heathervescent

2012 Recap by numbers

I just finished my 2012 goals/practices recap. 2012 was a very ambitious year. I had 77 different goals and practices. 2012 was also the shittiest year of my life so far. I took a huge risk professionally and while I have a list of moderate successes (none included in the numbers below, those were a different set of goals), I endured trauma. One risk was leaving my stable ground of Los Angeles. I leveled up, but I didn't play the game by traditional rules. Adding insult to injury, I endured collateral damage at home. While regaining a small footing, the biggest blow came. It wasn't unexpected, and the timing wasn't the absolute worst; but it's not like I needed another thing to be angry about. Things got bad. Very bad. But then I remembered, I have nothing left to lose. So it's back to being who I am, and creating, living, dreaming and manifesting my life. As soon as I could, I went on the road to see the American Lands. The open road and the long timescale of earth's land masses calms me. Gives me perspective. I'm here in Utah, a tilted prehistoric lake, I am finally ready to put 2012 behind me.

But before I do, let's recap the numbers. I had 77 "goals" and "practices" in my yearly mindmap. Of those:

• 51% were Achieved (27%) or Practiced (24%)
• 16% are In Progress (and with positive upward trajectory)
• 10% were Interrupted
• 17% were Not Achieved 
• 6% were Not Applicable

Removing the interrupted and not applicable items, and considering the In Progress ones as successes, that's an 80% success rate. 80% of 64 items came to positive conclusions.

Not too bad.

Especially considering it being the year it was.

Thank you 2012. You gave me  the opportunity to learn lots of new things. You knocked me down and you landed multiple blows. But, I am stronger and wiser.

Eulogy for Mom

Tomorrow morning, I have to give an eulogy for mom. What the hell do I say? What can I say? Given a choice, I'd rather drink this bottle of Malbec and stress about my lack of funeral clothes. So, here goes, old blog. Let's get to writing. 

Hi everyone. I want to thank you for coming out today to celebrate the life of my mom, Pamela. 

I don't need to tell you what an energetic, thoughtful, friendly, person she was. We all know that from her actions. So I thought I'd share some stories about her. I was reminded of these stories going through her things and coming across some photos of our travels together.

Growing up, it was really cool to be her daughter. I knew it was special, but I didn't realize how special it was until much later, that mom enabled me to experience the world and many different cultures so early in life. My parents often talked about their time in Italy. I always had an awareness of the world that was larger than the small town I grew up in; especially thanks to the Italian Globe Bar in the library. Mom introduced me to many high cultural tastes like sparkling water, which I have come to live off of. Pasta was always spaghetti carbonara (never with red sauce or peas). And desert wasn't worth mentioning unless it was chocolate mousse. With mom, it wasn't the world on a shoestring - it was the glamorous life, even if we were at home. I remember jars of Nutella from Europe in the pantry and once my brother and I woke up to a a live lobster in the crisper! Which we later cooked with great celebration.

When I was 14, mom took me to Egypt. This was a dream trip and I look back on it as one of the highlights of my life. During the two week trip, mom would keep me behaving properly by joking that she might sell me to the many men who attempted to buy me. I understood I was traveling in a more primitive culture so I was never worried, plus there was no way mom could transport 50k camels back to Missouri!

I was an old hat at International First Class travel. While most of my trips were domestic, I would stand in the international terminal in St. Louis and dream of exotic locations. All free thanks to mom's air passes. 

Later, I took a trip Istanbul with mom and my grandmother in the nose of a 747. We flew first class of course. You could still smoke on airplanes back then. A famous pop star sat a few rows ahead of us. I recognized him (he was from Milli Vanilli) and joked to mom about going to talk to him. Mom replied back, seriously, you should interview him for your school newspaper. I shrugged off the idea, saying I'd do it after take off. We had a 6+ hour flight from JFK to Paris, but mom wouldn't let me forget. I rallyed my courage and talked to him. Eventually his manager and me swapped spots and we spent a few hours chatting as we crossed the Atlantic. 

Experiencing these diverse cultures at an early age gave me a larger view of the world. It has made me who I am. I'm thankful for these world experiences. 

I wasn't one of these kids that hid things from their parents. (This was impossible anyway.) It was difficult to surprise her no matter how hard I tried!  However, the reverse was not true. One evening we were sitting on our beds in a shared hotel room. I was playing with my computer, when from mom's side came the sound of America The Beautiful on Harmonica. I stopped everything I was doing as my jaw dropped. I thought, when did mom start playing the Harmonica!!! She still had the ability to surprise me. I thought it was so cool that she played Harmonica. She then told me about her harmonica trio. I was so excited to be surprised by her! I know playing harmonica gave her great joy.

Most of all, mom taught me I could do anything. It wasn't an explicit lesson. I saw mom do all kinds of things, so naturally I went ahead and did them too - and a lot more. I didn't realize not everyone had a mom like her. To this day, I do what I want, I am who I am because I can be and that's because mom always supported me. She never held me back (except for that one time she wouldn't let me go to debate camp). She was my biggest supporter - and while I never did anything for her approval - I didn't have too - knowing she was proud of me in my achievements meant a lot, especially my speaking and career successes.

I remember when mom told me about her cancer. Back in 2009 I asked for a miracle. I wanted her to have a few more years. There were many things she still wanted to accomplish, do, see. Mostly to see Aedyn grow up. I think she used her time well. She wrote a book and became an educational advocate for ovarian cancer. Still, we all wish she was still with us today.

I have more stories of mom, as I'm sure you all do, but I won't keep you here all day. While the physical form we called Pam, or mom is no longer with us, I don't think she's gone. I have a version of her up here - with me at all times. We all do. I know I can always talk to that person. It's a shadow of the real person we knew and will miss. But inside us, she lives on. And for now, that's the best we can ask for.

PDX Closings

It's the hardest part of the marathon. I'm past the mid-point, but do not see the finish line. 

This morning, I am in the center of chaos. A chaos of my making. A pre-requisite of the new order. It's not a choice. The path is often messy. Chaos does not scare me. Nor order. I pull both sets of strings.

Clothes are out of drawers, closets. Surfaces are covered with items to be sorted. To be distributed. A life unraveling. Threads of a story, unwoven, extracted, to be threaded into other stories, lives. Some known, some unknown.

There is no end. There is no beginning. Except there are.  Bookends.

And while all this ending/beginning is occurring in this space, all around me is the world. Cars driving across the bridge. A ship being built. The river keeps flowing. Eating. Sleeping. Breathing. 

It's more chopping wood, carrying water.

A 10 to the 9

I'm at 30k feet. Looking at the window. For some reason, my mood always lifts when I'm in an airplane. It's the traveling I guess. Anyway, I'm starting down at the snow capped Sierras, Tahoe, Mono Lake, then Pyramid. Farther east I know is the playa. Then it's the cascades.

But my mind is elsewhere.

I'm thinking about Saturday. Santacon. I look at the pictures. I see things I missed. I was behind the scenes a lot this year. I feel like I missed out. At least I did the mosh pit. That was a sight, Santa Punk Band, Santa Mosh Pit. And the teenage punk Heather couldn't hold back. I jumped right in. I didn't stop the person lighting fire on the dancefloor. I just thought, damn, we're going to get kicked out.

I take a lot of shit for that event. Fucking anti-authority trolls. It used to irritate me. Now, it's a badge of honor.  They don't get it. I accept them into my integral paradigm. Raging against me as an authority figure is a fucking joke. These are my misfit children. They have to hate me.

Who was it that inspired this in me? Easy answer: Patron Saint Cacophony: Michael Mikel aka Danger Ranger. 

I am one of his 10 to the 9. 

10 to the 9 is a phrase Singularity University uses to talk about impacting 1 billion people. That sounds like a daunting task, but it's not really.You have to impact 10 people, who each impact 10 more people out to 9 exponential powers.

I'm thinking about the many emails I get each year; thinking about the photos (and experiences I personally missed) this year. I'm wondering if the guy sitting next to me was there wearing a Santa suit. Then I wonder if the flight attendant was. I imagine my fear of public speaking melting away as I imagine my audience wearing a variety of Santa suits. I remember my late night conversations in Boardners. The creativity people expressed in their holiday costumes.

And here it is. One of my own 10 to the 9s.

I don't even know who I impersonally impacted. And many don't even know it's me holding this moving temporary autonomous zone for Santa's Cacophony. And that's ok. Because I know by the mere fact of it existing - me helping it exist - the world has changed.

Quiet in the Morning

The sounds of the morning resemble that Pink Floyd song. An English Breakfast or something like that. Loud clicking clock in the kitchen. Sounds of making coffee. Striking the match. Pouring the water. Sitting in my living room, sunlight streaming through the window. Dog silently sleeping. My gaze wanders from spot to spot. Thoughts arise in my mind. Thoughts like ambient melodies. Fading in and then out. I breathe. I drink my coffee. I am relaxed. It's been a long time since I've woken up feeling this way. Feeling my normal usual self. It's all I want to do. To sit in the silence of my room. Morning sunlight. Drinking coffee. All quiet. No desire to put my wants and hopes and dreams on the day. Only to see what may become.