Things I've learned...

(Polson, Montana)

Within the last week I have attend two vastly different conferences, the Empowerment of Native Americans with Disabilities Conference, and the Pacific Rim International Conference on Disabilities. Though they had very similar focuses, and often similar outlooks, the cultures and people were extremely diverse. At both of these conferences I found myself feeling very small, and very under educated in the cultures, needs, and expectations. I found that like my mom, I felt very humbled. Given that I was so impressed and profoundly amazed by these conferences I thought it would be nice to share some of my favorite moments with you:

-Being blessed with sage and a feather by a Native American elder made me feel loved/scared/warm/confused/blessed.

-Listening to a brilliant paraplegic lawyer who travels the globe, frequenting impoverished countries to fight for disability rights makes me feel proud/amazed/small/inspired.

-Watching a mother and daughter present about their journey from the daughter’s severe brain injury to her now internationally read magazine for young woman with disabilities (Logan) made me feel joyous/enraptured/lucky/ready.

-Feeling the beat of the drum, hearing the jingle of the jingle dress, seeing the fancy dance as we were presented with a Native American cultural demonstration, and hearing the account of a deaf salsa dancer’s memories of 4,000 fans clapping in sign language made me remember the importance and the universality of the arts. It made me remember why they are the focus of my life.

-Learning the importance of teaching social networking to all people as a means of fighting discrimination and allowing full inclusion into society made me aware of all the things I don’t think about.

-Watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean with my family, in Hawaii, made me feel lucky/blessed/loved/empowered/inspired/small/ready.

(Honolulu, Hawaii)

I'm back!

Pardon my brief absence. Having gone to the conferences and a week of excitement and adventure (five airports, 2 conferences, 1 keynote, four break-outs, and five states) I came home to a leaking bathroom ceiling and wall and a large photography midterm. So, now I am back and ready to roll and keep on bloggin. The problem for now is that I am minutes away from bed and have to leave you with this short little check in. I promise however, that by the end of this weekend you will feel fully satisfied with a (hopefully) inspirational and powerful post brought to you by none other than me, Linea. So, as I leave you tonight I will provide you with this, some conference pictures and my favorite learnings from the conference (and yes, I made up a new, poorly phrased word to explain the brilliant and insightful lessons I was taught).

When asking a group of amazingly brilliant, powerful, and to some, "severely disabled" young people, "would you want your parents to tell you you were paralyzed/autistic/cognitively challenged?" The answers?  A simultaneous "YES"! "It's my body". "I deserve to know because its me". "I have to deal with it, not them". "Let me know so I can move forward".
Here are a few of my favorite pictures:

The most important the I learned: listen. Listen and learn.

Again

Found a beautiful poem by Tino Villanueva in the wonderful poetry book, Living in Storms: contemporary poetry and the moods of manic-depression edited by Thom Schramm. This book was suggested to me by my amazing and lovely poetry teacher Sam Green. (Everyone should check out his poems as well). But for now, read this and feel revived:

Again

So I depend again upon myself.
I've taught this part of me
to go unruined
through all enormous lessons
on defeat.
I've taught this part of me
to thrive among despair,
to be imperative
among chaotic numbers.
Though I may fall away from time to time
like draggled weeds in winter,
breathing thick stern air
in some back shadows of the walk,
I spring again from me,
from the dead quiet of my roots--
listen to me move.

By dawn
I am presence fixed
in the eyes of men.

Everything is Everything

I just read an article by John Frow called "A pebble, a camera, a man" on "Thing Theory" where he talks about the concept that "things, too, embody human will". He speaks about the fact that the speed bump is not merely a thing in the road, but something that gives an "instruction, on behalf of the police or some traffic control authority, to slow down on this stretch of the road". He explains that to call the speed bump "non-human" is to "ignore all the ways in which human will is translated into things and in which things in turn work as delegates which relay back to us these configurations of human will". In reading this it reminded me of my favorite phrase: "everything is everything".

When I begin talking about my belief that "everything is everything", (that everything either already is or eventually becomes connected in some way, that life always seems to find a way to circle back around, that everything has an intense interdependence upon everything else, and that every piece of this world is equally important and present within every other piece,) I am always told that I must be getting manic. I always have to laugh because though I may be going a little too far thinking that the number eleven is extremely telling in my life (because I seem to see an increase and reoccurrence before a major event), or in thinking that "rabbits are my power animal", I am certainly not the only one who sees the patterns in the world. I have even been told that people who are bipolar, or "mentally ill", see patterns more often. This may be true, and though this may make me see things a little more connected then they might actually be sometimes, I can't help but know in my soul that it's true: Everything is Everything...

"But we consist of everything the world consists of, each of us, and just as our body contains the genealogical table of evolution as far back as the fish and even much further, so we bear everything in our soul that once was alive in the soul of men. Every god and devil that ever existed, be it among the Greeks, Chinese, or Zulus, are within us, exist as latent possibilities, as wishes, as alternatives." -Hesse-

tree

I haven't written in a while because I have been swiftly falling towards finals week. And now, its here. So, I can't write but I will leave you with this tree.

freedom

Baby Love

sometimes i feel...

like I'm in Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth

tiny houses

Creation and the Lamictal High

Sleepwalkers

-Barbara Einzig-

The moon rises, a vengeance on anguish,

on my own arrogant privacy.

The hands of sleepwalkers,

of their own accord, rise, follow.

The ponderability of daily fatigue-

on wings consciousness runs wild,

transparent creations are flying,

they've heard the reflection of the moon.

It flickers cold, stingy,

not promising anything,

draws out of me distant art,

demands my agreement.

Can the torture and charm of its omens

be fought down, overcome,

can I make out of moonlight

a heavy, tangible object?

Having taken my pills, (a very high dosage of Lamictal, trileptal, and a normal dose of bcp,) and settled myself down to bed, I did the things I normally try to do to calm myself down after another day of breathing, I meditated and read a poem. This day was especially difficult because I was attempting to recover from a horrible cold, and I was also extremely worn down after having been at school for like 12 hours. So, as I was meditating my mind wasn't really slowing down, but instead fluttering more and more. When I finally stopped after about twenty minutes I realized that I should have taken my medicine until after the meditation process because I was really loopy and felt as though I had just had a night of heavy drinking. It was in this mix of exhaustion, frustration, and lack of mind coordination that I began having an amazing drive towards creativity and some form of inspiration. This however was not working out because I could hardly pull myself out of bed let alone make sense, so I went on with the night process and opened my current poetry book to a random page where I found none other then Ms. Einzig's Sleepwalkers.

Now, I don't know if I was just really loopy and read it one way and can never read it differently again, but all I can think about is creativity and inspiration, and how they always seem to come when I can't handle them, or can't do much of anything with them. I read it thinking "can I make out of moonlight a heavy, tangible object?" I was thinking why, why does creativity come when you don't want it? When all you want to do is go to sleep after a really freaking long day, or when all you are allowed to do is the never ending pile of work before you? I feel like it goes by the same rules as finding a lover: people whine and complain and go out to bars trying to pick someone up, but everybody knows that as soon as you stop looking you'll find them. Bam. Here's the perfect man you've been looking for. I suppose I could go even further and say that when I really didn't want a boyfriend I happened to realize that the man of my dreams was not only interested in me, but also moving half way across the country from me. But we all know how that ended up, Happily Ever After. (Thanks Josh.) So now maybe me and my creativity/inspiration will settle our differences and produce beautiful little creations. And maybe next time I will leave my computer next to my pillow to write that great poem, or play, or ideal piece of literature that I have been harboring deep down in some cavernous hole in my psyche only to be exposed through meditation and lots and lots of lamictal. I'll let you know what happens.

in honor of mr valentine, or i suppose, my joshua

This is something I wrote two years ago:

A couple cuddling on the couch, warm coffees in hand, are being intellectual, talking about things that aren’t really intellectually challenging but have a moderately impressive use of vocabulary. Another couple is doing that thing in the beginning of a relentless relationship when everything about your partner is overwhelmingly interesting. I sit here on a dirty couch wondering why all the lampshades are crooked. I sit and wonder about the use of vintage furniture and interchangeable art in the creation of the persona that is Gourmand. It’s February 14^th and somehow my relationship status has become more important than my impending piano concert. I am thinking less of Barber and more of boys. Less of Mozart more of men. It is time to live in music again and forget the urges of comfort. It is time to grow back into myself and understand reliability.

Today I sit alone in my living room listening to Beethoven's 7th Symphony, eating chocolate lava cake and drinking a glass of 1% milk. I sit here and wait for my amazing boyfriend to come home from work and think about the changes in my life since I found him, or even since we have been living here in Seattle. I think about the small things, the move to 1% milk as a compromise, and the larger things, like my ability to be happy alone. I sit here now waiting for him to get off work and for the first time in a while, or I suppose ever, that I feel okay being alone on Valentines Day. I find it interesting that even last year, when he had to work and I also spent the day alone, I felt alone and sad.

Why do we make it so important to find someone? To not be alone? I suppose that the reason I am okay being alone this year is the fact that I know he will come home to me just like every other night. But I think I have just been thinking and coming to terms with my understanding and thoughts on loneliness. In the past, when I was having constant struggles with my emotions, moods, and stability, I felt like I deserved to be alone. I thought that I would just drive someone crazy, or make them run screaming thinking that I am crazy. I used to search and search for comfort thinking that if I just had a boyfriend, if I just had someone to hold me and hold my hand when I fall apart, life would be better. But I also knew that I had that with my last amazing boyfriend Charlie, but for some reason my mind drove him away too, (or I did, he wasn't the one to leave.) I always had this conflict in my head over feeling needy and wanting to be taken care of and yet being scared and traumatized by my own patterns.

But now here I am sitting in our beautiful apartment, living a great life. And the best part is that I realized that I can handle life without him. I know that if I didn't have him I would be okay today, on a day where we are all supposed to be in love, or as most think, get laid. I would be perfectly fine and strong and happy. But it is through all of this that makes me know that he makes it even better. In my realizing that I don't need him I always realize how much I want him. And how amazing it is to have a relationship in which we are each our own completely independent selves who choose to be together.

nature and boys in sunglasses

Heroes

Its MLK day, and so I think it is important to speak a little about heroes. Heroes to me are people who are able to weather horrible tragedies and yet continue to lead. People who, though their heart may be breaking, are still able to inspire. People who are willing to put their own lives in harms way simply to show people that we must move on, we must move forward, we can move forward. Heroes to me are people like Mr. King, Ghandi, the 14th Dalai Lama, Desmund Tutu, and Nelson Mendela. These people are the ones who were there to lead people in times of extreme tragedy and trauma. These were people who remained steadfast to their cause and willing to risk everything just to help others move forward.

Last summer I was given the most amazing opportunity, I got to attend the Seeds of Compassion conference in which the Dalai Lama and dozens of others heroes, role models, and inspirations came together to talk about peace and compassion. I was lucky enough to attend the spirituality discussion where leaders of all different faiths came to talk about inter-spiritual dependence. There were many many amazing speakers at this event, but what stuck out to me the most was the interaction between Mr. Tutu and the Dalai Lama. Those two acted like Kindergarten best friends. They giggled and hit each other. They flowed gracefully between an eloquent serious answer and complete overflowing joy.

It is people like them that inspire me to go forward everyday.  Both men were put in leadership roles during horrific and painful acts of injustice in which their lives and those of their people were in great danger. As His Holiness was forced into exile, making him leave his people, country, and life behind, Tutu was dealing with the massacre that was South African apartheid. These men were the happiest people I have ever seen. They laughed and giggled and danced. They smiled and joked. And they demonstrated that they had survived. They lived through that cruelty. That pain. That fear. And they lead there people to peacefully and compassionately show resistance to the prejudice of the world. It is through heroes like these that we are reminded that no matter what happens in life, no matter how bad it gets, you can always move forward.

Now sometimes, no matter what things don't turn out the way the should. Sometimes our heroes are taken too soon, or our lives don't change fast enough. But in our honoring and still loving and cherishing the memory of Mr. King we remind each other that we can move forward, and that we are moving forward. I am so proud and happy that 41 years after the death of one of our greatest heroes we have moved to the point where we are finally okay letting a person of color lead us in one of our most important roles. Though I feel this has taken much much much longer then it should have, (and though I found myself in the past feeling that we are never going to get any better,) we are doing it. We are truly beginning to live the dream that was awakened in us so long ago. We are finally beginning to love and treat each other as we should. And tomorrow, in about eleven hours from now, lets hope that a new hero will lead us and shows us that we can move on. I hope that through our increasingly tolerance and love for each other that we can all come together in this new year to pass on the love and compassion that so many beautiful people have taught us in the past.

To see true inspiration and joy please watch this short clip of Desmond Tutu and the Dali Lama: 

"Desmond Tutu jokes with the Dalai Lama"

Bombs and Feathers

on a day of sun and joy and plenty of free boyfriend time we decided to take an adventure, so we moseyed on down to the SLUT (or the seattle trolly thing whose initials are all i happen to remember, and i suppose that the true name isn't truly needed when we could simply call it the SLUT). Anyways, slut abound, we rode all the way to the city center. we wandered in and out of various seattley type places. walked through the expensive and newly remodeled SAM (seattle art museum) and missed the Chicago Art Institute. Went to the pike place market and wandered into an anarchist bookstore. spent lots and lots of time reading books about art, religion, mental health, science, history, philosophy, etc., etc., etc. my thoughts began to get somewhat anxious as i thought about china and tibet. iraq. iran. terrorism in south america. starving children. poor indian reservations. i started to hate the world and love it and wanted to save it and forget about it all at the same time. as i read and thought, (and inevitable bought) way too much i kept hearing screaming from outside. i thought i was losing my mind as my head turned over thoughts of fear and pain and inequality. i thought the world was ending. I knew i was hearing something and in my american media fed head i thought that there had to have been some tragic gun or bomb related event going on outside.

so we went outside

and we saw this...

 

and then we stood there in awe.

in my mind full of fear and violence and anger i thought the worst. and we all do. because time after time we hear these things on the radio on tv on movies in books. violence. war. fear. pain.

but instead it was merely fluff, and quite literally. feathers flew everywhere as hundreds of people brought their pillows for an impromptu pillow fight in the market. police in riot gear surrounded fearing the worst when all people wanted was a chance to mindlessly pound a stranger on the head with fluff.

hmm.

symbolic i suppose.

a movement towards plastic couch covers...

i cannot express my excitement for the life that is soon coming into this world. how to concentrate when my sister is in the hospital dilating to a 3. when do i go? what do i say? how do i hold him? i dont know the first thing about babies other than the fact that they scare me.

i was in the hospital once. it was rather traumatic, and i was in a lot of pain. My every thought went towards my drive to end my life. her best friend, who i often like to consider my sister as well, brought her new born son to visit me. the life, innocence, joy, and beauty that that child exuded truly saved me. and for that moment, after so many moments of pain, i was content and i realized that life was beautiful.

so now my sister is in the hospital and i am ecstatic and josh is sleeping next to me, but i can't sleep. i can't read, or do homework. all i can do is wait and be that cheesy girl that oohs and aahs over a new baby. i can't help it.

TCS, my beautiful nephew, please come into this world safely and happily. i know its bright and harsh and loud, but we all make it through. its tough to be alive sometimes, but in being here you will remind everyone that it is worth it. please treat jordan kindly, and love me dearly, for i know nothing more than the fact that i will love you forever.

so now i sit here thinking cheesy thoughts and i think of girls who like pink or have those "precious moments" angels in their houses. the girls who have framed jesus quotes over sunsets. but i saw one of those sunsets the other day as i drove over lake washington on 5-20 and i couldn't talk. there was a tear on my boyboys cheek and i was speechless to the world. so i suppose i have the ability to be cheesy. to be a girly girl. or a grandma with floral couch covers. or, i suppose, an aunt.

aunt linea. hmmm. okay.