When it hurts so bad, it’s because I am hanging on so tight.

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That colorful, vibrant, beautiful thing passing by . . .

That’s your life.

Go get it!

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Buddha’s silence was the result of a profound harmony with himself and with the world outside.

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You are never, ever, truly alone.

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I can honestly say I like who I see, when I see my shadow looking back at me.

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Be still and listen.

~ A Course in Miracles (T.31.II.7.2)

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“Never Stop Smiling!”

~ Elderly gentleman to me in passing, while walking around the

historic and eclectic Fairfax Avenue area of Los Angeles.

April 3, 2010

(What he actually said was, “You have a beautiful smile. Never stop smiling!”)

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“I know what I’m doing, Karal.”

A very loud voice “in my head” in response to a heartfelt but still rather

obligatory thank you while out walking the dogs this morning.

Irony isn’t lost on the Universe.

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I write because all my life I’ve felt I had some indescribable connection to something beyond what I can see, hear, taste, feel and know. Writing ~ creativity, actually, is often an outlet for reaching toward that connection in an attempt to gain understanding. Writing is the avenue I travel as I seek to know myself intently and intimately, a way to place my faults and fears and mistakes and accomplishments on paper ~ a self-portrait with words. Seeing those fears and mistakes and things that hold me back give me the courage to move forward. Writing is my way to pass along what I’ve learned, what I’ve gained, to someone else: hope, encouragement, dreams, stumbles and missteps and climbs and back and forths toward something I sense is there for me but am still learning to obtain, accept and welcome with open arms. I thought I was on course, in tune with the Universe, and had something to say. Then something happened and it didn’t mesh with my illusion of that beautiful, simple, spiritual connection. And I realize that for all the things I know and believe in and am so enthusiastically wanting to share, I know nothing. And right now, I’ve simply got nothing to say.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

~ John Aaron

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

I work from home, and that made it easy. I spent my days in pajamas and my nights in front of the TV. I didn’t shave anything anywhere in weeks, my unwashed hair was streaked with grey. I had my meals delivered and stole from my landlord’s garden. I began to peer out the windows suspiciously whenever I heard someone pull into the yard.

Okay it wasn’t that bad, but close. I’ve not written in my blog, not shared what’s going on with me, not cared what’s going on with you, not been at all outgoing or social, a genuine part of my nature. And that’s been ok. Over the past few months, I’ve need this time to myself. And I truly like my Alone Time.

But after awhile, it started to get depressingly comfortable. Going out felt like too much work and even getting showered and dressed to go for groceries took several hours. Except for the occasional coffee break and a couple of planned ahead dates on the town, it was just easier to do yoga with iTunes than go to class, easier to be quiet than talk out loud. Most of my time I occupied with work, email and browsing Facebook. Seriously, I probably checked my email no less than 100 times a day. I’d wander over to the computer between feeding the dogs and pouring a cup of coffee, hit the refresh button on my way past to the bathroom, head down to check the mail and glance back out the corner of my eye.

Then the wireless router died. And it became immediately obvious how much these activities filled my space and occupied my time. Suddenly, like the calm before the storm, my world got strangely, eerily but beautifully, quiet. Just me, the wind whistling through the trees, those Ojai mountains sitting silent under blue skies. And a computer screen screaming that it can’t connect to the server. I couldn’t get my fix. I was addicted, only instead of wine or caffeine or food, it was the internet and that false sense of belonging that comes with a new mail message or a friend request, the illusion that I was being productive when I’d spent two hours reading about whatever happened to the cast of What’s Happening!! The anxious security of need-based attachment. Having that thing at my fingertips and thinking that I’m going to miss something big if I walk away.

Based on my own experiences, I believe we use addictions to hide from truths about ourselves, to remove ourselves from what’s maybe painful or scary, to drown out or stuff down the voice of God talking to our divine spiritual self. We shut out our creativity, our flexibility, our potential. And we essentially become detached. Since it’s my story, I believe too that breaking my router was the way the Universe chose to get me off my rear and out of the house. I hit the refresh again, and showered, refresh and dressed, refresh and breakfast. Finally I drove down into Ojai and settled myself into a corner of Ojai Coffee Roasting with my laptop, a view of the street, and a large cup of dark black coffee. Yes, I worked and yes, I checked my email. But I also watched the world going by outside on the street. I listened to the people around me, engaged and enthusiastic conversations.

Turns out it was one of the best days I’ve had in the four months I’ve lived here. And I didn’t really even speak to anyone. Just the act of getting outside and into the sunlight and into the world was enough. To hear life going on around me, was enough. To feel that I am a part of something that is larger than me, and that I am connected to that energy, was enough. To escape self–inflicted boundaries and addicted mindsets and embrace life, was enough. To know that I am alive ~ that alone promises possibility. That alone is enough. In fact, it is everything.

And just so ya know. The coffee’s not bad, either.

My corner view of the world in Ojai Coffee Roasting

Outside Ojai Coffee Roasting

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Today I honor all the wonderful women in my life.

The one I was born to and the ones I was born with, who get me for who I am and encourage with love and honesty though I don’t always make sense.

The one who recognizes me most of the time, but is most intimately connected when she is confused by reality and speaks in metaphor.

The one who yesterday took one look at my face, figured I was having a bad day and offered me a healing session on the spot. I don’t even know her name.

And the ones who have traveled with me through the years, whether it be two or twenty or twenty times two. Through the good and the bad and the silly and the just plain stupid, your love keeps the flame of friendship alive through time and distance and things that just happen. Because that’s what friends do, and that’s what life does sometimes. It just happens.

Thank you all. I love you dearly, and I wish you a beautiful day.

Ya’ll are just so cool, you deserve it.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

Exactly two months ago today I landed in LA, and exactly one month ago today, I left LA. Happy anniversary to me.

Before I’d even given notice at work, informed the landlord I was moving, or packed the first box, I told myself that I’d look at this as a sort of experiment, that nothing needs to be taken too seriously and that there are no right or wrong choices here. All I knew then was that I was certain I had to move back to Los Angeles.

Well, right now I can say with certainty that I can’t say a damn thing with certainty. LA was the plan, the obsession, for the past 16 years and now here I am, plopped 80 miles north in a small Southern California town nestled in the mountains at the base of the Los Padres National Forest where I came knowing pretty much exactly no one.

Instead of falling asleep to the sound of helicopters, buses and late night neighbors, I crack the window so I can hear owls, and frogs, and coyotes. Instead of fulfilling an obsession that’s as old as most of my friends’ children, (and just as nurtured through the years I might add) I’ve somehow veered off course toward something that is a little bit more out of my control than I am used to acknowledging.

And you know what? I think I like it. I’ve tried so hard for so long to control things, to keep them in order, to put them where I want them to be, and it really hasn’t worked very well. Because I’m increasingly of the belief that we are spiritual beings here on earth to have a human experience ~ not the other way around, I’ve decided to tweak the experiment  ~ sort of hand the reins over and give in to this natural flow. I’m going to continue to watch as one road leads to another, leads to another, leads to another . . .  and see where it goes.

It’s a bit of a different mindset for me because it’s the first time that my heart and my soul have been a little at odds: my heart misses the ease of meeting people in LA, the feeling that I’m comfortable in my own skin there, the idea that LA is where I belong. At times I want to bolt. My soul, on the other hand, keeps whispering, no. Stay here. You will see. When you know about the history and beliefs of this valley, it’s not hard to believe that in some psychic sense, I’ve come home.

It’s not all been easy, though I am finding it difficult explain. What I can say is this: There is an undercurrent of energy that runs through me like a river, and if I have to name, it, I call it fear. I am fearful. I have felt it for years. And it has held me back. And I have totally screwed up.

I’ve lived in fear’s house, worn its clothes, slept in its bed, and raised its babies. I’ve drunk it, eaten it, bathed in its waters, soaked in its rays, and buried myself in its soil. I realized yesterday just how easy it has been to let it manipulate me. I realized today just how well I’ve been able to use it to protect myself. From what?

From LIFE.

I know full well that you can’t live out loud if you’re scared to live, and I don’t mean moving across country and taking risks and being independent. Those are important too, but what I’m talking about is being courageous enough to stop all the psychic, intellectual and physical movement and really be in the moment with yourself  ~ just yourself . . . no food, no alcohol, no blankie, no exercise, no work. No excuses. Alone. In the moment. Psychically raw, spiritually naked. And like it.

And from there, to be in the moment with someone else.

For me, doing that means giving up some ghosts, so to speak. It means I’ve got to finally quite waiting for the other shoe to drop, I’ve got to allow myself to be vulnerable and unguarded, I’ve got to forget what I learned as a kid over 40 years ago ~ that nothing is permanent ~ and embrace people into my life as though they will be there forever, fate be damned.

Because if I don’t, I’ll keep them just far enough away that I’ll continue to live as though I am alone.

And while I can’t say much right now, I can finally say one thing with certainty.

I no longer want that.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

Tonight’s full moon is the Gathering Moon.

Time to celebrate all we have accomplished.

Set intentions for the coming spring.

And recognize our own personal achievements and advancements.

This is good for me.

Because I find too often that my own inner guide still bends to the other, my own worst critic.

Time for that to stop.

The bitch needs to go.

Surrounded by mountains and sky and hoot owls and coyotes, I think I know, maybe, why I am here.

I thought the big city landscape was the territory I needed to brave.

Survive that, conquer that, and I am whole.

I thought.

Turns out it is the still uncharted territory inside that calls to be explored.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

The Topa Topa Mountains in the Ojai Valley

I’ve been in LA exactly one month today, and I’m leaving. Yep, that’s right. Packing it up, loading the dogs back into the car, and watching the Santa Monica pier fade from view in my rear view mirror. I’m going up to Ojai.

If someone had told me a couple of months ago that I’d get to LA and leave within 30 days I would have called them crazy, and if I had known the things I know now and still come, I’d have called me crazy. But I am and I would have done it anyway. LA has had a pull on me for over 16 years and when I am here, I tend to better fall into and flow in life’s grand design. Instead of feeling stuck in sameness, my life sort of blossoms open and I go along for the ride. People come into my life quicker here, opportunities pop up faster here, things move forward. Life expands.

So when Daisy started her BarkFest in our new apartment, it freaked me out. She’s a social dog, and in Virginia Beach, she’d run down the street stopping at all the neighbor’s front doors to say hi. I’d go to work for 8 to 10 hours a day; the neighbor in our duplex never heard a sound. But being in a small space with no view out the window, no opens spaces to romp and play, and no real people or doggy friends to see, she kind of went nuts. And then I went nuts because I stayed at home with her for the next two weeks, pretty much 24 hours a day, so she wouldn’t disturb our neighbors. I came to live out loud and ended up living house-bound.

We did a week of severe Cesar-style training and my Daisy worked hard and began to fall in line behind me, her Alpha dog. Instead of waking up joyful and bounding to the door to go potty, she’d walk over and stand there waiting for me. Instead of doing the beagle-dance for breakfast and dinner, she’d lie on the kitchen floor and wait to be fed. Instead of spending her days with her head propped up on the window ledge and watching the world go by, she’d bury it under her pillow and sleep the day away. Instead of greeting me at the door like I was absolutely the best friend she would ever, ever, have, excited and running back and forth with her bone in her mouth, she’d look at me, grab her bone and go lay down with her tail wagging. She tried so hard, good dog.

And that’s when we went to Ojai. I’d heard about it from an acquaintance several months before and, like LA, felt a strong connection for a city I’d never seen. I’m from a small town and crave that slower, community feel. But there’s more. It’s surrounded by mountains. It’s artistic and spiritual and outdoorsy. It’s eclectic and quirky. And it sounds a whole lot like the type of place the astrologer described to me almost 3 years ago.

One road trip and one apartment hunting expedition later, I find myself in a totally different yet not so completely unexpected direction from the one I’d spent a year planning. I think I’d have ended up in Ojai eventually, but the Universe says why wait? I asked it to lead me where was best and turned the key. Life revved up its engine, buckled my seat belt, tossed me onto Orange Drive. Then it slammed on the brakes, did a donut in the parking lot, threw on some tunes, rolled back the soft top, hit the gas, and cruised on up the PCH.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.