Diana's Blog: Quirky Words and Book Reviews

October 22, 2008
Ainsley MacLeod, author of THE INSTRUCTION, told me this summer that his Spirit Guides want me to meditate. I've fallen off the three-month old habit -- at least the kind where I sit quietly for at least ten minutes and just breathe -- Sorry Guides!
So I picked up HURRY UP AND MEDITATE. Actually, the title is a lot cuter than the content, but it serves its purpose -- explaining how meditation alleviates stress, lowers blood pressure, even heals. Author David Michie describes how he was a hard-pounding PR guy in London with daily headaches -- and now his life is lucrative, his health superb, and he's even become something of a gym rat. There are psychological benefits as well as physical improvements.
I appreciate that Michie doesn't hold just to the sit-there-quietly-and-breathe form of meditation. Mindfulness is the type of meditation I like -- the smooth surface of plates as I wash them, folding the warm clothes just pulled from the dryer, dancing Zumba or step or hiphop, petting and gently rocking one of my cats in a baby-position. It all serves to calm me and soothe me.
And sometimes there is magic.
Several times this summer, as I meditated, I burst into tears for no apparent reason, and in that clearer space within, suddenly there was a bright light. I stayed there, floating in that calm bright space.
Until the alarm went off and shocked me back to planet earth.
Those few moments of sublime clarity were so perfect, I am going to slide the mouse over Publish Post and click -- and now I go sit quietly and bliss out.

Labels: Ainslie MacLeod, book review, dance, David Michie, healing., HURRY UP AND MEDITATE, THE INSTRUCTION

October 14, 2008
It's been awhile since I've seen Augusten Burroughs. The last time I saw him was during his book tour for POSSIBLE SIDE EFFECTS -- which is an extremely funny inside-joke title for anyone who has been sexually abused and tormented. Maybe there are side effects? You spend your life undoing them...or writing about them...or both.
MAGICAL THINKING -- Augusten's previous book -- is my favorite. His New York stories, his trail of empty booze bottles completely covering the floor of his apartment which he doesn't notice until he returns from rehab, his hilarious advertising agency stories. Step on a crack and you'll break your mother's back. Magical thinking -- he tried not to step on cracks. Me, too. But every June while I was in the middle of elementary school, my mother would fall down the nine wooden front stairs into the foyer, and end up in the hospital. I didn't step on any cracks.
Augusten reminds me of my younger brother -- maybe it's their seriousness -- or their devotion to what they love best -- but it's there. I never noticed the resemblance, until this past weekend, when my brother just dropped in. First time we've been around each other for longer than a few minutes in fifteen years -- and even then, it's been five years since we've seen each other at all. Yeah, he just decided to drop into Portland...from Florida. Kinda forgot to mention in that morning's email when he asked if I'd read any of Barack Obama's books that he'd be getting on a plane in a few hours. For Portland.
Augusten is brilliant. And he has a razor-sharp memory for every detail. My brother does, too. It's a photographic memory. Snap. There's a shot of our stepfather beating up our dad and telling him to never come back again. I remember that one, too. Snap. I am six and he is four and there are two rings on a table in our rec room, created when I decided to wet a 45-record and set it down, and he copied, following my design. He caught hell. I stayed quiet, and escaped. Snap. A babysitter yanks on his child pud until it hurts -- a story I don't know until now. Snap. I don't tell him about an earlier babysitter, Mrs Teddy, who never came back again after she caught me sucking on a frozen hot dog and I told her I was practicing. I was five. Snap. Pieces are beginning to fit. Snap. He is healing through Yoga. I am healing through dance and EMDR. He always looked up to me -- and that frightened me because I couldn't save him from his hell -- so I shut myself away, reading books, talking to angels, going out of my body. He had his vinyl and his drumset. Snap. Wipeout. Snap.
My brother and I talk solid for nearly six hours Saturday, and he returns for more on Monday, just before his flight. My older son asks if he looks like his uncle. There is a resemblance. There is a possible side effect of this newly-uncovered, unconditional love. There is the beginning of a family.

Labels: Augusten Burroughs, book review, dance, EMDR, MAGICAL THINKING, POSSIBLE SIDE EFFECTS, step on a crack, transcending the trauma

October 6, 2008
Maybe it is the mystique of Fred Astaire that coaxes me to pick up and read FRED ASTAIRE by Joseph Epstein cover to cover this evening. A dancer myself, I want to know why Astaire is considered one of our greatest dancers.
What I find is a witty biography of a man who captivated theatre audiences and movie-goers for decades -- beginning in the great Depression. What I find is a boy whose mother totally changed his fate by taking him and his sister Adele from their father and their Omaha home to NY to dance. What I find is that, at 5'4", 115 pounds, I would have been too big a dancer for Astaire -- too heavy to lift, with his thin shoulders and sinewy arms.
Every woman wanted to be his partner. Every man wanted to be him. Every dancer said he was the best.
So, what was it about Fred Astaire? Or, Fred Austerlitz until a NY dance teacher changed his name. "A star" Epstein says the name implies.
This story -- often told -- is of Astaire's Hollywood screen test -- the critique was "Balding. Can't sing. Dances a little."
Epstein quotes Astaire himself as saying he was far from good-looking "a weird-looking character" and he didn't like photographs of himself. But he had a personality, and he could sing light songs while dancing these intricate, smooth steps. He taught Ginger Rogers -- who'd had no training -- how to dance. Epstein scoffs at Texas Governor Ann Richards' remark that Ginger did everything Fred did, but backwards and in high heels -- saying without his training, Ginger likely wouldn't have been able to dance.
What I find is a serious man who -- once his career was chosen for him as a small boy -- works enormously hard, uses his entire body in the dance, and paid no attention to his critics or to his self-criticism.
What is it about dance? I discover as I dance in the front row, or when I'm coaxed onto the stage, the greatest pleasure can only come from dancing full out. The hips, the arms, the smile.
What I find is inspiration -- that knowing what you're here for, working hard at your skills and shooting for the stars -- make you a winner.

Labels: book review, dance, FRED ASTAIRE, Ginger Rogers, inspiration., Joseph Epstein

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

August 5, 2008
Usually I read on the treadmill. Today, I read in the sun in my backyard. The temperature in Portland Oregon was in the mid-90's at 5pm. I love how the temperature keeps rising, sometimes into the evening. I had until 5:45pm to read Marc Allen's new book THE GREATEST SECRET OF ALL, because I wanted to head out for a dance class then. Personal, powerful, bright easy writing.
Marc tells of being a complete screw-up until the day he turned thirty, and opened his business, New World Library with Shakti Gawain. She has this open, easy, wise way about her. I interviewed her a dozen years ago in a quirky Portland hotel.
What struck me as I read -- yes, making your dreams come true is possible. How do you do that, when you have to plow through trauma? For the past year I have been excavating the patterns that developed from beliefs about myself -- that began as thoughts when I was a small child -- through a magical process called EMDR -- eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. I pushed myself back through the rapes, and instead of floating away or imagining that was normal or deciding something untrue,like 'that was what I deserved'...my body released the pain, I screamed and cried, and the beliefs changed. At the same time, I was lucky enough to win a spot in a positive program called HeartSpark, by Susan Clark. We told our stories when we first met, and through an amazing and heartfelt process learned our own personal patterns that work for us. Mine is magic. In a word. This is my full pattern: "I am a confident impresario of spiritual connections, living a limitless magic life with openhearted faith and intuition, inspiring others through my stories, support, patience and dreams."
Marc's book is the third big piece. You have to have a dream. A plan. This multi-millionaire who takes Mondays off and doesn't do email at home, who started penniless at age thirty, created it all on that thirtieth birthday. He wrote an ideal scene of what he would want his life to be in five years -- and then he wrote pages of goals and affirmations from that vision. And to free up that fearful part of the brain, Marc always used these words with each goal: "in an easy and relaxed manner, in a healthy and positive way." There was a one-page plan for every goal, and the final way to manifest your dreams, Marc says, is to simply take action.
I'll go back through the book again, this time doing each step he suggests. I've got my vision board in the living room, too, because the mind creates reality from images, it attracts what you say you want, recognizes it, energizes it. It's fun to focus on the magic. For example, the time I finished reading THE GREATEST SECRET OF ALL...? 5:44pm. Perfect timing. Magical! And I was early enough for my class to find my favorite spot in the front row, and danced my heart out.

Labels: books, dance, EMDR, Heartspark, Marc Allen, New World Library, Shakti Gawain, Susan Clark

My friends generally don't give me books -- they know that through my career I will receive most books worthy of being read. But on my birthday yesterday -- July 28th -- Grainne presented me with a book I truly wanted in my hands, but it hadn't happened until then. The gaily-wrapped book is THE LAST LECTURE by Randy Pausch, who sadly passed on a few days ago, leaving millions who had viewed his lecture on Oprah and through links via emails in tears. His courage -- knowing he would be leaving this world soon, leaving his wife, leaving his three small children -- was palpable. His earnest desire to allow his impending death to be exquisitely public that we -- and his children -- may receive meaning -- was beyond powerful. It was authentic. Pausch was authentic. I remember watching him on my computer monitor doing one-handed push-ups -- how could this vital man be sick, let alone dying? He lived every moment of his remaining days -- how many days, we only knew that they were not many -- with every sense heightened to the rarest of calibrations. His integrity shows up in the book when a police officer pulls him over for speeding, and he tells the officer the awful truth. Doubt in the officer's eyes, Pausch pulls up his shirt to expose his scars, and doubt is replaced by stern realization. The officer lets him off with a warning. The terrible truth will set you free, Pausch says. He pursues every drop of his remaining life with a fierce passion.

Maybe Pausch's raw human emotion is in the same vibration that has made A CHORUS LINE a tremendous, long-running hit. I saw the show tonight -- that's why I'm writing late -- I began writing on the 29th, and it is the wee hours now. I saw the show for at least the third time. I took Andrew -- whom I met at K-Lite and spent every morning from 4am on, shares the same birthday, but a vastly different year. He is a good friend; a fabulous escort. It is important I find the right person to share my free tickets with -- a gift from another friend in the radio biz. And Andrew is happy to celebrate our birthday this way, a day after.
I saw A CHORUS LINE when I was a teenager in New York City -- the Schubert Theatre if I remember correctly. I got the tee-shirt -- black, cap-sleeves. I saw the show again in Chicago when I moved to Iowa. I got the tee-shirt -- a pale yellow shirt that faded and had to let it go, too, when it became too worn. And tonight, the show in Portland -- watching it as an adult. Got the tee-shirt -- a spaghetti-strapped tank with gold sparkles on the lettering. Perfect for a Leo.
The show is about Passion -- What I Did for Love. I love to dance, and the freedom in dance has actually visited me very recently, just this past year. Joy! And I have a passion for being on the air, and for writing. I show up with my passion and walk into a space where I let viewers, readers, listeners in -- as purely as possible. It is what I love about the show -- talented dancers who want to truly be seen, and they become fabulous when they drop their fears. They show up as they really are, and everyone in the audience silently roots for them, rooting really for the silent passion packed inside their own beings. It takes a lot of courage to show up, and leave any excuses, the constricting past, the raw desire to be chosen on the floor. And it is an imperfect pursuit.
I was in college, thinking about that first real job I would have, the first time I saw the show. The second time, I was working in TV -- I named a file folder "What I Did For Love" and I stuffed into it every story I wrote. And now I am in all media, but over the years, I would sing -- when I was alone -- the lyrics "PLAY ME THE MUSIC,GIVE ME A CHANCE TO COME THROUGH. ALL I EVER NEEDED WAS THE MUSIC, AND THE MIRROR,AND THE CHANCE TO DANCE FOR YOU." I am still open to that chance, but graceful, not grasping, which makes Today quite lovely. "KISS TODAY GOODBYE, AND POINT ME TO TOMORROW."
It is tomorrow, and I will fall asleep soon, my own passions renewed.

Labels: A CHORUS LINE, dance, Passion, radio, Randy Pausch, THE LAST LECTURE