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petak, 28.10.2011.

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How To Clean A Wedding Dress At Home





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2.


Suzanne and I left Berkeley sometime late in the afternoon. We took the long way towards Los Angeles by driving through Livermore and Tracy before going south. It was a long drive but since my license was still suspended, I wasn't able to help relieve her.

The drive to Los Angeles is visually, an uneventful drive. Looking out the window, there is row after row of empty yellow field, broken up with lush patches of green that uniform in size and shape. Depending on the season, some are for grapes, some are for lettuce or alfalfa, or oranges. Since this the beginning of September and the weather was still reasonably warm, they were mostly oranges.

We didn't talk much. We were inseparable for few days. If it was not just Suzanne and I, then it was Suzanne and I and our friends. Maybe we had talked ourselves out and during the long empty drive, we realized how empty our whirlwind connection really was.

"Let's play a game," she said.
"Sure, what kind of game?"
"Let's count miles. For every sixty miles or so that we drive, we'll stop and take pictures."
"So we'll stop and take pictures every hour. That's a bit much."
"Ok. How about for every two hours? And every time I have to stop and get gas."
"Alright."

My camera was underneath the passenger seat but we didn't really take any pictures or follow through with the game, even when we stopped to get gas. At one station, she went in to get some red vines and chips while I watched the gas pump for her. I took a picture of it. It was a terrible picture of just gas meter along with the rubber hoses that came out of it. Suzanne also bought a newspaper and we got back into the car and continued driving.

"I'm starting to feel tired."
"Did you get any coffee?"
"No, I forgot. But I got candy."
"Eat some more then."
"I've had enough. I'm going to get fat."
"Okay," I said. I was flipping through the newspaper. It was a copy of the New York Times. It was the first New York Times I ever held in my hand.
"Are they talking about Desperate Housewives?" she said.
"Yeah. How do you know?"
"I saw the picture of Susan and she's wearing a wedding dress."
"Yes she is."
"I guess you don't watch it."
"I've seen a few episodes. But only because I love Teri Hatcher. I told you remember, I've loved her since Lois and Clark."
"You should watch it. The season finale is tonight. I can't wait."
"What time does it come on?"
"Around nine. Oh god. I hope we make it on time. I think we're fine though."
"Well, we should get to LA around seven."
"Yeah. But there's crazy traffic. You might know. But this is LA"

"Hey. You know what you can do, you can read the newspaper for me," she said.
"Sure."
So I read the newspaper for the next few hours. We went from the front of the front page to the classifieds. I read to her stories about the stock market, about abortion, about the literacy rate of American students compared to students from other countries, about the New York Giants, about Susan and the grand finale of "Desperate Housewives", about some celebrity marriage, about civil war in Africa, the war in Iraq, and about the bans on tuna fishing and how sushi prices will go up as a result, just among many other things. And in the meantime, we passed by small cities such as Los Banos, Coalinga, Huron, Avenal, Lost Hills, Buttonwillow, Bakersfield, that you would forget about as you on they came and went on the road until we finally at the foothills of the San Bernadino Mountains.

Almost at least, we stopped for lunch at a Jack In The Box.

"You don't eat much do you?" she said.
"No. Not really. I guess not when I'm around people."
I had bought a Jumbo Jack value meal with criss-cross fries but most of it was untouched.
"You don't have to be shy or anything."
"I know. I just don't feel like eating too much right now I guess."
"Are you nervous?"
"Why should I be?"
"I don't know. You're running away with a girl who has a boyfriend."
"I'm going with the flow, like you always say, for a change. Do you think I'm living life?"
"I don't know. Do you think you are?"
"I'll finish this Jumbo Jack and let you know I guess."

I felt tired and wanted to nap. But thought it would be unfair for me to sleep while Suzanne continued driving. She brought our her Jay Zhou cd's and she told me she much she loved him and how talented she thought he was. "But his rapping sucks," I said, "Sorry."
"It's ok. I guess it's not for everyone."
"But I have nothing against his ballet, I actually listen to them a lot."
I started to swing a few lines of Mandarin that I had memorized the sound of, because I didn't speak it.
"That's











Being Held




Being Held





Luna

Well, here I am on the last day to turn in my altar. Of course doing the altar was no problem for me. I had it done weeks ago. It’s just writing the story that is the hard part for me. Going back and revisiting all that happened surrounding one little altar. How tough could that be? For me, crazy!!!

My journey started on a Thursday afternoon. I went for a hike at Mt. Tabor to open my mind, my soul, and my creativity. A hike to explore my altar building process. While there I realized what my biggest fear was, or at least one of them. The one that I was dealing with in the present. Drum roll please……….The Fear of Being Held. If I need to be held, then how will I hold up the world. And, if I’m not holding up the world, then won’t it all come crashing down and leave me completely alone. And, if I’m being held, doesn’t that mean that I need someone. That I need someone to take care of me. That I can’t do it all by myself.
As this all came to my head in the woods, I looked down and saw a snake. Just still, in the trail. I bent down. It didn’t move. So, I picked it up and held it. It wiggled around. It stayed on me while I rubbed it, looked at how beautiful it was, and talked to it. It was so amazing. My dog, Murphy came up to sniff it and it got scared so, I put it down.

The next day, was time to build the altar. I started by doing something completely different and it didn’t have my heart in it. There was a little voice inside my head that kept saying, “build a nest”. So, that is what I made. I cute little nest made out of vines to be held by the universe in. I put the nest on a piece of cloth and put a picture of my mom holding me on top. I knew there was something that needed to go in the nest, but I wasn’t sure what that was. However, I knew that it would come and find me. And, it did. It was a butterfly that was at my wedding ceremony. It’s life ended that day, but it holds so many of my transformational memories. So, there it was, my altar was complete and beautiful. I thought that was the end. Oh no, not for me.

My friend, Nina and I had plans to go out that night to watch our friend play in a band. The bar he was playing at was called The Nest. However, that nest was very toxic, not much being held there, but a lot of holding on my end. I was the only non-drinker. I got home late that night. The next day was my son Hawk’s 4th birthday eve and he and his dad’s return from a trip together. My plan was to prepare for his party that was happening the next day. I got up, made some tea, and took a hot ginger bath to soak off the smoke and other toxins from the bar. I was out of the tub, maybe 15 minutes, before it all hit. I started vomiting, and couldn’t stop. I went on to puke for 12 hours straight that day. It was like having contractions every 10 minutes. The same thing that I had done 4 years ago to the day. Except this time, Nina was there. She was supposed to be my doula for Hawk’s birth, but back then, I didn’t want anyone there to hold me. This time, there was no choice. Nina and I spent years in this agreement. Me, not wanting her to hold me, her wanting so bad to hold someone. But, me feeling like she never showed up for me and that I was the one always holding her. Not this day, though. She showed up and she held me for hours. She rubbed my hair, helped me dress, cleaned my puke, and held me in her lap as I slept. I told her about my biggest fear of being held and she said, “I think my biggest fear is the fear of never being able to hold someone”. We healed and shared something very special that day.

That snake that I held in the woods had some very powerful messages for. The snake is a symbol of death and rebirth, transformation and healing. Before it sheds it’s skin, it’s eyes cloud over, as if to indicate it is entering into a stage between life and death….A movement between realms for healing and for enlightenment. To the Native Americans, the snakes were used in ceremonies for transmuting poisons within the body after being bitten multiple times. Survival of this would enable the person to transmute all poisons. It activated the energy of kill or cure, ultimately leading to dramatic healings. (Animal Speak—Ted Andrews)

That’s what happened to me that day….A dramatic healing, alright. How ironic that it was the birthday of laboring with Solomon Hawk. Thinking back through the journey that I have been on with my son and how much of this was part of his teachings to me. I learned so much from this experience, that it is really hard to put into words. I wrote something my journal the day after and this is what it said….

I am so scared to just be held. I want so badly for someone to hold me, rub my hair, rub my face, sing me a song, tell me I’m great without even doing something to warrant it. In one breath I can say that and in another I say…yuk…how can I let down my guard and allow someone to hold me and take care of me in times of need. I’m not supposed to need help.









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