Brand New Day

This Van Morrison song has long been an inspiration to me…

Brand New Day

Songwriter:  Van Morrison

When all the dark clouds roll away

And the sun begins to shine

I see my freedom from across the way

And it comes right in on time

Well it shines so bright and it gives so much light

And it comes from the sky above

Makes me feel so free makes me feel like me

And lights my life with love

Chorus:

And it seems like and it feels like

And it seems like yes it feels like

A brand new day, yeah

A brand new day oh

I was lost and double crossed

With my hands behind my back

I was longtime hurt and thrown in the dirt

Shoved out on the railroad track

I’ve been used, abused and so confused

And I had nowhere to run

But I stood and looked

And my eyes got hooked

On that beautiful morning sun

Chorus

And the sun shines down all on the ground

Yeah and the grass is oh so green

And my heart is still and I’ve got the will

And I don't really feel so mean

Here it comes, here it comes

0 here it comes right now

And it comes right in on time

Well it eases me and it pleases me

And it satisfies my mind

Here it comes right in time, the ferry to the Isle of Mull. Bringing a brand new day into my life. And when I step on that ferry, I know it is taking me home, to where I’m meant to be, maybe where I’ve always been.

As I stand on the upper deck in the misty rain, all the past abuse, hurt and confusion is blown off me. Washing me clean. Then, literally all the dark clouds roll away and the sun comes shining through. And I can see across the way. The gulls are hovering over the deck railing, their raucous calls seem to say, “Come on, come on. This is the right way!”

Everything seems so clear for the first time in my life. I am doing what I need to do; I am going where I need to be. I am showing up for MY life. My life, not someone else’s version of what they think my life should be. I’m writing my script now. Clean slate writing. It’s an adventure. Just show up and see what happens. How will I fit in here working at the Isle of Mull Hotel? Quite well. Will I make friends? Lifetime.

It feels good to be awake and not sleepwalking through life. There is a rhythm to the ferry’s engines. They are playing my tune. My spine is aligning to the pulse in the heart of the ferry.

I stand straighter, ready to meet what may come my way during my three months on Mull. I have had a two-week sojourn in Scotland as I traveled around looking for a job. And it feels like every step along the way has been guided to get md where a job would be waiting for me. The Scots are a mystical people and they appear when you need them the most to help you along your way. They never failed me. And then there were the crows that were always there, cawing when some synchronicity was about to happen.

The ferry is nearing the dock in Craignure where the manageress of the hotel is meeting me to introduce me to the staff and get me settled in my quarters. Outside my window is a rhododendron bush as tall as a house. I will keep a jar of its lush purple blossoms in my room for as long as they bloom in May, the first step to making this room my own.

On this brand new day I’m 49 years old and for the first time in my life I don’t feel like I need to be somewhere else. My gypsy soul has found its home.

Rebekah for The Poplar Grove Muse

Changeling

This piece is based on a conversation I had with David Clemson who was co-facilitating a retreat I attended on Iona in 2009. As I think of my return to Iona in 2012, I thought it might be appropriate to share Changeling at this time. The bench in front of the Arygll Hotel is where this conversation took
place.

Someone changed me. Forever. In a way so profound I feel as though my DNA has been altered or a chromosome has mutated. I know how to handle hurt. I can kick disappointment in the ass.  I know what to do with passive-aggressive behavior aimed like a gun at me while the aimer wants me to guess if it’s loaded. It’s always loaded. I’ve learned how to disarm those manipulators.  I’ve overcome my fear of abandonment. I know how to grieve and move on with comforting memories held in my heart. I can set boundaries and keep toxic people out of my life.

But it appears as though I have never learned how to accept a sincere compliment, a compliment praising something that is at the core of who I am, My Writing. When someone says, “I like your hair, earrings, glasses, fruit salad or purse,” I can easily reply, "Thank you," and move on with my life. But when someone who has no agenda, who only knows me through my writing, who doesn't love me, who is a teacher and an accomplished poet gives me, in all sincerity, a compliment beyond anything I've ever heard before, it's hard to absorb. My first reaction was to say “Yeah, right," and giggle nervously. Then this person says, “I’m not kidding. You are the best writer who has come through this course in the eleven years that I’ve been teaching it.” When I first arrived at this retreat in Scotland in 2009, I had felt way out of my league, just as I did on my first retreat with Women Writing for a Change. The creativity and the honesty were almost overwhelming, but at the same time inspired me to reach higher. So maybe because I'm sitting outside the Argyll Hotel on Iona and because the sun is shining for the first time in ten days, I start to glow. After a brief stint of denial while telling myself it only sounded important because it was said in an English accent, I'm back to glowing. 

So what has really happened here? What's happened here is the bar has been raised.  It doesn’t matter if what this person said is even close to being true. What matters is that it was said in truth and I feel a pressure to live up to that belief in me. Not because I don’t want to   disappoint another, but in order to not disappoint myself. And do what I truly know I am capable of as a writer. Dammit. This means I need to turn the TV off, quit being distracted by shiny objects, stop talking about writing and write. Just write. 

Rebekah for Poplar Grove Muse

Pride

Stories about the tenth anniversary of the attacks on the United States of September 11, 2001 have been prominent in the news. Everyone has been reflecting on where they were that day and how these horrors affected them and their loved ones. Even if we didn’t know anyone who died that day, we were still devastated as a nation. I can remember exactly where I was and who told me about the attacks on our country, just as when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963 when I was a senior in high school, I can remember exactly where I was when I heard that news. It was another devastating day for country. Casey was 28 years old when our country was attacked on 9/11 and we watched the news that night together, sitting in front of the TV in shock and hearing the stories of the sacrifices of the firefighters. I’m not sure how much that affected his decision to become a firefighter, but I imagine it had its influence on his ultimate choice to change professions. But this is not about our country’s tragedies. This is about my son, a firefighter/EMT.

The 9/11 anniversary coverage contained numerous features about firefighters and those were the stories I paid the most attention to. As I watched programs about these amazing men and women, I had a slow realization that there is a common trait among firefighters that is immediately recognizable. Even though each one is an individual with different physical attributes, ethnicities and genders, there is a certain look they all possess. It’s in their eyes and in their calm demeanor. To me, it is instantly recognizable. My son has that look.

He has been a full-time firefighter since 2007.He was 35 and just made it in under the wire for the cut off age of 36. He had worked in the family business since graduating from high school, running heavy equipment. It was a job that paid well, but that was about it. It was just a job. He told me when he was taking his training that he wanted to go home at the end of the day feeling that he had made a difference. And he’s certainly doing that now. I’m so proud of him.

He has always been a daredevil, fearless. When he was around 6-7 years old, there was a TV show he watched called Emergency! about Los Angeles county firefighters and EMTs. He loved that show. We bought him a record that played certain episodes of the show. He would go in his room and shut the door and play it over and over again. Maybe on some level he knew then what he wanted to do with his life. I’m so happy for him, that he has found the thing he loves to do in life. And that it gives him the time to do the things that he enjoys, that feed his creative spirit. He rebuilds muscle cars, restores history. He’s one of the most patient people I know and that serves him well in the tedious task of restoring a car from the wheels up, piece by piece.

He certainly has that firefighter aura about him. To me it says, “I’m here and everything is going to be okay.” He is a good person to have around when things get tough. He’s calm, reassuring and supportive, just the right formula to put people at ease when they are frightened or hurting, or both.

He’s an old soul, and we have been around many times together. It’s comforting to know that. That has helped me to let him go and be the person he needs to be in this world. And what a person he is! I believe that parents should lay the groundwork to put their child on solid footing to inhabit this world and then get out of their way and let them Become. I’ve always been able to say that I am proud of him. He has an inner fortitude that has been present since he was a child and had to face some tough physical and emotional challenges from an electrical burn. I have received the great gift of being able to say that I admire Casey for the person he has become. I admire and respect him. I am blessed to be his mother.

Rebekah for the Poplar Grove Muse

Dream Followed

Saturday night I saw a dream come true for my cousin, Brian Haggard. As he was growing up he was called fatty and probably a lot of other names. He soon learned to hide the fact that he was "different." He is dyslexic and reading doesn't come easy for him. He learned to compensate. He also learned to hide the fact the he is gay. Very gay. Gloriously gay. He tried to play it straight, but he just couldn't do it. When he finally came out, he got the full support of his family and his friends who believed that it was time for him to live an authentic life. He has worked hard to become the person he is today.

He is an incredibly talented artist and interior designer. And Saturday night I was invited to share in the success of his first quilting book with him, his partner Kevin, the rest of his incredible family, and wonderful friends. He and Kevin were the hosts of Brian's book launch in a beautifully decorated room with gourmet food they prepared, a tearful thank you speech, and personally dedicated copies of his first book, Crazy Quilted Memories, to each of us.

The book is not just a "how to" quilting book, it's a tribute to his family. He has incorporated old family photographs into his beautifully created quilts. His great grandmother was my dad's sister. I love the baby picture of her that he has crafted onto one of his quilts. His grandmother, Juanita, who was my first cousin, is pictured prominently as a young beauty in another breathtaking quilt. She nurtured Brian's interest in quilting. His stitchery creates magic. Brian's older brother, Shane,a talented writer, wrote a terrific piece for the book as a back story for the quilts. The whole evening was a work of art and I felt blessed to be a part of it.

There were those who could only be there in spirit from both sides of the veil. Their presence was strongly felt. They were and are very much missed.

I think this book is only the beginning of the dreams Brian will make come true. I see him on HGTV as America's Next Great Design Star! It was a great gift to me to see a dream come to fruition. My faith is reinforced that we each have the power to make our own dreams come true. I am inspired. I love this family, not only do they create beauty, they support and nurture me and many others. It's the way family should be. I think I will be processing the many layered lessons and joys of that night for quite a while.

Rebekah for Poplar Grove Muse

What would you do…JUST TO FEEL GOOD?

This is a question that started rambling around for me in 2004. I was living in New York and my life’s partner had just died at age 47 from a heart attack. In what seemed like an extreme gesture of self-care at the time, I joined the brand new Equinox gym—an expensive, inspiring facility where beautiful people trained with celebrity fitness gurus. Those who know me will tell you this is NOT my usual scene, but I was desperately sad and craving beauty, strength, and inspiration. My first class was with one of the aforementioned gurus. The description read, “IntenSati—exercise to build physical, mental, and spiritual muscle.” Sign me up.

Patricia Moreno’s philosophy involves intention—using affirmations and personal mantras—combined with action, so that one feels the synergy of claiming something verbally while pursuing it actively in the moment with the body. And by the way—it’s an ass-kicking workout. I was about 20 minutes into my first class, chanting “All I have is within me now,” sweating profusely and struggling with some type of lunge or squat, when she turned to look at the class. I felt her looking right at me as she asked, “Can you be here in this moment? Can you stay with the pain, choose to be here now, choose to do whatever it take just to feel good?”

I cannot describe the feeling this invitation gave me. When one is deep in grief, the very last thing one wants to do is “be here now.” But here she was inviting me to stay with the pain, work it, and move through it JUST TO FEEL GOOD. I wept through the remainder of the class and over the next few months I returned on Saturday mornings. For that hour and a half each week, I was present for all of it. In every muscle ache and stretch, every look into the mirror, and every breath, I was proving to myself that I could live, I could be strong, and I could feel good.

It has been six years. And because grieving and healing rarely happen in a linear fashion, there have been long periods of me being unable to be present, of wallowing and hiding in food and alcohol, and ignoring the needs of my body. There have also been periods of celebration and new relationships that have healed my heart. Over the years, the question of what makes me feel good has changed and evolved. It is a very different thing to ask oneself this question when NOT in a crisis, and I find that doing so now has activated some old feelings around how much goodness I deserve.

Undoubtedly rooted in the “there are starving children somewhere” tactics of making children eat brussel sprouts, I developed a kind of zero-sum belief regarding getting one’s needs met. In other words, there’s only so much “need-getting” to go around, and if I ask for more than my share someone else might not get theirs. Worse yet, it could mean that I am selfish, narcissistic, or undeserving. But what if I’m wrong about this? What if the airline attendants have it right, and we need to strap on our own oxygen mask before attending to the needs of others?

For now, I’m going with the airline attendants. I’m strapping on my own mask and seeing what happens. It’s scary and I have way more questions than answers at this point but I suppose that is how most journeys begin. I have some sense that if I can muster what I am now referring to as the 3 c’s – curiosity, compassion and courage – the answers may be just as interesting as they are scary.

One of the scariest things is putting this in writing – on a blog post no less. But I believe that sharing this is part of my process—putting it out there and risking what comes back. Risking that what I have to say might not be interesting, well written, or relevant, but risking also that my story is enough, and that I have the same divine right to speak it as anyone else has a right to speak theirs.

And so it begins… I look forward to sharing some of my journey with you, and to your comments about your own efforts JUST TO FEEL GOOD.

--Stacey for the PGM

For Browsing and Being Inspired

I'm feeling a little low on the writing scale today, so instead I’ll share a few sites that I visit when I want to give my brain a creative or inspiration boost.

Ordinary Courage
“Adventures in truth-telling, soul-making, and twinkle-lighting.”
“No matter what gets done and how much is left undone; I am enough.”

Read the I’m pretty. Pissed. post

Daily Affirmations by Louise Hay

Kelly Rae Roberts
I’ve followed Kelly’s blog from its early days and watched her manifest her dreams of being a full-time artist and “possibilitarian.” I’m a fan of her whimsical and yet deeply touching style of collage art and painting.

Shutter Sisters
A website that highlights the power of images. And images + words.

Angry Chicken General crafty stuff and a wicked sense of humor!

Colette Patterns
If you like to sew and enjoy vintage styling and patterns.

Mondo Beyondo
“An online class about dreaming big.”
I wasn’t able to take the WWF(a)C class this semester, but I find myself at a transition point and in need of some guided creative/processing time. One week into the class and I’m enjoying it. We’re focusing on naming our passions and dreams, no matter how big or small.

Your turn! I’m hoping you’ll share your favorite sites that inspire your creativity! Leave us a comment if you have one (or two or three...) for us to check out.

Steph W, for the Poplar Grove Muse