If you are my brother...

And You find yourself reading this,

                                                   

     

Know that I have nothing but unconditional love for you.

                                                                                             

                                       

I am stronger because of our trip

                                                                 
Hey Jill-

greetings from the cool winds of Boulder, CO. I hope all is well back in your town, and that you haven't forgotten about our crazy G-week trek together. I'm still counting on some of those pictures enclosed in a letter...Anyway, I just applied for a youth coordinator job in Seattle, WA and I'd be very psyched to get it-so keep your fingers crossed. You know I wanted to tell you again what an awesome time it was for us to have you around. Yea, I know your saying No, No, but listen - you pushed yourself more than anyone - remember the victorious grunt up Bull Hill & Mt. Elbert. You kicked ass, girl, big time. that showed me what you were capable of doing when you let yourself. Have you done any rock-climbing of late, or gotten out into the woods. If you haven't, get out Miss DeStefano. Get out under some trees, smile, look beyond those buildings and people, and think about the incredible freedom of life. I need to do this from time to time, when I get to caught up in things./Your a wonderful spirit and please send word of what your doing, and you can even humor me and say your stronger because of our trip! Take care and listen to that inner-voice that is so unique and beautiful <3 Cole

What's in a name?.....Part 2

                                        


(It is important that you read Part 1 first.....)

So then, why would you not change your name to follow suit?

Maybe it seems unnecessary?  As who we are deep down at a core level, can not be encapsulated by any boundary, even the boundaries of a name. Just as Shakespeare wrote in Romeo and Juliet:

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Though, if this is true, we should feel comfortable changing our names as much as we like, just like our wardrobes or our hair styles. Why would we deprive ourselves of this symbolic transformation? Are you worried about how others might perceive the act or how they might percieve you, as a result? They percieve you as you will them to.  They perceive your truth as you both tell it and express it. Your name is a part of that communication of who you are. It allows others to re-cognize who you are.

 Our new names have the power to draw towards us that which knows us/re-cognizes us and aligns with the nature of our true selves at a much faster rate. It is akin to the power that getting all gussied up and feeling good about the way you're expressing your self with in the physical realm has on the eyes of passing strangers. Are you the same, once you've changed your name? Yes and no. You are evolving.  This single act provides you with a vehicle towards your own personal and authentic transformation.

If your name genuinely represents the current state of your spirit, your spirit will then sing this tune. It's notes will arrange themselves in perfect harmony to reflect your present truth. This act has the power to pave the way and set the course for your future self. In just the same way the cutting of your hair or changing your outfit can.

It is with this knowledge and understanding, that I am currently in the process of transitioning out of all three of my names  This may take some time and paperwork, to manifest in real-time, but that is ok. For all those that know me, you will still be able to call me by my birth name; as my first name will simply be an extension of that. While it may appear that this decision was made to accommodate others, know that it was actually made to accommodate my self. It just so happens to work out and make things easier, in the end, for everyone! When these name changes are legalized, I will be sure to post it.  xoxo

What's in a name? ......Part 1

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet".- Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

This is a secondary question I haphazardly stumbled upon when writing in my journal recently. The question began initially as a speculative thought. It's spark evolved into a blazing fire. The fire willed the burning and demolition of the names I call my self by, in order to regenerate a set of new names.

Our letters represent symbols. They form syllabels with consonants and vowels, and these form words. Our words form sentences. Our sentences form paragraphs. And from our arrangments of paragraphs, we create, percieve and tell stories. As these arrangments of symbols tell stories, so do our names. They tell the stories of our parents, our ancestors, our lineage. Stories of the past. While I appreciate theses stories for what they are, I no longer find them useful in the creation and telling of my own story.  They no longer serve me, and the person I was brought here to be.

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? You see the "reflection" of your face and body. Explained fundamentally and in scientific terms, you see the recycling of energy made manifest.


If you imagine or "reflect" back on different periods of your life, you will remember that the mirror showed you different "things"/versions of yourself at different times. Sometimes you appeared to yourself in/through the mirror as hideous, a mess, gross, or any other number of descriptive adjectives. Other times you appeared as beautiful, or incredibly sexy.

Your body, your vessel, is how you "symbolically" identify in the physical realm of the/this/your matrix. That is why so many people chop all their hair off following a bad breakup, or do an entire overhaul on their wardrobe when making a big transition in their lives. The desire to re-manifest; to re-define yourself in the physical realm. How much you choose to identify with your-self on the physical level is different for everyone, and varies throughout ones life. Your name is another form of identity;  therebye, making it also a symbol of identification. It symbolically communicates to others who we are on the spirit level.

 Just like our stories, it is a tool of communication.  I also see it as a vehicle of expression. Your name is, in a sense, the doorway through which your spirit communicates and expresses itself; a gateway of sorts. Just the same as poetry, music, and a brushstroke in motion.  It can be percieved, to some, as superficial to care about your name; much in the same way someone who focuses on what they wear can appear superficial. Some may see it as too "image" oriented.

The irony here is that everything is a projection of how we percieve it/create it; just like the reflection in the mirror.  How do you percieve your self? Are you weak or strong? Are you both? Are you funny, intelligent, talented? What stories does your character/personality create, communicate, and express? Has your personality changed over time? How you see yourself, in terms of character, has that changed too? So then, why would you not change your name to follow suit?

More to come on this......

La Di Da

Feeling like you have to stick to one way of being. Limitation. A virtual distraction. I prefer fluid motion and swing set daydreams. I can't stay one way. I can't stay the same. There's too much to do and and too much to say. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Everytime I try to pin myself down, I find a way to wiggle out. I can't stay black and I can't stay white. That doesn't mean I'm strictly in between. The wind and the water call my name. To remind me that I can't stay. Sweep me up and take me for a ride. I wouldn't have it any other way.

My compass points north, and I'm shooting that way. I can't stay, I won't stay. The soil is sweet and the sand sifts through my hands. Sand castle shorelines relflected through bright eyes. Let's trample them together and look towards the weather...to carry us away. Tide pool,  Hot geiser, Waterslide. Let's buy the ticket and ride this ride. Cause I can't stand to stay, the same.

My thoughts are flooded with who's, what's, where's and why's. I'm not sure, I'm so sure. That I'll be swept away. Air, fire, flicker, dancing from the flame that spells your name. I can't stay, so you must follow, alongside. These footsteps sound like heaven. I think I'm ready to play. Double my dutch and pick up my stix. Swim from one side to the other, remember to hold your breath. 

Underwater weather. Forecast cloudy with rain. Hop, jump, skip. These are the games we play. Keep moving if you want to keep pace, because I'm not playing here to stay. Our steps will erase themselves on windy days. Our chalk lines will fade in the rain . Let's keep moving, I can't stay.

I don't like to leave people behind, so I ask you to keep step alongside. Take your biggest strides, leaps, and aerial jumps. This game will get your blood flowing like the water it's sourced itself from. I know you'll keep pace, right alongside me. Cause we can't stay, one way. We can't stay the same. We'll never be the same.

Female Archetypes, duex

(It is important that you read Part One first.)


So what exactly was I looking for in those rooms?

Was I looking for my self? Was I looking for an answer to who I was and should be? Was I desperately seeking out a substitute for my mother figure? Yes, yes, and probably on some level, yes.  Being a female always felt very foreign to me; even if I did enjoy chasing boys, dressing up, and playing with dolls. I lived in male dominated households until I was 12 years old, and I always perceived the females in my space as either weak or cold and hurtful.

My aunt definitely dominated her household. But she pissed me off to holy hell, and I felt that she disrespected me whenever the opportunity presented itself. Apparently I got under her skin, even at the age of 12. Her dualistic attitude towards the world and others really turned me off. She had/has alot of "victim" pictures, and I cannot stand people with lots of victim pictures. As it is a debilitating picture that can halt awareness, change, and development of the self. I know because I have felt its draw, temporarily fallen into its set trap, and later had to climb out and choose to turn away from it. I saw that much of her self-image was a cultivation/composition of how others percieved her. Which, by the way, I exploited to no end when I felt my freedom infringed upon. This took the form of theatrical and very public name calling and cursing, and other dramatics.

It was a confusing time, where I felt unsure of how I was supposed to act and what role I was supposed to play. Was I a daughter, a friend, an extended houseguest? I felt like an inmate. I was by blood definition, a niece, and had no clue as to what that meant and how to personify that. This was, by the way, my first real exposure to family since my mom had dissapeared. Furthermore, I was confused by the mixed messages my aunt sent me. If I was like "family" than why was she so blantantly insensitive towards me at times? And what defined a "family," anyhow? Most of our "family quality time" seemed like a spectacle to me; a showcase of sorts. I felt like I had to perform constantly, and it was wearing me thin. I was accustomed to living in households where people barely paid attention to me; and my greatest relationships were with my self, the natural world, and the characters I created. It felt like a lot of pressure, and alot of confusion.

Anyway, it is interesting to think about why my spirit chose or mocked-up these relationships, and mocked-up the absence of others. I certainly have had to teach myself alot, and look within for the answers, and to find my own truths. Also, my definitions of strong female archetypes stem mostly from a construction of my own design (though I love stuff like Buffy the Vampire Slayer,female pop stars, and the goddess themed novels by Elizabeth Cunningham.)

It is a wholly new way and embodiment of looking and being, and I am most grateful for that opportunity. It is both soft and sharp. It has no limits and no barriers asides from the ones it self imposes. It sees and seeks truth and beauty, in everything and everyone. It is all knowing, and all powerful. It is both a source of creation and inspiration. It is weightless, shape-shifting, and symbolic of transformation. Both the butterfly and the beast.

John Waterhouse The Tempest

The Fungus Among Us.....continued

(It is important that you read the first segment before reading this.)



After traversing the hallway between the bathroom and the bedroom, I began to hear "voices." If I recall correctly, sometimes I let them speak through me, and other times I just reiterated what they said. I told my friend that we were once Egyptian queens, and our purpose in this current lifetime was to lead....with Love. (As opposed to fear.) We were leaders and remained as such.

 At this point, we have a tape recorder going. I tell her that we have to write everything down too. Like magic, she pulls out a 3-dimensional wood carving board that she had left over from her printmaking class. We decide that it is perfect to write on because of something or other having to do with Egypt and hieroglyphs. On one side of the board we write down people who lead with love (people we knew from everyday life, and some notably famous people.) On the other, we write down people who lead with fear. On the thin section between the front and back, we wrote a collection of names also. We agreed on a collective "theme/title" for these people, that I can't recall.

At certain points the voices would leave me, like hot air from a balloon. When that happened, they would talk through/to my friend. I would cry a little when this happened, feeling upset over their absence. (This continues for a little while.) The night is capped off with my friend, sitting in her bed, pulling a dollar bill out of her pocket that she got in the tip jar at work that day. It has I (heart) U written on it in red sharpie. Naturally, we are ecstatic, and agree that it is a sign. We are also completely giddy over the Egyptian pyramid on the dollar bill.

The night comes to end with the two of us smoking a little to come down, and me eating all the hershey kisses sitting in the dish next to her bed, followed by a heavy slumber.

Looking back on this, I see how much truth there was and remains in that experience. And I am most grateful for it. (though I have no desire to do it again.) At the time, I got a lot of "Yeah, o.k....'s (insert eye roll here)" from friends who have not had similar experiences, though they took all the "appropriate steps" towards the possibility. The only validation I received was from the person I received them from and my companion from that day. And ironically, my therapist at the time! On that note, I advise heavy caution and awareness for anyone interested. Cheers!

Female Archetypes, un

 If there is one type of role model I was born into this world lacking first-hand, it is the female archetype. At the age of four my mother was quickly replaced, by what I would commonly refer to as my "evil grandmother." Between 3rd grade and 5th grade, my much older half sister entered the picture. I didn't think she was evil, but I never really looked up to her, and was more annoyed by her than anything. At the ripe age of 12 I was handed over to one of my aunts, from my mothers side. Once again, the universe would not grant me the kind of female role model that I longed for. The space in between living with my father/his mother, and my aunt was also speckled with women. Strange seeming, random women in random foster homes; one being my 6th grade computer teacher who I lived with temporarily. These all fell short of the stick for me, as well. In the meantime, my janet jackson and mariah carey cassette tapes would have to supplement, in much the same way your mulit-vitamin cannot properly fill the space of a balanced and nutritious diet.

I searched high and low for replacements. Sometimes in the form of older female friends, who were really no good for me. Other times, looking towards authority figures. The first woman I ever looked up to in real-time was my therapist from back when I was in highschool. A witty, intelligent woman originally from South Africa, with the accent to bear it. She was probably the only real reason that I agreed to go to therapy, and went willingly. Many of our sessions I spent trying to make her laugh or pry her for personal information (was she married?, what was South Africa like?, did she have kids?) She didn't cave on the really personal stuff, but she would make little agreements with me so that I would give back in the sessions and stay focused (ie: she would agree to talk about South Africa for 5 minutes, if I then focused on what we were there to do.)

The second woman came in the form of a college professor. She represented half of the department I was majoring in. She was intimidating to alot of students, which made me like her even more. Really, she was just very professional and focused. She was petite in size, and probably felt the need compensate for that in the image she projected in the classroom. I felt a real connection with her, and was always trying to find ways to know her on a more personal and multidimensional level. I would schedule alot of appointments with her to talk about my thesis.  The discussions about my work could always move in a more personal direction if I asked the right questions. I also created an independent study course for myself, to assist her in teaching an intermediate college level class. When the department had a potluck at her private residence, I made sure to come. While there, I peaked in all the rooms. She noticed, and told everyone they could look around  in her office and studio room.

So what exactly was I looking for in those rooms? More to come on this......

A lighter topic....The Fungus Among Us

He cautioned me that it would be quite an intense, spiritual experience. Which, by the way, made me want to have it even more. I was in my last semester of college; submerged in my thesis, and craved some kind of different, and new experience for myself. I asked a good friend who I felt really comfortable with if she wanted to share them with me. It was still the middle of the winter in NY when the snow and the ice permeate your every pore. So instead of having our experience outside in a lush green field or by a river bank in the middle of the woods, we opted for her very large and roomate-less house on the outskirts of town.

Saying it was "intense" is an understatement, and does not do it justice. In the beginning, I just laid in her bed, feeling progressively warmer, and feeling very heavy like a dense paper weight. My friend was warm too. She kept changing her outfit; throwing clothes from her closet, on and off her small frame. I thought she looked like a miniature figurine in a dollhouse. She appeared so much smaller than the closet and the rest of the room. After her many wardrobe changes, she felt the heaviness too, and submitted.

I joined her on the floor. Initially, her space heater was freaking me out and making me nervous. I didn't like the way it was looking at me and I kept pushing it far into the corner and trying to conceal it. I didn't want to have a bad experience, so I just matter of factly spoke my mind at/to it. Saying things like "Stop it, don't look at me like that, get outta here", and "Who do you think you are, wipe that look off your face." When I felt like it was moving back closer to us, I  would say "Why aren't you listening to me, I told you to go away."  Needless to say, my girlfriend was rolling around, laughing her ass off at me and my.

Once I put the space heater "in it's place" I began to try and converse with her rug (which I was sitting on) and her bag. I began dramatically saying "I don't know you" while I ran my fingers through the rug. I began talking about how I wanted "to know" all my objects; how impersonal they all felt. At this point, it looks like I'm trying to serenade my friends bag. Of course, my friend is still cracking up.

Shortly after my declaration of love for all objects, my friend went downstairs to empty some of the contents of her stomach. I felt left out, so I decided to follow her lead in the bathroom upstairs. While hanging over the porcelain bowl, I proceeded to see cat skulls in all the floor tiles. At this point I was not scared, and welcomed anything that came. When my friend came upstairs and joined me on the cold bathroom floor, I showed her the skulls and told her of my new found "discoveries." Apparently, I was a descendant of Egypt, and had lived there before. I also described to her the image I saw on the wall, an open circular window displaying the ocean tides moving in and out, crashing against the shore . I told her that this was life. I said something along the lines of how good and evil were "irrelevant." And how the notion of "good" versus "bad" was false. There was just this back and forth motion, like the tides. Completely natural and effluent.

To be continued......

The Me, the You, and the Us.....

Brought to you by the me

When we love someone we can potentially "lose" our selves in the process. It is, perhaps, a process of expanding and contracting, like that of a heartbeat. Or maybe, a moving in and moving out motion, like that of a tide turning.

First there is only me, then you come along. Then there is Us. I forget my self, me, in Us. Next, something happens; usually in the form of a notable difference between you and me, or a disagreement, so that I may re-member my self, and return from Us.

A process, it is, of distinguishing between the you and the me.  The Us is also an entirely unique and authentic entity separate from both the you and the me. (As the Us does not incorporate everything that the you and the me are composed of as unique individuals.) Of course, the Us does require regular nourishment from both the you and the me to sustain itself.

There are many speculations as to why so many Us's do not last.  Either the me or the you could be too "heavily invested" in the Us.  Or rather, one or both individual may use the Us to compensate for the Me. One individual may come to resent the other for not wanting to constantly be in the Us (where the resenting individual is spending most of their me time.)  Another perspective is that some may unconciously get "lost" in the Us, (dis-abling the me), in an attempt to escape the me. This route derails the "lost" one from having to face the me (and conciously change the me.)  Also, there can be the unconscious desire to de-stroy the me.

The reality is, the me and the you are dying little deaths every day. Some more so than others.  In other words, the me and the you are Changing as individuals, all the time.  Obviously, the Us can influence and even promote individual changes in both the me and the you. (as any re-lationship can.) Maybe though, the me or the you do not want/welcome/or are not ready for the change offered by the Us (which the me and the you Dynamic produces.)

That is the "falling out" of any Us. Either the me or the you, or both, choose to destroy the Us that the me/you dynamic created. The me and the you go on our separate ways. Perhaps the me and the you have changed individually as a result of the Us; perhaps not. Maybe there was a lesson or lessons to be learned from creating the Us. The lesson/s may be different for both the me and the you. If the me or or the you do not, as individuals, hear/listen/internalize this lesson, we will surely create similar Us's in our lives with others. Until we hear/listen/ and internalize that lesson, our creations are sure to repeat.

Also, it should be noted that the me and the you will most probably experience/percieve the Us differently. That is irrelevant (and healthy and normal), so long that the Us serves both the me and the you as individuals.

Lastly, I believe that the Us produces much more energy than either the you or the me could amass on our own. It is full of life force, as any work of art, creation, or miracle. It is both apart of us and entirely seperate. With that said, it should be dualy noted that the Us is not any better than the individual you or the individual me. After all, the Us would not exist if not for the you and the me :)