Dearest BraveHeart Sisters... here is another song I am working on. It is about chatter in the head. Miss You♥♥♥!
INVISIBLE CHAINS
I hear the voice in my head like I always do
I hear it talking smack talking loud like I always do
Saying I’m not enough, something is wrong with me
Is it something I said or I did or that I don’t have
To late to correct it so I’m stuck here feeling bad
Everyone knows we cant be perfect
But we try like we can
THEY’RE INVISIBLE, THE CHAINS
THEY’RE INVISIBLE, THE CHAINS
THE CHAINS, THE CHAINS
I was searching for the root but my past is not quite in tact
I don’t know exactly when it started but it came from way way back
Do we really need the origin to let it go
To know when its just noise
I was waiting for the day to come and praying for silence
When I needed it most
When I wanted to make a decision
When I wanted to hear what my heart says
When I wanted to know what the truth is
THEY’RE INVISIBLE, THE CHAINS
THEY’RE INVISIBLE, THE CHAINS
THE CHAINS, THE CHAINS
One links to the other, making them stronger than when they stand alone
I take them apart; tear them apart, one link at a time
One lie at a time, one belief at a time, I tear them apart
When I wanted to make a decision
When I wanted to hear what my heart says
When I wanted to know what the truth is
THEY’RE INVISIBLE, THE CHAINS
THEY’RE INVISIBLE, THE CHAINS
THE CHAINS, THE CHAINS
My Dearest BraveHeart Sisters....here is another song for you...I've missed you! ♥♥♥
I BELIEVE
I know that you can do this
I know you have it in you
Sometimes something gets in the way
But I believe you can, I believe you will
If only, you choose to
Trust the process, trust the reason
Behind the fury, it’s been a journey
And we’re getting stronger, as we’re here longer
No need to worry, no need to hurry
I BELIEVE YOU CAN
I BELIEVE YOU CAN DO ANYTHING
YOU WANT TO DO
YES YOU CAN
There may be some adversity as you
Start to do even things that you love
It may serve, serve as your teacher
And you learn what you otherwise would never know
I BELIEVE YOU CAN
I BELIEVE YOU CAN DO ANYTHING
YOU WANT TO DO
YES YOU CAN
I know maybe people have told you and it makes sense
it starts to make sense
It doesn’t look so good on paper there’s resistance
It wouldn’t be half what it is without the simple need
for something greater than this
Greater than us, greater than anything we know
If it was easy there wouldn’t be this need, its part of it
Built into it, into the foundation, the journey is part of it
I BELIEVE YOU CAN
I BELIEVE YOU CAN DO ANYTHING
YOU WANT TO DO
YES YOU CAN
YOU CAN
What can I do
I’ll worry about salvation later
What can I do
To make this place a little bit better
Like heaven on earth, a heaven that’s here
In my little way, my little way
I can start small
There’s a woman who’s suffering
She needs to know
That her life can be different
She could have peace and joy and freedom so
In my little way, my little way
EVEN IF GOD WASN’T REAL
I STILL WANT TO DO WHAT I CAN DO
EVEN IF GOD WASN’T REAL
I STILL WANT TO DO WHAT I CAN DO
How can I serve you
However humbly
One day at a time, one child at a time, one life at a time
With whatever gifts I have
They aren’t mine, but mine to give
In my little way, my little way
I’m tired of this war there are people dyin’
I’m tired of this hunger there are people starvin’
So feed the people, save the people
Clothe the people, comfort the people
We can do this, we can do this, we can, we can
There must be a way, some way somehow
EVEN IF GOD WASN’T REAL
I STILL WANT TO DO WHAT I CAN DO
EVEN IF GOD WASN’T REAL
I’D STILL WANT TO DO WHAT I CAN DO
Many of you know around this time last year my Dad suffered a very awful heart attack and nearly died. Me and my sisters literally lived at the hospital for 2 weeks. I am so grateful to have him still in this earthly plane with me and my family. I spend as much time with him....really with him, as I can.
I am here working everyday, all day in Door County. My Mom and Dad just came to visit me here. It was wonderfully sweet. I wrote this song for him and for you.
I hope you are having a day to remember... I was remembering RISE 2009 and how wonderful it was see all of you. I laughed and cried and was inspired and whoaaaaaaaaaaaa that sunday meditation was AMAZING!!! I played this song for the talent night. Then the "one voice" community choir performed too!
Missing you.....
This is the time of year when I work at a cafe/motel in the resort area of Door County WI. I work intensely for 6 months and then I am off for the remaining six. Hence, I am not around the site as much as I would like. However, it is all good and I am filled with gratitude to have a job that I have decided to enjoy, even if it isn't my deepest passion.
I am starting a new blog in addition to "The Is It True? Series" and "Lessons from the Heart". I am calling it "Song Sketches" I am beginning to load it with the over 100 songs that I have written since I began playing and writing again. For those of you that don't know me, I am a founding member of BraveHeart Women and being a part of this community has assisted me to return to my true hearts desire... music and writing. I also have over 100 videos, each also containing stories.
Before joining this community, I was not doing anything of the kind. I went to work everyday in a restaurant, came home, and waited for my "real life" I still work in a restaurant and serve up Meatloaf on Mondays, Pot Roast on Tuesdays and so on....but only half of the year and I am not a prisoner of it. I am here by choice. It affords me to do the other things I desire.
All of this being said, I wanted to add this song to my "Song Sketches" even though I have recorded it with full production and even made a video. I wanted to play it for you...just me.
OK....back to work....tonight is Traditional Czech Pork Roast
The “Is It True?” Series Episode One Hundred Twelve
“To Each His Own”
Some people like ketchup, some people don’t. I am aware of that. If I use ketchup at all, I mix it with hot sauce. If there is no hot sauce available, I’m not going to use ketchup. It is way too sweet for me. While some may relate, others may think it strange or even go so far as to call it gross. It seems the more unique something is, the more extreme the reaction to it. Good and bad.
I get some absolutely heartless and mean comments on YouTube. I never talk about it because I don’t want to bring any additional energy to it. I don’t respond to them although at first I had to hold myself back. I wanted to say how much it hurts and then defend myself in some way. I do realize that someone who takes the time to write such things does not care about my feelings. My response would only prove that it worked… mission accomplished. I feel bad about myself.
Sure. Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me. However, the truth is they do and I’m not going to beat myself up even further for letting them. I’m not going to say “I shouldn’t let it bother me” and so on. This will only further strengthen the argument within… something is wrong with me. “I should” have a thicker skin. Whenever I find myself saying “I should”, I stop and say “I choose” and fill in the blank.
I choose to continue to create despite the comments I read, but it isn’t always easy. However, there is no other choice if I want to survive. I am talking about this because I have been hearing this statement more than ever recently. “I wish I could…” The conversation is always about something a person wants to do but they are afraid. They talk in a way that implies I must have no fear, that it is somehow easier for me. They wait for the day that they won’t be afraid, when it will make “more sense”, when their "ducks are in a row." They wait for the perfect time that never comes. Worse yet, they give up on the idea entirely.
I know because that’s what I did. I almost died. It was a slow and painful blackening of my spirit. Just before the light went out, I woke up. I realized that we only get one life and this was mine. I realized mine was passing me by and that I would not live forever... a fact I tried to ignore and hoped would go away. I had to face that fact and ask myself what I wanted to do while I was here.
I wasn’t doing it.
The answer came to me in an instant when I asked myself the question, “what is the one thing, having done it, will give me the most peace?”
So I write and I feel better…it’s that simple. And when I read a comment like, “idiot” or "no one would care if you died” or, “crazy b---h” or, “lock her up”, I delete it. Believe me it can get worse and does. In fact, the more the views, the more the negative comments. I kind of feel wimpy for deleting them but I don’t want my loved ones to have to read them. Other sites are different but I cringe when I see an email from YouTube “comment posted on…” I get a few nice ones but many more are from mean energy vampires.
You may ask, “well then why on earth do you keep posting?” I do it for the people who tell me I have helped them in some way…and because I have no other choice. I Honor My Truth!
The “Is It True?” Series Episode One Hundred Eleven
“Out of Sight, Out of Mind”
Maybe the mind, but not the heart.
I haven’t been to the Oregon Coast in over a decade, but I can still feel the pounding of the waves against the rocks. My grandmother has been gone for much longer than that, yet I can still hear her laugh. I don’t think about these things every day, but I feel them always and forever in my heart. Each day holds treasures I will carry with me if I am present enough to notice them.
I can dream about the future but it cannot retain anything. When I find myself waiting for my “real life” to start, I wake myself up and realize it is here now. I can be impatient and until I am no longer sitting around waiting, I am uncomfortable and feel like something is missing. If I accept that I am right where I am meant to be, life becomes much more fun.
I enjoy my job…much more than I used to, now that I am present for it. I also know that this too shall pass. When I move on from here, I will miss it. The more present I am the more memories I will have stored up to reflect upon when I do.
Seasonal work can put you in a mindset of always waiting….waiting for something to end or for something to start. Talk to anyone who does it. However, I have learned a thing or two… things others may consider obvious, but for me, it took a while. I learned that my life has many facets, twists and turns, ups and downs and it is all part of who I am. I am always in motion and therefore I am never really stuck anywhere.
While managing a restaurant has never been a passion of mine, it still fills a large amount of my time. Less and less, but it is still one of the things that I do. I make a living yet it isn’t necessarily living. Real living is done by following my heart and my heart yearns. It is never at rest no matter how at peace I feel. It is always beating and I move now to the rhythm of it. If I don’t, I feel anxious… not unlike the feeling of wanting to dance but no one else is on the dance floor. I must grab someone or get up alone… standing there is not an option if I am to feel any peace and happiness.
So I dance while I am here. I work everyday, all day, but I laugh hard too. I am training a staff that comes from all over the world. One turns to me in a panic, “It’s in the chicken, it’s in the chicken.” I stare perplexed…ahhhh – translated “It’s in the kitchen, it’s in the kitchen” Or “Can you fish, you need to fish” –translated “Can you fix this, you need to fix this” And FYI, we have 1000 nights of dressing. For as impatient as I say I am, I have an immense amount of patience training a new staff in every season.
I choose where I go and what I do next. I am not stuck. I am constantly in motion. Knowing this… I am free. I am free to follow my heart wherever it leads. Once I realized I could leave, it made it much easier to stay. "Enjoy it while you can" takes on a deeper meaning. I work for new owners and I can feel the shift as it does… shift. I Honor My Truth!
I have been working everyday all day and haven't been able to be around the site much. I have dearly missed you!!! You are ALWAYS in my thoughts. I feel your presence and it strengthens and uplifts me. I just finished producing my first enhanced CD with songs, a cartoon eBook, lyric book, video eBook, etc. I am now working on the songs and material for the 2nd and 3rd CDs. I have 17 songs in the mix. I am going to make it 18 with this one that I just wrote.I felt inspired to share it with you on this special day of a special moon.
LIFE IS SHORT
It hit me from behind
out of nowhere and reminds me
that life is short, life is short
I forget this every time
but despite it clocks still wind
oh life is short, yah life is short
AND I REMEMBER IT WAY TOO LATE
NOW YOU'VE LEFT CUZ YOU CANT WAIT
OH LIFE IS SHORT
IT WONT WAIT
I still feel like the night is young
and the morning is yet to come
if I'm lying to myself again don't tell me
cuz there's hope in my heart
and if luck would play a part
I could finally accept the past
because it all makes sense to me at last
AND I REMEMBER IT WAY TOO LATE
NOW YOU'VE LEFT CUZ YOU CANT WAIT
OH LIFE IS SHORT
IT WONT WAIT
I forget this every time
and despite it clocks still wind
AND I REMEMBER IT WAY TOO LATE
NOW YOU'VE LEFT CUZ YOU CANT WAIT
OH LIFE IS SHORT
IT WONT WAIT
Debra Hadraba c2010
I saw Santa’s boot. I was the leader of the pack. We were sneaking downstairs early Christmas morning. With a shhhhhhhhhh, I pushed the unruly brood back into the hall and whispered my good fortune. I quickly relayed my account of what I witnessed ‘round the corner. I caught just a glimpse of shiny patent leather as Santa shimmied up the chimney. When the five of us crept forward he was gone. Even I believed myself as I went into the details later. Maybe this sighting could restore my faith in magic; my family’s faith in good things. I wanted badly to continue this happy charade but it had started seeming fishy.
When I declared my vision, the excitement that ensued conveniently deflected my growing concern in terms of Santa. I had begun to doubt this pudgy bearded man could possibly get to everyone in one night and not end up a sooty mess. His beard was always white as snow although he came and went, not through the door, but through the fireplace. What if a house was without one, what would Santa do? There was a second fireplace in my parents’ bedroom that was filled with plastic ferns and statues of rabbits my mom painted in her ceramics phase. She would be so pissed if he missed and crashed into her arrangement.
We all know deer can’t fly, but wouldn't it be cool. Our imagination was stretched in so many directions to encompass the depth of this tradition, but we did it. We kept it going for as long as luck would have it. I don’t know how or who it was that let me in on the truth. There was never a discussion, an explanation of the purpose for this delightful sham. It just seemed a part of growing up that would be found in textbooks about the developmental process of a child. It could be depicted on a graph as a sudden spike in realism. There is no such thing as Santa Clause… big spike and make-believe is over… how disheartening a time.
I didn’t know how I was going to incorporate the “boot sighting” into my history with any kind of dignity. Now we laugh about it… the time I “saw” the boot. I can’t live it down. It stands like a monument to my ability to lie. I now must put all my truths into the boot and make sure they don’t come running through the sole of it. I was merely trying to revive the light in our eyes and magnify the anticipation that was waning. All unconscious at the time but it is true. I so had wanted to hold onto the shred of wonder that was fleeting.
The following year it had all but disappeared, like it never had existed. Fairy tales were over. Dreams do not come true. A lot happened to confuse me. I wished I could live in stories. The kind you melt into like dreams… the half-in, half-out state of being where nothing bad can touch you.
I could easily escape into the “Secret Garden.” I read that book a thousand times. I would hide up in my bedroom and turn into the pages. The hidden door was always mine if I should need it. When I entered in the garden, I saw only with my heart. The eyes from deep within me.The truth is what I’m feeling. I see flowers. I see vines. I see a tree I can sit under and rest calmly in its shade. A cool breeze erases the sweat on my brow. I am safe there. I can breathe and smell the scent of freedom. And after I have rested, I skip through the sun in peace and at times I'm even laughing. I Honor My Truth!
“If You Want to Gather Honey, Don’t Kick Over the Beehive”
I am here in Door County working. Many of you already know about the place that I work. It is a café/motel at the entrance to Peninsula State Park. The owners had been trying to sell it and finally they did. Over the winter months, it sold to a very nice young couple that I trained in to work last year! Not much has really changed. They are smart. I am still working ‘round the clock. We all are. It may sound weird, but it’s fun. We love what we do, even though we may complain. It’s just a little venting.
I am living above the café because the place I had been living for the last 8 years… the previous owner’s house, is no longer available. Great. I am up here in the “penthouse” with a family of five. They are AWESOME, but it is a family of 5 nonetheless. The father works in housekeeping and the mother is our baker. They have a new baby and 2 children under 7. The room I am staying in is full of bunk beds all set to house employees coming in from Eastern Europe. There are bags of sheets and blankets, 7 dressers and some lamps.
The bags also contain a pillow, but I bring mine to and fro. I am like that. It’s one of the things that helps me feel at home. When the kids start flocking in, I need to move so I am looking. It’s harder to find housing once the season has begun. I listen to the door slam and when it does I feel the floor shake. I’m right above the entrance to the café. I can smell bacon and it tempts me. It is the crossover meat after all, if you can call it meat. Bacon is the number one thing an ex-vegetarian will have eaten when first becoming carnivore. This was interesting to know.
A few years ago, how many I won’t mention, after turning forty, I started craving meat. I don’t know why, but it all began with bacon. I have served bacon to people now for close to 20 years, at the Day by Day and now at Julies… slinging Early Bird Specials like Frisbees every morning. 2 eggs, 2 bacon or sausage, hashbrowns and toast all for $5.75 if you order before 9, although it used to be $3.50. I don’t know how people can eat all that so early, unless they plan on going back to bed. One day I ate a slice of bacon, just one slice and it was over. I ate more and thus began my "Day of Meat."
I had bacon, sausage, steak… then my boss at the time said, “Since you’re eating meat now, do you want to come with me to a barbecue?” I said sure and had a bratwurst and a burger. All I ate that day besides meat was ketchup. Prior to my "Day of Meat," I had gotten sick from soup made with chicken stock, but that day I felt fine. In fact, as I incorporated a more realistic amount into my diet, I must say I felt better. It was strange. Since then I’m more careful about what kind and how it’s raised and so on… but I eat it… to each his own.
I feel like my friends left me here to die. I helped get everything all ready to go, but they went without me to the party. This never was my beehive though I worked as if it was. They are gone and I have nothing. I forgot it was a job. Although I am grateful to be working and doing something that I like, this has never been my dream. I started working in restaurants 30+ years ago. It just happened. I stay because it’s easy. I can do it in my sleep. It’s never been because of any inspiration… the kind that arises from your heart.
I put something in between me and my heart’s desire… something I must climb over, I must triumph, I must let go of, I must claim. Conscious or unconsciously I've waited. I tended to others business and put mine in the corner. I’ve been afraid I won’t succeed when I’ve proven that I can. Somehow the idea that its mine is what makes the difference because when it’s for other people I will work until I win. I don’t care what position you start me in; I will be on top within a year, but for what, for who and why.
So I am dividing up my energy and putting some towards my dream. It’s not easy, but I understand why. I was gathering my self-esteem by working myself to the bone until I’m broken. It was easier to be the one with all the answers and the one who always said yes. My own beehive has no honey, so I wonder if I’m ok. It is something that I'm learning... to feel ok within me regardless of what I “do” but more for who I “am.” I Honor My Truth!
The “Is It True?” Series Episode One Hundred Eight
“It’s Never Too Late to Be What You Might Have Been”
My sister and I registered for Archeology 101 in the Fall of 1981. We were both attending the College of Dupage, better known as COD. My Dad used to call it “the Dupage.” Back in those days it wasn’t the 4-year school it is now, it was a small 2-year junior college. It seemed to house those of us who either couldn’t or didn’t want to get into “regular” college. Many people went there for many different reasons, but for some of us, it was simply a way to get our parents off our backs until we could get a better grip on reality. The question, "what do you want to be when you grow up" was far too vast and overwhelming through a cloud of smoke and Miller beer.
I had dropped out of high school, but eventually got my GED as part of a treatment plan in a psych ward. I studied for it in between group therapy and whatever else. They let me out on a day pass from the hospital to take the test. Bizarre I know, but my father felt that if I went to college, all my “problems” would magically disappear. He said, “Just get her into college, that is all I’m asking” as he got up from the chair and shook Dr. Cindy’s hand. My Dad didn’t finish college and he always wished he had. I know he felt that if we did, we’d have it made-in-the-shade and then he wouldn't have to worry. After graduating from Central Dupage Hospital, I went directly to "the Dupage."
I took Typing 101. First and foremost, my Dad wanted us to type. “If you learn how to type, you will always have a job.” I remember feeling safe as I secured my future on a little blue typewriter. However, I had no patience for it. I still don’t, but I can type fast. My mind whirls too much to focus. I'm better off just getting started and learning through osmosis. I’m challenged with directions… things like learning a new cell phone can make me crazy. If someone shows me, I’m much better. These days I’d be considered a “visual learner." When I was young, I was labeled “unable to apply herself," a "slow learner," a "bad student."
My favorite TV show was "Passage to Adventure." My parents gave me special permission to stay up late at night to watch it. It was on at 9:00pm on channel 11. Anything that was on channel 11 was considered almost school. I loved traveling all over the globe. I remember all the colors and fascinating worlds I could escape to.
I saw “Raiders of the Lost Ark” 7 times. Obviously, I was looking for adventure... hoping to transcend my simple life. I imagined myself as fearless, not afraid of getting dirty, searching for a treasure in some distant foreign land. What a relief it would be to go from one life threatening moment to the next… no time to worry, to be afraid or even think. I wanted to be able to drink shots of whiskey and pound the empty shot glass on the table. There would be multitudes of men under tables, drunk and asleep. I would slip away and find the riches. It seemed like a real good plan so I registered for the class.
So did swarms of others. Every class was full and with a wait-list. The only thing that filled up faster was the “animal” bus we rode to Florida. The “sleeper” buses and the “normal” buses filled up later. There was definitely a buzz around the campus it was the class to take. On the first day, the professor asked for a show of hands from those of us who saw the movie. We looked at each other and slithered up our hands. I don’t remember what he covered in that first hour at “the dig,” but my sister and I agreed we should never go back.
I registered for Electricity 101 because playing music was not a "viable" career. I could be a studio engineer but someone told me I’d be lucky to plug in amplifiers and wind up cords... that I could barely flip a switch. I loved drawing circuits on big paper, but that’s all that I remember.
I joked that I could be a dentist because I diagnosed cavities in my siblings, a joke my Dad has finally forgotten. It seemed to make him happy, so I kept up the charade.
I sold “Herbal Life” because my parents told my friend Dave to tell me to lose weight. His mom was a distributor so I drank gallons of Aloe Vera juice. I remember my mom saying well maybe you have found your “thing.” My bedroom was full of products. I never wrote a single order.
I had no passion for the many things I tried to love. I was always told the things I did love were only hobbies and you did them in your spare time… time that never seemed to come.
I have been down many roads. I was always searching for a way around myself, a way around my fears. I have discovered that if a dream does not require me to face my deepest fears, then it is not big enough. I could say there is no easy way out, but actually there is. I have found it is far easier to follow my heart, be who I am, do what I love than to deny it. It is never too late because there is no destination, there is no ultimate achievement. It is about the now and what I am doing with it. I am all I was ever meant to be in this moment if I truly claim it. I Honor My Truth!
The “Is It True?” Series Episode One Hundred Seven
"If You're Going Through Hell, Keep Walking”
I’m not a golfer. My Dad is a golfer. My Mom is a golfer. My brother is a golfer. My sister is a golfer. I’m not. Try as I may, I have challenges hitting a round thing with a straight thing with any kind of finesse. While there may be contact, the round thing will go wildly off in a direction of its choosing. I cannot be held responsible. I always hit it too hard, if I don’t, then I miss it all together, no happy medium… ever. It is something I am working on. I’m starting small… miniature golf at the Red Putter with the staff. It seems harmless and easy enough.
That being said, I was pretty certain I was going to end up with the prize… a can of kraut juice. They call it the b---y prize, but I don’t like that saying. I should research its origin. I'm certain it's ridiculous. I would have foregone the golf game entirely and gone ahead drank it so we could move on, but most like to play and play to win. I drank it so fast that nobody saw me. They missed the photo opp and were mad… sorry, I’m not stoppin’ and there's gonna be no re-do. Get it while you can. I’m not wasting my time whining either. It’s just better that way.
Like getting in cold water at the pool, or better yet, like the thousands of crazy people who plunge in Lake Michigan January 1st for the annual Door County Polar Bear Swim. Maybe they’re hung over and can’t feel any worse or still drunk and just don’t care. Some people will wear a ton of clothing, which others claim is worse. There are tactics, there are theories. In my mind, though I’m not going to prove it, the best strategy is “get in and get out.” Period. Then proceed directly to the pancakes at “The Great Pancake Show”
When I was in Girl Scouts, we would go to camp in the summer. Part of the experience was bogging, which I would never do today, but it was a blast. We would trudge through the swampy, quick-sandy, oohy gooey mud containing God knows what until we would reach the lake. If you stop, you cannot feel the bottom but you can feel yourself sinking. The troop leader continually urges you on. Often someone panics, but she only shouts “keep moving.” No time for consolation.
Keep moving. One step… I breathe… another step… I breathe again. I move like a river. I cry. I get sad. I get mad. I don’t bury my heart underneath a boulder of pain I have yet to feel. It will only get heavier with the years. I am fluid, not stuck. You can’t stop things from changing if you try. This too shall always pass. It is a promise that life keeps. I don’t fight it... for if it is a lesson, it will only come around again later if I do. It seems there is always something that I learn.
A dear friend of mine passed away recently. He died of cancer. He knew his time was near, yet he talked of all the leather carvings he was working on and how he was changing around his studio. He lived much longer than they said he would, much longer. He remained alive in every moment. I was in Door County working when he died. Before I left, he gave me a necklace that was a little beaded pouch. I can feel the weight of it against my chest when I wear it. When he got real sick and was dying, it fell from the place I had it hanging as if to let me know.
Life waits for no one. It keeps going. I want to roll along with it, not wait for mine to happen as it does. It will move on without me. It's my choice to say, "I'm in!" I am free to choose, if only I will claim it... with a step and a breath and a step and a breath.This is how I do it. I Honor My Truth!
Sometimes I have to pinch myself. Just a couple years ago if you had told me I would be playing music again I would never have believed you. I would have probably started crying too.
I can't remember when, but years ago, I was doing coaching with Ellie. She said, "oh you love to sing, sing me something" all I could think to sing was Happy Birthday and I mumbled through it while bawling at the same time. She listened to me and was so loving. I am forever grateful, I was so lost. I didn't even own a guitar anymore.
I took my first CD to duplication today after re-mastering it like 10 times for one reason or another. I am very busy with music and writing,recording 2 other CDs, etc. I seriously would never have believed any of this...that I could, that I would.
It is not without many challenges and periods of transition. The main thing I have learned in the past year is to keep moving! It all began with one step and it continues with the next and the next. I truly do not get very far ahead of that....I have a major list but I have allowed it to evolve, waiver, and change. It is only a guideline.
The biggest difference is I do not allow myself to get stuck. I may sit for a moment and sob and whine...but I get up and keep moving.
I just wanted to thank each and every one of my inspiring, loving, encouraging BraveHeart sisters! It is a joy to be on this journey towards peace and freedom for ourselves, for each other and for the world.The world continues to be a better place the more we do what we love... what we feel called to do.
I took everything out of the fridge, including the shelves and the bins. I wanted to see if I could fit inside. I seem to have a habit of doing performances that involve smushing myself into a small place and finding a way to break free. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get my whole body in there and shut the door. Getting out would prove to be another quandary if I were in fact able to accomplish the task of getting in. One should always plan an escape route on the front end in situations like this. Just as I was about to close the door on myself, it occurred to me. What if I can’t get out?
I could have suffocated due to a lack of oxygen that day, but I didn’t. Lucky me because it surely wasn’t smarts that saved me. No matter how loud I yelled or how much I pounded no neighbor would have ever heard me. Fortunately, my sanity did return. I remembered accounts I’d heard of wandering souls, just like me, trapped inside fridges in basements and alleys. I took a breath and came to… holy cats! What was I thinking? As the memory surfaces, I find it harder to breathe. Claustrophobia has never been my thing.
I could never have rocked it from side to side, in hopes of tipping it over, so maybe the latch would bust open. My fridge was wedged into a box of its own. It was nearly impossible to move it, even from the outside. There was no room for me to scoot back and brace myself to kick the door open. I could wriggle something sharp between the magnetic seal causing it to loosen, that is if I could find something sharp. I could turn the temperature down if I was too cold, but eventual I’d shiver. The predicament would have left me no choice but to chill and to chow.
Unfortunately, in order to make room, I took out all of the food… the leftover dinner, the cheese and the beer. Somehow I can’t see myself enjoying a meal entirely composed of condiments and such. My last supper would consist of Sriracha, Woebers’ horseradish sauce, sweet gherkins, Annies Goddess dressing, Door County Real Maple syrup, strawberry jalapeño jelly, pickled asparagus, Kua Khaub Poob Qab Heev(curry paste), Tuong Ot Sate An Pho(ground chili garlic oil) and a variety of olives. What a feast!
I’ve put myself in box, in a bag, in a plastic tub, in a garbage can (I put my little sister in one too for a show) and in a wardrobe box for moving clothes. I continue to put myself in situations to get out of… to break free from prisons, real or imagined. I always find a way out, but still, I am afraid. I was forced to transcend my fear of the fridge while at work. I am in and out of the walk-in all day long. The walk-in freezer is another story.
I am fearful of the fluke, there are flukes of many kinds. Getting locked in a freezer is one I wish to avoid. I will not. I repeat, I WILL NOT go into the walk-in freezer without a chair wedged in the door. I know where everything is and I grab it real quick. I hold my breath as I go. I make sure no one is lurking anywhere in the vicinity that might want to play a joke. I do my best to sneak in and out in secret. It’s best for me if no one knows. I control the situation with my little friend the chair… or if it’s gone, I use the mop bucket.
I want to fit in somewhere. I want to be accepted. It’s not so good to mold yourself, to mask yourself, to hide. No one really asks me to. It is me who thinks I must in order to get what I think I want or to hold onto what I think I need. But I’ve come to discover that the “real me” rarely ever wanted what I fought so hard to keep but lost. It is only my small ego that has been willing to pay the price of living a lie and of not honoring my truth. I think I can control what happens by being who I think I should, but it never works that way. The only way to find what I am looking for is to be truly who I am. Only then will I find what I yearn for deep inside. I no longer need to squish myself to fit into a box that is often of my making. I Honor My Truth!
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