Both

I decided to post this on #wordpress because....this is where Andrew Baggerly posts and he writes about the Giants.  In my head, if I post where he posts, I am somehow more connected to Giants baseball.  Look.  Most of life is about what we believe to be true, reality optional, so just go with it.  I will also be posting on #Blogger and #Tumblr, just in case you prefer that and because I am still hoping I am one hashtag away from fame, book deals, book tours and world travel/domination.

What I have been thinking about a lot the last few days is something my Clinical Supervisor and mentor, Coach Tosh, has been trying to teach me for four years now.  The idea of the Middle Path.  The idea that two, seemingly opposite, ideas or beliefs can exist in the same mind and heart at the same time.  That our tendency to scurry to one side or another is fraught with a false sense of Black and White or Right and Wrong.  And by "our" I mean "my", because let's face it, I am probably guiltiest than most of having such strong opinions that I can not for the life of me see the other side, let alone entertain that it is has any possible value.

I have been thinking about this on a bigger-world level since #Ferguson happened and then when I watched the Eric Garner, #icantbreathe video.  Followed by the video of 12-year old Tamir Rice being killed.  I have been thinking about this on a my-world level as I recently accepted a "supervisory" position that inevitably will put me into positions where I make a decision that staff thinks is lame or that other supervisors thinks is lame or that is just lame.  I have been thinking about this on a life-and-death level as I am trying to celebrate the holiday season, which regardless of what you believe is a lot about birth and hope, while facing some other realities about death and grief.  I have been thinking about it a lot.

#JonStewart, who I unabashedly love, said this on his show last week and it has become the impetus for this post and what I hope to be a new era of #civility and middle-path-taking in my life.  In response to criticism he received, he said:

 "Those two ideas are not mutually exclusive". That's the crux of the crux of the all-of-it.  I can support law enforcement, appreciate the police, be white and still wonder about brutality, wonder about racism, wonder if we might not be able to do things differently. I can support the right to bear arms and not understand why an every-day citizen needs to go to WalMart with a loaded weapon on their hip. I can be law-abiding and still believe the justice system in this country is in need of some over-haul.  I can celebrate the holidays and still wonder if it is really the best idea to have a Clark Griswald house when we are living in a time where we need to reduce consumption.  I can be both leader and line staff.  These ideas, these roles, are not mutually exclusive.  You can laugh and grieve at the same time because all of us, sick or not, are most certainly living and dying at the same time.  You can pick both.

On every level of my life politically, professionally and personally, I am noticing my reactivity and a certain pressure to be on one side or another.  To feel one way or another, to support choice A  or choice Z.  And it seems like an entire alphabet is what people want you to believe the two choices are separated by. But most things in life are not really that simple.  Often times, the two sides of something are a lot like two sides of the same coin. Totally opposite, but, you can't have one without the other.  So you have to figure out a way to have both, to allow both to exist.

So, besides not eating sugar, giving up soda, AND fitting into the clothes Stacey Marie gave me by Valentines day (!), my New Year's resolution is to pick choice M.  M is the middle point of the alphabet.  The middle-path.  It is also the first letter of my first name so it is going to be SUPER easy to remember.  Unless I forget my name, which is not totally impossible (the other day, I forgot my address).

The extreme always makes an impression but it is suffocating there. And obvious.  And  frankly, not really an answer because it always silences another side of something which continues the fight.  And I am not sure about much, but I think the goal of any battle, of any conflict, of any argument is to stop fighting and make peace. Find common ground.  Find. Both. Take the middle-road, because what is considered the "high" and the "low" roads exist only in context and perspective.  Neither of which lend themselves to righteousness or absolutes.

Good luck out there! Loving you.....

Celebrate Me Home

Hi.  Just checking in.  A few things about my #buyin2Christmas experiment that is officially 14 (or 15, but I think I have been counting wrong) days old today! The first is to answer a question I got and then change the answer.  To a better answer.  Because that's what Megan-brains do.

Why is #buyin2Christmas 42 days long?

#buyin2Chrsitmas was originally 42 days long because I decided to start it the Sunday before Thanksgiving and I was going to end it the Saturday after New Years.  But then once I started saying 42 in my head, it triggered the TOOL song 46 & 2 to begin playing on an endless basis, also in my head and I realized that this was I.T. trying to get my attention.  See, if you know the song at all, it is about growth and change and Maynard (lead-singer of TOOL), is a total badass who writes songs about evolution and Jungian theories of the "shadow" and I relate to all of this as I move through life things like getting married, and trying to have a baby, and getting sober and watching my Dad transition and learning how to celebrate tradition.  So, that said, since 46 & 2= 48 and I realize the importance of the symbolism, #buyin2Christmas is now 48 days long.  The other reason for it being longer now is that I realized I would need some time to transition out of this time of year, just as I have needed some time to transition in to it.  Plus, did you know that the 12 days of Christmas actually refer to the 12 days AFTER Christmas? It's the period that goes from Christmas Day to January 6th, which is referred to as Little Christmas or Epiphany.  Now, I did not pay attention enough when I became Catholic to remember what Epiphany is exactly, but I think it has something to do with the Magi and Jesus's baptism and the whole god/man idea.  And I am not much of a believer in things religious, but I have become a deep believer in the idea that the veil between the physical and the celestial is only as thick or thin as you need it to be.  I want mine to be as transparent as all get out these days.  I also want to believe that you and I are reflections of God....which to me is whatever is best about being human.  The Good Stuff.  The kindness, the graciousness, the struggle to do what is right, all of the time, especially when it is hard, the light.  So, with that all being said, #buyin2Christmas now ends on Saturday, January 10th.  That is 48 days after November 23rd when I started this gig, it includes Epiphany and it ends at the end of the week, which fits nicely into my little OCD kingdom.  Also, you should at least read the words to the TOOL song I am talking about.  Or listen to it.  But probably mostly read the words.

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/tool/fortysix2.html

Phew.....after all of that, I am kind of winded.  And I haven't even began to describe what I have observed about myself and the world during this, the season-o-the-holiday.

I think the first thing is that celebrating Christmas, or whatever it is you celebrate, takes a lot of effort.  Turns out I never really hated the lights and the trees and the parties, I am just lazy-as-fuck.  No, really,  I am.  I am quite possibly the laziest person on the planet.  Getting anything out of Life? Takes.  Effort.  It is actually a deep, running theme in my life that really needs addressing except that I am too lazy to address it.  It is the primary reason why I don't cook, celebrate anything, or have a hair style.  In my defense, and hand to I.T. this is not an excuse, but frankly, just existing, in some semblance of a reasonable way has been overwhelming enough for me; without adding in trees and lights and blow-dryers.  And while I think this is slowly beginning to change, #buyin2Christmas does not begin to happen, as well as it is going, without the help of my Heather, the one in this partnership who knows how to give a shit about things and then put effort behind it.  So, thanks babe.

The second thing I have noticed is that the money thing about the season still bugs me.  But not because of my past arguments about excess and consumerism and environmental destruction....although all of that is still really true.  It bugs me because it makes me sad that I cannot buy all of the people I love lots of things.  And while everyone says it doesn't matter to them, it matters to me and makes me feel incredibly guilty and since I don't want to feel guilt or sadness, I go with anger and outrage at the masses because that is a safer feeling for me than the others.  Thing is, if I had planned better, if I wasn't so selfish, if I was willing to put in more effort, I probably could have done better at gift buying and giving this year.  But I didn't.  I spent all  the money on baseball and I am too tired to put together gift jars of cookie ingredients and I also still don't really think anyone NEEDS anything.  But at least this year I am willing to admit that yes, I know this isn't the point; but since I am still ore selfish than not, the gift in there is that I am working on it.

Lastly, the thing I have noticed the MOST is about the music.  I have a few questions, like: What makes the song "My Favorite Things", a holiday song? and "Celebrate Me Home" by Kenny Loggins?  Seems more like a song about last call than the holidays.....but whatever.  I like Kenny Loggins as much as the next guy. I have to say, the music, for me, has been the best part of this experiment.  I have been listening to 24-hour a day Christmas music in my car and on my phone and at home for DAYS now, and it really is magical.  When Bing Crosby starts to sing "White Christmas" I get transported to my Grandma's house and I can see her Family Room decorations in vivid detail, like I was there yesterday.  And Oh, Holy Night....well it has the greatest quote about the season and the meaning of everything of any song ever written, no matter the time of year:

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/celinedion/oholynight.html

The most important part being: The thrill of HOPE. A WEARY world REJOICES.  For yonder breaks, a new and GLORIOUS morn.....

I need those words more than ever this year.  The reminder that life, in its inevitable way will go on and light will come to dark places. That  the tired will be allowed to rest and that there will be Joy again, as long as there is Hope.

So, I'd say we are off to a grand start.  Me and Christmas.  I hope you are too.

The Crackpots and These Women

Thanksgiving gave me the opportunity to think about women quite a bit.  I was home with my dad's family for the holiday and was lucky enough to enjoy the holiday with three generations of women, including my brand new niece, Keaghan.  It also included Keaghan's mom, Kendra, Keaghan's great-Aunts, Ingrid and Miggie and Keaghan's Grandma, Sandi. Unavailable for participation was Keaghan's grandma-like person, my Momma, Judy, who is in the process of becoming bionic. The men were there too, but this blog isn't focusing on them.  And not because I don't think that men are important or equal of wonderful.  This is not meant to open a debate on gender roles and traditional gender assignments.  I am not man hating or man-excluding.  I understand with absolute clarity ideas of gender, sex and sexuality spectrum's.  Men are wonderful.  I love the men in my life, I used to be married to a man.  One of my dogs is a man-dog.  My favorite being that ever existed was male. But, for me, the holidays are about the power of "these women".

 The first woman I thought about was my Momma because I had my first taste of what she pulls off almost annually, offering people a Thanksgiving feast that is nothing short of totally fucking amazing.   She couldn't participate in the Turkey-Day madness this year, but she was with me in spirit.  In fact, I was so inspired by the taste of throwing a Thanksgiving, that I am proclaiming here, that next year, I am going to try my hand at doing the whole thing myself. It's funny, I had always thought of it as this chore that I wanted nothing to do with, but I realized this year that it is a Rite of Passage for me to accept the responsibility for these traditions from my momma, especially because she is still here to call in a panic when I mess it all up. 

I thought even more about mommas and women as I watched my sister who is breast-feeding Miss Keaghan, who is two weeks old.  Actually, I watched her simultaneously chase after two 17-month olds (my twin nieces), carve turkey and breast-feed all at once because that is what women do, especially at the holidays; 100 things at once without blinking.  In one night I watched her: finish making a dinner for 9 adults & three children, take pictures with said children in not one but two different holiday dresses, breast feed, try and eat dinner, change diapers, breast feed, participate in conversations, dry tears, breast feed....she was so beautiful, so graceful in the total overwhelm of a life that is what life is for young families.  It wasn't anything exceptional, yet it was absolutely the most magnificent choreography I have ever borne witness to.  

Then there was my aunt Miggie, my Dad's sister.  She has begun coming down more often, to be with Sandi and my Dad during my Dad's illness.  I think that is what women instinctively do, they pull the circle together, around the family, when hard times come.  She spent almost the entire time rubbing my Dads feet, trying to control the swelling.  She is a master at this having done it for my grandpa and grandma during their transitions and also, most recently, her sister-in law who passed last month.  I listened to her tell story after story about family members.  The whole time she sat in the same spot rubbing my Dad's feet.  Letting him know he is loved and sharing her healing energy with him.  She promised me that if it does come time for my Dad to leave us, my Grandma Harris will come for him and even though I am usually not a believer in things like that, after watching these women during Thanksgiving, I am sure that is true.

I think that woman are the greater point of the season, after all.  These women. Your women.  All women. They aren't mentioned much in the songs or in the symbolism.  We are told Jesus is the reason for the season and we look for Santa Claus, but I would like to offer that they are not the entire point.  Jesus does not get here at all without his Mom and Santa would not be able to find the keys to the sleigh, let alone get around the world delivering the presents, without Mrs. Claus. When I called down two days before Thanksgiving it was my Sandi-Mom, out of breath trying to care for my Dad, clean house and get the Christmas tree out, so that pictures could be taken.  That's what first provoked me to consider the ever present amazingness of these women. She sounded tired, but determined.  In fact, I think that should be the catch phrase for all of them....tired, but determined to do this....to create and sustain life.  Because that is what women do.   

This poem says it better than I can.  So I stole it.

Thank you, to all of my women.  I love you. Happy Thanksgiving & Merry Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am kind of an asshole about Christmas.  Probably not even kind of.  For most of my adult life, I have been a complete asshole about Christmas.  If it is possible to have arguments "against" Christmas, I have had them and have spent the last 20 plus years insisting on making them to anyone within range.  In my defense, my arguments are all valid and totally well thought out.  They even vary and range from environmental: the holiday season is a huge drain on already drained resources.....the lights, the paper, the fuel-related travel and package shipping....it is a ridiculously wasteful time of year; to financial: that the mass-market feeding frenzy of consumerism and stuff-buying is everything that is wrong with Western culture; to philosophical: the tiny issue of patriarchal religions basically stealing ideas from Goddess-cultures and flat-out making up holidays based on zero factual evidence. I have had my hands full with reasons not to buy in to this season. Throw in the years I spent on drugs and I have probably managed to dismiss, if not totally miss the holidays my entire adult life.  Even when I was around for Christmas, it was not without some self-righteous caveat about drowning polar bears or starving Hondurans or gifts wrapped in newspaper.

I know.  Total asshole.

But not this year.  This year I am selling out or buying in or whatever.  This year, I am Celebrating.  I am watching every movie, listening to Christmas radio, decorating the house, my office, the car, the dogs.  I am going to every cookie/holiday/work/neighborhood/tree-lighting/parade I can find.  I am having at least one of every holiday concoction Starbucks and Peets can come up with.  I am building a ginger-bread house.  I am tree-trimming and light-lighting and snow-finding.  I am wrapping presents and buying things people absolutely do not need in any way.  I am making Jenner wear antlers and taking ridiculous selfies with him and Rain and Birdy in front of our massive tree.  I am baking cookies for Santa and staying up till the wee hours of the night on 12/24 looking for Rudolph.  And most important of all, I am going to believe.  Whatever anyone is selling, this year I am going to Believe. In. It.  Elves, Oil-Buning Miracles, Virgin Births, Flying Reindeer, Angels named Clarence, Ringing Bells, Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, Tiny Tim's New Legs, 34th Street, all of it.  I'm in. I am totally in.

Here's why.  Here is the why of all whys.  When given the choice of picking either joy and fluff and miracles or joyless, harsh, reality.  I say, pick Joy.  Life is going to give you enough times when you don't get a choice.  When your only option is joyless, harsh, reality.  Situations that just do not have any light; so, when there is a choice in the matter, pick the fucking light.  Even if it is light you have to make up and string up.  Even if it is light that you think should be turned off to save energy, just go with it. Go with the Joy behind door number one.  The light at the end of the tunnel.  Give yourself some time to be soft and gooey and full of too much hot chocolate.

See, the holiday season in this country is the agreed upon time for all of us to be less of an asshole. I think maybe that is why we have tried to start celebrating it earlier and earlier. We make things pretty.  We engage, kindly, with people we normally wouldn't.  We care about other people having enough, we donate time, we buy into and tell stories with one common thread and that thread is the greatest gift anyone can ever give anyone: Hope.  The Earth makes us slow down with colder weather and less light.  We admire trees and ache for snow.  Frankly, we become better versions of ourselves.....or we have the opportunity too.  And we get the chance to make memories and to use our time wisely.

And time.  Oh my goodness, the importance of time.  While, I try not to regret too many things, because it is a useless way to spend energy, every once in a while I get a cold blast of a reminder of all of the time I missed either in my addiction, or even worse, so caught up in my own world that I just assumed I would always have next year.  Here's the thing about next year.....it doesn't always happen, and even if it does, it is going to be vastly different than this year, the one happening right now.  Kids will be older, loved ones may be in different places, wars could start, people you think will always be there will die.  You may lose your job or win the lottery or get a dog, or get a tattoo, or get sick; the point is you will not be the same next year.  You are not the same as you were last year....nothing is really the same as it was last year, it can't be. And I can tell you the worst sadness in the world is to reflect upon years past and think: "I wish I'd bothered."

So.  This year, I am bothering.  From now on, I am bothering.  I am checking out of all intellectual reasoning for the next six weeks.  42 days of Jingling Bells, Cookies, Yelling out Happy Holidays to EVERYONE, and hopefully, with enough belief, a miracle or two. I hope you will do the same.  Don't miss stuff.  As brilliant as your arguments may be, they don't stand a chance against the need to create a time of Hope, so when the sleigh comes by, just get in and enjoy the ride.

And they heard her exclaim as she wrote out of sight:

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL
AND TO ALL A GOOD LIFE.  xoxoxoxoxo

Unspoken Word Three

On Cancer

I am not going to hate you, Cancer
I was going to, but then I remembered
This guy I know
And how he is always telling me:

Child, "hate" is far to strong of an emotion to waste on.....
(insert whatever it was I was hating here)

Sure, you are probably a worthy thing to hate, Cancer
But Hate takes energy and you have taken enough of that
Hating you is like hating the Ocean
When someone drowns

I think I would rather respect you, Cancer
Like the other powerful things I have met
Along this journey
Like Great White Sharks and Winter Storms and Bald Tires

I think I will save my energy, Cancer
And eat an apple
And pet my dogs
And take a walk

And live.

That Kim Richey Song

I was talking to my Dad about Oregon today and it made me think about the idea of "home".  I think there is a grand difference between living somewhere and being home.  I think it is possible to live in a lot of places and not feel like you ever come home to them.  I also think it's possible to feel a connection to a place you have barely lived, or maybe even just stayed and feel like you are home.  I feel like that about Cazadero for example.  I have never "lived" in Cazadero, as far as living goes. I have never received my mail there or gone to school there.  I don't know any of the pressing political issues of Sonoma County, don't have a favorite Mexican restaurant there where they know I always would rather have the green sauce.  But Cazadero is more home to me than this house I am sitting in now in Jackson, CA.  Don't get me wrong, it is a nice house.  We love our house.....but this just isn't home.

Home gets even weirder for me when I go "home" to the bay area where I actually have had many homes.  There is the house on Rialto Dr. in Clayton.  Number 39.  That will always be my home, not just my house.  I remember every detail of that house, at least how it existed when I lived there.  I remember that the tile in the kitchen behind the stove had vegetables inlaid on it.  I remember the garden beds in the back yard and the circular brick planter that my Dad built.  I remember the apricot tree in the backyard and the bushes underneath the bedroom window where the Orb Spider lived one Summer.  I see occasional glimpses of this house sometimes and no matter how old I am or where I am sitting, my heart swells up like a balloon and I can hear my Dad calling for me to come in for dinner.  I can see my Mom laying on the deck in the Summer sun.  It's weird, too, that as far as everything surrounding that house, the areas of Clayton and Concord where I grew up?  I don't even recognize them.  The aren't home at all for me anymore.  But that house and that street, always mine.  Always home.

The there is Oregon.  I lived in Oregon for 13 months, 11 years ago.  I lived in two different houses there, each for about half the time I was there.  Not very long by any standard, yet it is the one place out of all the places I have ever lived where I actually felt like I had come home.  A lot of that had to do with the time in my life and the war I was returning from**, I know that.  But regardless of the circumstance and despite the relatively little time I lived there, my heart beats for the Oregon Coast as if I had lived there for generations, and no matter how long I stay away, I still remember everything. I think someday I will likely return there.  And I suspect it will be as it once was, a place called Home.

Kim Richey: "A Place Called Home"

http://youtu.be/s_ZCK7bDM4w


**On this, the day of my 11th birthday in remission from the pesky and stunning methamphetamine, with a shiny chip in my pocket that shows 18 months in remission from the devious and outrageous alcohol, I want to say something about getting into remission from the bigger thing, the biggest thing. The easily handed out, the subtly implied, the hardest part of all of it....the shame. The shame of addiction. On this day at this time, I am in remission from the shame. See, there is nothing morally wrong with any addict. There is simply unmanaged disease. I willingly accept the responsibility to manage my disease. BUT I reject ENTIRELY the societal burden of shame. I didn't get better. I was already good enough. I got well. There should be No shame in having sickness, illness, dis-ease. 

So, if you or someone you know is struggling with this or any illness, It's ok. You are ok. You need to get well and it is possible. Recover. Get found Kid. Find your way home Xoxo

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

I just got home from seeing my Dad.  Just walked in and am bursting at the seams about how the world is ending.  And I will get to that, but first a Keith update because I know everyone's first question is "how's your Dad?" To be honest, I have been struggling lately when asked this.  Not because I am unappreciative of how much you care about him and me and us, but because I don't know of any words to answer in a way that is honest but concise and/or appropriate for social situations.  Usually when people ask how others are we say "fine" or "well" or "doing o.k." and I could say that about my Dad but we would both know that it isn't really true or at least complete.

Sometimes I resort to saying things like "he's hanging in there" or "today is an o.k. day", but that doesn't seem right either, because it minimizes how amazing he is despite the fact that his health is not-amazing.  Today when I was driving home, I was looking at the Fall colors in the vineyards and I realized that I have found the perfect term for how my dad is....he's brilliant. He is transitioning through this like a tree who, given the choice of doing nothing or putting on a beautiful show come the Fall of its life, has chosen the latter.  Despite the hand he has been dealt, he is still generous and kind.  He is still really, really funny and witty.  He is thoughtful and patient and honest.  If he were a tree, he would be the one you would want to stop the car for.  The one in the grove that really is going all out, with reds and oranges and golds; full of fire and life, taking its time to be present through this experience.  He eats ice cream every day.  He voted.  He is a badass and he is brilliant.  So that is how I intend to answer from now on.  My Dad is brilliant.

That said, despite my Dad's brilliance and my wonderful visit....the world is still ending and I am bereft.  Here is why.  There was smog.  I went home to the Northern California, San Francisico Bay Area suburb, where I have existed in some form for 40 plus years now and there was so much SMOG, I could not see my mountain (Mt. Diablo).  What.  The.  Fuck. I grew up at the base of that mountain! There was never any smog! Fog...there was fog sometimes.....and snow.....snow was always a treat.  But dirty air that affected visibility? First time in 40 years.  I mean, I am not an idiot so I am aware that climate change exists and is affecting things, (because, despite the notions of some recently elected congress-people, IT IS NOT A DEBATABLE TOPIC), but to see it first hand, AROUND MY MOUNTAIN.  I am really devastated.  And scared.  Smog is what separates us from the Los Angelians.  Smog exists in industrial areas.  Smog is dirty air.  Dirty air exists where there is no rain.  Where there are too many people.  Where there are too many cars.....where there is not enough cool ocean air to pass over and clean out pollution......Oh My God.  That's the new reality of my home-base.  The environment has changed, so it has changed.  This is really happening.  I mean probably not at the "I should probably buy an oxygen mask and stock up on a supply of tanks" rate that I have gone to in my head, but enough to spur some thought and a blog and a question:

What are you doing in your every day practice to slow down the end of the world?  Do you have any tips? And? Can you help me fix my mountain?

Cue REM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0GFRcFm-aY