in the van watching our daughter leave school grounds, Leslie and I could tell Elizabeth had a good day and was in a good mood. We were so relieved.

We're in the midst of our first experience with cyber-bullying, the details of which are here.

When I called the school’s principal, I didn’t know if he would support me or blow me off. The truth is school administrators have no responsibility over what students do on their own time, and so cyber-bullying and other negative activity on the internet falls into a grey area school administrators don’t have to be bothered with. But, this principal took notes on my concerns during our conversation. He asked me questions, wanted details, and said he’d reach out to Elizabeth at school, even though there was a good chance she would be hesitant to say anything.

They met with Elizabeth just before the last class of the day. He brought one of his guidance counselors, a woman, to break the ice, and in fact, she did most of the talking. They went into all of Elizabeth concerns, including the teachers and how mean they are. They asked if she wanted to come to school, and she gave them an honest answer: No. She spoke truthfully about her feelings, including who she thought left those nasty messages on Formspring. Our daughter wasn’t threatened by their conversation, and she very well could have been (in which case she’d have clammed up big time), so I know they did the job right.

I’m glad I called the principal. Even though Elizabeth said she didn’t want us to interfere, I can see how important it is to her that we did. We also decided to leave her Formspring account just the way it is.

Eighth grade haters, beware.

We’re on to you now.

Eighth Grade Cyber-Balderdash

2011-02-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

Well, it finally happened. Elizabeth has been attending school for 10 years including pre-K and this is the first time we’ve encountered cyber-bullying that is intense enough to get us involved. It happened on Formspring, which for 8^th graders is like glazed donuts to a diabetic; irresistible but deadly. Formspring isn’t like Facebook. On Formspring, anyone can leave anonymous posts unless you've tweaked your account to prevent it (and most folks don’t know it’s possible). On Facebook, everyone knows who you are, so haters leave major insults at their own risk, which means, most of the time they don’t bother.

I was first introduced to Formspring by a high school age student we know in Connecticut. She is a Facebook friend who posts links to her Formspring dialogue regularly. It is disturbing. Boys ask for a blow job, and she LOL’s. Girls call her slut, whore, and douchebag, and she LOL’s that, too. We mentioned what was going on to her mother and haven’t heard from her mom since. I guess when she said, “Let me know what’s happening online”, she didn’t really mean it.

Formspring Sucks!

Elizabeth is attending 8^th grade in a school that is 85 percent Asian. So, on top of the usual 8^th grade dramatics, she takes considerable flack for being white. Ironically, she NEVER takes any abuse for having two moms. She’s been accused of trying to act Asian, dress Asian, and taking Asian boys away from Asian girls. This is a lame insult, if you know Elizabeth. She is extremely sensitive to any kind of racism, and doesn’t hesitate to get in our faces if even remotely Archie Bunker-like words slip from our lips. Have you ever been lectured by a 13 year old?

Last night, someone posted a verbal assault on Elizabeth's Formspring profile. By 8^th grade standards, it was epic. Elizabeth discovered it just before climbing into bed, and she was devastated. The hater covered her breasts, her body type, her sense of humor (how she paints a mustache on her finger and holds it under her nose), her standards of friendship, personality, and then capped on her for hanging out with another group of kids who reported hate her now, too. Of course, she was also accused, once again, of wanting to be and acting like ... yes, you guessed it, an Asian.

Leslie and I went to bed upset. Eighth grade is hard enough. The teachers are mean as hell, as if being so was a prerequisite to teaching. The ones that aren’t mean are lazy. And a goodly number of them take any opportunity to yell at and insult classroom students. Hey folks, we realize this hasn’t been a banner year for State of California education, but what made you decide to leave your maturity at the door? Many of these individuals seem to forget that teaching is more than a job. Remember, these are the teachers who’ve kept their position when so many others are let go, implying they have tenure or are the cream of the crop. You would think so, anyhow.

Leslie and I slept on it, and we started our morning as usual. Despite being recently laid off, I get up early, which is what they say avoids the gaping maw of unemployment depression. Elizabeth was quiet. She had to be at school 45 minutes early for detention because she was off sick on Friday, and didn’t get her political cartoon assignment. Whatever. See what I’m saying about mean?

Well, we are certain we know who the hater is. This girl, an Asian girl, hung out with Elizabeth for two years before blossoming (and bludgeoning) hormones and other girly shit split them up. My guess is that when they split, Elizabeth was supposed to go crawling back, and one might say she did the first time they had a problem. She opted to be the bigger person and broke the ice. The second time, however, Elizabeth had enough, opted in favor of her self-esteem, and found new friends.

I am personally very familiar with this hater’s M.O. I was the buck-toothed, red-head fifth grader who got her ass kicked regularly after school. Girls in 7^th grade handed me notes about how ugly I was and how I smelled bad. I had a girlfriend in school, and she did the same thing to me. She had an expectation of my behavior when we argued and when I didn’t comply, she let me have it. I know all about it, but I didn’t have supportive parents backing me up.

Elizabeth does have supportive parents, and when I spoke to the school principal today he was very concerned. We’re going to deal with this assertively.

It’s not okay for anyone to pick on our little girl.

Watch out, haters.