Waiting for the Unknown

     I sit down to write this without even  washing my breakfast dishes or making my bed.  I don’t know what I need to write, but I must write.  It is cold outside…this is the view from the table of my camper.

      I woke at 4:15 AM and have listened to a talk on “fear” by one of my favorite spiritual teachers, read from my “personal bible”, “Women Who Run With the Wolves”, meditated, prayed, listened to an online book, drunk a pot of coffee, walked my dog, and fixed breakfast for us both.  So, what am I really doing?  I suppose I am Waiting.  I type that word with a capitol “W” because that is what it feels like.

     For the last three months, I have been creating a home for myself in this little camper.  It’s the home I have for now anyway, and I am so very grateful for it.  Who knew, a year ago, that it would become my semi-permanent living quarters.  It is funny that the question I get asked the most since winter has come is, “Are you keeping warm?”  I am going to give a blanket answer (pun intended).  Yes!  Despite it being winter, I am keeping warm.  I have long johns, gloves, hats, propane heater, electric heater, and a wonderful cozy electric blanket, for which I am so thankful.  I am glad I live in the modern age. 

     I have also been dipping my toe into the real world each day.  I do my laundry at a laundry mat, I pop in at the propane supplier, I go on hikes by myself or with a friend, I have a library card at the library about thirty minutes away where I can get DVDs, books, check my online messages, and  research things I need to know. I also pop in from time to time at the nearby city’s meditation center.  I have had many lovely times with a friend of mine in Albuquerque and a few coffee dates with a friend in Santa Fe.  I haven’t really made any new friends yet, but I have met some terribly nice people.  It has been a time of nurturing, resting, and living with the person I am becoming.  This is interspersed with a monthly eleven hour commute to teach a hand full of students who are getting ready for their senior piano recitals. (whew!)

     The last few weeks, however, I have been confused because as much as I love my camper, I’ve known that I can’t live in it forever.  It is a bit cramped, especially since it gets dark so early.  I have also been making every one of my Christmas gifts, so workspace is very tiny.  I am confused because I also am not ready to walk into a new life at this moment and just make something happen.  I could do this, and there are some beautiful options, but something deep inside me is pulling, yearning, and creating a bit of discomfort.  I feel it in my chest right now as I type. 

     I suppose this path I am on is working in stages.  I have dismantled an old life but still finishing up commitments, I have traveled a good bit which has helped me face a number of fears about being alone  in new places and new situations, I have grappled with letting go of controlling my situations, and I have taken some time to rest and learn to love myself again and those around me.  If one looks at my life from the outside, it probably appears as if I am being lazy or irresponsible for not looking for a job, or settling down, or finding a new community, but I must say…I have never worked so hard in my life as I have these last couple of years. 

     How do I tell people who have seen me committed to a career for thirty-five years, that I am not looking for a job right now because I am Waiting?  How do I explain to the people I love the most that I can’t tell them what I am doing in a month because I am Waiting?  How do I tell myself to be patient with my discomfort because I need to Wait? What am I waiting for?  I suppose I will know it when it happens.  What I do know is that when I listen, really listen at a very deep level, I hear and feel the most beautiful things.  They bring out the deepest of emotions and the deepest of knowings.  I cannot put this into words for anyone else to understand.  Each has her own journey in which she will hear her own knowings.  Mine are so personal I cannot describe them, even to myself.  But, I hear and feel them nonetheless.    When I am feeling lonely, they comfort me. 

     So, for now, I will keep meditating, praying, drumming, sculpting, walking in nature, and listening.  Am I impatient?  Hell yes... at times anyway. I am a full-blooded American if you haven’t noticed!  We specialize in impatience.  But I must be patient in order not to rush a very important process.  Learning how to truly love at a deep level, takes time, and isn’t that our life’s work? Allowing oneself to become who they ultimately are meant to become, takes time.  Learning where we can be of greatest service to those who need what we have, means we have to realize our greatest gifts.   This will bring about new challenges, new fears, and new growth.  I think that is this discomfort I am feeling…growing pains.  I so appreciate the patience and support of my loved ones as I work through these times of Waiting.

     “We are only at the midpoint of transformation, a place of being held in love, yet poised to make a slow dive into another abyss.  And so, we continue.” (from,  Women Who Run With the Wolves)

    

The Space In-Between

Finding Space at Sand Bluffs in El Malpais Monument

     You might think that finding space in my heart and in my mind would be easy now that I have moved to New Mexico, am communing with nature, and have more quiet time.  I will say that it is easier to find the time and place to make way for space, but is it really ever easy?  I don't think so, actually.  I believe it gets easier to know how to get there, but it is a full time job, and it is truly hard work. I can tell you, however, it is worth every minute of that work.  I do this work best when I am gazing out at something beautiful, or hiking, or meditating. I even took a vacation to El Malpais Monument last week with my friend.  I could then, again, still my mind  in that setting.  This is terribly ironic since I already live in a camper in the woods.  It doesn't matter where one lives, the mind goes with us...EVERYWHERE!

     The minute I get into an open, present, and loving mind, the wind will blow another direction, and my heart and mind are in fear, confusion, in a state of laziness or resignation, or back in control again.  I think we are built this way, actually.  We are either thinking about point A or point B, and we loose track of what is in-between.  We think about the past or the future, and we forget about the present.  Now, most of us have spent our whole adult lives being this way, so it doesn't necessarily feel bad...it just is the way it is.  But, once I got a whiff of that space in-between these two points, the universe opened up.  Everything became real.  You see, I know who I am in this space which is why it is imperative that I get there as much as I can.  

     I was teaching a piano lesson to one of my final four high school students in Texas yesterday.  She is a lovely and very talented student and was more than prepared for her lesson.  Something, however, was missing in her playing.  Her music wasn't communicating any message.  I asked her to stand up and play it on her clarinet.  You see, the clarinet uses breath to produce its tone, so we worked very hard on using her whole body and her breath to get from point A to point B, or in this case, from note A to note B.  I talked to her about feeling the direction and the emotion as she connected the two notes, not only in her breath, but also in her body and her inner ear.  I told her that this is where the magic happens.  When she went back to the piano, the music literally spoke to me and filled me with emotions! It then dawned on me that this is what my mistake is all the time in my mind that gets me thrown off balance so easily.  I'm not always working to stay in that beautiful space in-between, but instead, I want to hurry up and get to point B.  

     Driving home today from Texas, I saw the most exquisite sunset.  The sky was filled with oranges and rose colors.  Instead of pulling over and simply meditating and feeling gratitude for this experience, I kept snapping photos on my phone from the window in hopes to capture the colors and the beauty and the feeling I was having.  But you see, my feeling was "less-than" because my mind was only half engaged with what I was seeing.  I ended up with about twelve bad to mediocre photos and a mediocre experience.  We can never really capture the incredible beauty that we see in nature, and we can't even begin to capture the emotions we feel when we see it, but we keep trying.  In fact, we try to capture these things more than any time in history since we have all become professional  smart phone shutterbugs.  I'm talking about me here, people!  I'm at the top of the list.  

     I know what I need to do to get back more in tune with that "space in-between".  Why do I choose not to always use the tools that I know work?   Laziness, I think.  But, when I choose this more traveled path of laziness, I am always disappointed in the outcome.  I feel that right now, in fact, and as I write, I am feeling a strong pull to get up tomorrow and pull all the tools out of the proverbial tool kit to find that breath between the notes and that magic in the breath.  

     Another student asked me this week, "What do you do in meditation?"  I told her, "You find those brief moments of stillness between thoughts, and you try to sit in those moments as long as you can.  And in those tiny moments, you find the real You. Only then can you have a relationship with something truly meaningful." 

     Well, I have been lying on my hotel bed, eating junk food, watching television, and browsing the internet...all at the same time, no less. I've decided to go hiking in  Palo Duro Canyon for a couple of hours in the morning before I head to New Mexico.  I am going to try an experiment.  I am not going to take one photograph of the hike, nor am I going to post anything on Facebook about it.  I am not going to text anyone to tell them how it is unless I have troubles.  I am just going to breath, walk, see, and enjoy the space in-between.  Then, I will think long and hard about putting that practice into my normal daily life.  I know that it will be worth the work because it is magic.  

Photos of El Malpais National Monument

     

Peeling Onions and Cracking Shells

I have been in New Mexico for 5 weeks now. I am preparing for winter in my little camper. I hope that it will be OK, but I feel more assured now since my Dad came out to help winterize it. We created a skirt around the bottom to keep out the wind, and we cut insulation for the outside of the windows. I cleaned up the outhouse, we shored up some boards, and I gave it some nice touches, but it is still a cold outhouse in the end. It will probably not be easy, especially as the days get shorter and colder. There are absolutely no lights out this direction, so you can imagine how dark it is at night in the middle of the mountains. When a friend comes to visit, however, the favorite thing to do after dinner is look at the stars. I can literally see millions of them. The skies never cease to amaze me, whether it is the gorgeous blue on a clear day, dramatic clouds on a stormy day, or layer upon layer of galaxies on a black night. I lived in Santa Fe for about fifteen years of my life, and some of my fondest memories are staring out at the incredible sunsets. Some things will never change about New Mexico.

Shortly after I arrived here (three days to be exact), I drove 13 hours to play a gig in Escalante, Utah. It was exactly what I needed to do. I had been around people so much while in Bali, Philadelphia, McKinney, and on my drive back East, that solitude in nature was creating bubbles of fear. My initial feelings of  living as primitively as I am was, “What the hell have I done?!” However, the quiet, long, and beautiful drive through New Mexico and up along the western side of Utah border was a sight for sore eyes and medicine for my soul. I found myself amazed and spiritually moved during the drive there and back. While in Escalante, I, yet again, found myself camping in freezing temperatures in my little tent for three nights, hiking “my rim” and remembering some of my favorite moments while there in May, and meeting up with some of my favorite people I met on my travels. I came back to New Mexico with a clearer idea of what I am doing. I am healing, I am growing, and I am connecting with parts of myself that I had long ago forgotten or just flat out ignored.

If you really want to get in touch with yourself and start cracking that ego shell around your soul, spend time alone. You don't have to live in the middle of the mountains to do this. Just turn off your phone (did I mention that I have no cell phone coverage or wi-fi?) and spend time sitting, reading, playing music (not practicing it), painting a picture, praying, meditating, and talking to nature around you. That pause is like magic that can slowly penetrate that shell. I am not alone all the time, though. I go to town everyday to check and send messages, occasionally check my P.O. Box, pick up a few food or hardware items, and see my friends. I also am back to making hiking something I do several times a week. I am trying to reduce my spending, so I am hoping to stretch my finances out a bit so that I can do more service work at this point and see where it leads as opposed to finding a job immediately.

Already, I have made several connections in terms of volunteer opportunities that really speak to me.

Let's go back to that magic, though. Stopping just for a moment and listening to your inner voice is when it happens. It happens when you feel a connection or an alignment with things going on around you, or when you simply stop in mid walk or pull over in the car to be amazed and truly grateful for what you are seeing. I feel the magic when I remember things that I yearned to do as a child or young adult that I did not think was possible, and now, I think anything is possible. In fact, I am doing some of those things now! Magic happens when you feel a connection or love for someone that you have never met before and may never see again, but you feel the energy pass between you. Magic is realizing that we are all part of nature, and we really don't own anything nor are we more powerful than any other creature...true equanimity. Magic is feeling incredible pain in your heart but you are not sure why until suddenly, you feel a layer of the proverbial onion skin peel off and something more real inside of you surfaces. It hurts, physically and emotionally, to realize that we live so much of our lives in the egoic mind, and we make so many decisions from that place. It is terribly difficult to crack it open, but now that I am feeling more and more cracks, I just want to peel it all off.

I recently heard someone say, “If you want to be impactful in the world today, you must be willing to be impacted.” She then went on to say that being impacted is not easy, but it is necessary if we are to make a difference. That rang so true to me, and we need to be more impactful than we ever have been before. I don't know what I, personally, can really do for the larger world, but I do know that as I keep peeling the layers of onion skin away , things are becoming clearer. Whatever my next steps are going to be, I know that loving kindness has got to be the center of it. Connectivity with those around us, with the wild animals and our beautiful planet, and the universe at large, has got to be done with the magic of allignment through our spirit, not our ego. So, until I have a clearer plan, I will keep cracking away.

Chapter 18: Beyond the Crossroads

Wall Collage with Stencil, Jude Simon

 About a year ago, when I decided to sell our house and quit teaching, I, at times, thought I was going crazy!  I curled up in a ball one night and simply laid my head on my Dad's chest, crying,  and I said just about as much.  Who does this sort of thing; give up all sense of stability for the absolute unknown?  Who follows a deep, internal voice that isn't telling you why you are doing things but is saying to do it anyway?
     The very next day, I sold my mother's older piano and bought my camper.  Little did I know, at that time, that  I would be moving into it a year later and that I would be living on land owned by someone I only met for 20 minutes before we shook hands and set a move-in date?  That morning, a year ago,  before going out and looking at RV stores, I asked my Dad, "How I can I leave things that are so good?  How can I turn away from a job in which I have been successful, to follow this unknown path?  His answer was, "Imagine that this is a book.  You turn the page and you see the beginning of chapter 18.  Does that mean that chapters 1 through 17 are now no longer important?  No, everything in chapters 1 through 17 have built up to chapter 18 so that you can take the next steps in the story.  You aren't throwing away a wonderful family, a house, a job, security, etc...you are building on from there and moving forward.  Everything has been working toward this moment so that you are ready for what life is going to bring you now." 
     My personal journey has been going on now for about two and a half to three years, and the proverbial "waves" have not stopped.  Every time I return to McKinney, there is more furniture to move and more letting go that simply must happen. It seems to never end.  I returned a couple of weeks ago from an amazing trip to Santa Fe to celebrate my brother and sister-in-law's 20th wedding anniversary.  We had a fabulous time, and wouldn't you know it, the focus for the ceremony was on "change".  It was the day before this ceremony when I got a call from a friend of a friend asking me if I wanted to go see a possible camper location on her land.  I looked around her land, and within no time, we had shaken hands and decided that the best time for me to move in was September 18th.  I did not even blink...I just knew... I would be moving in three weeks from that moment.

My brother Greg and my Dad

Santa Fe Sunset

Me and Greg

Dad, my sister-in-law Kristina, Greg and their guest

A wrangler from the stables and me

My nephew Lucas and sister-in-law Olivia

     When my Dad and I returned to McKinney from Santa Fe, we only had a few days to separate more items in our storage unit.  My son, Austin, and his girlfriend moved to Dallas in July and had some furnishings waiting for them, we also had some things to sale, and then we had to drive the rest of the items up to Albany, New York for my daughter, Chris, and then drive on to Framingham, MA to deliver furniture to my brother's house.  This was not an easy drive, but we managed to make the best of it by stopping to see one of my very closest friends, Juliet, in Columbus.  Then, we spent two nights at the treehouse community that my daughter, her boyfriend, and many of their friends have built.  We also got see their new home in Albany.  We then went to Framingham and visited for an evening with my sister-in-law and nephew, Kristina and Lucas, had dinner with Kristina's sister and her partner in East Hampton, MA, stopped to quickly say hi to a drummer friend of mine in Harrisburg and pick up a drum, took a simply breathtaking drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and ended our journey visiting my Dad's best friend in Tyler. 
     It was during the drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway that I realized the symbolism of this trip.  I am turning a page to start the next chapter. We had organized more stuff in order to take it to their new homes, and we personally delivered them  to the tune of over 4000 miles.  I was able to see that everyone was happy living their own lives, and I let go of trying to fit myself in places where I don't belong.  These beautiful people, my family, are living life on their own terms and they don't need me to tell them how to live their lives or give suggestions, or expect them to be anyone other than who they are.  They are perfect just as they are, and I realized that it is time to cross over and live the life I need to live now. I need to be who I am meant to be in "chapter 18", and they will all be just fine.  I will always be there for each and every one of them at any time, but that deep, inner voice is still nudging me forward, even when I am in my head having to be, as my dad calls it, a "human doer" as I prepare to move to New Mexico.
     My only goals now are to learn to become a professional "human BE-ing" as opposed to a "human DO-er",  to continue to follow that deep, inner voice and be of service to people, wildlife, and nature using my passions, enjoy an important relationship that has taken me to this area of the country, and  just enjoy being me.  It is time to slow down now and allow...to stop being in control and let the bigger universe guide me.  I can't believe the changes that are about to happen, but at the same time, it all makes perfect sense.  I'll see you on the other side.

My Daughter Chris and her boyfriend Peter

Chris

Treehouse at The Root

Blue Ridge Mountains

My son Austin and his girlfriend Annie

Me and Jude

Portrait of me

Unplanning the Future (dedicated to R.S.)

The Butterfly Woman

     When my mother was dying, I was in the room with her and had my head on her body.  We rested together.  She said weakly, "Toni, you are going to go so much further than I did."  I shook my head and cried, "Mom, that is impossible. Look at how many people love you, and look at all the good things you have done."  She said, "No, You are going to fly."  I promised her that I would try.  From that point on, I have stayed true to my promise, and worked like a dog to allow my life to grow and reshape. It is a never ending journey.
     On the second anniversary of her death, our small family gathered at the Wilshire Baptist Church  chapel,  and together and via phone, we shared memories, songs, and thoughts. I wrote this poem for her the night before.  It had been a very difficult few days of recognizing things about myself that needed to change.  I wrote this on January 8, 2015.

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

Quiet Loving

Mist hangs over the water as I gaze out the window.
Branches are bare as they were two years ago today.
My thoughts are quiet, calm, not yet peaceful... but getting there.

You told me, two years ago, that I would fly.
I did not believe you and shook my head.
You encouraged me to love deeply.
I said I would try.

Then there was silence.
I laid my head on your chest.
Quiet loving,
Quiet knowing.

You were nudging me out of the nest...I see that now.
Giving me permission to fly.
I have felt your quiet nudging from afar as well
And wondered at the mystery of this thing called death.

Through your passing, I have learned to love deeply.
Through your passing, I have learned to feel deeply.
Through your passing, life has been both very difficult and very meaningful.
And that is this thing called life.

How could I learn so much from someone who is no longer here?

Although the branches are bare as they were two years ago,
My heart still feels your presence and love.
You live on, not only in our minds and hearts, but in our souls.

In my silence,
I lay my head on your chest,
Quiet loving,
Quiet knowing.
************************
     Her "guidance" continued, as has guidance from so many helpful and loving people that swooped into my life. Those few words before her death, were to set a trajectory that have had an enormous ripple effect.
      When I was hiking in Escalante, Utah, I walked into a part of a canyon,  and I got chills all over my body.  A woman I had met on a hike, the day before, had told me about a section of this hike where she looked up and saw a cloud that she knew was her mother.  I know what this feels like, and as I felt these same feelings on this very same hike the next day, I realized I was in the same spot she had described.  I looked up, and I saw a beautiful yellow butterfly leading me through the canyon.  Whether you think this is real or simply metaphorical does not matter to me, but I felt my mother. The strange thing is, the  butterfly theme has been coming into my life through new friends who have proven to be important guides,  as well as in my own art.
     I read something, two nights ago, that solidified this for me (as if I needed more).   It was in "Women Who Run With the Wolves", chapter 7 about women's bodies and our spirit.  Clarissa Estes reads a story about "La Mariposa", or Butterfly Woman. She says, "Butterfly Woman mends the erroneous idea that transformation is only for the tortured, the saintly, or only for the fabulously strong.  The Self need not carry mountains to transform.  A little is enough.  A little goes a long way.  A little changes much.  The fertilizing force replaces the moving of mountains.  Butterfly Maiden pollinates the souls of the earth:  it is easier than you think."
           I recently returned to America with the knowledge that I need to make a difference;  in fact we all do.  My mother taught me this and I finally understand that she made a difference every single day of her life. Was she a perfect person?... Absolutely not.  And we did have our own mother/daughter issues.  But, she had a passionate drive to make the world around her a better place... And she succeeded. A butterfly is a small, beautiful  creature with a delicate body and a short lifespan.  But, even with that fragility and small body, a butterfly can change the course of the world, and when you get a lot of butterflies together... Watch out!  Major changes will happen.
     I went out for a walk in Philadelphia yesterday with the purpose of finding a butterfly to photograph for this blog entry.  I did not tell my friend, Ariane, that I was going to do this, nor have I told her any of my thoughts or experiences about butterflies thus far.  She suggested that while she was teaching piano yesterday, that I  go to buy groceries in the Italian Market,  and if I wanted to, walk around Queen's Village.  On the way, I passed a museum that I have always wanted to go into, but alas, it was closed.  I took photos anyway and realized, as I looked into my phone screen, that the mosaics reminded me of butterfly wings. I thought this was beautiful and continued my walk.

 Magic Garden

I ambled through Queen's Village and thought, "Well, this is an ok place but maybe I am not in the right area because it is not especially memorable."  I was taking a photograph of a cool stencil on a wall and literally thought, "I guess I will just look up butterfly images online and use a stock photo."  At that point, I turned around and saw, on the wall right to my back, an entire mural of butterflies.  The mural was painted by Conrad Booker.  I was blown away. It was painted on the side of a building used for after school programs in music, art, and dance.
     I know, that as I board my flight back to Dallas now, that this time in Philly has been a time to rest, to help out a friend, and to think about how I want to allow my life to unfold.  A chrysalis, so to speak. It is really going to unfold exactly as it is intended, but what I do have control of is making sure that I help it to unfold using the grace, beauty, and stamina of a butterfly. I know that what I love about butterflies is that they are all different and all beautiful in their own right.  What a beautiful world we live in. My mother understood the beauty of difference, whether it be racial, socio-economic, gay, trans, or straight , etc.... I saw this exemplified over and over. She made a difference in people's lives when they felt chastised by other people. How do I know this?  They have told me.
     Today, there is fear all over America, concerning these issues.  We are ALL beautiful, and we are all butterflies.  I hope we will join hands and do what we can to help those around us, including ourselves, feel like we are gorgeous, unfolding butterflies who deserve to be and live beautifully.