October, this year.

October last year I was in New York City.  In just a few days my grandpa would pass away.  It would be the second death that year.  It would round out the "year of loss" in the biggest way we never saw coming.  I would return to Southern Utah.  I would return to the graveyard.  I would not say one word the whole drive to the cemetery from the funeral home.

Later, I would remember the strange run-in on the subway with a woman who sang to me one of my grandpas favorite songs.  A warning? A premonition? Collective consciousness? A message?

Last October I could not pinpoint the what's or the why's.  I kept trying.  I dug deep.

I buried.  I dug.  I buried.  I dug.  

In the months to follow the metamorphosis was continuing, yet I was still running.
I was always running.  Running to.  Running from.

October this year I have no desire to run to, or run from.  I am home.  My world is in place.  It took a long time to get here.  It took a lot of work.  A lot of patience.  A lot of hearts shattered along the way.

But I am here.
I am whole.
I am calm.
No more running.


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The Truth

I'm committed to my truth.  To discovering, to following, and to living my truth.  This hasn't always been the case.  Simply because I didn't know any better.  I didn't know how many layers my truth was under, or how to find it.  I knew I wanted it.  I knew I was unsettled.  I was searching.  But for what? A current of dissatisfaction always running through me.   At times the volume was up and at times it was barely audible. But it was always there.  

The truth cannot be forced.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, sometimes the truth looks different than others want it to.  In the beginning, it might even look different than what you want it to.  But guess what? Your truth is yours and yours alone.  What is true for you is what matters.  Your personal life is yours.  And guess what? It affects nobody else.  And if it "does"? That's because you no longer fit into the role/view/image they've assigned to you, and that's their issue to deal with.  It's not about you.  

You owe it to yourself to be the best, most authentic version of yourself.  I cannot stress that enough.  I.  Promise.  You.  Everything will fall into place around that.  Relationships change around you and so do your reactions.  For the better. 

Again, the truth cannot be forced.  Sometimes it takes years, or the majority of a lifetime (or maybe it never happens) to peel back your layers.  To rid yourself of "what should be".  You can trick yourself.  You can be in denial and not be aware of it.  You can let fear hold you back.  You can stay in a life that's stagnant, small, because your not sure that if you jump that the universe will be there to catch you.

I promise you it will.  A wise friend of mine told me, "the universe will rise up to meet you every time", and it's the honest to god truth.  

Leap.  Just leap.  

Tune in.  Be still.  Be quiet.  When you sense something is off, it's because it is.  When you sense something is right, it's because it is.  No matter how small.  No matter how many times you shrug it off, or explain it away.  This is where we trip up.  This is where we convolute the simplicity of life.  Because we tell ourselves we are a certain way, with a certain role to play, and life must go accordingly.  When things don't "fit" we try to dismiss them.  

Don't.  That's your truth knocking. 

No one can tell you your truth.  They can only tell you their opinion based on the role they've assigned you to their own life / world view.  You owe no one an explanation.  Who is anyone else to tell you what's right or wrong for you? Who is anyone to stop you from growing? From living? From escaping restraints, and falsehoods? 

Finding your truth is a messy, destructive process.  It is not without ramifications.  It is not without hurt.  You will hurt loved ones along the way.  You will break your own heart.  

"You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens" - Rumi

Open it. 

Thanks for reading, 

Deena Marie

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 * * * 

I left my world...

Poetry is the most magical, comforting, teacher I have.  Through words that bleed emotion I learn who I am, and that even when I am positive I am the only person to go through such trials and tribulations and that no one else could possibly have a life like mine, I learn that I'm not.  And that is everything.  I can crack open, and let my emotions bleed along with the words when I'm not yet ready or able to use my own. 


I left my world
to be with you
I had to escape
without telling anyone.

I know I left broken hearts
and I suffered for that
but nothing compares
with the suffering of being away
from you.

Today everything is happiness.

Being with you
in different cities
where nobody knows us
and forget our
boring
locked
past.

Walk in the woods
enjoying the sun
the rain
the wind
and the snow.

Today everything is happiness.

-Axel Marazzi


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A bit of beauty

I want to give you a bit of beauty.
I can't yet give you words.
So I'd like for you to hold out your hands, and close your eyes.
I'd like you to take this from me.  It will not make me have less.
I want you to share with me this in between,
caught in the middle of the end of summer and the start of fall.
I want you to feel how heavy it is.  How tangible.

Feel how full I am? I want you to feel full, too.

This spring startled me into my existence.
My truth came for me in an unexpected hour.
I don't know how to say goodbye to you, summer.
I am greedy.  I can't get enough to store up, to savor.

Do you feel this? Love? 

I am so full of it it hurts.  I am so filled I want to cry.
It is the most beautiful kind of pain.
I want to give you a bit of beauty.
Starstuff, heartache, melancholia, nostalgia, gratitude, love.
Magnified, imortalized.
Take this bit of beauty.
I'll have words another day.

 

Write as if you were dying.

This article from the New York Times was sent to me yesterday by a fellow writer, poet, and all around fabulous lady.  I'm so glad she thought to send this to me.  My brain has been spinning ever since.

Read the full article here: Write Til You Drop by Annie Dillard.  While many sentences and paragraphs jumped out at me, what hit me most were these: 

There is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain. It is hard to explain because you have never read it on any page; there you begin. You were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment.

Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?

It's funny (although it's actually perfect) that I just read this because my brain had just bee trying to form a little snippet of poetry similar to this idea.  Something along the lines of, "I want to give you everything.  I want to show you everything I have, and everything I know.  But I'm afraid that if I do, I'll have nothing left for me."

I'm wondering about all of this.  John P. Shanley says, "what you leave out is the story."  And boy, if that's true do I have a story for you.  And boy, if I found out I was dying it would be yours.  Now.  Today.  It would be urgent and it would be out.  But I'm not dying, and I'm afraid to reveal.  I'm also afraid that I'll never reveal.  Is that the fear? That I could die without my story being told?

I have more story.  All that I leave out.  My most personal trials and tribulations.

I also have what I find interesting for reasons hard to explain because I've never read it on any page.  Do I try to explain it? I thought of that last night, actually as I watched the moon for a very long time.  Why the cosmos stir me the way they do.  Why cosmology, astronomy, and science seem the most crucial and important way a human could spend a life.  What I am so inherently sure of when I'm watching the moon without knowing as fact, other than I just know.  Why I have a strong pull to leave the earth.  To see it from the outside.  Why it feels familiar.  Why I know I've been there before.  

So where do I start? 

And what do I do?

How much of myself should I give to you?

Deena Marie

10 Things I want to know about Deena Marie

Today I asked for blog ideas.  10 questions were submitted.  Here you go:

1.) Why in the world would a talented equity actress make SLC her home?
I took my equity card at the end of 2007.  My goal was to become equity, and to work.  I have managed to do at least two shows a year ever since.  I have gotten great roles.  I have crossed many of my personal dream roles and acting challenges off my bucket list.  I am able to work at the theatres I want to work at.  I work at the theatres that I prefer to see shows at when I want to go to the theatre.  For me, I prefer quality over quantity.  Before I took my card I put in my time with school shows, community theatre, and then shows in what might be called semi-professional theatres for a stipend, for no pay, or for one sum at the very end of the run.  Sustaining that kind of life and work was not what I ever intended for myself.  I have no desire to go back to that.  I am able to be known here and have put in a lot of time building a name, image, and reputation for myself.  If I never got cast, if having a card was a problem for me here, if I wasn't getting the roles I was desiring, well then I'm sure it would be a different story.  But I feel blessed to be here, to be doing the work I want to be doing . Just in a years time I had a great leading role in a Shakespearean production, got to co-create and bring my own writing and ideas to an original show, and now I'm embarking on a one woman play.  I am so grateful.  I can't complain.  I don't believe there is only one place or city to work.  I don't believe NYC is the only place.  I've been there, done that.  I trained there.  I've been back to train since graduating.  I've worked there.  I've lived there.  I'm so glad I did.  I'm so glad it's over.  I prefer life here. 

2.) What makes a home?
Not the walls.  Not the things.  Not the furniture.  Not the objects.  Not the size.  A home to me has everything to do with the people in it, or not.  And the place.  And I mean the place as far as wherever it is you feel "okay".  Wherever you internally feel best.

3.) How is 2013 Deena different than 2012 Deena?
In 2012 I died.  I was reduced to the barest of bones and the darkest of hours.  I experienced and survived more losses than I ever could have dreamed possible.  For the first time, I knew what it felt like to want to leave earth.  Somehow, I came back.  I amazed myself at my ability to recover.  I was bigger than before.  I became in touch with my spiritual path on a deeper level.  Now I am open.  I am far more in tune with my truth.  I am braver than ever.  I'm not afraid to make bold moves and change my life.  I embrace change.  I rely on it, the fact that nothing can last.  Not one thing.  I am better at living in the moment because I know understand that the past and future do not exist.  I no longer live where I lived before.  Literally.  I am no longer with the person I was with before.  I have a new love in my life.  My shaved head has grown back.  My hair is red again.  I am learning to let myself be happy.  To tell myself it's okay.  To let myself experience it, entire.  My life is full of new people, too.  Things are exciting again.  I'm no longer existing, but I'm now living.  I'm learning the power of gratitude.  I'm learning I'm never done learning.  We're all a work in progress and always will be.  I have a new sense that I can trust the universe.  That I belong, that you belong, that we are here at the perfect time in the perfect vessel, perfectly matched and part of a grand design we can't begin to imagine. 

4.) 2008
2008 Deena had long, dyed black hair.  Was making a name for herself in local theatre and all over the place from the YouTube channel she'd just started at the end of 2007.  The press and local features started.  The press and not so local features started.  Things were exciting.  There were new opportunities everywhere I turned.  I tried them all.  They were fresh.  Nothing like the first time. 

5.) 2003
NYC was still part of my story.  So was living downtown in SLC.  So was the wrong boy, although nothing is wrong because everything is a lesson.  I was a baby.  Oh, what a journey there was in store for me!

6.) What would Deena like for 2014?
I have plans.  I can't tell you.  Planning is tricky.  You can have an idea, you can have the intentions but you have to be flexible.  Adaptable.  I know what I'd like, we'll see what 2014 would like for me. 

7.) 2018
I've never been someone who can predict this far out.  I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow.  It doesn't exist yet.  I can't know the answer to this. 

8.) 2023
No way. 

9.) You once mentioned going back to school, how's that coming?
I decided not to go.  It wasn't right.  My life is all at once or nothing at all, but the right things seem to come to me to guide me where I'm supposed to go next.  The Ford Fiesta Movement came to me right when I thought I might be going to school.  There I was, at an orientation and hardly able to sit still because I needed to go home to pack and prep to be in LA interviewing the American Idol contestants the next day.  As the hours went by my sense that this wasn't the fit for me grew stronger.  I've always been good at recognizing that feeling.  The sense of something being a yes or a no for me.  I didn't see it happening.  It was feeling forced.  I knew this wasn't for me.  I felt like a square peg trying to force myself into a round hole.  I later realized that wanting to go to school right then wasn't truly what I wanted as much as I needed to fill a void.  Something was unsettled.  Unsatisfied.  I needed something else, something new.  I needed to change something.  That all became clear and worked out this year starting in the spring and taking me through this summer.  I know what it was all about.  All I'll say though in regards to school and if I see it in the future is no, I don't.  I know to never say never, but I don't see it happening.  And it doesn't feel like my truth or heart of hearts now. 

10.) If at some point in your life you had been wise enough to put together a time capsule, and you opened it today, what would you hope to find?
I don't feel old enough to be opening a time capsule filled with treasures.  If I live to be an old woman, ask me then.  Right now youth and childhood don't seem far enough away.  I still have access to very vivid and what feels like recent memories of objects.  And I still own the things that would possibly go into the capsule.  My parents have many in their storage unit.  My precious childhood stuffed animals live there.  So do a pair of pink doc martens from high school.  I have my Nintendo systems from the 80's and the 90's.  So...my time capsule is still too fresh to be amazed and surprised by, if that makes sense. 


Thanks for reading,

Deena Marie

Nothing true can be forced

This came to me the other morning when I woke up and I made it my facebook Facebook status.  I wanted to share it here, as well:


"The older I get and the more I experience I see how impossible it is to ever pass judgement on another human being. We can only ever experience life from our point of view. Only we (the individual) will ever know our deepest thoughts, what our inner voice whispers (even when we don't want to hear it), what our heart truly wants. 

Sometimes living your truth looks different than others want it to, or even you want it to. But one thing I know, is that the inner voice doesn't go away. You can listen to it. You can follow it. I promise. Sometimes unexpected events transform you into a new person. There is then a choice. You can stay the same and attempt to adapt, or you can let go and invite new teachers into your life, while thanking the old. Sometimes you stay and try your hardest to adapt, but it isn't meant to be. 

Nothing true can be forced in life. Gratitude, truth and forward momentum is the name of the game. And everything done with love."


I'm constantly learning lessons in Gratitude.  The other night I fell asleep with tears of gratitude in my eyes.  Crying myself to sleep, and I've never been happier.


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Deena Marie

August to August.

The way we experience time is funny.  I've brought that up a lot here.  Why a a day with the same amount of hours in it as the one before can fly by or never end.  We are in control of how time passes.

I don't like to measure in time, yet dates always get me.  I'm very aware of anniversaries.  I'm not talking birthdays or relationships, but the other life markers.  My life is full of sensitive, beautiful, tragic dates.  Most of which you'll never know about.  You can't, because only I can experience them.  This is my point of view.  It is my story to live...but sometimes to tell.  

Right now it's 10:27 on August 11th.  It's Sunday.  Last year this day was a saturday night.  I remember it clearly.  I remember what I was wearing.  I remember what that night held.  What it meant.  

The next day, August 12, 2012 the universe shifted me once again.  I took photos on that day.  

I love capturing everything in a photo, in a blog entry, in a poem. 

You will never know my sadness in those photos.

Or if you know me well, look closely and maybe I'm not fooling you at all.

What a difference a year makes.  That seems to be a recurring theme in this blog.

On this day last year, or on that Sad Sunday if you would have asked me if I could have imagined my life being what it is now, today, in 2013 I never ever would have believed you.  

I am still speechless.  

I am still somewhat scared I am living in a dream.  

I am still learning that it's okay to let myself experience my truth and my happiness, 

entire.  

I am still seeing examples all around me of synchrodestiny in this tailor made universe, and the sense that we are all not only safe, but just where we are supposed to be in a grand scheme deepens.  

You belong.  I belong.

I feel it.  I feel loved.  I feel wanted.  I am.

That's all for now.  

10:37.  Ten minutes.  

Thank you...

Thank you...

Gratitude.  

""Even if I now saw you only once, I would long for you through worlds, worlds." 
- Izumi Shikibu"

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Deena Marie 

What is an Enlightened Relationship?

Below is a snippet taken from a blog titled - The Moksha Express: What is an Enlightened Relationship?  by Laurie Frazier.  Click to read the whole beautiful entry.

I'm not dependent on my partner's physical presence to feel connected.  Because of the relationship and connection we have recognized and consciously created, we *feel* each other through time and space and sometimes lifetimes.  We realize that separation is an illusion - that time and/or distance apart has no bearing on our connection to each other.  

Under this system, I love who you are and I have no need to attempt to change you.  If we no longer resonate, we simply and joyfully go our separate ways.  I have no need to try to control you or own you.

You and I are both FREE to stay or go...there is no binding contract hand-cuffing us together for better or for worse.  All that keeps us together is pure love, interest, passion, peace, harmony.

I invite you to go deep and do the personal work necessary to create amazing, conscious, enlightened relationships.  A few things to remember: 

1.) You must be that which you seek.

2.) The most important enlightened relationship you can have is with yourSelf

3.) It's ALL worth it.

4.) It's a work in progress.

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Deena Marie

I think, therefore...

I'm on the freeway and I'm taking a minute to think about the magnitude of the universe.  I see it in my minds eye.  I start with my center of awareness and expand from there.  I see the pale blue dot called Earth.  I see how tiny it is.  I try in vain to keep expanding my view.  I know (although I don't really know) it's too big to every honestly comprehend.

I consciously like to remind myself daily of how big the scale is.  How small we are.  I like to remind myself of the fluke that we are.  That we still have a long way to go.  We've only gotten started.  This never fails to reset me.  It calms and comforts me.  I accept my place in time and all is bearable.  Dare I say, good.

I also think about something that's been in my head the last few days, and that's wondering why I experience my consciousness and awareness from the point of view of what those on earth know as Deena Marie.  This body.  This particular time in the history of the world.  This life.  Why this? Is it random? Or is it perfectly matched?

I think about how a man and a woman can create a human life, and how that means suddenly a new consciousness comes spinning into being.  Bam.  Just like that.  This leads me to struggle to remember the exact Rumi quote, "we come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust."  

I then realize it's not even 10 am and this is what I've spent my first few hours thinking about on a monday morning.  Then I think about the Frida Kahlo quote, "I used to think I was the strangest person in the world.  But then I thought, there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed int he same ways I do.  I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too.  Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it's true I'm here, and I'm just as strange as you."

I'm suddenly inspired to keep track of my thoughts through the day and decide to ask my friend JayC to do the same, and put it in a blog that we could both post tomorrow.  I think he'll dig the idea, I think it'll make a great joint post and I guess that he's probably already had a million ideas, deep thoughts, or profound moments this morning as well.

It's been coming and going for the last few days.  My suddenly remembering I'm driving a personalized car with not only my name on it, but three cartoon faces of me, and a unicorn.  I'm struck with the words, "this is my lot in life."  I find this so funny.  My life has always thrown me unexpected and strange turns.  Who gets to do these kinds of things? I do.  Why? Who knows.  But I'll take it.  It fits.

I get into the building where I've been headed and it's cold.  I start thinking about how soon it will be fall.  How last summer was the worst of my life and while this one has certainly come with it's share of surprises and transitions, it's also been the best in many ways.  A dream come true.  How I only have August now and that's it.  Done.  I'm already starting to mourn the sun and this summer and prepare for the nostalgia and melancholia that only fall can bring me.  But I don't want to.  I don't want to rush it.  I don't mean to rush.

This reminds me of being a little girl and discovering for myself the concept that as soon as we're born we start to die.  Sure I'm growing up, growing older, but I'm dying every day.  This didn't make me sad, it just made sense, and I didn't understand why people didn't like to teach this or to think of life that way.

Despite the dying and the rushing, I never have nor will I ever consider myself a pessimist.  It's just that I want more of everything, always.  I am better at being in the moment nowadays more often than not, but I just want more...time.  That's what it is.  More time to savor.  I want to savor.

I'm aware I'm thinking poetically again and I like that.  I'm getting back to the me that I am at the core, when I'm not covered up by too much of the goings on around me.  I'm settling in once again after another storm of change that kept me swept up over the last few months.

I think about how open I am now.  How if last year hadn't cracked me open and rebuilt me, I wouldn't be who I am today to receive what I'm being given and know how to deal with it.  The dark and light.  I've been braver than I ever thought possible and I feel the difference in what I'm doing now.  It's living.

I'm not existing, I am living.

Manifestation.  That word keeps bubbling up.  I'm contemplating.  Thinking that the old cliche, "be careful what you wish for" is absolutely true.  It may look different.  It may not come at the moment you think it should, but if you manifest it, get ready to live it.

I also think about manifestation in another way.  How holding too much in for too long, and never letting it out manifests itself physically.  Months of anxiety attacks, dizzy spells and feeling at times like I was losing my mind are finally behind me.  Be careful.  It's okay to let it out.  And follow your heart.  Listen, listen, listen.  Hear that voice? You can follow it.  I swear to god.  You can.

An F. Scott Fitzgerald quote comes up, "there are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice."  Each love I've experienced brings out a different version of me.  It molds me ever so gently.  It is a delicate difference.  It turns me up in some areas, and turns me down in others.  I love differently each time.  I am so different as I awaken.  I am better at love as time goes on.  At loving.  At being loved.  At recognizing the right, or best, love for me.

That evening I find myself at a read through.  How strange it seems to me that I get to do this.  That this is what fuels me in this life.  That when I leave, I leave happier, having been surrounded by creative folk I very much admire in this community.  How smart they are, I think.  How lucky I am, I think.

Later, it hits me that the key to my feeling happier overall has to do with the word yes.  Over the last few months the yeses have replaced the nos.  It's been so slight it took a minute for me to see it.

Delicate differences.  Molding me ever so gently.  I tune into my truth a little more each day.  I am getting better at this life thing as time goes on.

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Thanks for reading,

Deena Marie

One Year. May 27th.

One year ago yesterday I went to work.  I called them ahead of time to give them a heads up I might need to leave, should I get a call from my mom.  If I got the call, the call, I would know it was serious.  Serious enough to go.  A couple hours in I thought I was in the clear.  Then the phone rang.

I remember what I was wearing.  A black tank top, black blazer, black tights, black flat slip on shoes and a stretchy pink skirt.  I had a gold owl necklace and my long red hair was in curls, parted down the middle.

What was unusual was the winter parka.  My biggest and warmest, and needed this May 26th.  I ran to my car, or tried.  The weather made it hard.  The wind.  The gloom.  Was it raining? And the slipping.  Slipping all down a sidewalk the length of one long city block.  Berries had fallen off the trees overhead and it was so slippery.  I shuffled and slipped and surprisingly didn't fall the whole way to the parking garage.

I think the sun was out at times during my drive on the freeway.  I kept talking to him, out loud even, telling him to hang on.

What I remember most is the sound of his breathing.  Labored and loud and unlike anything I'd ever heard.  I remember the circle of family around his bed.  It was strong and safe and sacred unlike anything I'd ever felt.  The wind was getting louder.  The universe was howling and orchestrating for our story.  It was crying for us.  It was taking him.

"Seven Spanish Angels" was played over and over.  I don't know if I will ever listen to that song again.  When my family began to tell him to "Go to God" I don't know if it was the fact they were releasing him, or the thought of not knowing what was meant by talk of this God that bothered me more.

I slept, the wind screamed, and the circle around him was the eye of the storm.  I've never felt so solid as in that space and so aware of the elements out of control around us.  We would not budge.

I went home.  I woke up in peace the morning of May 27th, in sunshine, the earth had stopped spinning wildly and it was silent.  Purple pajama pants.  A flannel shirt.  My hair was still long, still in curls.  I was on my way back.  Back to the same, I was sure.  But this time it was different.  I would never go back to the same.  What had been was no more, and just like that, it was over.

I'm stopping here for now, as I've exhausted this story for one year.  One year today.  I don't know what I expected to feel, what I should feel, or even how I feel.  I am here, you are here, he is not.  It feels like yesterday.  It feels like this morning.  Yet a lifetime passed me, taught me, broke me, and healed me in this year.  The year of firsts.

The year of firsts is now complete.

Maybe that's all there is to say today.

Thumbs Up

This is the month.  On the 27th it will be the one year mark.  One year since Chuck left.  There's one story I've had and haven't been able to share.  I've wanted to, I just couldn't write it.  I wanted it documented and out in the word but could never find my own words to tell it.  So, I asked my mom.  It took her awhile to be able to do it, but over the weekend, she did.  Here is a very special story in her beautiful words.  May is definitely going to be about honoring our Chuck.

Thumbs Up

I want to share with you a small moment in my family’s life, that made a huge impact! Maybe I should say a moment between my daughter and my brother.  My handsome, humorous, brother Chuck, left us last May. So here we are at almost a year, still contending with shooting pains in our hearts.

What a unique guy my brother was, and I mean that in a most loving way.  Chuck was the prankster of the family, how he came up with some of the jokes he pulled on us is still a mystery.  We were his personal guinea pigs! This teasing also extended to his nieces and nephews.

I’ve told Deena she takes after her uncle Chuck that way.  The have the same humor, and they shared an invisible, mighty bond. 

Chuck was so proud of Deena, from the day she was born, until his last minutes on this earth.

As I ride that hideous roller coaster of sadness, certain memories linger.  One of my favorites happened while he was in the hospital for the last time.

Chuck was rushed by ambulance to the emergency on May 10^th, 2012.  He would be in the hospital for the next two weeks, all but one of those days in the ICU.  There the medical staff hovered over him and did their difficult jobs, and there were many.

Now my Chuck, this bigger than life guy, was on the brink of death.  He lay in his hospital bed, intubated and unconscious.  He was our sleeping giant.  This was a hard part for my family, we hugged and cried and dealt with our crumbling hearts. 

I existed in my stupor, wearing boots made of lead, seeing through gray lenses, and carrying an internal ball of fear.

That was how I functioned last May. 

Around the fourth or fifth day, the doctors decided it was time to wean him off his medications.  This would help determine how sick he really was.  This is the time the silent worry began, if he did wake up, would he be our same Chuck? Had he been oxygen deprived?

The nurses encouraged us to talk to Chuck and touch him during this time.  He began to turn his head toward the sounds of voices.  Or any loud noise.  He became restless, letting a leg hang off his bed.  But we needed more! Please Chuck, just open your eyes! Please give us a sign!

This process lasted maybe two days, it felt like years. 

Deena was on her way to the hospital when I suddenly had this feeling or premonition.  There was going to be a connection between Deena and Chuck! I JUST KNEW! Deena knew it too, she felt it as she walked down the hospital corridor. 

Deena walked into the room, stood at the foot of his bed, and said, “Hi Chuck”.  He raised his arm in the air and gave a big Thumbs Up! Oh my god! Did he just give us our sign?! He had reacted to her after all! I KNEW IT! That darn thumb caused so much emotion and elation at the same time!

Deena and Chuck were truly connected!

My mom burst out crying, which caused a slight domino effect.  But they were tears of joy!

Later mom would say it reminded her of a fairy tale, when the Prince awakens the Princess.  In our case, it was the niece, that woke her uncle!

I can only tell you, that in my minds eye, I relive this miracle moment, over and over. 

And so, to my daughter and big brother, I give you both, a Thumbs Up!

- Lauren Manzanares 

April, 2013

Jacque Fresco

"I make more mistakes than anybody I know, 'cause I try more things.  There's nothing wrong with building something and finding out that it doesn't work.  This is where you get your experience.  There's nothing wrong with criticism...

...all of us stand on the shoulders of one another.  And we shape the future."

Jacque Fresco
creator of The Venus Project

I discovered him today and have been watching clips of his talks and interviews on YouTube.  I strongly suggest you do the same.

Listen with an open mind to his thoughts on government, money, religion, god, science, democracy, socialism, communism, depression, language, why a utopian society is impossible, invention, groups of people around the world, land, our history, and our future.

I know this post is a little general, but there really is just too much I'd like to say.  Much more than I can write.  It's just so comforting to find what aligns with your soul, isn't it? While watching I've teared up, clapped, and cheered.

Here's a good place to start: US Has Never Been a Democracy 

Made of Stars

When I'm asked about my religious beliefs, it's hard for me to answer.  Simply because I don't know that there's an existing label that fits, nor do I find the vague answer of "I'm spiritual", satisfying or informative.  I can claim New Age more than anything, as I don't dig dogma.  I can tell you I lean toward Eastern Philosophy.  That I find a lot about Hinduism and Buddhism both beautiful and sensical. That maybe a part of me deep down feels like we can't be anything other than agnostic.  That I believe all religions are true, because they are all someone's truth, meaning it's their reality and their right to believe what they need to believe to guide and comfort them through their human experience.  That "if there is only one nation in the sky, shouldn't all passports be valid for it?" That "we are all just walking each other home".

But maybe the pairing of words that ring truest for me are a combination I came up with myself back when I was writing my speech for the funeral for my uncle Chuck, last May.  I called myself a Spiritual Scientist.  I feel the most comfort and the deepest sense of truth in my Scientific Spirituality leanings and learnings.

Funny enough, my deepest sense of home, truth, soul, magic, absolute wonder, view of humanity, and comfort have come from science.

Some people come to Earth with minds so ahead of their time.  We are so lucky that sometimes they not only choose to share their thoughts and knowledge, but find themselves with a vocation or status to do so.  Like Carl Sagan.  Nothing has opened me up quite like his influence of understanding the universe, or of finding and trying to endlessly understand our origins.

So much so, I recently tattooed "star stuff" on my arm to serve as a reminder that we are so much more than these physical bodies and will be so much more again when they expire.  Literally.  As much as I'd love to think our consciousness goes on, and I'll wake up time and time again as something else (and even feel as if that's what I've always done) right now the literal is comfort enough.  The thought of recycling.  Reincarnation in the most literal sense.

It's enough that I can look into the sky and know I'm looking into my origins.
Ancestors.
My future.

Nothing else has ever brought me a deeper feeling of complete and total spirituality.

We are Literally Made from Stars

by Gerald Grow

---

I was moved by an editorial about how the Hubble telescope is showing us the immensity of the universe. With our sun one among 50 billion stars in our galaxy, among more than 50 billion galaxies, it is easy to think of ourselves as lost on a speck in space. 

Indeed, one common outcome of modern education is the widespread feeling that we humans are forever separated from the rest of the universe by unimaginable distances, and that the forces operating in the universe are utterly alien to us. 

Spiritual traditions give us ways of feeling connected with the universe. I want to remind you of another, scientific, way of feeling connected to the stars. 

The same science that reveals to us the vastness of the universe also tells us another story: Astronomers explain that all the elements heavier than hydrogen originated inside stars. The carbon in the ink on a page, and the silicon in glass and microchips, were created in the heart of a star, long ago, as that star shined by fusing hydrogen. The iron that carries the oxygen in your blood as you read this, was created when a star, in its dying phase, exploded. 

You and I are not merely separated from the galaxies by unimaginable immensities of space; we are also connected to them by unimaginable immensities of time. We are literally made from stars. We are their descendants. The only difference between us and stars is time. 

I don't know how this way of looking at things strikes you, but it raises in me an absurdly wonderful sense of celebration, and I look at the night sky not with a sense of hopeless separateness, but with a feeling of kinship: There shine the origins of every element in our bodies. Because stars exist, I exist. The processes that created those billions of unimaginably distant galaxies also created us. 

We human beings are not separate from the universe. Those galaxies are not merely distant--they are distant cousins. 

With this in mind, I urge you not to miss the nightly wintertime rising of Orion in the Southeastern sky, followed by the star, Sirius, flashing red, blue, and golden light. Or the summer rising of Scorpio across the Southern sky, with red Antares burning at its heart. 

That is a kinship worth celebrating. 

John P. Shanley

John P. Shanley the playwright has the best Facebook updates of anyone.  Ever.

I didn't know when I saw you that you were engraved in me forever. Before they built the house where we first embraced, the land there waited for our arrival like a mother. I watch white clouds fall from the sky. The sea hesitates between tides. The sun itself seems uncertain. There is a gathering up of the powers. What is this finite silence that fills me with dread? It's not the future I fear. It is Now. Bring me Tomorrow.

The energies that govern us, come from us. The greater energies that we witness from our own obscurity, confirm an overarching Spirit.

When the prison is invisible, the escape may also be invisible.

On my way to you, I walked through a rare perfume. It conjured a night undone by days. What makes us too weak to forge a destiny? Why did you let me go? Why did I set you free?

What you leave out is the story.

The first daffodils escape the earth. A prison opens up its gates. Spring breaks free. That heavy heart rushes out towards the sun. You are forgiven.

What do you want? Love? You have it. Oh, you want to give it? Then do. But give it to those who want it. Don't impose your love., for love imposed is not love at all; it's pain you'd like to shed. But what should you do with your pain that's not an imposition? Jump into the sea and worship life.