Diana's Blog: Quirky Words and Book Reviews

September 7, 2008
It is Sunday evening. After nearly three years doing weekends, anchoring news on a local radio station, this is my third weekend off, and I still clearly have no clue how to "do" weekends. Never part of the Friday Hurrah, I march on, doing what I think must be done, missing the point that "rest" is a vital part of the weekend, whatever days it falls on.
Ainslie MacLeod, author of THE INSTRUCTION, who has become a good friend, says his guides urge me to meditate twice daily for ten minutes, and to take one day completely off from any work, emails, BlackBerry every month. A couple of my guy friends have inadvertently succeeded in making me a day off last month -- boating on the Columbia River -- and this month -- hiking in the Columbia Gorge -- stunning days, both.
But plain old weekends...? I cleaned my house today, did the laundry, took a Zumba class, did some paper work in the sun, filed or deleted about 1,200 emails, but I don't feel like I've done enough. What is "enough?" I don't remember weekends as a kid. We went "down the shore" for a week in the summer for vacations. And Christmas and birthdays were any kid's dream. But weekends...? Rest? "Do-The-Laundry-Homework-Clean-The-House-And-Don't-Go-Out-Until-It's-All-Done-And-No-TV-Either."
Oh.
Time to break some old programming again.
A book pops into view. Actually, this book has been next to my desk for a couple of weeks, but now I notice it. DAILY OM: INSPIRATIONAL THOUGHTS FOR A HAPPY, HEALTHY, AND FULFILLING DAY by Madisyn Taylor. Books like this, I tend to just send out a thought, desire, intention, and close my eyes, and open the book. There are always applicable messages. I open to "Gut Responses: In Touch with True Emotions." Madisyn says we tend to store our emotions in our gut, and she suggests putting your right hand on your belly and say three times "Please reveal to me my true emotions."
Okay, here we go...
I open to a page in my memory and my eyes instantly brim with tears.
I see a seven-year old "me" crying again. I am upset because I can't go out to play. I still have laundry to do, and my baby sister has a lot of diapers that I have yet to hang on the line. I can hear the boys playing next door. The girls are probably at someone's house, but I don't know whose. I suck back the tears, and hang the laundry anyway, putting a fresh load in the washer. I hope there's no ironing. Besides I love my baby sister.
I wipe real tears away.
Madisyn Taylor says to let the emotions out, lest they become stuck and contribute to disease. As Ainslie and his guides taught me, I will go meditate on what it means to completely rest, and to be "enough."
And, you -- have a great rest of the weekend.

Labels: Ainslie MacLeod, DAILY OM: INSPIRATIONAL THOUGHTS FOR A HAPPY, HEALTHY AND FULFILLING DAY, Madisyn Taylor, THE INSTRUCTION, transcending the trauma, weekends

September 6, 2008
"Which book is right for today?" I ask, as I walk around my stacks of books, opening to whatever sense is pulled. I do that, sometimes. It's fun, harmless, and sometimes -- like today -- downright astounding.
James VanPraagh's new book GHOSTS AMONG US, is two-thirds of the way down the stack in the middle. I choose it, and slip it into my workout bag.
First I am off to a baby shower, where, instead of guessing how many cotton balls are in a jar and how big the mother-to-be's waist is, we have ritual. In a beautiful ceremony, we are each called on to give a personal reflection. Only half the women have given birth, and we are forewarned, no birth horror stories. It is my turn, and I truthfully say that I loved every stage of it -- including labor and delivery -- and since I had plenty of time, with 42 hours labor the first son, and 28 the second son, one technique I found mystical and amazing was as simple as playing music. A lot of music. I tell the women that there was one tape that I played over and over during the late stages of pregnancy, and particularly during labor -- the music was rolling piano chords, played by a man at Portland's Saturday Market -- and I loved the heavenly tones he created. A few years later, when I was driving home from church in the middle of the afternoon, I found the tape, and slipped it into the deck to listen. My three-year old son said from his car seat, "Dark, momma, dark!" Bringing goosebumps to everyone.
I drive to the gym along that very same road, so many years later, this afternoon, and my phone rings. It is my ex-husband, telling me that the matriarch of his family has just died. I tell him I loved her and I am sorry, and I present the irony that I had just been telling of our sons' births a half-hour earlier, and we hang up. Aunt Lenore was in her nineties, and -- in his words -- had not lived fully in the last several years. He and I have been divorced five years, and immediately I talk to Aunt Lenore. As my words begin to pour out -- about being sorry I hadn't contacted her -- I feel my heart fill with warmth and I hear Aunt Lenore say in her kindly southern way, "Dear, I understand. You did the right thing, divorcing him, and I love you both." And then she answers another concern, I've begun to express, "I will be able to help him and your two sons much better from over here." Thank you, Aunt Lenore!
And then I get to the gym with my book. The choice makes perfect sense now. There's a very peaceful chapter about relatives passing, and VanPraagh says "Because our consciousness doesn't die at death, we carry our mind-set of thoughts and beliefs with us to the other side." Which explains why Aunt Lenore is still so sweet and kind.
GHOSTS AMONG US is full of interesting stories of the medium, ghostbusting, VanPraagh's explanation of ghosts from different vibrational planes, and his reassurance that "Love is the most powerful, natural force in the Universe." He writes that many people ask him "Do spirits know I am thinking of them?" The answer, James says, "is always 'Yes!' More importantly, the spirits feel the love that we have for them." More goosebumps.
Years ago, I interviewed James VanPraagh in person about his book TALKING TO HEAVEN. After the interview, with the tape still rolling, James shifts into his medium persona, telling me he sees my dad with me, and that my father is proud of me. Then James says my dad "died of a broken heart" after he was blocked from seeing me ever again. He says my dad is sad about what happened to me in my own home, and that he couldn't protect me from that abuse.
James asks if my mother now lives near a lake.
"Yes!" I answer.
"Her mother has passed," James states.
"Yes,"I say.
"Your grandmother is working to get through to your mother," he says. She wants your mother to be loving to you. What happened wasn't your fault."
James looks at me, "It was horrible, wasn't it."
"Yes," I say.
"Your grandmother is trying -- it is discouraging, but she is trying."
It hasn't worked just yet.
But many times, I will walk through a room in my own home and catch a strong scent of gardenias.
Gardenias.
Comforting.
My grandmother's perfume.

Labels: birth, Ghosts, GHOSTS AMONG US, grandmother, James Van Praagh, medium, mothers, TALKING TO HEAVEN, transcending the trauma

September 5, 2008
Which "me" is going to win? The kid that was raped and abused by the adults who were supposed to care for me for fifteen years? Or the soul who appreciates the great challenge that situation presents and celebrates every success?
Today I decide to put myself in the path of deliberately-chosen positive experiences, while tuning into any moments of fear, despair, anger -- assuaging the young girl inside who stubbornly grabs the steering wheel. Most of us grew up with at least some trauma. We then make instant decisions about Life, People, Ourselves. Decisions made with that emotional resonance tend to remain, and block us later in life. I am determined to knock down whatever unsuitable beliefs remain. Some people barrage themselves with the same affirmation over and over until it becomes a belief. That doesn't work for me when I see a cowering kid inside, deathly afraid. So I do EMDR for her, and for me, I do things like I did today.
Dance always works. So I dance Zumba this morning, fabulously freeing. And instead of wondering how any of my dancing friends feel about me, I open my heart to them, and we talk, lively conversations, about dance, politics, families. I have to run a few errands next, including getting baby shower gifts, so I put my heart into that. I return to the gym, and lay out in the sun, reading THE TOP 10 DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN MILLIONAIRES AND THE MIDDLE CLASS by Keith Cameron Smith. Quick, powerful reading. I know I'm on the right track when I read in his preface "I believe we all have a song that we are destined to sing and this book is part of my song." I want to say, "Me too!" I know I am transcending the trauma -- and have had a rich life of experiences, interviewing amazing authors -- so I can share what I know...to support others as they get the absolute best out of the Law of Attraction. The biggie for Keith is that millionaires think long term, while middle class people think short term. Set long-term goals, he says. He wants you to read, and re-read his book, which I will. Nine key questions to ask yourself: "What kind of person do I want to be? Why do I want to be that kind of person? How can I become that kind of person? What do I want to do? Why do I want to do it? How can I do it? What do I want to have? Why do I want to have it? How can I create it?"
After reading the book, it is time to meet a friend of mine who is a Life Coach -- and head to the 2008 Street of Dreams. I hear her saying "I want that shower in my new condo. I want that tile...." And I realize that she's right -- it's not just the looking at beautiful homes, it's seeing them as ours.
And then I see it -- magnificent hardwood floors in a mirrored studio boasting not only Bowflex equipment, but a ballet barre. My dream house has that exact studio -- with the addition of my recording studio in it as well. I take a picture with my phone.
I think the little girl is really going to love the ballet barre.

Labels: ballet barre, book review, Bowflex, EMDR, Keith Cameron Smith, studio, THE TOP 10 DISTINCTIONS BETWTEEN MILLIONAIRES AND THE MIDDLE CLASS, Zumba

September 4, 2008
LETTERS TO A BULLIED GIRL is a heartbreakingly beautiful compilation of letters sparked by the revelation -- in a town newspaper -- that 15-year old Olivia Gardner was being bullied relentlessly. Two teenage sisters, who didn't know Olivia, heard about her torture, and began a campaign to send letters of support to her. The letters mushroomed -- the girls expected a few letters, thousands spilled in -- from former bullies, people who had been bullied, are being bullied, people who watched others bullying. Boys, girls, men, women, kids and retirees. They are messages of hope, and hang in there, and even sorrow.
These words leave a stain.
If you've ever been bullied, you remember.
I was lucky. I adopted the role of an observer, a journalist, the class historian, everything I could think of that would let me into all the groups in school. I was never included in the groups at school, though.
In our neighborhood, it was Amy-and-Debbie. They were the bullies. It wasn't one name -- it was Amy-and-Debbie. And the bullying they exacted was being excluded from their little club. At times, they would tease open the door a bit, only to slam it in our faces. Even so, it saddened me to hear -- just a few years ago -- that tragedy had befallen their families.
There's a story in the book from a guy named Jack who thanks Olivia for putting her story out there for the world to know. He writes that by doing this, she is helping to bring an end to this soul-wrenching torture that so many have endured over the years.
I wonder sometimes what happened to a few schoolmates who suffered the worst. And, I wonder about one girl, new to our school. There were rumors that her father did "bad things" to her. She was walking home one day, and I ran to her, wanting to share my stories with her, wanting to hear if her stories were true, wanting to cut her pain. I didn't utter a word. She looked at me with wide-open eyes, and didn't say a word. She walked away. I never saw her again. Word was she left the school. She left me with no one else to talk to who would understand. I stayed silent. Now I speak. Putting words to the unspeakable helps transcend the trauma.
My heart goes out to Olivia, to the girl who couldn't talk, and to Amy-and-Debbie.

Labels: book review., bullies, Emily and Sarah Buder, LETTERS TO A BULLIED GIRL, Olivia Gardner, transcending the trauma

September 3, 2008
The first chapter sucked me in. It was about a woman named Maria whose mother inadvertently invited into her home a pedophile. Maria was four. So was I, when that happened, and let me tell you it messes up your mind for decades. Did for Maria. Did for me. The book is called THE STRESS ANSWER by Dr. Frank Lawlis, a friend of Dr Phil's.
I kept reading. THE STRESS ANSWER: TRAIN YOUR BRAIN TO CONQUER DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY IN 45 DAYS is about brain plasticity, and how it is possible to train your mind to learn different pathways. It was fun to see he's mentioned some of my favorites. Fun to see dance and listening to music as answers.
When I finally crawled out of bed this morning, I had that raging sore throat, I was dizzy, I had no voice, and then I found myself furious at myself for being sick. Anxious. Depressed. I had perfect attendance all through school. Except second grade. Being home with him, the pedophile, taught me to never stay home again.
So, I'm reading along. Oh, reading helps, Dr Frank says. He says about 90-percent of us deal with anxiety, mostly as a result of childhood incidents. We can heal that anxiety, he says, because our brains -- and it's scientifically proven -- can reroute. It takes practice. It takes awareness. It takes knowing where you are headed. You interrupt the anxiety cycles -- or stress storms, as Dr Frank calls them -- by dancing to the beat, inspirational movies, reading, walking, talking to good friends, breathing, meditating. This new habit of neural network is reinforced when you exercise joy or reward yourself for being happy.
My spirits are lifted. My voice is back. There is a lightness inside I didn't notice earlier. This transformation took the whole day. Dr Frank's methods take 45-days -- basically, he repeats the ideas I just mentioned. Also eat brain healthy foods like salmon and play games like Scrabble. And chew gum!
Oh, Maria. The way she transcended the trauma...? She joined the Marines.
I'll dance.

Labels: brain, dance, Dr Frank Lawlis, Dr Phil, mind, music, pedophile, sick, stress, THE STRESS ANSWER, transcending the trauma

September 2, 2008
Two of my favorite author-friends have events tonight, and I'm not going to either. I awoke with a raging sore threat that threatens to take away my voice. I cannot afford to lose my voice, so I won't be seeing Chelsea Cain read from her latest book SWEETHEART, and I won't be going to hear Jennie Shortridge's talk on the ten most common rules for writers. There's still time for you -- go! See them! Chelsea and Jennie are awesome, wry and funny, and very smart.
We all know the greatest antidote to ill health is humor. So, I will try funny along with taking the truly nasty medicine my naturopathic physician gave me.
Music, too. I have music on.
Sarah Vowell's new book THE WORDY SHIPMATES has arrived, and her quirky voice pops into my head. Our interview a few years ago was about her book ASSASSINATION VACATION. She tells how she takes her nephew along when she does her research, much of the time in cemetaries. Sarah says her nephew calls cemetaries "Halloween parks." I use that actuality and several other actualities in my media training, because she is so clever and so Sarah. Point being, be yourself -- as you as you can possibly be.
I begin reading Sarah's new book and find that this time her research is gleaned -- in part -- from sit-com watching, since nearly every sit-com from the Brady Bunch to the Fonz to The Simpsons has done an episode involving the Pilgrims, and that's not counting all the elementary school plays we did. "Greet-e-the-mundo," Sarah quotes the Fonz.
Starting to feel better. Now my voice sounds like I've been smoking cigarettes and swilling Scotch -- neither of which pass my lips. Ever.
I pick up CLOTHING OPTIONAL by Alan Zweibel, and crackle as I read the introduction -- purportedly written by Alan's high school English teacher -- who flunked him, and ranks Alan becoming a professional writer as surpassing phenomena such as the cure for polio, the man on the moon, the fall of Communist Russia. LOL Funny stories, including "Letters From an Annoying Man," a fan who alternately turns vicious and pleasant, depending on whether he wants Alan to send him autographed books or read his 247-page unpublished manuscript -- or sue Alan for plagiarizing his manuscript.
But now I want to know how long I will feel crappy and I find the most beautiful cards by artist Jessica Galbreth -- called ENCHANTED ORACLE. I shuffle, and two cards fly out of the deck. Gothique is first -- her message is that I fear something, and must face that fear. Yes, I fear not getting my voice back in record time. The other card is Jewel of the Sea -- she is beautiful. And that is the message -- to recognize the beauty in myself and in others. You know how when you don't feel healthy, you really don't feel beautiful...? Earlier today, without prompting, a guy friend of mine told me I am beautiful. Several times. I couldn't accept the compliment. But, Jewel's larger message is "leave beauty and magic behind you wherever you go."
Go see Chelsea and Jennie -- they are beautiful, and the night will be magical!

Labels: ASSASSINATION VACATION, beautiful, Chelsea Cain, CLOTHING OPTIONAL, ENCHANTED ORACLE, healing, Jennie Shortridge, Sarah Vowell, THE WORDY SHIPMATES

September 1, 2008
Are you happy? I mean really, beneath-it-all happy? Marci Shimoff says only about a third of us are -- and she was determined to find 100 of these people for her book HAPPY FOR NO REASON. What she did find -- and she packed the book with studies, graphs, stories from these happy one-hundred -- was a fascinating statistic that there is a happiness set-point. And that half our happiness is genetically programmed. Ten-percent is determined by factors such as wealth, marital partner, and career. And a whopping forty-percent depends on what we feel, think, do and say.
A story came to mind -- that of my birth. My mother told me I was a week overdue in one of the hottest summers on record in New York -- she rode trolleys over every pock-marked city road she could find. Finally, one blazing hot afternoon, it seemed I was about ready to make an appearance. Instead of heading to the hospital where her mom was the head RN in the ER, she made her puzzled dad wait while she showered at their apartment and leisurely shaved her legs. It was customary at hospitals in those days to knock the woman out with drugs, so the delivery was as easy as possible. When her father finally got her to the hospital, they checked her, and I was sliding out. It was too late for the drugs. They told me I was born laughing.
I thought, that joy must be my set-point. But after age four, life changed radically for me. My mother remarried, and I was raped and traumatized in the family home for the next fifteen years. That natural joy turned to fear. For the past year, I've been processing all those memories using a tool called EMDR. Now that I'm ready to deal with the pain, and change the meanings I derived from the abuse, the joy is beginning to resurface. I am transcending the trauma. I live in the moment, and feel very little trauma, pain, guilt, fear of the future. Oh I have my moments, but I can swiftly recapture the peaceful center.
I used to believe I didn't deserve to play. Counter to that belief, I accepted an invitation to go hiking in the Gorge. This was the first time for me.
A friend and I went to Eagle Creek Trail, and we hiked for nearly five hours. It felt absolutely wonderful, feeling the shifts in cool wet breezes amid the trees and the warm blasts of sunshine, the fascinating patterns in the rock and tree limbs, and the waterfalls. About midway through, I said "I feel so light! Like I can fly!!!" I happily moved, dancing from rock to rock, as we moved along the trail.
And then a sparkle caught my eye. It was a spider web, with the sunlight behind it. A leaf floating in the web. It was a delightful piece of natural magic, and a reminder that I am free now.

Labels: book review, Eagle Creek Trail, HAPPY FOR NO REASON, magic, Marci Shimoff, spiderweb, the Gorge, transcending the trauma