St. Elmo's little something...

many moons ago...

I've always wanted to begin a post that way.
This topic can handle the joshing.
I mean, seriously, I'm not a child anymore.
Still, some experiences remind me of my youth.
Not the the parts that hurt, no, no. I have left most of that behind.
Can't carry it forever.
There just isn't enough luggage, anyway.

I am wrestling with raw ambition.
On Tuesday, I passed my National exam for Massage Therapy, and finished something that I began.

I finished.
It feels like the day I wrapped up the writing of my book, only a little different.
This satisfaction is all sweet.
The finishing of my book...a different happy, a different satisfaction.
A different completion.

On Tuesday, I just knew... a rush of excitement came over me, almost like orgasm, and I swear I couldn't stop the big, Cheshire cat grin from taking possession of my face. I cried happy tears. And, this sexy smile just won't leave.
I'm enjoying it.

I connected, I persisted, I believed, I matured,
I forced the issue. I lit the pilot light on my St. Elmo ambition.
The relief is still spreading through my limbs.

Two nights before taking the test, I took a drive with my daughter up the famous scenic A1A. I chose Linton Blvd. in Boca Raton, as our starting point. We continued through the Island of Palm Beach, ending our ride over the bridge- where the rest of us live, in downtown West Palm Beach.

A song that I haven't heard in years began to play on the radio. I made the hand gesture to my daughter that signifies please don't change the station. The song St. Elmo's Fire played good and true over the sound system. My God, I was a young woman of 15 when this movie was a ridiculous success, despite
being panned by the critics.
It is a cult classic for my generation X.
I listen through to the end
of the song, and found myself caught
inside the swirling emotions of my
vaulting adolescent ambition.

I was going to be the one in my family
to do something great, to make good,
to be a somebody.
I listened to this song everyday- for years.
It was an anthem of escape.
I took it's message of exploding hope-
wrapped around hard work, as my definition of self.

I was a climber, an opportunist,
and very, very talented.
I was also a train wreck waiting to happen.

It doesn't matter why it took me so long to come into my own.
The story is long and tinged with shame, unfairness...life.

Wikipedia defines St. Elmo's fire as:
an electrical weather phenomenon in which luminous plasma is created by a coronal discharge originating from a grounded object in an atmospheric electric field (such as those generated by thunderstorms or thunderstorms created by a volcanic explosion).

St. Elmo's fire is named after St. Erasmus of Formiae (also called St. Elmo), the patron saint of sailors. The phenomenon sometimes appeared on ships at sea during thunderstorms, and was regarded by sailors with superstitious awe, accounting for the name. Alternatively, Peter Gonzalez is said to be the St. Elmo after whom St. Elmo's fire has its name.

After listening, my lovely teenage daughter looked at me and said-dripping with sarcasm "I am just overcome with inspiration"
I roared in laughter. How could I not? She proceeded to find a song "from this century"- as she calls it. I looked over at her. I could see her wonder over me. I knew she could feel me wondering over her. We blissfully ignored the questions that lingered in the space between us. Questions that will be asked and answered, another time.

I pulled into my driveway believing I could pass
the test. Two days later, I did.
Finally coming to a tempered peace with the girl I used to be. The one who knew without a doubt she would make it, make a difference, be a somebody, make good...escape.

I can let it all go now.
What matters now is moving forward,
beginning again, with the pilot light on.
It's never to late. What a amazing revelation.
Kinda like the phenomenon of St. Elmo's fire.
Inspiration, indeed.

-Renee

Needing the basics

I'm not sure what sent me into hiding these last two weeks. Maybe it was "Eight Bells" death...Her loss affected me deeply. But, it could have started, I believe is started, when a friend wrote to me, and in a tirade that left me breathless, accused me of not being a good person.
That's really what it boiled down to, and I was just stunned.
Most of the people who love and respect me, recognize my goodness, and look past my harsher aspects. She apparently could not, and I won't pretend I'm not hurt.


I was trying to move past "all of that pain" when a cyclone hit one of the worlds poorest nations Myanmar (Burma). A nation without a recognized identity, except for the one Senior Gen. Than Shwe, the countries ruthless leader, has created for it- while his ruling Junta Party, brutally abuses the people into a numbed acceptance.

No sooner had I regained some emotional balance- tornadoes began ripping middle America to shreds. An America, that is being bled anemic by the highest profiting oil companies in American history.
Companies, that have close ties to our current President's personal financial security.

Although we are not innocent over here, our economy is coming to a grinding halt. And, even though the evening new spins the propaganda wheel, and tells us that isn't so, I would like a real number of employees who couldn't afford the gas to get to work this week. Or,the true number of Americans who couldn't purchase food, because they needed gas to get to work.
And, our current administration doesn't care, at all.
They tell you this is a mild recession. They tell you to quit your bitch- in....

Well, not to put to fine a point on the worlds mood, two volcanoes are exploding. Kilauea in Hawaii, and the Chaiten, volcano in Chile.

A volcano last erupted around 7,420 B.C., long considered extinct.

Two exploding volcanoes is just a quirk of fate, I thought- uncomfortably.

But, then it happened, a devastating magnitude 8.0 earthquake in China's southeastern Sichuan province. For a second, I felt my heart stop at the news. I felt it just skip one, two beats...
I gave a strong cough and it came back strong, but the ache in my chest just overwhelmed me.

So much sadness, so much pain. The whole world has been beaten into submission and the weight of it all pushed me down. The pain curled me into a heap on my bed, sobbing.

That is what the last two weeks have been like.
Me, filing for bankruptcy and divorce simultaneously, desperately trying to keep my apt. Even more desperate to keep my car.
I honestly know broken.

I know how the wind bends the tree to its uprooting.

I know it like I know breathing. It is the most painful lesson.
I know loss, and the horrible cosmic joke of a forced -do over.
I wrote this tonight to remind everyone, please, love the people in your life.
Love them to life, not to death.
Say goodbye and I love you, every morning, with kisses and hugs.
Say goodnight and I love you, every night, before retiring to bed.
Do it with tenderness.

Kiss your children, mates, lovers, friends, partners.
Offer hugs, and milk, and bread, and shelter.
Offer the sharing of rides to work.
Care, GOD DAMN-IT.
Because that tornado, that volcano, that cyclone/hurricane, that earthquake, that heartless government, our heartless government, is creating the need for all of us, to hold on to each other, and care.

Care about your fellow human beings.
Decide that their life is worth your caring and concern.

That's all I wanted you to know, tonight.

-Renee

The Toll Of Eight Belles

They call it "a breakdown"...I spent the better part of Saturday evening, and most of today trying to come up with a kinder euphemism then -" breakdown". It seems there aren't any other words that can accurately describe what happened at Churchill Downs, during the 134th running of the Kentucky Derby. First, let me say that I do not understand why the owners and trainers of thoroughbred horses run these majestic animals while they are so young. Second, I can't swear to it, but something is dreadfully wrong in this sport that might have something to do with breeding for speed over bone structure, that keeps causing these catastrophic, life ending "injuries".

Third, I am a reluctant fan of the sport. I see the beauty of a horse in full stride, and I cheer with unbridled enthusiasm at the athleticism of this amazing species.
And, make no mistake, these horses are athletes.

But, I believe the world of thoroughbred horse racing is filled with the pampered and selfish.
People, who are used to getting their own way, regardless of what is right or wrong for their horses.

I have to watch from afar. I am not a horse owner or a trainer.
I am not independently wealthy.

Still, I see with a clear vision, the beauty and dark aspects of this sport. Yesterday, once again, I believe we all did. Eight Belles, the proud filly, lost her life running the race of a lifetime.
She ran faster then 18 colts, and fought to catch- up with the lone breakaway clot "Big Brown".
She finished her first Derby in grand style-a very convincing second place finish.
Her handlers, trainer, jockey, and owner, had reason to be proud.
She showed true courage and strength.
She was every bit the champion who proved she had a right to hang with the boy's.

Yes, she finished the race, she placed, and as she galloped out, coming around the backstretch - it happened, the sound heard only by her experienced jockey. He knew what it was, and tried valiantly to pull her up, but she was still running her race, and she wasn't going to stop.
Her legs gave way underneath her, and on her chest she fell, and where she fell is where her life ended. The spark of her magnificent life force left "us" who love horses, stunned.

Was it wrong to run her against the big boy's? Hell no, she out ran 18 of the worlds best. But, in the stands the word's that were uttered were "It's the filly".
Some uttered oh, no, it's Ruffian all over again. And, in a profound way -some eerie similarities.
The great Ruffian also lost her life taking on the worlds best boy of that age.
And, didn't know how to stop running her race.
Her champion breeding driving her through pain. She also ran herself into the ground.

...We all sat still remembering the Preakness of 2 years ago, and the loss of the magnificent colt, Barboro.

-This week another death that begs recognition. A 30 year old- female dolphin, named Sharky died at Discovery Cove lagoon, in Orlando Florida. The cause of her death was a midair collision with another dolphin, while preforming for 32 visitors during a guest interaction program. Sharky had been in captivity for so long her trainers could not remember if she was captivity breed, or caught for the purpose of preforming and research.

In just over two months, 143 wolves have been killed in Alaska's controversial aerial gunning program. Grey wolves, de-listed as an endangered species by the second Bush administration. The special interest groups of the cattle industry claim that they lose to many head of cattle to this predator. Everyone knows that wolves take the sick and the weak. It is their natural way to insure the strongest heads of cattle survive.

Finally, a man, Stephan Miller lost his life attempting to exercise and train a "grizzly bear" known in the movie industry as a "safe and friendly bear".

All of these deaths happened because of mans interaction with animals-
it's a plain and simple truth.
It happens because we place ourselves at the top of God's list. We consider our place to be most important. But, let's humanize for just a second the truth in these deaths.

Above a horse whisperer- when a colt, a filly, a mare, a stallion, a gelding, misbehaves and become a biter or a kicker (usually from being mis-handled) the fastest way to improve their demeanor is to ship them back to their mothers. Thats right, send them home to mom. A mare will absolutely know her own offspring, no matter the age, by smell. And, she will "straighten out her child"- in a big hurry.

Wolves are loyal, intuitive, brave, and fierce mothers. They mate for life.
They love their pups intensely.

Dolphins are known for their intelligence and life long familial bonds. They find each other after storms at sea, by sound. They have a family call. They live in pods of family, that merge with other pods who have extended family members in them. They find each other. That is truly amazing.

Tonight, as I mull over the pain of Eight Belles loss, and begin to resolve my feelings for a horse I never touched, but became bonded to by heartstrings- I try to heal this place in my heart that knows how much damage humans are capable of. Our drive for perfection, our pursuit of happiness at all costs, often has a high price tag. I weep openly at the loss. And, hope that our humanity "collectively" begins to choose a pursuit of happiness that inspires us to learn from these bitter heartbreaking losses. An inspiration that presses us to protect our animal brothers and sisters, instead of using them to their demise, for our personal gain.
I pray that we learn quickly.

Goodnight Sharky. Goodnight Eight Belles.

Goodnight.

-Renee

Let me get this straight...My oh Miley Cyrus

Of all the self absorbed, bone headed, outright unconscionable things to do...

OK first, I am not a fan of the vapid Walt Disney television programing that so many of today's kids and their small minded parents are enamored of. Second, I am a huge fan of Annie Leibovitz. Third, the photographs I'm writing about are not pornographic, not erotic-not even a little. They are art photographs, of a young woman-on the edge of her womanhood. Anyone who looks at these photos and sees something of a sexual nature is a pervert. Provocative photos- yes. Sexual photos-hell no.
These photos are, in fact, beautiful. And, they certainly lend an essence of "human grace" to an otherwise spoiled, self- indulgent, young woman.

Miley should be grateful to Annie Leibovitz, because these pictures will most likely be the most important and inspired record of her youth. Nothing that Miley ever does, will ever feel like the day she stepped out of the lines that have been drawn for her. Nothing.

This is the look Annie captured in her eyes. It is Miley's recognition of infinite possibility.

I would, I think, cut off my left arm for Annie to capture a moment of complete unguarded honesty in my own daughters eyes. Because, like any mother I am fascinated by the young woman I helped bring to this earth. I would love to see just once in my daughters eyes a glimmer of the truth that her life will one day be.
A truth that most parents rarely witness. Really, be honest.

Caught forever on film, is that unguarded honesty in Miley's eyes. It is something that Billy Ray Cyrus (her Father) can't leech, or use, or manipulate.
It is something "Disney" has been unable to control or damage.

But I digress, if your going to be disturbed by "this rant" that I will, in fact, tear the "not so precious" Miley Cyrus a new ass- then stop reading now. Maybe tomorrows blog will be more to your liking. Then again, I am pretty sure I don't care.

How dare she (Miley). And, how dare this ass backwards, stuck in some kind of perverse conservative dark ages- country of ours, attack Annie Leibovitz.

Miley is old enough to discern her own level of maturity, and her own level of comfort.
I did when I was fifteen.
So did all of my friends at the time. We knew our limits. Yes, teenagers can recognize limits.
Miley allowed the photos because she needed to, and reveled in a moment of pure selfish abandon- and theres nothing wrong with the fact that she did it. That is what normal teenagers do. That is what young woman learning about their approaching womanhood do.

But, Disney is a powerful empire. With overlords who saw a "billion dollar brand" loose it squeaky clean image. The spin doctors when to work fast, but Disney executives went for her jugular, and Miley, had a choice to make at fifteen, that will define her career.
Oh and she chose badly.
This young woman has a something (not outright talent) but a something that her father never had. She is not always going to need Disney to cut her checks. She had an opportunity to break free from mediocrity, and from the clutches of a puritanical construct that truly limits her own understanding of self.

Miley's talent level is still in question, but her intelligence should not be.
She is smart enough to know that she capitulated, and did what was easy, instead of what was right. She allowed unfair criticism, possible criminal accusations, and disrespect, to be leveled at one of the premiere art photographers of our modern times- just so she could assuage the guilt of an American institution that does nothing to enlighten American youth.
(She has to be feeling like total shit right about now)
An institution, mind you, that's not even slightly reminiscent of it's brilliant past.

Miley should tell Disney to go to hell. She should take her millions, emancipate herself from her desperate, clinging, has- been father, and apologize to Annie Leibovitz, profusely. I mean it, she should grovel for forgiveness. She should also apologize to the American people-but, not for the pictures.
The apology should be for selling herself out, selling herself short, and for denying Annie Leibovitz the respect her art deserves.

Then we might see a "real manifestation" of the spectacular promise that was revealed in her gaze.

I will wait with hope that she gets her "true mistake", and corrects it quickly.
I really hope, with a wild hope, that Miley takes the bull, she sent running, by the horns and rides it to her true destiny. I hope.
- Renee

Connecting with others- staying present.

Once, not long ago, I was running errands with my husband and daughter. I saw a man who was fairly well dressed, but sitting on the ground, crumpled into himself, like the world-his world had been taken away from him.

The image was so moving that I didn't care if he had done something wrong, or if he deserved this fate. I only cared that he was damaged and shaken, violently, by an un-nameable something. I have seen that look in the mirror before, and only wanted to offer some solace.

I walked to the Dunkin Donuts which was footsteps away and bought him breakfast (it was still morning) A bagel, some cream cheese, a donut, orange juice, and a cup of black coffee--sugar and cream on the side.

I walked over to him and knelt down.

I wasn't afraid of being attacked, he seemed to numbed by something.

I asked him if he was "OK". He said "I've lost everything" I said "I don't know you, or what's happened to you, but I do know that you can think more clearly if you'll have something to eat". "Will you accept this breakfast from me"? He looked at me like I was making fun of him, so I asked him -"please let me help you, I offer no judgment, no matter how much you've lost -you belong to someone. They just want for you to be safe, I'm sure."

He took the breakfast gently and said "thank you". I put five dollars in his hand and told him that "lunch was taken care of too." He said "I don't know what to do..." I said "after breakfast, stand up- and keep standing."

He said "God Bless you"

I told him "that I hoped for God to bless him as well."

I walked away, and didn't look back.

I have wondered over this man, many times. Our brief connection sits with me in the most conscious way. I wonder is he OK-did he make it? I remember "me" during this time in my life; my worries were numerous, my thoughts were scattered, my days were long, and my mind was numb. I was a young mother of a precocious, brilliant child, and I was struggling to stand on my own two feet. I was in fact-learning how to stand.

I believe the reason I still remember this man is because he made me feel human, and needed, and awake. The memory of this stranger is in sharp contrast to the chemically induced fuzziness of my clinical depression.

I believe our connection-me reaching out for him, and he accepting my rescue-it saved us both that day.

Wherever you are today, pay attention. Get in, and stay connected to the present moment. picking through the past, or worrying over the future, robs you of "right now"

Take the time to notice your surroundings. Someone you have never met may be depending on you to notice them.

These are the things that cross my mind sometimes.

Today, for just a second "he" crossed my mind. I smiled, I shook, I stood, I stretched, then stood for a while longer... remarking on the changes in my own life. I am separated from my husband, I went back to school- finished in high style. My daughter is a lovely, occasionally precocious, brilliant, self- contained, young lady. I came out "honest" to friends and family about who I am. I broke the ice-the soul numbing experience of clinical depression, and have been in remission for more then 5 years -there are fantastic odds that I will be able to stay connected.

I know how to stand. I smiled again and threw this prayer out to the universe. "Wherever "he is" let him be standing in love, in joy, in peace.

And with that, I blessed him, letting him go.

There is a great deal of life, in this present moment that has my attention.

I want to give "today" it's due

-Renee