The upheavals and changes on the planet most recently defined by the earthquake in Japan and the shifts in middle east politics left me feeling like I was dying last week.  I couldn’t explain this in any other language.

I was on my knees, it seemed emotionally or spiritually.  I could see that others were also…it seemed like the perfect time to go to my mentor Deena Metzger’s blog and homepage to see if she had some words of wisdom.  She didn’t disappoint.

She had written a letter on her page in a call to action to build sacred communities – that the visions she was receiving from Spirit had suggested, perhaps that the next Buddha indeed would not be an individual but a group of like-minded/hearted folks.

I mentioned the idea of a Sacred Council of women to my friend Paulie and she jumped on the idea, immediately suggesting she could email a group of friends to invite them.  By Saturday’s full moon (not seen in Minneapolis due to weather conditions) we were sitting at The Healing Loft in Minneapolis, calling Spirit and weaving a Story.

We wove a Story of heartbreak, heartache and deep survival.  I witnessed and participated in a transformation so profound, I have no words yet to describe what I felt and saw.

We entered into our Full Moon Goddess archetype and created powerful intention.

We awakened to a new world, one that Deena terms the 5^th World, when we let go of our participation in the old ways, the ways that kept us separate and hurting and embraced instead the idea of Sacred Community.  I fell in love with six other glorious goddesses and embraced a new intention.

I spent the rest of the weekend learning how to officiate curling events.  I can’t see my role in community-building without acknowledging, once again, the awesome lessons that the community of curlers has given me since I started curling in September.

They pulled me from the suffering of rejection and disconnection, and brought me together into wholeness, once again placing me on the path of Sacred Community.  I fell in love with granite rocks and ice and opened my mind to new frontiers.  It’s been an awesome journey and bittersweet now that the curling season is winding down in favor of sun and better weather.

I can sense spring has arrived, as we celebrate Ostara and the Full Moon has lit up our horizons.   The god of time and space has moved the wheel of the year once more.  We are celebrating new births on so many levels both within and without while becoming more than we ever expected.

What is your biggest challenge now to letting go of your participation in the old ways?  How can we follow the No Enemy Way and embrace the concept of All Our Relations.  What do we want to create now that we are thinking so differently?

I am struck, once again by my connection to The Captain.  His presence was felt so strongly at the 10^th Anniversary of Transmission show held at First Avenue on Friday night.  He might as well have been dancing in the room there with me.  I kept searching the crowd for him.

Instead, I embraced the energy of his participating in the re-balancing of Gaia.  I felt the anxiety and deep emotion of the last week melt away into the ground as I danced with people in close proximity sharing love and the love of awesome music.  Men and women just simply enjoying the vibe and I realized that I could recognize so many faces in the crowd from my Twin Cities life…

It was an awesome testament to the sheer audacity of moving here a year ago this week.  Yes, it’s been a whole year — an amazing year.  A year marked with heartache and treachery as well as graceful and amazing community.  I feel embraced by this place.  I feel at home.

The Captain is shifting also – moving, perhaps.  Internally, externally…hard to say.  I can sense the flow changing between us and yet I do not know where it leads, just yet.  Deena Metzger says to embrace not knowing.  I struggle with this concept sometimes.  I struggle with it, in particular when it comes to The Captain.  I don’t want to impose my wanting and yet, I have to acknowledge it exists…

I was dancing with him energetically, could see his face, even on Friday night.  Felt his presence after our Sacred Council and even today.  I just can’t feel his physical presence…

If we are indeed re-balancing the Sacred Masculine/Feminine archetype through our amazing connection, then what is the grand purpose of this separation or feeling separate, physically speaking.  And what is the Sacred Medicine that will bring him home, to rest?

I can see that in not knowing, I will embrace the pathless path…onward.  Another day, another year has begun.

The Beginning

Several Winter Olympics ago, the one held in Turin, Italy I was watching curling on the Olympics.  I had no choice but to watch the Olympics all day because I was laid up with a particularly horrible flu.

That’s when I saw curling for the first time.  I had no idea what I was watching or why the sliding of large granite stones coupled with the frantic sweeping, was so fascinating to me.

Years later, when I began to network with people in Minnesota, I got exposed to curling in a much closer reality – Minnesotans actually have curling clubs!  In addition, some of my Facebook friends were amateur curlers, members of the Saint Paul Curling Club and attending curling tournaments, called Bonspiels on a regular basis.  I moved from distant fascination to a desire to try it out myself someday.

I got my chance when I made the move to Minnesota.  After the glorious summer of 2010, we settled into the beginnings of fall and I Googled the Saint Paul Curling club to see what it would take to join.

This is when the challenges and the learning began – a series of events where I really learned the game of curling had less to do with the obvious physical play and much more to do with something in the higher dimensions – a spiritual and personal quest of sorts that would change and mutate me into an improved consciousness and self-understanding.

What did I learn at the Saint Paul Curling Club?

Manifestation & Acceptance

My first lesson involved manifestation of what I desire.  I checked into the costs associated with the club and realized that I was going to need some financial miracles to pay for the membership and league fees – which were higher than I expected.  Just when I wondered how in the world I’d pay for my desired outcome, a check came in the mail for my birthday that covered the costs.

Nothing truly stands in the way of what is your positive forward momentum.

The second lesson involved the challenge of the illusion of acceptance.  Acceptance is not something outside of ourselves but an internal process of connecting with source energy and perceiving our experience from a position of that connection.

I signed up for a league (which I thought was the right one – the instructions were a little unclear) and proceeded to wait for the date of the first league play, including requesting the night off from a job I had at the time.  When the week arose, I received an email from the league captain stating I hadn’t gotten a spot on the teams for Friday night. What?  What did that mean?  My heart fluttered and a small freak out began.

After a back and forth with this guy and his taciturn emails, I came to understand that the entire club was impacted and there weren’t enough spots for people who were interested.  I called the manager of the club, and he was equally as sardonic – “We can send your money back, “he said matter-of-factly.

I told him I wanted to play not get my money back – what was the deal with this place?  I felt side-lined and rejected.  I thought my goals of being part of the club were being thwarted for reasons I didn’t understand.

Still, upon prompting the manager did suggest that if I just showed up at the club and persevered I would probably get to “sub in” at some point…that is if I wanted to bother.

Perseverance & Friendship

That’s the third lesson of the St Paul Curling Club – after I accepted my fate, and decided the management of the club wasn’t purposefully trying to exclude me from the club, it was time to persevere to my goal of curling.

I started showing up on Wednesday nights, thinking that the Metro and Bonnie (all women) leagues might be a better choice for “subbing in” and good for my schedule.  There was nothing to be done but to show up and hang out, watching the club play.  I did this for weeks…

When the Bonnie’s were done with their play at 9pm, the women would move their way up to the bar/clubroom and begin their social hour.

The fourth lesson was the lesson of true friendship.  It didn’t take long for me to be noticed as the “stranger” in their midst and to be assimilated as a friend, because we know Minnesotans hate to have anyone be a stranger for very long.  It makes them uncomfortable.  The nosy questions began the process of the club members understanding my place and position in the club.

I was Californian, new to curling and in need of some direction.  I received their directions, camaraderie and genuine desire to help me integrate into society.

In addition, I struck up a friendship with the General Manager of the curling club, Dex (Jim Dexter), he himself a venerated curling coach and former player.  Health issues prevented him from playing anymore but he also took me under his wing and proceeded to give me a sense of the lay of the land.

He also enjoyed my massage skills, which we discovered one night when I offered to work my training as a massage therapist on his sore shoulders.  An hour later, I had worked his legs, arms and back while he lay on the couch in the hall, alleviating some of the pain he suffered due to a partial foot amputation.

A month later Sally, one of the Bonnie skips, suggested I play in the upcoming All-American Bonspiel she was chairing.  “It’s a laid back bonspiel just for fun – do it!” she said.

Conquering Fear

The fifth lesson of the SPCC was getting over fear of not being good enough and just getting out there.   I showed up on the date of the All-American bonspiel, borrowed a broom from the SPCC broom closet and joined up with the randomly allocated teammates for a day of play.

Up until this point, I had only taken a couple of the new curler clinics put on by Dex and his team of ace curling instructors.  I would soon get initiated into real life play.

We were going to play three matches of eight ends (the time it takes to throw all the rocks to the other side of the ice).  The first end of course, I nervously slid and fell and my rocks landed not to far away from where they began.  My faithful team members gave me instructions, tweaked my stance and encouraged me without judgment.

I never did make it through the final match of the day –I was stiff and sore by that point – those rocks weigh 40lbs and even though it looks easy to slide yourself and the rock down the ice, it is actually quite an athletic feat!   The skip of the team I was on, also had to leave early and we were running late and would never make it through the entire match anyway.  I went to work that night, the last night I would work at the mall, changed in more ways than one.

Balance

The sixth lesson of the SPCC was the art of balance –not only the tri-pod balance required upon throwing the stone so that you don’t fall on your butt or the balance required when sweeping the stone at a near run so it curls, slows down or speeds up and lands where the skip wants it to, but the balance of the relationship between men and women.

The sport of curling is the only sport on the planet (or so I am told) in which there is no advantage to being a man or a woman.  Yes, there are differences in how men and women play but the best men and women can play equally well together on the ice.

As I started to sub-in more, I was playing with mostly male teammates.  At first, I was slightly intimidated about this as I feared I might have something to prove in that world of male bonding.  My male teammates however proved to be just as accepting and helpful as the women.

They were fun to be around and while I still had a lot to learn about throwing, sliding, sweeping, strategy, reading the skip’s signals, standing up straight and falling with grace…I began to see that, perhaps for the first time in my life, I was on an equal playing field with men.   I liked it.

Snags on the road to Curling Stardom

I hit a snag in December when I noticed that the auto-generated sub requests I would get from the computer database went from 3-5 a week down to well zero.  I had just started a new assignment with my agency as well as begun an involvement with The Healing Loft doing healing work at their Sampler Nights.

I was busy and let the sub request thing slide until I really started wondering what was going on.  Upon checking the database, I found I could no longer find my listing.  When I called the club manager (who I had never met) he suggested that perhaps it was because I hadn’t paid my dues!  Hey, wait a minute…

Restored to the database, we were now in the downtime for the holidays when they do ice maintenance.  I had to realize that maybe my road to curling stardom would be a little more rocky than I had initially imagined.  I learned my seventh lesson – sliding on ice (as well as life) is not as smooth as it appears, be prepared to take the punches and keep on going.

Happy New Year 2011

Back in Minnesota after a short sojourn in sunny Florida, with a slightly bruised curling ego, I made my way back to the club feeling like I was starting over – literally and figuratively.   Whatever technical or physical stuff that had happened between being erased from the member database and being put back on had left the sub requests at a snails pace.  I would have to venture back to the club knowing I’d just be hanging out again and not playing – at least for now.

What was gratifying, was that my friends on the Bonnie’s were overjoyed to see me Wednesday and said they’d been wondering what the hell had happened to me.  We laughed heartily about the mistake that cost me a listing in the now printed edition of the club membership roster.  I guess the eighth lesson was – no ego is involved in being a member of this club…at least not for me.

The Universe is Good Curling!

I still don’t own my own broom or have a pair of curling shoes.  I don’t know if I will get to play again this season or if I will spend the extra cash on league play at the newly opened Biff-Adams rink.  All of this has yet to be determined and there are only a few more months of league play before the club closes for spring.  In the end, the various lessons all lead to one big understanding – the Universe works in mysterious ways.

I feel more Minnesotan now than when I began looking at the club website in August.  I know more about myself and the balance between men and women.  I understand that friendship is not demanded but something you earn through connection and love and time.  We are all one and in curling, we are all amazing, beautiful, athletic human beings who enjoy the company of others.

The final lesson I learned in curling (at least for now) is that curling is a sport of etiquette – shaking hands, admitting mistakes even when it costs you a point, and championing the other team whether you win or lose.  It’s something often missing in other areas of life.  It is competition at its best really and I am a better person for having shown up to the Saint Paul Curling club.

Good curling!

I am reflecting on all 2010 has been.  This time last year, the idea of moving to Minneapolis, Minnesota was a (sort of) tentative idea.  I growing and nagging feeling that my heart and soul was intended to be there but my head was trying to “figure out” logistics.

Should I or Shouldn’t I?  The mantra of my 2009 New Year as  the things that had exploded after October were causing wellsprings of fear and trepidation as to my abilities to really survive.

Moved here I did, however, really coming for good at the beginning of March and surviving ever since.

Maybe there were some downs but mostly there were plenty of ups and I spent the summer attending various music shows, dancing to good music and getting to know the “energies” of the Twin Cities.

I am enjoying every aspect of the weather – even the adventure of getting stuck in one record-breaking blizzard and ice-storm almost back to-back.  All the well-meaning people who worried I’d not survive the Minnesota winter can stop worrying…well at least until January and February (J)

Of all the dreams I had for last year, many of them were tabled in favor of traversing the many retrogrades we had in 2010 – Venus, Chiron, Neptune and our usual friend, Mercury were just a few of the planets that went over old territory last year– nevermind, the numerous and constant Star Gates in which the planet was downloaded with new expansive energies all for our growth and expansion.

I look forward to 2011 because I think many of the dreams I had on the table for 2010 (other than the move itself) will manifest this year.  I can FEEL it…beyond anytime before I feel I am ready to go forth and prosper (to use a Star Trek term).

I think the biggest lesson that was honed in for me in 2010 was to stop seeing things as “bad” or “good.”  I got out of judging my experiences, for the most part, and instead enjoy them in the moment.  Even when things are difficult, I realize that they are in my highest good – I see that they are leading to what I want AND that I am being protected.

I went through many job ups and downs this year but in each one I become more clear about what I wanted.  Also I could see that it wasn’t about ME at all but a much larger and bigger picture.  In the end, I was taken care of financially, could do everything I wanted (within reason) and enjoyed good food, wine, music and friends throughout the year.  I hardly every felt or was deprived even when I was not working!

Last night I was re-watching “The Holiday,” with Jude Law.  It was appropriate because my Money Honey looks just like him in that movie and because a year ago New Year’s we watched his movie in my parent’s house in California.  Now here I was house-sitting in Mineapolis with a white Christmas going on outside.

If you have read my Facebook status messages, you know I write “short short stories” about a character I call “The Captain.”  This is the name I give to my Twinflame/soulmate energy I work with in a conscious evolution prior to our physical relationship manifesting.  I have already met several people working in this manner in the metaphysical community.  As we leave 3D reality and enter fully into 5D (dimensional) reality – the concept of creating in Spirit before the physical will become more commonplace.  For now I realize reading these stories is a challenge to many and that’s what I hope to do with writing them – bridge the gap between one way of thinking and behaving into a new way.

If you are lost or challenged by new concepts coming to you, while your friends are more relative to the physical, you will appreciate that you are not the only one going through this!

At any rate, just realize that all things, including our relationships are created in the non-physical realms first…and those that are willing can work consciously on creating the relationship of their dreams SPIRITUALLY first, including maybe even knowing WHO it is before it is a relationship you can both BE in…

I know this will come across as challenging to understand if you have not considered this before.  This is not the same as controlling or doing spells on someone to get what your EGO wants…it is working with energy in the form of LOVE, to grow yourself into alignment with the relationship which is part of your soul contract work on the planet.

I will write more about this in 2011.  In the meantime, enjoy your holiday and really and truly embrace the LOVE  in your heart and soul!

I attended the Roy Ayers concert at the Dakota Jazz Club in Minneapolis on July 28th.  The show was breathtaking and fun and Roy is a showman of some ability.  I think the crowd appreciated his performance.  I sometimes find myself inspired to write while at shows.   Here’s the product from last night’s show.

Umbrellas

I

Love like umbrellas
Sliding in a drink
Little fingers
Coy glances

Dirty touches
Feathering my skin
Screaming ecstasy
Electric lights

Warm glow
Over a glass –
Syrah

II

Embroiled steaks
Medium Rare
Beauty like a
Red wine

Bloody sacrifice
Darker, stronger
Scanty meetings
Meaningless misunderstandings

III

White shorts
Blue striped shirt
Man from the sea
Salty

Like waves of ocean water
Sort of boaty
Escaping tall buildings
Single look over shoulder

Tawny bricks
Dakota neon sign
Escalating rhythms
Lifting me to the sun

IV

Seeking a soul
Pretending
Not looking

Third eye, perhaps?
Wisdom
Pasadena sunshine

Power of the mind
Creating
Exploding

Universe within a universe
You know
Believe

V

Jazzy sax
Up down
Thingy

Movement
Syncopation
Heartbeats

Unknown curves
Footballs
Quarterbacks

Allowing
Love
Playing a note

July 29, 2010

A friend told me today that she was working on seeing people in a completely new way…as complete with their highs and lows, quirks and annoying habits as well as all their positives.  What a thought pattern change.  The shift enabled the other person to come more fully into their complete selves rather than act out roles or projections of others and some mutually satisfying results ensued.

What would life be like if we just became more open to the possibilities instead of living in limitations and skewed viewpoints of how things “should be.”  Maybe your friends or relatives don’t always act with the best intentions but who cares?  Neither do you.  Life is not black or white.

You’d be much better off if you can see what your friends are mirroring for you.  If there’s something you don’t like or that annoys you – what about that behavior is speaking to a part of you that isn’t being seen or recognized?  Guess what – it’s never about the other person…

Moving to Minneapolis has been challenging for me, to say the least.  Not everything has worked out perfectly, and some things like having my ring stolen from my hotel room, were downright violating.  I could have used that as a sign that things just weren’t meant to be, packed up my stuff and gone back to my comfort zone.

Except if I remember how boring my comfort zone had become before I chose to come to Minneapolis on this adventure, I might think again.

Friday I went to the Eitel building on Willow for L’Etoile Magazine’s Imagination Mechanism event.  I ate dinner at the Loring Park Kitchen dusted off with one of their yummy pomegranate martinis.  A girl could get used to this life.  The wait staff was really friendly and made me want to stick around for more but I had business to attend to up on the rooftop next door.

I can picture it now – cool apartment in the Eitel building and dinners/martinis at Loring Park Kitchen.  No one has accused me of dreaming too small.

All the fashion peeps from the Voltage show were there including Emma Berg wearing something ostentatiously frilly and fantastic from her collection with blue shoes (ok, I am sure there is a much more specific color to insert here such as teal?).  There were others with carefully selected vintage and still others with fur and fun baubles.  It’s all good at an L’Etoile party, I can see that now.

Still more fun ensued as we watched first hand the makings of the photo shoot L’Etoile has posted to their blog now (see link on the sidebar of this one) and our inner artist children all had way too much fun cutting and pasting magazines, creating our own fashion shoot layout storyboards.  Woo hoo!

Saturday was raining here in Minneapolis on and off.  I took Death Trap Suzie – the shared apartment bicycle – out to the lakes for a bit of toodling around the local bike trails and waterways.  I found it extremely uplifting and relaxing to eat my tuna fish sandwich, carrots and Doritos by the lake side while watching someone else fish.

The homes around the lakes made me consider living there too, someday.  I could totally see myself with an in home music studio for singer-songwriter parties, fashionable BBQs held in the outdoor kitchen and as my friend Luke said, once a month metal jams so as not to leave out any of the local metalheads.

(Insert pic of new home construction here)  – when it’s all ready to go I’ll invite you over for a soiree.

Saturday night I bussed it down to Washington. The bus driver went right past my stop, causing me to have to walk down Hennepin even longer than originally expected, and all the way down Washington to Club Jager (in heels!).  Please don’t try this sort of foolishness, especially when it begins to drizzle.  I grew up in England so a spot of rain doesn’t bother me as much as it might you.

People were already busting a move on the dance floor with Attitude City minus Karl and substituted handily with Ben Hribar.  I was accused of being the DJs girlfriend (yes, I answered, I’m girlfriend to both — best they don’t realize they made a polygamous commitment without knowing it), had my foot stomped on and my teeth almost knocked out (by the couple who was swing dancing into everyone) and given hugs by complete strangers.   How much more fun, exactly could a girl have and still be wearing clothes?

Circling back to openness… I know I’d like to get it all done, and all done now.  No doubt if I were to practice a bit more with my magic wand, I might just be able to do it.  Still, I only just saw Minneapolis for the first time last July and here I am sitting in the uptown Dunn Bros writing blogs.  What can I say?  I’m an over-achiever.  Come on, you know you are too sometimes!?

While you most certainly can’t do everything – there are so many things you can do.  While there are people you might not impress no matter how awesome your dance moves, your skill at writing or how electric your smile is, there are so many who will enjoy what you do and open their hearts, minds and souls to the gifts you bring forward.

No matter what people seem to be “doing” or “not doing” around me there is a place in the cosmic web for what I do.  Maybe I don’t always like what’s in the now but I realize there’s a complexity there, a Story where I am not always reading all the words, but could be.

I don’t give up too easily.  I just keep showing up knowing that with my open heart and the awesome love I have for the world filled with music, I just might win the hearts of even the most stubborn of you!  And if I don’t — I am having a damn good time without you.

I’ve been in Minneapolis/ St. Paul since March 1^st.  I came to see if I could move my project of relocating along on its stalwart path.  The first week, I signed up with my agencies in downtown Minneapolis and looked forward to the process of them working on my behalf to find me somewhere to set my hat.

I have been staying in Osseo this time.  Osseo is an outer suburb of the Twin Cities – a small town with old world character.  The downtown was redeveloped with sidewalks but the shops are not as inviting as one would hope – still there are some highlights.

I went to Duffy’s Bar and Grill in downtown Osseo, Monday.  A long bar with food and good cheer, you know instantly you aren’t in a big city.

The ladies with the Minnesota pull tabs sit behind their neon signs and stare outward waiting for the few patrons who wish to spend their time nursing a beer and pulling the tabs to see if they have won the big prize.

I can just see the hoping and wishing that leads to someone spending hard earned money on paper tabs in the bar, maybe imagining how their lives will be different if all goes well for them – this time.

I met Jazzy J, the owner of Twin Cities Radio www.twincitiesradio.net and a local music man on the night of my arrival.  He invited me to the Whiskey Junction on Cedar in Minneapolis for one of his live broadcast shows.

While the show was sparsely attended, it seems the music had purpose and muscle, especially one of the later bands to perform called “The Notties,” whose heavy rock licks were tight and too the point.  We all enjoyed them immensely and I hope to catch them again as I get to know the local scene.

I hit the ground running with my Akashic Record reading and clearings too – Pat, Jessi’s Mom had found me two clients who’d been waiting since the last time I was in town for their readings.  Then we had some work to do restoring spirit guides who were inadvertently cleared during a healing (not mine, someone else’s) and a few other readings and clearings followed.

I met new healers at the Restore Expo at The Depot in downtown Minneapolis Sunday March 7th and got some healing done on me too that day, which was particularly powerful.  I’m looking forward to continuing to try new healing modalties as well as forge ahead with additional rolfing sessions – I had session one before I left home for MSP and it really helped my chronic shoulder pain.

Jazzy and I plan another evening Thursday March 11^th – music, burgers and a long night of talking perhaps?  Jazzy is eager to help me find my footing here in the creative scene and what a scene it is…no end of music, art, mayhem.  I love it.

Jessi and I still have a little work to do on my site to get it humming and working for the end of the month when we will be vendors at The MN Shadows Faire in St. Paul.  The fair will be located at the historic Mounds Theater there and I will be signing books and conducting reduced cost readings for the people attending the event.

If you are in the St. Paul area, you should most definitely come between the hours of 12pm and 6pm March 27/28^th – check out my book, say hello and get a reading from me if you haven’t gotten one already.

I volunteered at the Dance Your Heart Out fundraiser held at the Mall of America on Saturday March 6^th.  I spent the whole day there, helping with the people coming on and off the stage, monitoring the timing of the events and schlepping performers from the Blue Room staging grounds to the rotunda where they were to perform.

The event raised awareness and funding for children and families dealing with HIV/ AIDS and for One Heartland, a children’s summer camp program.

I got to meet all kinds of interesting folks including Jonathan Bennett who MC’d most of the day as well as a host of local and national dance troupes.  I enjoyed being involved and hope to do it again next year.

If you want to check into this yourself and make a donation you still can – the website is www.danceyourheartout.org and the dancer that I was supporting was Kari Dornfeld.

The move to the Midwest continues to take shape.  I can’t believe I have come so far since that initial visit in July of last year.  I wasn’t expecting to enjoy the Twin Cities so much that I actually took action to move here – but moving here I am.

It’s amazing how things fall into place when they are meant to be.  Despite the ups and downs and tribulations I wrote about in my blogs on “Starving Artist Syndrome,” the lessons I learned and the shifts I made have enabled me to see money in a completely different light.

It’s not impossible to move your mind into a place of flow and abundance and do it in such a way that it changes the way you feel about everything.  If you are still struggling to really manifest your dreams and desires, there are plenty of resources.

I will continue to write about my own journey in the creative arts. I will add resources and support to this site as it builds and grows and eventually we hope to have a physical center where you can get the healing and support you need to achieve your dreams.  One day and one step at a time.  We grow together.

Another trip to Minneapolis, come and gone.  I fly back to SFO on Sunday November 8^th.

I think of what it took to come here – weeks of preparation, organization and personal reflection – often leading to confronting the fear of ‘how’?  I left the safety of my regular paycheck for an unknown factor.  I swam in the dark pool of the emotional wonderment of independence and self-reliance.

You can read back through my blogs from the July trip in which I came sight unseen to attend my friend Jeff Dubois’s DJ event on a yacht cruising down the Mississippi.  Little did I know that was just the beginning of a journey into uncharted territory.

Many explorers have rafted and boated down the Mississippi.  Mark Twain wrote about it in his novels and seminal autobiographical story, “The River.”  Women explorers, though have been few and far between.  Heck, not in the too far distant past, a woman traveling alone without accompaniment was considered fair game.  A woman, if single, would surely have a sponsor or a companion.

I couched surfed this week on Mara’s inviting white couch.  We delved deeper into the meaning of female friendship.  I ventured out with my yacht friends – Kari, Kevin, and Candace – who I also wrote about last time.  We assuaged our long-standing dream of the bottomless glass of wine, offered in Minneapolis at several bars in town.  The mystery was entered into and soon dispelled.  Some dreams just aren’t what they seem when you imagine them.

Captain Jeff was flying around Europe and Canada and hadn’t seen his home in weeks.  Here I was, having lived vicariously through his posts and gigs and status messages, partaking longer in the energy of Minneapolis – Saint Paul than he himself did this whole month.  A curious thing really.

I found my way from one end of town to the next either with the help of a friend, or the Metro Transit.  I came with a backpack full of luck and I leave with a collection of dog-eared bus schedules, and the names of a few healers and music people I didn’t know before I got here.

I am more grounded in the reality.  Gone are the euphoric tendencies to see this place as some Mecca of perfection.  Still, I have never let go of the fact that it feels like home here – no matter that I have yet to experience the dead cold of winter.

All the friends I have met and are yet to meet – the perfect combination of security and untapped potential – lie like a sleeping cat here in the Twin Cities.  It is known as Paganstan and a river town.  It has many facets and layers as yet unexplored.  I long to know them, like I know my own soul.

Not everything I thought might happen did, and many things I never dreamed of materialized unexpectedly right before my eyes.  I was wondering when I arrived if I was going to stay permanently but it seems there are just a few more important things to put into place before such a move can take place.

Music, art, creativity and healing are all possible here.  Love is possible here.  The hearts open like flowers waiting for pollination from something unknown.  There is a need to have answers and direction as The Shift happens.  Not the shift portrayed in Hollywood style of the end of the world but the personal and heartfelt shift of souls awakening to their true potential.

The next step is to complete publication of my book, a collection of shorts stories and poetry and then set-up book readings.  Some preliminary steps have been taken in this regard, and January looks inviting for another trip.

My reader said to me she saw it happening sooner.  Maybe some events as yet unseen will propel me back here before January. I do not know.  I do know that many people limit themselves with boundary conditions of distance, fear of the unknown, lack of money or resources, and maybe even an idea that they will never be that person imagined by others expectations.

Friends who say, “I am this way.  I will never change…” These beautiful people have built a wall to limit themselves, fearing pain or hurt or something unnamed.

Granted, I felt that way before I leaped into the void.  I almost talked myself out of coming to Minneapolis at all.  But I have chosen to live by the quiet voice of Spirit, and Spirit spoke so loud in my ear the trip became unavoidable.

And here I am, a week and a half after not KNOWING and I know something I didn’t before.  There will always be the one choice – to follow my heart not my limits – and this fact makes EVERYTHING possible on this planet.

I hope the same for you too. What’s the boundary condition you hold that limits you and which today you can move toward releasing into the wind so you can be more fully alive?

I call a taxi at 7pm Saturday July 25th to take me to Stinson Blvd, which is somewhere in Minneapolis.  I’m still tired from the yacht party.  All I know about the art show at First Amendment Arts is that Attitude City is playing, it looked interesting on the Facebook invite and I need something to do to close out my first Minneapolis experience.

Mara has been moving all day.  I don’t expect to hear from her.  I uploaded pictures from the yacht and also from my walk.  I realize how great it has been to have my borrowed laptop with me and the high speed Internet provided by Marriott.

The taxi driver whose name is Scott is talkative.  He’s asking me where I am going and wondering what’s going on that takes me to Stinson Blvd.  He tells me there are fireworks on tonight because of a celebration that I was not aware of taking place in Minneapolis.  He also thinks I really should be going to some of the major museums in town if I like art.

I am sure those art galleries are great but I have an agenda.  I am here for a short time and I am here to connect with artists.  We arrive shortly at a non-descript, almost dilapidated building – a warehouse in a business district full of old factories and office buildings.  There are no signs outside indicating I am in the right place.

Scott is trying to talk me out of staying.  He thinks I must be mistaken.  I am a tourist and got taken in by some hoodlums who said there was an art gallery on Stinson.  We circle around back and the loading docks are empty and ominous.  Even I am beginning to doubt myself.  Still, I persevere.

Scott is so worried that he won’t let me go up to the building myself and insists on walking with me to the stairs leading into the building.  At the top, I am able to see the Burlesque Design logo on the list of inhabitants and I finally know I am in the right place for sure.  I pay Scott and he gives me his phone number because he doesn’t think I will be in there very long.

As I walk back in the building, I meet a happy looking couple who are clearly headed in the same direction as I.  Finally – I am not alone.  I’ll call them Mr. & Mrs Art.  Mrs. Art immediately wants to make a friend out of me and tells me her husband has been to see Mike Cina before but that it’s a first time for her.  We weave around and down some stairs.  There’s not much to indicate we’re going in the right direction – the walls are plain and there are various things stored here and there and no signs.  Mr. Art though knows where he is going so we follow dutifully.

We realize we went the wrong way when we come up against a barricade placed in the hallway to stop people from wondering around.  We climb around it and we’re upon the door to the studio.  I am already thinking to myself – would this work for my Sacred Rose Center?  Hmm….

Mr. and Mrs. Art are the kind of people you want to tour art galleries with.  They have interesting things to say and make friends easily.  Mr. Art and I attempt to interpret the wall map.  Mike’s work hangs all over the main wall – most of it is smaller than 8-1/2×11 paper so the map shows blocks and numbers with a pricelist.  We soon realize we like all the most expensive pieces.  Mr. Art is my kind of guy.

Mrs. Art finds a small piece she loves, removes it from the wall and brings out the checkbook.  These guys are serious and mean business.  I want to go over to their house, share a glass of wine and talk art all night.

About an hour in, I decide to head back out and call Scott.  Attitude City must have over-slept or something, there’s no sign of them.  I call Scott – he tells me to hang tight for fifteen.

Soon after I hang up with Scott, Mara calls.  She must be on the psychic airwaves again – we’ve already decided we are the same person, different bodies.  She wants to know what I am doing and if I need a ride somewhere.  She agrees to come on over.  I call Scott and cancel.

In the meantime, a man, who was working the art show, comes up from the basement studio for a phone call.  I ask him how he’s involved with the studio and he introduces himself as Ben,  one of the artists associated with Burlesque Design.

We’re chatting about the art scene in Minneapolis and my visit when who should arrive but King Attitude himself Jeff Dubois sporting a ‘just woke up from bed’ do.  We do some sort of French hug thing and he jets off downstairs.  I feel like I should break out in a song from Grease.

Jeff: Summer lovin’ had me a blast

Gina: Summer lovin’ happened so fast…met a boy cute as could be

Ben:  Wella wella wella ooh tell me more, tell me more – does he have a car?

*cough cough ahem*

Back downstairs…sans the soundtrack.   I point a few of the cool, small pieces out to Jeff – the ones Mr. Art and I talked about before and he tells me Mike does this to alleviate frustration.  Looking around I realize my frustration alleviation doesn’t lead to fine art.  Much later though, I notice Jeff eyeing the framed ones with the special names like “Carmel Ocean” and “Wine and Roses.”  We won’t go into the price tags on those pieces…let’s just say Mr. Art, Jeff & I have much in common.

I listen to Jeff & Karl do their thing – this time in the down tempo beat mode rather than the disco frenzy of the night before.  I am “catatonic.”  So is Jeff, I think but I realize how small a scene this is – people who were on the yacht last night are now showing up in droves to see Mike’s art.

I sit on my throne – the stage and chat with people as they speculate.   I chat with Mike Cina and introduce myself.  He also believes in getting people past their blocks and working at their gifts and talents.  He obviously enjoys his work, his life, the friends who have come to support his art opening.

They are taking silly pictures of someone’s chest in the middle of the room.  Jeff finishes and runs off – like Cinderella at midnight.  Wait it is 10:30 but feels like midnight!  And Jeff does have quite a car – I see him speeding off down Stinson like James Bond.  The wind picks up my hair and I am left in the silhouette of the lone streetlamp.

Mara is running late from her family events.  Mike leaves with Ben and worries about me standing around.  I might be lost or asleep…not sure.  I wave them off. My adventure just doesn’t seem to end.  Mara comes, finally and we grab a quick bite at McDonalds.

I sleep – deeply.  Leaving home won’t be as easy as coming to find it…

 www.burlesquedesign.com

www.firstamendmentarts.com

Saturday, 3am in Minneapolis – I can’t sleep.

Before I returned to the hotel — Candy, Kari, Kevin and I watched Karl and Jeff lug equipment in and out of the boat. Jeff changed his mind umpteen times about whether he wanted Kevin’s help with the equipment – everyone was tired…

We sat around the dock area and smoked cigarettes – by the way I don’t smoke EVER. But when you are living in the now, things happen which propel you to do things you don’t normally do. Whatever. I shared one with Kari. It was good.

We watched Karl try to find places to drop the cinder blocks he used for the equipment on the boat. Apparently — according to the locals – it is a yearly purchase and a yearly problem of disposal after the show.  There must be a depository for cinder blocks – a recycling center, school or something. An alternative plan, a more permanent solution.  I made a mental note that next year I’d think of something. Hey, this is just how my mind thinks – even at 2am!

Anyway – Jeff thought he’d be up for some sort of after thing – I think he was running on adrenaline at that point. Herculean thoughts of a long night leading into more fun. We were all fading – fast. I am certain when he got home he fell straight to sleep and none of us ever heard from him – surprise, surprise.

I got back to the hotel. Tried to sleep…tossed and turned. Got up a lot and was way over-energized. The night turned to day outside. At 6am or so I texted Jeff something stupid – once that was off my chest, I slept like a baby. No, not kidding.

I got coffee and eggs at 11:30am around the corner at Moose & Sadie’s coffeeshop. They were the best scrambled eggs with spinach on top I had ever tasted. Light, fluffy and with that lovely green taste of the spinach to compliment the epicurean delight. I ate the whole darn thing and washed it down with strong coffee.

I took my camera and my flip flops – now a running joke – and started hoofing it down North 2nd St. The flip flops are a joke because someone had posted something on Facebook about yacht attire being sweats and flip-flops. Jeff took umbrage with this idea and said they only belong on a beach. Unfortunately for Jeff, no one listened and there were many people with flip flops on the yacht.

Had no idea where I was headed – somewhere toward the river. I wanted to see if I could find Boom Island Park in the daytime. I was walking down the back of this industrial park with old factories and the Star Tribune building. Mara said it was a bad neighborhood – more like old.

I ended up taking a right at a major intersection only to discover I’d somehow overshot the correct road. Nevertheless, I did end up at the river and there was a festival going on. People practicing capoeria and Jamaican steel drums complimented the smell of barbeque wafting from the tents above the path.

My thoughts are not entirely coalesced. I am tired. Spacey. I’ve been walking around in a daze since Thursday when I took the red-eye into Minneapolis from SFO.

This all for the Attitude City yacht party  (Held July 24th, 2009) – a yearly event put on by Minneapolis based DJs Jeff Dubois and Karl Frankowski.

Mara met me at the airport at 6am. The flight went quickly but at the expense of my shoulders, neck and back. We were squished in like sardines. I also had the aisle and periodically got jostled by carts and people. The flight was uncomfortable and the sleep something more akin to a lucid dream in which I seemed to find myself on the yacht talking to Jeff about life.

I’ve never been to Minneapolis – although certain dreams I’ve had prior to arriving coupled with some psychic readings I’ve had suggested there may be a past life connection here for me.

Mara took me around the Twin Cities showing me various sites and local flavors. The famous Mall of America – the gigantic mall with an amusement part in the middle. Mara said that if you spent three minutes in each store it would take you 16 hours to go through the entire mall. Insanity.

She drove me into Minneapolis and back out again into St. Paul – they are a further distance than one would guess considering the “Twin Cities” moniker.

Somewhere in the seething metropolis of Minneapolis-St. Paul was Jeff. No, actually he was on a business trip, and according to his Facebook getting up to no good at the same time.  Was he even going to make it back for this yacht party?

Thursday night was spent at The Bootlegger drinking “Drifter” and some unidentifiable shot that someone bought. I was invited (I suppose) by a group to hop on the dance floor and before I knew it, I was walking back to the hotel at 2am. I ran into several groups of happy drunks along the way.

Early Friday afternoon, after a leisurely morning spent waking up, I walked to St. Mary’s Basilica – it’s massive. It’s also, as I find out, the church I have dreamt about at least three times in the last few months.

I light a candle for Matthew Hansen’s grandfather (Matt is a local SF musician & friend) and sit in the awesome energy of the cathedral ceiling drinking in spiritual energy. The word that came to my mind as I walked around was marriage – and I felt like I had either been married in this church in the past life or somehow officiated them there.

Mara had said that Minneapolis has two seasons – it is either winter or in construction. The Google maps were useless because roads were torn up or sidewalks dismantled. I find, however, that I have a natural sense of direction around town. I feel at home here. It’s strange and uncanny all at the same time.

Friday night came quickly. I got dolled up in yacht attire – although as it turned out people dress in a range from the sublime to the ridiculous at Jeff & Karl’s parties – all manner of artistic and fashionista. Attitude City has a somewhat cult like following of authentic discophiles who speak lovingly of Jeff and Karl’s beats. They are eccentric in all ways. Not run of the mill, not like anything I encounter at home in our clubs.  Something unique and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I head over to the North East Yacht Club around 7pm via taxi, only to discover that the yacht club is a misnomer applied to a rather seedy dive bar. The local brethren are as salty and humorous as they come. I end up playing up my obvious distinction as being the most overly dressed person in the place (shorts and t-shirts are the dress of choice) by cuddling up with one of the locals and getting a kiss on the cheek.

Much later, I see other yacht folks showing up – I can tell because they don’t quite fit in the place – read: over dressed. The one thing I have learned about Midwesterners is that they really don’t like it when they think you are:

1. 1.  Alone
   2. A stranger.

Both together are even more unnerving and they work up the nerve to strike up a conversation so they can end all of those problems in one swoop. Before you know it you have new friends – most likely for life.

By 8:30, we amble the two blocks back to the Boom Island boat launch. There is a certain amount of nervous anticipation about this event. After all I’d not actually told my friend Jeff I was coming.  My plans sort of pulled together at the last minute.  In addition, through some crazy set of circumstances I won’t go into here, I had a ticket under someone else’s name.

In the end, however, the right set of circumstances prevailed over the almost comical series of events I had gone through to get here.

All the characters collected onto the boat, drinks were purchased and we set out to navigate the murky waters of the Mississippi during our night of revelry — jostling for space at the bar, enjoying the scenery, making new friends, waving at groups of bonfire party-goers on the riverside and most importantly – dancing — A LOT