Reflections in Fur: Part Deux

     Okay.  I succumbed to feline mind control.  Larry decided he'd had it with outdoor living, so he just barged into my house one day and wouldn't leave.  He is endearing, affectionate, and absolutely infatuated with me, but he's gunning for Bucky.  As I feared, Larry is an unneutered male.  Territorial with a capital "T."  It has been a trying three weeks as I attempt to keep the two at bay.  When I took Larry to the vet for his shots, it was discovered that he has the feline version of HIV.  While Bucky has had his shot for this, it is not 100% effective against the disease, especially since it is transmitted by blood.  And what better way to transmit blood than by fighting tooth and claw?  So not only must I keep the two of them apart for Bucky's sake, I cannot let Larry outdoors anymore.  He is forever under quarantine.
     The vet suggested I put Larry up for adoption with someone who might take a special-needs cat.  I called animal rescue shelters and sent out gobs of emails, but to no avail.  Thankfully Bucky loves the outdoors and is being a good sport about this, but it's getting cold and wet out there.  So I put Larry in the laundry room when I go to sleep or leave for a few hours so that Bucky can sneak in, eat, drink, and relax a bit.
     So what was Larry reflecting for me?  Trust.  When faced with intractable problems, I send up a prayer:  "Make a way out of no way."  I was having major fears.  Would I need to give Bucky up for adoption for his health's sake?  Would I make myself crazy trying to keep two cats apart for the rest of their lives?  Could I afford his upkeep?  But through it all, the Still Small Voice just said, "Wait.  Give this time.  There's a solution."  And so, I put my fears aside and trusted; what else was I to do?
     A few days later my vet called to inquire if I had found a placement for Larry.  I told her no.  "Well, I just had a client come in who's looking for a companion for his quarantined FIV cat.  Here's his number.  He'd like to talk to you."  Colin and I spoke for a good long time.  This man is serious about cats; he has eight!  And his home is set up to accommodate each of them with their varying needs.  After his family visited here, they all decided that Larry would be a good match for Skittles.  To top it off, they graciously offered to take the neutering responsibility off my hands, saving me a bundle of money!
     Larry will go to his new home November 2nd.  Bucky can return to the comfort of his home, and I can relax...with some tears to be sure.  Larry is a dear and I do love him.  But I know two things:  he'll be in good hands, and I can trust a Loving Power greater than my fears and limited resources to bring about a perfect solution.  I hope this inspires you to trust more, too.

Pax tecum.
    

Pray to the Moon

O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb

Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, II,ii 

 

     Poor Juliet.  Not wanting Romeo to swear on what is changeable she insists on the certainty of her new-found love lest she feel betrayed and broken if he prove fickle.  It is a lovely and understandable wish, especially when we are young and untempered.  As we grow older, we discover that  change is the only constant in life.  Change is life.  And while it can hold sorrows, so can living in stagnation.  When we risk our hearts and egos, we have so much to learn and share.

     During the summer I had an inspiration to teach a course called "I'm No Pigeon: A Career Workshop for the Unconventional," the namesake of this blog.  I imagined that, like me, there were others out there who were pursuing unconventional lives or desired to follow an unconventional career path.  I spent hours developing the curriculum, loving every minute of it, believing it would be useful and inspiring.  Our Adult Education program accepted the proposal, and it was launched.

     Imagine my surprise when one student wanted to learn how to start dating again and another wanted to stay in his current line of work but move to a new company.  This is not what I had planned.  I could have gotten annoyed if I believed they were not giving me what I wanted (the satisfaction of seeing my opus come to life).  Instead I chose to change the curriculum.  I had a few hours of doubt and anxiety; would this be anywhere near as good as my other program?  Would it be helpful?  Can I make this change successfully in my own mind--which is code for can I check my ego at the door and make this course about them instead of me?  But I listened for the common thread in their three goals.  Fear of change!  Well, whaddya know?  With this in mind, I pulled out a trusted book on the subject (Barbara Sher's Wishcraft.  Get it!), sent them pertinent chapters, and hoped for the best when the class met again.

     Fascinating commonalities surfaced for all of us.  Change is terrifying, but being stuck in paralysis is no longer tenable.  We must acknowledge our fears with deep compassion, a lot of good humor, and supportive companions.  My participants were inspired, reluctant, confused, pensive, on fire, laughing--anything but passive.  They were alive!  These good people are helping and inspiring each other--and me--to take more risks.  The course is not yet over, neither are their endeavors.  This is a continuing story, but one that is so satisfying to be a part of. 

     We all want the constancy of happiness and comfort, or at least the constancy of what we are accustomed to.  "The devil you know...." It is also the potential for a rut.  And when we change internally, what may once have been comfortable now makes us chafe.  Change can be sweet, challenging, breathtaking, heartbreaking.  But it engages us all the time.  So what better goddess to invoke than the Moon?  She changes but is constantly there, even if she is obscured by clouds or dips below our vision.  Pray to the Moon that you may face change with an open heart, an open mind, and open hands. 

Pax tecum.

Struggling with Easy

     Given my proclivity for self-improvement, I see what is difficult in my life and use it as a means to work through issues that are holding me back.  My body pain, my stressful jobs, my failed relationships, my financial uncertainty, it's all useful.  Well either I make it useful or I'll just curl up into the fetal position and cry, which on occasion I have done.  Living alone for 14 years has afforded me the freedom to explore all this, and my life is wonderful as a result since I've learned some powerful lessons about solitude and self-reliance. 
     Two months ago, a man entered my life.  We'll call him John--because that's his name.  It took only one afternoon together for us to realize we were very comfortable with each other.  We had so much in common--interests, values, humor--that it was like reconnecting with a long lost best friend.  And as I had always hoped it would happen, we each fell in love with our best friend.  Cue the lush music.
     Those of you who know me know I am living a highly unconventional life of existential exploration. And without a life's partner, I can just live it, no questions asked.  Now John is in my life.  We spend a lot of time together sharing households, meals, ideas, delights and frustrations.  We are negotiating how and when we do things.  He is getting to know my family.  Then I started to talk about my lifestyle and aspirations.  With no small amount of anxiety, I described how I wanted to live with more occupational freedom so I could make a contribution to the world on my own terms.  I braced myself for the moment when I would look into his eyes and see him pull away from me.  I would have felt hurt and lost.  And that would have been easy because it would have been another opportunity to learn something.  I know that drill by heart.
     Instead this man looked me in the eyes with empathy and respect, saying he understood what I was trying to do.  He said he really admired me and thought this was fabulous.  He put his arm around me and encouraged me to keep going.  He offered help and support.  Then I panicked.  This is not the way it's supposed to go.  Where's the pain?  Where's the struggle?  This is too easy!  I started to invent all kinds of worst-case scenarios in my mind.  I doubted my ability to remain self-reliant as I began to feel I needed him.  I created imaginary arguments in order to defend myself against...against...what?  Love.  I was actually resisting love.  How weird is that?
     So now I have new lessons to learn.  Relaxation.  Partnering.  Sharing.  Happiness.  Trust. Surrender.  I've always wanted a partner like this.  He's here.  I hope I can handle this.  How about you?  When did you finally get an unmixed blessing?  How did you react to it?  How's it going for you?  What did you learn?  And how have you changed? 
      I wish you joy of the easy in your life.

Pax tecum.

Saving a Life

     I'm sitting here typing with the tell-tale signs of an apheresis donor:  two red plastic bandages wrapped around my two elbows.  In this process platelets are separated from the rest of your blood.  Why platelet donations?  They are desperately needed for people undergoing chemotherapy for one reason.   It takes three pints of whole blood to make one donation of platelets.  And because this process is so complex, fewer people take the time or make the drive to the center to do it.
     The procedure is a little freaky.  You sit in a recliner with a syringe in one arm sucking out blood.  It goes through a machine that looks like something out of Lost in Space where the platelets are separated out.  Platelets are collected in a plastic bag where they take on the distinct look of egg drop soup.  The blood is then infused with saline solution to make up the volume, and pumped back into your other arm through another syringe.  For me the whole process takes 100 minutes, and I can donate two servings. 
     During this time you cannot close your eyes because the staff needs to know you are awake and activating your squeeze toy to keep your vein open.  To pass the time you watch a movie.  If I'm lucky I watch one of my choice, a comedy.  If I'm not lucky, I watch what some guy requested which usually includes evil doings, violence, and a woman dressed in little more than lingerie.  I don't like being upset during a donation, preferring that my blood is as free from adrenaline as possible.  When I'm faced with the movies I dread, I just stare at the walls and try to meditate with my eyes open.
     Since you can't use your arms, you can't read, write, or even scratch your nose.  But the wonderful staff is very accommodating and will rub your nose with a piece of gauze if you need it.  Or, as in my case today, dry your eyes as you sit there weeping over some happy ending in a feel-good flick.  You don't get to eat or drink.  However, the chemical in the needle that is used to keep your blood from clotting can cause side effects:  itchy nose, dry mouth, numb lips, sleepiness, or nausea.  The cure?  Tums!  Just ask for them--regular or sugar-free--and you can have all you want.  They work like a charm.
     When it's all over you get to have a free lunch of your choice, beverages, snacks, and sometimes a thank you gift like a free oil change or gallon of ice cream.  I dread the T shirts though.  I had waaaaaay too many of those, and I rarely wear them.
     Does all of this seem really arduous to you?  It is.  Add to that the 45 minute drive up to the donation center, and I can devote half a day to this appointment.  It can be tedious as all heck.  Your arms ache, you fight drowsiness, and you are immobilized for almost two hours.  But then I think of a child undergoing chemotherapy who can't go out and play.  Or the middle-aged man who can't work because his cancer treatments make him too sick.  Then it doesn't seem so bad after all, and I remember why I'm doing this.  My first blood donation.  I was giving the standard pint of blood when a staff member asked what my type was.  "A positive. " "Good!"  she said.  "We were really low on that.  You're going to save someone's life today."  Her words hit me like a falling piano.  No amount of money, legislation, or good intentions can take the place of blood.  You have to open up a vein and share part of who you are with a total stranger.  Frankly, I can't think of anything more awesome than that.
     If you ever feel like you aren't doing much to save the world, let me invite you to come with me to the apheresis center in Farmington, CT.  And over the course of half a day, attached to freaky medical equipment, while snacking on Tums and watching a movie, you can actually save a life.  SAVE A LIFE!  Think about it.  How often do we get the chance to be brave and save a life?  This offer is real.  Contact me.  I'll get you through it.

Pax tecum
    

Follow the Energy

     I'm no stranger to anxiety.  It gets the best of me when I overwhelm myself and lose my center.  But in those moments, I think of what my friend Richard always says:  Follow the energy.
     Today I had a lot of things to do and people to connect with.  This is good because I want to be useful.  But thinking of them all at once along with imagined consequences?  Mmmmmm, not so good.  How to break that mindset?  Well I was making my coffee around 6:45am enjoying a beautiful sunrise in the east, when I noticed a very dark sky in the west.  I love the play of light in the sky, so I abandoned kitchen duty to follow my energy up to the back porch.  Amazingly, there was a rainbow stretching across my neighbor's house!  First I had no inkling it would rain this morning; the sky looked that innocuous.  Then to see this wonder of nature just blew me away.  What a reward for breaking with habit and acting on impulse.
     Then my roofer showed up to investigate the cause of the leak on my front porch.  He is very pleasant and knows his stuff.  Since I had all these things to do, I was hoping he'd just do his work, give me the diagnosis, and be off.  But then I followed my energy.  I let him engage me in a 90-minute conversation that left my jaw hanging.  He loves the roofing work, but he is also a writer, a musician, and an inventor!  "See that gadget on your storm door that keeps it open when you push the button?  I invented that."  One fascinating revelation after another.  He is probably the most "non-pigeon" person I've ever met in my life.  Trust me, I'm staying in touch with him.
     Finally, I began my course, "I'm No Pigeon," this evening at our adult education program.  I had done little preparation for it; I like to conjure the opening remarks just to get myself pumped up for the class.  But I was sidetracked by everything else that day and ran out of time.  I simply followed the energy instead.  Sure enough I was sharing my  insights with the students when one leaned forward with light bulbs going off over his head.  Whatever I had said resonated with him deeply, and he began to think about his situation differently.

    Anxiety almost got the better of me.  When I allowed myself to feel burdened, I blocked myself off from inspiration.  But when I chose to open myself to inspiration, there it was.  Will it always be this dramatic?   Who knows?  But each day is different, each moment presents opportunities.  So what opportunities might you be missing by being caught up in your own anxieties?  Just be aware and open to inspiration.  I'd love to know what you discovered.

Pax tecum.

Reflections in Fur

     You know how you can interpret dreams and find insights into your life by discerning symbols?  Well these days I'm interpreting cats.  My present circumstance is just waaaaaay too bizarre to  think of it any other way.

Buckminster as bathroom doorstop

     Buckminster is my main cat.  We adopted each other two years ago.  He's huge, intrepid, defiant, and goofy.  He falls asleep in his water bowl like a drunkard in his cups.  He sprawls out in the most inconvenient places.  He reflects the part of me that is comfortable and well cared for.  The part of me that is brave, imagines wonderful and sometimes confrontational scenarios for myself.  I know it all.  I believe in myself.  I can get a little stupid.
     Kierkegaard is a delicate, tiger gray feral cat who is a mass of anxieties.  I can't get more than three feet near him before he bolts.  But he will take food on the porch, and if I'm patient, I can coax him into the house.  As can Buckminster.  One day I came home from shopping to find the two of them in a Mexican standoff on the outer rim of the upstairs porch.  Clearly Bucky had taught him how to navigate the cat door, climb up the stairs, and squeeze between the balusters.  Kierke reflects the part of me that is scared, insecure, afraid to get too involved for fear of losing independence, yet in need of a mentor and helpmate despite my reluctance.
     Larry is my homeless cat, a petite, orange polydactyl.  Larry is besotted with me.  He follows me around the neighborhood on my walks.  But he requires mucho medical attention, and the budget will not allow for that at the moment.  So I keep him well fed and sheltered on the porch so that he doesn't share any potential diseases with us.  But Larry hates Bucky.  And the two of them have gotten into it pretty viciously.  It is astounding to see my twenty pounder cower in front of this bantam weight.  Larry knows about the cat door, and while he can't use it, he knows Bucky does, and will stand sentinel to see he doesn't get in or out without a fight.  Larry reflects external reality.  It dogs me with a leaking roof, skyrocketing medical premiums, replacement tires, and faulty feet.  It won't let me escape into comfort or confidence, real or imagined.  I must keep attending to it despite my desire to keep it at bay.
     Right now I'm a little annoyed with all of them.  I care for them and their conflicting needs so much that I am neglecting my writing and everything else I want to devote myself to.  So here's my plan for the week.  Minimal involvement.  They're cats.  They're smart.  They'll have to do without me a bit more because I am going to be more self-centered and take care of myself.  I have to, because they sure can't.  Let's see what happens when I change the dynamics.    
     And pray that I don't fall victim to feline mind control!

Pax tecum.

My Left Ankle

     After more than a year's delay I took myself to see a Certified Movement Analyst.  July 2011, in my attempt to improve my physical well being, I started jump roping.  Fifteen seconds into it, I felt a snap in my left ankle.  While not broken, it hasn't been right since.  Well of course not, it's my left ankle, but you know what I mean.  Now my body is out of alignment.  In particular my knee is sore because my foot turns inward so much more.  How symbolic is that!  I turn inward spiritually a lot as well. 

     Enter Mavis Lockwood.  All she did was observe how I move, ask a bunch of questions, apply her prodigious understanding of anatomy to the situation, and give me a few exercises to do.  
     "Do you always get up from a chair like that?"
     "Like what?"
     "You lean to the right."
     "I do?!?!"
     I had no idea that I was listing to the right when I stand and walk.  I had no idea that I was bending with my back and not my legs.  I had no idea my head leans forward when I stand or sit.  Of course not.  We never notice what feels natural to us.  She also pointed out that we can exercise with the very best intentions, but without an expert to observe us we could be doing it wrong.   Suffice it to say, all Mavis did was to help me tremendously.
     This gets me thinking about how much we may be fortifying our practices of all kinds because we think we are doing them right...or are right!  I can spend a lot of time going inward and mucking around in my stuff, thinking I am getting to know myself and healing myself.  But what if I'm just getting stuck in a different way?  I have a wonderful new man in my life.  After six weeks together we've become more open with each other.  I shared some of my relationship history with him one night, and in his very warm and understanding voice he said, "That explains a lot."  Puzzled I asked him to say more.  "Well you come across as so confident that I began to think that I wouldn't be able to keep up with you."  So here I am practicing confidence, self-reliance, everything I think I need to do to take care of myself; and now I understand where I might come across as intimidating. 
     Would you consider asking people to share their observations of you?  Enlist a colleague, a trusted friend, someone with whom you share an interest.  Ask about your body language, how you hit a tennis ball, what your phone manner is like.  Make it a neutral behavior.  Just get observations.  Ask more questions about it for clarification.  Talk about what you'd like to alter and how, if you feel it necessary at all.  But whether you make a change or not, it is amazing to see yourself through another's eyes.

Pax tecum.