making it worse before it gets better

I once had a boss who was the epitome of a douchebag.
Seriously.

The day he decided to make my life a living hell was the day that the head surgeon/chair of the department joked to him while I was taking pictures at a 'chi-chi" event.

"Mark, you better be careful or this young lady is going to take your job soon!"

ha ha ha ha

laughs all around.

But it was true. Or could have been.
I worked the room like a smooth ass teflon Don politician. Everybody liked my unobtrusive yet charmingly quirky demeanor. Everybody wanted me to take their picture. The night was a huge success. The head surgeon/chair came up to me near the end of the event: "it is a pleasure to have you working with us."

well, that didn't last long...

Shitforbrains flipped and began to panic because the big cheese was on my side. Loved me and said hi every time he came into our office. Turdo didn't even get so much as a mumble.

And he hated me for it.
Or shall i say abhorred me for it.

He sabotaged me in every way he could. Tried to break me every way he could.
I just had an operation that left me weak and ill, and he used that to his advantage.
I broke and he fired me. Just one day shy of being unionized.

I should have known that it was coming down the pipeline.
"It's only gonna get worse..." was his sick and fucked up mantra.

No wonder he was a miserable fat sloth moron.

But I digress from venting...

It's only gonna get worse ...


I find myself saying this right now as i try to march stoically through these horrendous side effects of my GERD medication.

I tried to explain to my gastro doc that I felt like i had been run over by a buss. That i was putting on weight like a rowboat in a monsoon. That i was becoming moody and manic.

"well, i've never heard of those side effects before"
(ergo - they don't exist)

But now thanks to the internet, more and more people are chiming in about the wonderful world of heavy duty meds and the delightful cornucopia of pleasantries that twist your insides and outsides into a wet noodle.

(taken from Wikepedia: Thomas A. Scully, head of the Federal Centers for Medicare and Medicaid services also criticized AstraZeneca for their aggressive marketing of Nexium. At a conference of the American Medical Association he went so far as to suggest that Astra was using the new drug to overcharge consumers and insurance companies. "You should be embarrassed if you prescribe Nexium," he claimed, "because you're screwing your patients and you're screwing the taxpayers.")





GERD can be a serious thing. I was rumored to have Barrette's esophagus, which is one step away from esophageal cancer, but a biopsy showed that the tissue was not diseased, but was told that I would have to go in every 6-8 months for a gastroscopy to make sure. Getting a tube/camera shoved down your throat is not a fun experience. I would rather have 10 colonoscopies to one gastroscopy.  Yes, that many. Being awake for both, the sensation of having your throat and thorax scraped with a toilet bowl brush over and over again is not my idea of a good time.

It's ironic - i never was a smoker, or a drinker, yet I have what most smokers and drinkers suffer from. Oh if i were only able to say that i had and once enjoyed those vices, perhaps the intestinal prodding would seem more tolerable. Perhaps it's all made worse by the fact that I have a Hiatus hernia...


It's only gonna get worse ...


These pills - nasty pills. Have caused my fybromalgia to flare up in a serious way. I have to actually walk with a cane. Standing causes me to help in pain with each step, sitting is tantamount to sucking my skin and muscles into the floor with an industrial vacuum cleaner. And sleep? Well, I'll have none of that. The brain is mostly made of water, but is also a muscle, and with fybromyalgia, all muscles hurt, a lot. Including my brain.


It also triggers my bipolar.
Not a pretty sight considering I am already fighting that on a regular basis.

No more sunny days, no more walking with flip flops, letting the warm weather wrap me in its arms like a bright candy colored flannel blanket.

Fall - cold, damp, grey.
All my enemies for so many reasons.

I had an alternative, but that is even more scary than what i'm on now.

I had taken it once before, and had to get off after the third dose. My doctors thought i was crazy. Well, this crazy lady now has back up.

Astra zeneca has now packaged a long list of troubling side effects, preceded by the warning: Consult your doctor if these conditions occur or become worse.

Well, all the ones I had once tried to explain were all there in mauve and white.

Pretty packaging, not so pretty side effects.

It's only gonna get worse ...




I can hear people saying: "at least you don't have to go through chemo!"
Well, if this condition worsens, i may just have to...

But yes, it is gonna get worse before it gets better, and i have to take this bitter pill, my medicine, but why does something that is supposed to heal you make you more sick than what you started with?

Isn't that backwards?
Oh modern medicine, why must you be such a motherfucker?

today's dream log

dream


water

i was swimming. Learning to improve my strokes.
Hotel swimming pool. More rectangular than long. At dusk.
The glow of the lights in the water - turquoise.
Glass walls - rooftop terrace now closed. City skyline becomes alive.
Few people, mostly milling about. Languid in lounge chairs.

An instructor, svelt man, middle aged, comes into the pool to show me how to improve my strokes. Turns on the wave machine. I begin to swim. Each movement, poetic, graceful. Underwater ballet. He stops me, shows me, i begin again.

The movement propelling me forward is counteracted by the waves, bubbles, noise.
I pick up speed, and the waves get stronger, the bubbles bigger and the noise - louder.

Now it all seems so effortless. My body glides, hands slice the water like cleavers. Blade through flesh. Silent. No spash. No sound.


Flash. it's morning and we are now entering the sauna. Tilled cubicle. Standing room only. Five of us walk in. It's dark except for the ambient light. Steam streams through the walls. Eucalyptus fills our nostrils. Mentholated brush into the sinuses. General malaise. I say: "it's good for you. Now we sit and sweat."

After a few seconds, people tire and become anxious.
"Now we cold dip." pointing to the garden hose attached to the wall. I pick it up and lift it to my head.
"Are you crazy?"
"that's too cold!!"

"It closes your pores, gets your heart rate going. It's good for you."

But nobody listens. They slide out of the stall, aimless and sweaty. I stay behind, enjoying the whole aquatic experience.



House

E and I had bought a house. Condo actually. Model home. Fully equipped, furnished. Showroom ready to go. It was dark, pale moss green everywhere. Into the post-modern domestic forest. Everything was set. Tv was on. Welcoming din.


I began to get anxious. Nervous. Something was wrong. Trapped, suffocated I began to rant. Question. Weariness covered me like a veil.
"There are no windows!! How could you have said yes to a place that had no windows!!"

"it's not that big of a deal."
"what the hell do you mean!? Of course it is! I can't breathe! I can't see out! There is no natural sunlight!"
"why do you need light?"

Picking up a paint chip, blush pink, I waved it into his face.
"why can't we paint this place another color!? Why all this green? "
"you want to paint it? no problem. I can do that. Just give me the paint."
"but we can't live here while we paint!"
"why not?"
"THERE ARE NO WINDOWS TO OPEN!"
"so, what's your point?"

desperate, dejected and furious, i ran out of the house, into the street. Into the light, into the fresh air.


House - part 2

Now we are in an actual house. I'm on the other side of the front door, watching myself walk in with the agent. Cathedral ceilings, ruched curtains protecting the interior from sun.  Two level, winding staircase, kitchen with marble island, open concept. Stainless steel appliances. Clean. Hyper clean.

This is my house, yet it is not my house.
I own it but don't live in it.

I make my way to the kitchen, and begin to cook. Taking out the spices, putting them in alphabetical order.  E is there, but distant. Observing but not attentive.
I am despondent, why does he not help me?

The doorbell rings. We were not expecting company?

Open the door and a flood of people fill our hallway, making their way into the kitchen. The nexus of this industrial universe. So many people.

"why don't you help me?!!"

E walks away. JM walks behind him, turning to me: "he's not interesting in helping anymore. You have asked him for enough help. He needs to rest. He is fed up. Go on doing what you have to do. He's done with this. This marriage. This everything."

I am crushed. Mentally raped. Physically ruined.

More people, more noise, more scrutiny. My body goes numb. It's a miracle I'm standing.

I too become part of the model home. A fixture. Fleshy furniture. Bees buzzing around me, examining the countertops, the microwave, the fridge. Doors open, plates shifting, floor squeaking under the weight of these bodies make the floor squeak.

Everything is filthy, at least to my standards. I scurry behind, a gypsy child, picking up crumbs, wiping away residue, making everything sparkling clean.

I open the back door and they all fill into the outside yard. Good riddance. Goodbye. I close the door. The remaining people trickle away from the center of the industrial homemaker's universe.

There is a group of Indian women, diligently examining the spice rack.
"it's important to have all the spices in order to keep your kitchen harmonious".

Brown nimble fingers delicately pull apart the angel hairs of red saffron and place them onto the marble countertop.

"this should do it. This should fix everything now..."

A letter to a friend

a letter to a photographer friend today - a reply to his message after seeing my film
Clair Obscure.

I was surprised by what gushed forth
sometimes I surprise myself, in a good way :-)

Oh Dave,

you have no idea how much your message has touched me. So many emotions. I don't know where to begin...

first, I'll start from the end...

Interesting you picked up on the whole doc/60's-70's feel. I guess my religious viewing of films such as shock corridor (Sam Fuller), Titicut Follies (Frederick Wiseman), 2001 (Kubrick), A woman under the influence (Cassavettes) and of course, One Flew over the cuckoo's nest (Forman) and Let there be light (Huston). Film has been a huge part of my life. When my parents divorced, i was 11, and my weekly father's visits consisted of dinner @ Wendy's or McDonalds followed by a movie. That's all we did. That was his way of connecting. After watching a film, we'd go for ice cream and have our own "At the movies" critique session. You can imagine how interesting they were when we saw 2001 a Space Odyssey and Apocalypse Now (he snuck me into that one. Opening week - crazy insanity. He literally snuck me underneath his coat!!)

And when I did film production @ university, we were old school. 1990. Cutting film was an organic experience. Almost spiritual.

manic depression is often a ticking time bomb, present in the family tree and detonated during or after a traumatic event - my detonation was my parent's split. After that. puberty wreaked havoc until I was 19. That's when I had my full blown breakdown. It was ugly. It is truly a miracle I lived to tell the tale. I should have been dead by now, more than half a dozen times over...

After almost a year of being shuttled from emergency room to another, I was helped by a doctor who was starting a crisis clinic at one of the hospitals. She was a pioneer in her field and research into bipolar. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, but little did I know, the tunnel would be filled with sewage, rot and stigma. (funny enough - while I'm writing this, I just realized that the whole scene in the tunnel might have been a subconscious link to that...)

I was hospitalized for a week and then a day patient for a month. The big mental hospital is actually an old mansion on the mountain. Ornate, yet now devoid of all its glamour, it was a hollow shell of a once grandiose existence - so much like the life of a person with bipolar - after the crash...

I knew I was not 'crazy/over the edge" as some of the people there were, but i was not far from it. I had actually looked into the abyss. Stood on the precipice of no return. It was a welcome end to an existence filled with pain, confusion and relentless chaos. That ledge was so narrow. Despite my new 'medicated lithium state", it was terrifying to actually know that i was so close to jumping into an alternate reality because mine had become a living hell. The woman who sat in the waiting room, in the buss, arranging her groceries, watching out the window as the world passed her by, letting the wind blow through her hair. That could have been me. In that waiting room, in that other world...

what brought me back, i still don't know. But to this day, I am forever thankful that by some divine intervention, i returned. Perhaps it was the will to live, my higher reptilian brain telling me to push through. Or perhaps it was my old soul telling me it was my gift to be able to share this experience with the world. That my suffering was indeed necessary to be able to coherently explain life "on the other side" and to give others hope, and others insight into an existence that is nothing short of hell on earth...

Your relationship with your ex-girlfriend - bless your heart. We all need somebody as understanding and loving as you are to her. You are insightful and kind to realize that bipolar is something bigger than we are. It is bigger than our logical mind. It is our emotional mind on crack. It's the vortex of fear and isolation, of gravity and pain twisted around synapses that fire furiously, out of control, without a plan. Rabid. Paralyzing. What we say and do during our mixed states is not of our own consciousness. It is the muddled kaleidoscope of isolation, broken dreams and terror.

And ADD, I suffer from that too, albeit a mild version but  I know all too well how that can turn a normal task into a labyrinth of confusion and complication.  Mine runs into elliptical and illogical ruminations about death, paranoia and other worst case scenarios. Sometimes, I can't even step out of the house because I'm afraid that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that I will spontaneously combust. My mind checks over the details like a mega processor, but the computations never add up but information spews forth at random, adding to the confusion and chaos in my brain.

Dysthymic  Disorder - that languid melancholy, worn like a wet overcoat. How it turns the most beautiful sunset into a realization that another day has passed and life is that much shorter.  How the excitement of a new day is filtered through the density of apprehension that what we didn't do yesterday is yet another reason to put off what we could have done to what we should do, but then as the sunset begins, we get lost in an endless cycle of regret and what seems like idyllic hope. I really hope that you are able to manage those episodes. That you have found a medication to ease the pain. I have found that CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy has helped me a lot), but as with all ways of seeing and learning, it takes practice. The key is to stay positive and focused. Which for people like us, is nothing short of a hurdle in itself. Having friends who understand and believe in you are key.

But I think the worst part is dealing with the people who think "it's all in your head". Yes. It is. But despite that when they say : "just snap out of it" - mental illness is a chemical imbalance. The brain is a complex system of nerve tissue, fibers, neurons, dendrites and synapses - all working together or against each other. Even in the 21st century, science is still in the initial stages of comprehension and unraveling the mystery that is the human mind. I have had to deal with people who say: "just get a grip on life", "everybody has problems", "it's all in how you deal with it" or the best one: "buck up and face your problems like a man/woman".  It is my hope that one day, people who are these ignorant naysayers live one life in the mind of somebody who suffers as we have. I have no doubt that they would quickly change their mind and opinion, but until then, I try with my photography and films to drive the point home.

Did you see my "blue series" on flickr? I have a bunch of other "self portraits" that try to illustrate life on the other side of sanity. With each shutter click, i hope that one day I will get closer to being more cohesive, better at expressing my experiences. It's important that people know and understand. Ignorance breeds contempt and hatred. Our world is filled with enough of that. 
People who suffer by no will of their own need a fucken break. 

All my life i've had to deal with people labeling me a "weird/off/strange/psychotic/wacky". A good friend of mine from high school with whom i recently reconnected with said that people often came to her and asked: "why are you friends with her? She's pretty messed up." But she stuck through, believed in me and said - 'that's why she's so special. And that's why she's my friend." If only i had that kind of unconditional acceptance from my friends and family. 

After a nasty court settlement when i turned 20, my mother, father and both lawyers on both sides sat in our lawyer's office and when asked if we had any last words, I looked at him and pulled out a piece of paper.

"dad, you think that this is all in my head - this depression. this mania. my suffering. Here is a list of doctors that will tell you that I am in fact suffering from bipolar disorder. That it is real. I encourage you to get in touch with them and talk to them yourself."

without looking at me, he packed up his briefcase, took the paper, folded it into a tiny square and shoved it in his pocket. 


"Well, if I were to ask the doctors when all my problems started, they would say that it all started when you were born."

And with that, he left the room. His lawyer, my lawyer and mother all stood there, silent and shocked. His lawyer apologized profusely. So did our lawyer. So did my mom. It was something I would have to get used to.

How ironic is it that to this day, my dad, even though he has seen my film, still does not believe that what i suffer from is a legitimate and medical condition.

It is still something I am getting used to. But if my film can touch one person, then all of this will have been worth it.

And your message has made me smile.

I'm so happy that it touched your life. That means everything to me.

Please stay well Dave, and i have faith that one day, we will be able to share our stories on the battle field. We have come through the difficult task of survival, overcoming the stigma, and through that, will inspire others.

hpk

Last night was grand.
Simply sublime.

An urban cowboy friend of a friend hosted a house party.
Out in the stix, but it was well worth the hike.

and turns out, that being there, making the effort, spoke volumes in terms of letting it be known that we did take the time out of our day to come and be a part of the celebration.


Some people who said they would show up apparently had their reasons.
Apparently.

But that night was filled with new connections and forging of new creative endeavors.

Sis and Bobby were there - always soulful friendship connections.

And the new individuals that we met - priceless.

I told E on the way home:
meeting people like this, engaging in intelligent conversation, honest and heartfelt laughter is what makes the world go around, at least my world. It's my lifeline - people like this - real people. I have less and less time for the riff raff, people who are more interested in looking into their own reflection, or look for their own reflection in others. They are all fucken shallow and waste my time. Time to purge and cleanse. After this weekend, I have seen enough of people who care only about themselves. Enough is enough. I've stopped giving away my time. You need it - you earn it. You can have all your fluffy vapid self centered friends. Just don't bring them to our house. I don't want that energy to taint ours.

FB - status.
People are too busy collecting fucken farm animals to take a nano-second to even give  "like/thumbs up" notification. Whatever.
So noted.
In my books.



But as sis and I convened - there is a lot happening and a lot going to happen in the next little while. How interesting that this was my horoscope from Daily Om...


August 22, 2010
Connected by Support
Aries Daily Horoscope

The encouragement you receive from friends about your projects could make you feel surrounded by an unlimited amount of support today. Just knowing that others care about you and your work might help you see that the things you do have value and meaning not only for yourself, but also for others. Even though this validation from other people might be meaningful for you, perhaps today you can think about how much worth your work has for your soul. Going back to a completed project, taking a deep breath, and looking upon your work with new eyes could make it easier for you to recognize just how much your projects impact you. Finding support in yourself, you may find, is just as important as seeking it from other people.

When we are able to feel pleased about our work, the support we receive from others is wonderful and precious but is not the only thing that sustains our efforts. So often we can get lost in wanting others to approve of what we do and praise us for a job well done. When we learn to do that for ourselves, however, any encouragement that others give us is something that we can cherish. Through our efforts we are able to strengthen our level of connection, trust, and respect for each other. By seeing the support you get as something that binds you to others, you will be able to appreciate what you receive through an entirely new perspective today. 

Moving in the right direction...

Moving in the right direction.
That is the ultimate quest...






Life seems to be leading me into a bunch of different directions: film, tv, writing, photography, directing, traveling. I'm one person and despite the allure of all these different avenues, I think i might have to take one and stick with it. At least for now, but remain fluid and open to all the changes that are coming my way.


As always, Daily Om seems to have it bang on. So much wisdom. So much sense...


August 21, 2010
The Right Direction
Aries Daily Horoscope

You might not feel confident that your life purpose is on track which could make you feel uncertain about yourself today. If you can keep in mind that it is natural to question how your life is going, you may find some relief in your doubt. Taking the time to look back on your life – maybe by drawing a timeline on a piece of paper – you might be able to see the connections of your major life transitions more clearly. As you look at the things that have happened to you in the past, you may, for example, notice that not everything appears to be linear – that there have been some twists and turns along your path. Reflecting on these times and assessing what you learned when your life didn’t seem to be heading in the right direction today may help you to realize that these periods of time can actually be some of the most intense growing experiences.

Understanding that the road we follow in our lives does not always follow a straight line allows us to much more readily accept our life course. The times when things don’t seem to go our way can easily convince us that we aren’t doing anything positive in our lives. In actuality, it is these times that will be your best teacher today – for it is only when you are able to transform a situation into a learning experience that you will set out more confidently on a steadier course and truly evolve. 

a dead cat and a female fire fighter

I saw a dead cat yesterday in my back yard.
it broke me into a million pieces.
lying, deep permanent sleep on the ground
It was old and perhaps had lived a full, yet difficult 9th life




saw a female fire fighter today on the street.
I was filled with pride and admiration
confident, as her pony tail, blond locks floated through the air
she was young and surrounded by men who worked in tandem with her.
















(I will comment more on the death of a cat, and what my fucken brute of a landlord did. Gawd. I wish I could take this guy's brain and shove it up his ass. It would probably work better that way...)

whaaa??

I'm always floored when people say they like my art. I mean, people who say they really like my art. Not just because the pictures are pretty, the colors are harmonious, faces are attractive or subject matter is witty. But people who are artists themselves, who use art as a vehicle for communication, expression, living.

A fellow artist reached out to me the other day. Saw my photos on Saatchi Online and wanted to send me an email.

I was checking my messages on Saatchi and saw your thumbnail. So I ventured over to your site and I love what you do. Its some really great stuff and I know what little relief, confirmation, or whatever other reaction that comes from someones mere recognition of your work, but I felt that you at least deserve that. I love the portraits and your film.




Wow.


I mean wow!


I was completely blown away. 


And that was only a portion of some of the other messages i received over the past few days...


This was all hot on the heels of a few weeks ago when a publishing house from Jakarta found three of my images online and wanted to put them in their next book of "upcoming and important art". There was a catch - to buy the book was 100$ US (200$ retail), but it was not mandatory to be a part of it. The royalties are bird poop, but to know that this book will be circulating all through Asia is quite an eye opener. Who knows what will happen, who will see my work. The important thing is that it's getting out there. FINALLY. On the wings of a prayer and pixel, things might just be looking up.


I was all about to toss my camera away. Relegate it to the halls of silent sewing machines and miscellanies of cloistered craft kits. The dead zone of artistic endeavors started with good intentions, but now fated to become relics for future generations. 




I had one last hope. One last whim as a "photographer" - to submit to a high gloss fashion magazine. "What do I have to lose? No stamps involved in cybermail !"


Well, off it went. And to bed was I to go. But seven minutes after the initial whoosh sound from my outbox, came a delicate "bing!"


Oh, crap. It bounced.
Was my first thought. Now I know that I have to modify my first thoughts from constantly being negative to perhaps being optimistic!




Note to self. 
Make a note of this...


WOW!! The first one rocks!!! The second is grand and if we place these, I want to make sure there is a full message. do you have more to look at?? Can't wait!


why, yes, as a matter of fact, I do!


and so off it went, batch # 2, and then 3, and 4.


What did I get back?
Well, the universe rewarded me with this one:


You have such a lovely perspective on your art. I went through your images and there are so many I really loved. I would love to see a mix of some for you to submit if you are down with that. I will go through them and post them and if you are into it, please send images by following the image submission form. I can't believe the talent the body painter has! WOW! HOLY SEEEEEEETTTTT!!!


whaaaaattt!?!??


Really?!!


This magazine kicks serious ass. I mean, really serious ass. It was a submission on a whim. Never even thought i'd get a second look cause the quality is beyond top notch, it's stellar. And me with my little self portraits looking all moody and stuff.. 


But it was not 10 minutes after this email I got another.

Some other gallery owner personally took the time to email me to notify me of an "art competition i should know about". He, an art collector, was online and found my site. "We look forward to viewing your submissions".

whaaaaattt!?!??

Floored. 

It was all i could do to not jump around the house like a child on Christmas morning.

two days after, a new connection with a fellow flickr-er.

I loved her work. It spoke to me, and apparently, mine did to her as well...

You know, i was actually timid about making you a contact.... I thought you'd find my work.. I don't know... overdone of bland...

So for two years, i've followed your work, where i saw it in groups, but never felt i should join in the parade of your followers.

I regret that, now *s

Holy sheeeeet.

Was this the universe hammering me in the head - shouting at me: "DON'T DO IT! KEEP YOUR CAMERA!! KEEP ON GOING!!"

well, whatever it was, is, will be, it's working. And I'm so very thankful of every day that my work travels over millions of miles of network cables, through the air, and into the eyes and minds of those who choose to see.

Thank you universe.

Thank you God.

Thank me.

Thank you :-)

it was good

I have to recount a dream I had the other night.

very creepy cool but it was good.

I think i have also found my spark again. That longing to make a difference in the world. The knowing that I'm here for a purpose greater than I can ever imagine.


going for some dinner comfort food with mom and hubby. Will be back later.

I seem so lost when I don't write.
My head needs to empty, my soul needs to expand, my fingers need to exercise and follow the words from my head to the keyboard.

it's all good...

my left foot

Strange days indeed.

it's been so long since my last post, and so much to write.
Where do I begin?

I will start by going backwards.

Tried to ramp up the CBT the other day because i need to preach what I'm practicing...


Spoke to a friend about her crumbling marriage. Telling her to try to keep positive. That there is never rain 365 days a year. That the sun always breaks through the clouds. That for the most part, 98% of the population are not 100% evil, and that her husband has an addiction. Even if that addiction is to his "other woman" who he can't stop texting for even a moment.

While on the phone with me, she and her hubby were texting. There was some funny banter back and fourth and I was privy to the play by play.

"I said something about wanting to fondle his elbow"
(because as per the marriage therapist, they were supposed to work on "touching and reconnecting")

text back - my elbow?
text - i mean your foot. I love how uneven your toes are on your left foot.
text back - it's my right...

"What the hell does that mean? Was that meant for me? Is he texting his friend and thought it was me saying : "it's his right to see his child during a separation" !?"

"Holy crap girl! Your mind is like a rabid monkey spinning around in your head! How can you be sure that is what he is REALLY saying?"

"Well, it must be! I think i should call my lawyer tomorrow..."

"Why don't you just ask him what he means?"

text - what?
text back - it's my right foot...

We both laughed.

"See my dear, it's only about his right foot! See how the mind went into overdrive and began to fill in all the cracks of the rest of the sentence? Attaching meaning to where there was none?!"

And we laughed and laughed. I poked fun at the situation by telling her about the famous intro to the Monty Python film with the big foot coming down and squishing everything. The visual was hysterical. And at the same time - poignant. How the mind will overcompensate for a lack of information by blowing things out of proportion - a huge foot stomping on everything. People, flowers, musical notes.

A gargantuan foot - splayed toes and all...

"my mind is just running around lighting everything on fire. I can't stop it.'

"yes you can, it just takes work; but obsessive tendencies are part of our pedigree. Great grandmother, grandmother, your mother, my mother were all struggling with some form of depression. I'm bipolar. The black sheep crazy of the family, but obsessive/compulsive behavior is a part of that. it's all under the umbrella of mental illness in its varying degrees."

"well, i must be OCD then. I just keep on digging this obsessive grave deeper and deeper until I can't get out and get suffocated by these fucken thoughts."

I tried to explain my techniques: listing all the thoughts, the % of how much i believe each thought, exaggerate the worst case scenario and how much I believe that, what i know to be true, the grade of anxiety from 1-10 (at the beginning and at the end of the exercise). I extolled the virtues of finding my "touchstones" - things that make me happy and shift my thinking just by doing/watching/listening.

We were both impressed with my logic and clarity.
I'm proud that I have some of those moments sometimes.

After four and a half hours of Wayne Dyer-izing, CBT-ating and Zen-atilitaing, she was calm and at peace, and happily, so was I.


Today changed that mood.

An email: the whole time he was texting me, he was texting her! NOW WHAT DO I DO?!?!

What do you do? What can be told to someone who is living with and loving a person that has an obsessive compulsion?

I feel horrible for having given sound advice.
I feel like a flake, fake, and bullshitter for having believed my own advice. For allowing myself to try to "think well".

And as I type this, I can hear the monkey in my mind getting restless. Sharp utensils are within its reach. The once peaceful room is getting cluttered with negative images, words and scenarios. How do I tame this beast?

Scratch its belly. Keep it happy.

I try to smile, underneath my skin pulled taut over muscle twitching confusion...

this is what happens when you are drunk and have friends who are comedians with a video camera...

this is simply brilliant.

I can't stop laughing.

It's nothing short of evil and brilliant.
Even MORE brilliant than the think i quoted in the last post...

Funny or Die. Will Ferrell, you rock my world...

from a friend

a fellow flickr friend is in crisis.
And I know this crisis well, as i seem to be in the same mode these days.

and it's not easy.

I equate it to a complete existential meltdown. Nothing makes any sense anymore. There are no rights or wrongs, only maybes and I don't know for sures.

cavedweller

I've stopped seeing myself, or being able to see myself. Making self portraits when you can't see yourself is very hard I find. The last time I really had a full mental picture of myself was a few years ago and I didn't want to look.

When I'm between work and projects and have nothing I'm focusing my efforts on or planning, I feel adrift and panicky. I've barely been out of the house in weeks except to go food shopping, hit the post office, catch a movie and get a hair cut, avoiding the heat and conserving resources until the next thing comes....

and of course...

got back yesterday from a week of camping. Miss it already - the smell of trees in the morning, marshmallow roasting, mosquito swatting, refreshing lake swimming - pure sublime Vermont mountain chill...

a letter to a friend about a dream I had...

This dream, it started off weird. I was in the ocean - my mom was warning me about going out too far - that I would surely drown, but i went farther anyway.

The sea was turquoise. Tropical blue. Cuba blue I call it. I was so buoyant, the buoyancy became almost a meditative state. I floated past a hanging tomato plant (saw one on tv the night before...) in the middle of nowhere. The vines were filled with these beautiful succulent tomatoes. Next to it floated a man - who told me I could eat one. (garden of eden perhaps??) and i did. It was not as sweet as I had hoped, but more meaty. He said something that I wish I could have remembered because it seemed to be some sort of life lesson thingy, but he did give me a blessing to go across the ocean.

And so I did. 

Looking into the horizon, it soon began to morph into a cityscape, and at the foot of that cityscape, a beach with people bathing, enjoying the heat. I swam faster in anticipation. The depths were varying in degrees. Spots that should have been at least 100 feet, were only 2, and others vice versa. I could not make sense of the discrepancies, but was not scared anymore. Regardless of depth, the other side was visible. There was no longer an "ocean between us"...

I walked onto the beach - literally, another sea of people. Side by side, back to back. A sandy metropolis of chairs, oiled bodies and chatter. The sidewalk seemed so close, the skyscrapers leaning over the people. I walked to the bustling streets, looking for a phone.

I was carrying something, i don't remember what, but it was perishable and needed to be protected from the elements. I asked a street vendor to hold it for me, but refused. After that, it quickly became night so I entered a coffee shop/pastry boutique, white haired ladies buzzed behind the counter. 

I leaned over and spoke in french to a sweet old woman who was also from my city and took pity on my situation, and gladly said she would hold onto my "package" until I came back from my meeting with you. I was releived. 

I walked outside - and it seemed to be a mix of what i imagined LA to be (from what i see on tv LOL) and new york. Metropolitan hustle and bustle. I walked to a pay phone and become despondent that I had forgotten your number at home and began to panic.

Reaching to pick up the telephone book, i saw a photo of you - smiling, and holding your camera, looking up to a tall building. It was on the bottom part of a phone - sometimes a space used for giving useful information on emergency numbers, how to dial international numbers etc. I could not believe it! What were the chances!! I called the operator, explained my situation to her and told her who you were (and that you were on the phone box) and she immediately connected me to you, and as if by magic, you appeared!!

Oh we were so happy to see each-other! We jumped and hugged like two 50's school girls who had just scored tickets to see the Beatles. "we have so much to catch up on - so much to do!!" you said, as you led me by the hand into the heart of the city. I looked behind me and saw the ocean again - both sides of it - the new and old shore, both there, open, waiting for me to return, wishing me well on my new journey...




Oh my dear friend. I know that we have more journeys to take together, so many lessons to learn and teach each other and so many photographs to take.  it's all a beginning, and perhaps is something that will never end. Some people I have met in my life I know I will meet again - soul travelers i call them. Please stay well. I know that life is difficult for you now, filled with melancholy and uncertainty, as is mine too, but as long as we can see both sides of the shore, we know that floating in the middle of the ocean is never a finite thing :-)

every so often...

every so often, i find a site that moves me.
this is one of them...

Your screenplay sucks....

Fucken brilliant...

Free will Indeed...

I love this man. He is not some hokey pokey esoteric star gazer - he's really got some sense about him during a time when many lack any sense at all.




This caught my eye - in the light of the personal, emotional, physical and psychological changes I'm going thorough, many seem to stem from paranoia and letting my monkey mind go, quite literally, ape shit.




Don't ask me about all the hype around 2012. I get the shivers just thinking about it. But this article came at the perfect time.


Thank you Rob. A bright voice in an otherwise cloudily dark world...






Visionaries and prophets expect there to be a huge and sudden shift in the world's story sometime soon. Whether it happens on December 21, 2012 or a later date, a sizable proportion of them even predict that it will be "in the twinkling of an eye" -- a sudden cascade of events that completely changes everything everywhere.

Some paint the scenario in broad, catastrophic strokes, expecting something -- they're not sure what -- that will have the impact of a large meteor strike or nuclear war or pandemic disease. Others harbor a more benign but equally fuzzy expectation, speculating that maybe some higher psychic powers will kick in to the multitudes all at once, or that benevolent extraterrestrials will arrive to solve our energy crisis.

What very few of the prophets do, however, is make a precise prediction about exactly will happen. Their visions contain no assurances, no specifics. And in my view, that's worse than useless. It fills us with a vague buzz of fear or amorphous sense of hope, but offers no concrete directions about what to do to prevent the dreaded thing or help create the hoped-for thing.

And the fact is, as I see it, they can't possibly know what the Big Shift is -- if, that is, a Big Shift is really looming. The very nature of any Big Shift will be so unexpected, so beyond our imaginations, and so utterly alien to what we understand, that we can't possibly delineate its contours in advance.

I'm reminded of Jung's formula, which is that we don't so much solve our problems as we outgrow them. We add capacities and experiences that eventually make us bigger than the problems.

This theory can be applied in reverse: If we have not yet grown wiser than our current predicament, then we can't see what the evolved state is beyond the predicament. Our minds are as-yet incapable of embodying the vision that will catapult us beyond the problem we're stuck in.

When the Big Shift comes, whether or not it comes in the twinkling of an eye, it will be something that no one foresaw, let alone described in detail. It will be beyond our comprehension, unlike anything we could have visualized headed our way. (Thirty years ago, did anyone imagine the Internet or the impact it's having?)

And if that's true, then the inescapable conclusion is: There's no use trying to plan ahead for it. It's counterproductive to hold a particular scenario in our mind as the likely development. And it's downright crazy to harbor a chronic sense of dread about an unknowable, unimaginable series of events.

The best way to prepare for a Big Shift is to cultivate mental and emotional states that ripen us to be ready for anything:

* a commitment to not getting lost inside our own heads;

* a strategy to avoid being enthralled with the hypnotic lure of painful emotions, past events, and worries about the future;

* a trust in empirical evidence over our time-worn beliefs and old habits;

* a talent for turning up our curiosity full blast and tuning in to the raw truth of every moment with our beginner's mind fully engaged;

* and an eagerness to dwell gracefully in the midst of all the interesting questions that tease and teach us.

Everything I just described also happens to be an excellent way to prime yourself for a chronic, low-grade, always-on, simmering-at-low-heat brand of ecstasy -- a state of being more-or-less permanently in the Tao, in the groove, in the zone.