12 students, 12 weeks

Okay, where to begin.

I'll start with some of the simpler stuff. I'm just finishing up my first week of training with GMI (Green Mountain Institute) in Portugal. The name of the founders and trainers are Judith and Michael Jamieson, a married couple who split their time between Bennington, VT and somewhere outside of London, England. Michael is of British ancestry, Judith from New York/Vermont area originally. There are 12 students in the program whom I am slowing getting to know, some better and faster than others. Many of the students come from across the US, one from Mexico, one originates from France, one lives here in the Algarve region of Portugal, though he lived the first 40 years in Germany (immigrated to Portugal 20+ years ago).

I live with 4 others; 2 women, 2 men. I would have to say that thus far, communal living has been the source of my greatest angst. Those of you who have known me or spent much time with me in my home know that I'm obsessive about neatness, organization, and order. I also have a relatively quiet existence, preferring to read rather than socialize or make small talk, preferring to rise early and retire early. Now, my housemates are doing everything in their conscious power to be kind and accommodating to my preferences. They have been very considerate and responsive to my expressed desires. I, too, am trying to let go and relax, recognize that 'my way' is not the way - just a way.

The apartment is,..... how can I describe it? Traditional southern Portugese, well-worn, and quirky. My housemates and I describe it as living in the ghetto. There are some electrical wiring issues; if a heater is on and too much other power is drawn, the electrical system becomes overwhelmed and shuts down. The first few days we were noticing that the gas stove was pooling a clear liquid. While it didn't smell, it did become alight when we held a match to it. Alas, a few issues with the stove but a secondary source of heat was discovered which came in handy when the electrical units shut down! The location is just one road off the main beach in town so I can hear the ocean waves from my bedroom. Unfortunately, we are discouraged from opening the metal grates when we are sleeping or away from the apartment as it's a 'call' to would-be burglars to scavenge our contents for goodies. Alas, there are still the preverbial mosquitoes in paradise.

I am most enamoured with the people in the program. I have known myself, historically, to be someone who can be too easily annoyed with others but I'm genuinely smitten when I look into the eyes of any one of them. We are different, unique, have varying levels of training and education, and still we come with a wish to learn how to skillfully put our hands on others and be of service. I have gravitated to one very wonderful woman, in particular, who feels like a sister from another life. My connection with her feels effortless and easy, familiar. Laressa and her partner, Ali, share an apartment nearby - while she is in training with me, he works via phone/internet and some travel. She has been so kind as to make available her internet connection so that I type in comfort, without being on the clock at a smokey internet diner. Thank you, Laressa - I will repay your kindness in good chocolate and the occasional beer.

Speaking of beer, I enjoyed my first brew in a week last night as we came out of our 5th day of class. We are not to combine alcohol and massaging so my opportunities to imbibe are few. We went to a British-styled pub where rugby played on one TV and football (soccer) played on another. Also, no coffee for over a week now. I've shifted to herbal tea without too much pain or anguish. The diet for me is centered on fruit (the oranges are mindblowing, grown locally) and bread (baked fresh daily just a 2 minute walk from the ghetto). The kitchen is a challenge for my culinary habits; the storage space for each of us is limited and the utensils sparse. But I am well-fed and don't go without.

The class schedule is a little more rugged than I anticipated. We attend Monday through Friday, approximately 8:30am to 7pm with a 2 hour break for lunch. Every 2nd Saturday is also a class day but generally shorter. I'm pleased with this as my funds for exploring further afield in Portugal are limited. I walk a lot and because I am close to the beach and cliffs at the east end of Luz it's easy to access some nature. Outside of class and basic life habits (eating, shopping, sleeping, personal hygiene), I read and walk and stay near the water.

Class time is split between theory and practice, maybe 1/3 theory and 2/3 practice. We work on each other as students, switching between giving and receiving a massage. I know it's likely tough to summon up any kind of sympathy for this new grueling schedule considering that I spend an hour or so each day receiving a massage but it's surprisingly intense - particularly because the content is so new to me. Anatomy and Physiology are strange new subjects for me and I've never been at ease with Biology or the other sciences. My head spins a little when I try to get a handle on the names of the 4 gabillion body parts.

Even considering my experience of feeling a little over my head and overwhelmed, I'm orienting myself to the space, the place, the people, the practice, and the schedule. I find myself wondering how I will one day 'connect the dots' between my history/training/passion for psychotherapy and this new frontier. Today, as part of meeting the course requirements, I had a 1 and 1/2 hour massage with Michael. I imagine they would like each of us as students to develop a sense of what a good massage feels like and how their structures and system fall into place as a whole. There were many times during the unbelievable bodywork that I could feel the easy overlap between working the mind/body/heart bridge in massage. While not clear, I still trust that the pieces will fall into place and the mystery will reveal itself, magnificent as always.

I miss home some. I miss Bradford and Ben greatly. I find myself sometimes wishing the time away, counting the weeks or days. But as I lay on the massage table under Michael's masterful hands this morning, I felt so alive with the experience and the possibility of learning how to be so skillful, so supportive as a practitioner with the ability to 'touch' someone so profoundly, well, I found myself thinking that another 11 weeks will never be enough time to absorb and learn all that awaits me.

That's the thing with me, I need to remember to be awake where I am rather than traversing the wilderness of my mind and missing the moment that lies before me.

I am taking pictures as I wander through my days and explore this new place. I have yet to figure out how or if I can somehow connect my camera to a computer and link my pictures to the internet. I hope to write a weekly update by blog so this is the way I can translate my experience for now.

Sending you my love.

whew!

Okay. Iºm here. The keyboard is different here on the Portugese computers so there might be some new and interesting symbols to show up in my upcoming blogs.

The travel day was both smooth and long. My bag was overweight (56lbs) but the kind woman just told me to take something out and sheºd look the other way. I was awake for what felt like 2 days, travelling for 25 hours plus a few hours of preparation and settling in on opposite ends of departing and arriving.

Portugese is not like Spanish, not like Italian, not like French, certainly different from English. I canºt seem to understand it in writing nor speaking. Alas, itºs only day 2 ~ Iºll give myself a little more time. Iºve brought my uptight, rigid, and controlling ways with me. As such, Iºm running up against my tendencies to take over, organize, and make things more efficient. Both the culture and the program itself are dialed differently ~ less concerned with things being on time, smooth, productive, effective, and intense. Did you know that they actually take a 2 hour break in the middle of the freaking day in parts of the world!? Unbelieveable.

In case my making fun of myself is too subtle, I am finding myself shaking my head and laughing at me and how driven I am for things to be efficient, organized, planned, orchestrated and executed. Case in point, the flight from Boston to Heathrow was on time. My flight from Heathrow to Lisbon left early. My 30 minute flight from Lisbon to Faro (1/2 hour flight) was an hour late. FYI ~ my new favourite airline is definitely British Airways - generous, efficient, polite, and on-time. I find myself looking around me and coming up with all sorts of ways that life as it is could be improved. Brilliant! Wherever you go, there you are.

There are 12 of us in the 3 month course. Seems to be equal males and females ranging in age from 19 to 60 years. While it appears I might be in the mathematical middle of ages, Iºm likely in the top 10 percentile. The group seems great. Again, kind, open, enthusiastic, energetic. Maybe Iºm already setting myself out as the grumpy old woman who likes to intimidate others into their acquiescence.

The land is beautiful. The sea is breathtaking. The oranges are mindblowing! I know outside of class and study, I will spend a great deal of time walking and exploring the coastline, in and out of the water. Iºm still a bit overwhelmed, at times wondering what Iºve got myself into. Iºm still a little travel-lagged and tired and disoriented. Ultimately, I know Iºm in the right place and that Iºll find my feet before too long (and my hands!).

hope youºre well, my love to you.

beautiful blue

Watching the weather. It's a very grey day today. The cottage is shrouded in fog. The temperatures have warmed and the smaller snowbanks are giving way to puddles. Living in this part of the country, different from Colorado, lends itself to watching the weather, rolling with the weather, letting go.

I noticed an internal fog this morning as I got up, moved into the morning rituals - filling the kettle, taking Ben out for his morning constitution, checking out the temperature and the feel of the air outside. I noticed my internal landscape was similarly shrouded with a sense of blue. Blue, to me, feels not exactly like sadness, not despair, nor discontent - just 'blue'.

With hot coffee and the morning blank pages before me I considered jumping into a dialogue with myself about what was arising, a discovery of the root of my blue. Nothing came. I could feel the texture and colour of my internal weight, I could touch its rhythm - slow, pulsing, methodical but I could find no source for its arrival to the horizon of my experience. In fact, my mind could only conjure a poignant sense of gratitude and yet this gratitude was cloaked in a melancholic blue.

I consider myself someone who enjoys the arrival of a 'new year' because it's a culturally accepted and recognized form of a collective birthday. I am not geared towards resolutions as much as I relish an obvious opportunity to get more clear on this human path I'm walking. One of my aspirations is to be better attuned to and aligned with my body. In talking with friends over the last week I've been exploring how much intelligence I have been discovering in the form of im-pulse; impulses are constantly arising through my body and directing me towards certain movements, awarenesses, and choices. I was born with impulses - I knew when I was hungry, felt clearly when I was tired, moved without self-consciousness when pulled to do so.

The years and life indeed impacted this knowingness. My impulses became confused by noise in myriad ways - I swallowed beliefs about what I needed to do to be lovable. I inhaled messages around the importance of avoiding certain outcomes (abandonment, destitution, aloneness, failure). I slowly, steadily shifted away from organismic wisdom and connection to the whole as I came to believe I was a fragile, separate, broken, and dependent self. This phenomenon is compounded by the collective belief system that Nature (human nature and the great outdoors) is to be managed rather than allowed to run free. Humanity prefers to see itself as separate from the whole because of our intellect and we mistrust our basic drives, viewing them as primal and lacking morality. Downright dangerous.

Perhaps collectively we are dissociated. I know that individually, I have been rather disconnected and dissociated and the potential I see that lies each moment in this body is to wake up.

And so this morning, I felt blue. And out of the habit of disliking uncomfortable emotions and not trusting my body, I felt compelled to clear out this weather pattern either by analyzing it and applying a treatment (hello psychotherapy) or by overriding it by forcing away the fog and greyness so that my natural light could shine through.

Taking a breath, I noticed a wave of sadness rising up. Tears flowed as I held my journal in my lap. It was simply a wave. I had named the feelings which were happening and they began to move. I didn't need a storyline to anchor my experience in so-called reality. I didn't need to fear that this internal weather pattern would wipe me out. I just needed to relax and trust and let go.

As I've alluded to a number of times in my entries, I'm torn by working in a field which pathologizes pain and seeks to remedy that which appears to be broken. Perhaps depression and anxiety and addiction are running rampant because we fear that we cannot tolerate the waves and so the suppression, distraction, and dissociation are compounding the force of energy - that which we do not embrace becomes our master. With a deeper connection to the rhythms of our physical selves and more faith in this innate intelligence that expresses itself through the body - through sound, through movement, through choices - wouldn't we be remarkable? And wouldn't this remarkable quality include the brilliance of all kinds of weather?

"How are you?"

"I'm blue."

"Oh, I'm sorry. What can I do?"

"See my beautiful blue."

the solstice

solstice - the standing still of the sun

Movements continue. Does moving end? Can it stop?

I enjoy this time of year, enjoy the ways of Christmas, appreciate the blending of freneticism with the enforced stillness that is a bi-product of winter weather . The collective energy around shopping, cooking, travelling, socializing is not so apparent for me here in northern New Hampshire. Last week we received nearly 18" of snow with single-digit temperatures (and I'm not speaking metrically here). Then a warm up with a deluge of rain. This week another 6-10" of snow (I better understand the name 'White Mountains') and the diving temp's.

I must admit I've had my eyes on the calendar hanging in the kitchen, seeing that this Tuesday is the winter solstice, the magical time of year when the relationship between planet Earth and the Sun dramatically shifts. The days while long in darkness hold the promise of more light. Being a woman who migrates towards metaphors and analogies, I notice a parallel between the tipping of the Earth out of the shadow and the path of my life beginning to show forms and shapes where, for the past year or so, it has been somewhat shrouded in mystery.

In the past week, yes, that's right, just one week, I intersected with two opportunities which came to fruition. I interviewed for a position as a clinician with a group private practice based out of New London, NH. I was offered a job with them last Monday and I'm thrilled, ecstatic, pleased, and grateful. The agency is called Counseling Associates of New London (http://www.nlcounselingassociates.com/) and I was impressed with the folks there with whom I met. Secondly, I yielded to my own inner nudgings and the encouragement of some close friends to look into bodywork training. Perhaps I can give this more form over the coming months. For now I can say that for more than a decade I've been drawn to working with my hands, migrated towards better understanding how the body can be accessed as an intrinsic element in working with emotional and mental issues in psychotherapy. I came across a unique training institute based out of southern Vermont and, after meeting with one of the founders/trainers, I decided to do their upcoming 3-month training program (http://www.internationalbodywork.com/ and then click on the Portugal program - yes, that's right, Portugal).

So, by the kindness of my new employer and their willingness to accommodate a 3-month delay in the start of my working, I am headed to southwestern Portugal mid-January for an intensive program in massage and bodywork. I'm not sure how or if I'll be able to bring this into my work as a psychotherapist for some time but I know that my direction as a clinician is towards working more fundamentally with the body-mind-heart dynamic.

The last couple of months have been full of wonderful experiences. Bradford and I travelled to Arizona for Thanksgiving with his relations. I was able to visit Fernie, BC where I once lived and reconnect with dear friends. My best pal, Kirsten, visited for a few days and we day-tripped to the Maine coastline. When Ben went for his scheduled neutering at the end of November, the veterinary technicians let me know, in no uncertain terms, that if I am to care properly for my beloved canine, I am to be getting him groomed regularly as well as ensuring that I am cleaning out his ears of wax and excess hair weekly - while I get an 'A' in exercise and attention, I flunked grooming and skin management. Alas, at the beginning of December Ben met with his new lovely and lively hairdresser who, despite her best intentions of saving some of his locks relieved him of his entire mop-like coat. Finally, Ben has discovered his penchant for socks and underwear. One Friday evening when I was otherwise distracted, he swiftly took hold of the situation to swallow one pair of white tennis socks as well as one pair of underwear. After consulting with fellow dog owners and a few veterinary types, I was told to relax, that the clothing would find its way out... somehow. Alas, after a week of regular bowl movements and normal eating behavior, Ben got up early one morning and regurgitated a big cotton log (one sock and the underwear). Later the same day at the end of a long hike, up came the second sock. Amazing how the dog's body could carry on as if all was usual with a pound of cotton in his stomach.

May the holidays find you well. May you gift yourself with the all-important opportunities for quiet space; the time of darkness being a potent ally for reflection and stillness. As I currently feel the seas of my life stirring and the figures of my path begin to take shape before me, I am thankful both for the forms that are arising as well as the period of not-knowing that gave it birth. Hibernation. Gestation. Darkness. Uncertainly. Confusion. The Mystery appears to be made up of equal parts dark and light, form and formless, knowing and not-knowing. While the forms are frequently intoxicating and the confusion generally unsettling, Life will have its way and demand that we sit in the stillness or risk spiralling off into madness.

equinox - equal night

the fall of 2010

No doubt it's been a time since my last blog entry. Might be a time before my next.

I've travelled to Boulder, CO for a few days - had wonderful visits with a few friends in the area and then replicated the cross-country drive with Bradford and Uhaul trailer in tow between Boulder and Franconia; this time Bradford's stuff in the trailer as he brought to a close a chapter of his life in Colorado and joined me for some living in New England.

I've also celebrated my 40th birthday with the brilliant and beautiful women of North Country Shelter and then journeyed to Ontario with Bradford and Ben to celebrate many October family birthdays with the folks across the border. Wowee.

What else? I'll write the NCMHCE for both NH and VT state licensing requirements next week down in Concord. There's a good chance I won't pass. Then again, anything can happen.

My life with Ben is breathtaking. I'm simply smitten. My unfolding adventure with Bradford is pretty cool. We're shacked up which is fun. And not so much fun when it's cold and dark and neither one of us knows exactly what life holds in store for us.

What do I really want to say? I'm a middle-aged woman (I can say this now) who is unemployed, somewhat unfocused in her life's direction (at least professionally), with $9 in her bank account. As I walked with the dogs through the woods and trails this late afternoon, I was talking myself into being frank about this whole situation with whatever eyes come across this screen.

This life thing, it's an unwin-able endeavour. There is no 'logos' to which humans currently ascribe with any success. God, the search for meaning, religion, materialism, service, comfort, security, control, peace, enlightenment, knowledge, salvation, environmentalism. You name it, none of these forms can bring a sense of completion, rightness, nor ultimately be attained. Nailing jello to a tree. Not that we stop trying, as a collective humanity, however. And that's the insanity. To look for meaning, to grope for a handhold where there is nothing. Emptiness, no-thingness, the great Void, the Mystery. So many of us try to assign benevolence to the Mystery and emptiness. Then it wouldn't be empty - it would have an angle.

I see it as the ultimate joke. We just want something to hold onto. If it could be held, put into words, captured by the mind through thought and ideology, it would be a shoddy sham. Everything we can hold or aspire towards has a built-in self-destruction unit and man, it's gonna hurt when it dissolves or blows up and there we are, holding on for dear life. The joke is that we take our 'logos' so seriously. We take this dream of being a human so seriously. We take our stories so seriously and get so lost in the groping for and reinforcement of a false self that depends on our opinions, circumstances, and personal drama. Speaking for myself, I have taken this dream of being alive so seriously, and that's the sick and brilliant sense of humour of the Cosmos unfolding.

In my life I have had a lot of fear around being destitute, a failure, a floundering fool, incapacitated, out of control. At middle age and with $9 to my name, I'm meeting what once was my worst fear and I'm laughing like never before. If you're not laughing, afterall, you've gone to sleep in the dream and gotten lost in character. You've gone and made the fatal error of trying to lean into that which doesn't exist.

We are a crazy, crazy species. We will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid our fears of emptiness, meaninglessness. We will hide through seeking. We will sooner die than relinquish our all-precious beliefs. We will destroy life to hold onto a false-self. We would rather acquire more information than experience more truth. We will always draw to us new opportunities to wake up. This is grace.

Good luck.

uncompromising cooperation with life

A full week coming to a close.

My replacement, Kelly, began her new posting at the shelter so I spent time helping her acclimate to the position; her responsibilities, the ways of NCS, the understandings I have garnered around the juvenile justice system, etc... She's a bright woman and undoubtedly the job will bring her new challenges and moments of great inspiration. Three more days for me, Monday through Wednesday, and I will, again, be officially unemployed. Hmmm...

Sadly, my friend, Red, was put down this week. The tough decision was taken by Becky and Harry for a number of reasons including Red's age, health, and mental wellness. Walking with Willy and Ben this week on the trails around their home was an adjustment. I will notice his absence. His presence touched my life. There's simply nothing like a dog.

Ben went in for more needles including his rabies shot so I can take him over the border into Canada in the future. His weight has doubled. During his first visit to the vet's a couple of weeks ago I was encouraged to up his food servings because he was too skinny. That is no longer true. He's getting taller and moves with an awkwardness not disimilar to the way many of the adolescents in the shelter inhabit their bodies - forgetting how big and heavy his feet are, not quite understanding how throwing his weight in one direction can topple him onto his head. Spending the week dogsitting and homesitting for Becky and Harry gave Willy the opportunity to begin in earnest Ben's education into doghood. Willy has been running Ben over when he gets too boisterous, snarling at him when Ben attempts to steal a toy, and ignoring his cuteness when he's simply had enough. With Red gone, Willy is demonstrating a new quality of maturity, taking on alpha status - if you knew Willy, you'd understand how bizarre this is to watch.

June, my VW, finally got legal - a new catalytic converter, a new air pump, and a brake light found me/us passing NH emissions inspection. One year after moving to New England and the check engine light is off!

The thing about a check engine light going off is that now it can always come back on. While I'm still riding a small feeling of satisfaction that my car has no recognizable problems, it's only a matter of time before I need new brakes or a new exhaust system, a timing belt, a clutch. I see that I've created a lot of tension in myself throughout my life trying to avoid things being broken, out of place (whatever that means), or going wrong. If you've ever visited my place of residence or seen the way I make my bed first thing in the morning, you know how fastidious I am about things not being awry in my world - I love order and loathe chaos - I am a control freak. Moreover, I have a highly developed/practiced ability to spot anything that is 'off.'

Did I mention that Willy got sprayed by a skunk this week?

A very fun experience for me. I woke up just before 5am to take Willy and Ben out for their first morning walk - a short one that lets them clear their systems after the night of rest. In that moment, just before becoming lucid while still suspended in the dream state but entering the world of waking I had a felt experience of there being nothing, absolutely nothing 'off' in my world. This wasn't a qualitative analysis and inventory of the circumstances of my life but a deep and unmoving sense in my system that there could be nothing other than right - life is, there's no arguing with the unfolding of life. Of course we have free will. As humans we are likely the only species on the planet that questions the way things are. We have a mechanism in our brains that has the capability to imagine other scenarios. Add this to our ability to conceptualize and compare ourselves to others and the various protective and fear-based strategies that our egos employ and it's a recipe for deep dissatisfaction.

Or not.

Why do we not walk through life with an unwavering acceptance for what is? Why do we find it comforting and compelling to look for and imagine what is wrong? Why do we, with the frighteningly powerful gift of self-awareness, not know enough to view the world as unconditionally supportive and therefore align ourselves with this reality? It might sound like the ramblings of a wacked out fruitcake but I think there's some value in looking at our habits of mind and how the course we set through life is a direct consequence of our power of perception.

So, as Willy came running back to me from his disappearance in the dark field the smell of skunk was so potent that my eyes were burning. My habitual reaction was to say, "No!" Fortunately, I was still floating on my little cloud of perceived perfection and I started to giggle and I thought, "This too is life. No point in judging it as good or bad. It's here. Why resent what has unfolded? Why take life personally?" And so, a little thing but I decided to alter my habit of mind and instead relish, okay maybe not relish, but I decided to fully accept the newly annointed Willy rather than think I had just been victimized by life. Low and behold, no upset only entertainment. It's not to say that action can't be taken - full cooperation and agreement with the way life unfolds does not preclude being able to respond. My sense is that my response to life is more clear, more intelligent, because my mind is in alignment rather than in resistance.

Today, Anemone and I hiked up to a top section of Bridal Veil Falls, just south of Franconia. While Willy was nimbly cartwheeling and careening himself off rock ledges and over and through the swollen creek, Ben was tenuous and slipping off the wet rocks and landing on his ass (or face). At one point we crossed the creek just above a long drop in the falls. Ben slid into the water and began heading towards the waterfall's drop. Without thought, I looked at his freaked out eyes, his little body unable to gain purchase as he was carried by the current closer to the falls, and I jumped in and grabbed him. I don't know that there was time enough to think "No." All I knew was that my little guy was not going down the falls if I had any power over the situation. And I did.

And then, already soaked, I took off my wet clothes and shoes and slid down the rocks into the deep pool of frigid water. Life is short, afterall, never miss an opportunity to jump in the water. Say yes. That's what heated car seats were made for.

The images - Red pictured at the top. Willy and Ben from a week or so ago. The rest are from my walk this morning with the dogs. The lighting and fog formations were breathtaking, nestling the mountains like islands in the sea. I can imagine that there were people in their homes underneath the fog patches thinking that it was another rainy day while, for me, I got to lose myself in the rapture of a sky that I will never see again. That's the thing about being human, we get to choose, for better or worse - free will.

Labour Day takes on new meaning

This was a very, very full weekend. My friend, Sue, brought me and her sister, Jane (from Quebec) to experience "Wicked" (http://www.wickedthemusical.com/) in Boston on Saturday. I could hardly take in the whole production, mindblowing. The stage was constantly full of creative spirit; the music, the script, the talent, the layered implications questioning what so many of us accept as the water in which we swim (good vs. evil, the nature of happiness, the fickle nature of truth, the power of collective energy run amok). The musical is based on Gregory Maguire's 1995 book which takes one perspective on the preceding events and human development issues of the character 'Elphaba' - otherwise known as the Wicked Witch of the West from 'The Wizard of Oz.' My next step is to borrow the book from the library. Needless to say, the musical not only captured my imagination and stoked my creative spirit but also reinforced my tendency to ruminate on the questions I hold on the nature of evil in humanity - does darkness actually reside outside of any of us?

From Boston, Ben and I drove down to Little Compton, RI to visit with my friends Ryan and Calyn who were spending a week with Calyn's family in the east from their home in Boulder. I am amazed by the gracious and warm hospitality I have received regularly over the last year as I have explored life in New England. The family's land is breathtaking, extending down to the sea and across beautiful farming areas. Hurricane Earl left some solid surf and warm, sunny days in his wake so the two half-days were spent near or in the water. Ben is continuing his introduction to the world of loving water - whether he likes it or not. (see photo of his attempt at body surfing)

In other news, since the new Green Card has taken up residency in my wallet (it's actually green, unlike the initial conditional card which looks more like a driver's license), I've begun to meet the requirements for professional licensure in NH. If Vermont licensure is not too cost-prohibitive, I'll start their application process also. It looks like life is leading me back into private practice - other attempts at securing agency work have not panned out. Besides, I notice I'm a bit squeamish at the idea of working Monday to Friday, 9-5 again.

Apparently over the last year, I have grown rather accustomed to the unstructured work week - I certainly don't mind working, I quite like it, in fact. It's just that I like my working to be more project-based, incorporating a variety of activities. At times, I like the intensive scheduling that is involved in contract deadlines. At other times, I enjoy taking a roadtrip or slipping into a week of writing for my own enjoyment. If you were to ask me, from the perspective of this moment in time, what my fantasy professional life would look like in the future, I would tell you that I would love to combine work as a family therapist, facilitating groups (working with traditional group therapy as well as bringing aspects of psychotherapy to organizational management), teaching/training other professionals in the field, creative writing, and farming and homesteading (bees and sheep).

Speaking of writing, I'm moving into a new experience of writing that is a departure from my earlier endeavours. I'm not inclined to say more at this time other than relating that it's highly enjoyable, highly uncomfortable, and the outcome is uncertain - to say the least.

In other areas of my life terrain, I can hardly contain my love for Ben. He's different from any dog I've enfolded into my life before. I feel a bit off-center for admitting how significant his presence is in my life. I can imagine other women, mothers actually, rolling their eyes and maybe misunderstanding how one can compare the connection one feels to a pet to the fullness of motherhood. I admit, I really can't imagine what the feeling of being in love with one's own child is like. I've felt deep love for many humans. Professionally I've fallen in love with countless adolescents as they have invited me into their personal struggles and heartbreak. But I've had no children of my own.

As I look at the near horizon, turning 40 next month, it's unlikely I'll ever give birth. I've asked myself over the last year how I am doing with this potential - no children. I feel some loss and grief around the situation - I've heard it said that one of the hardest aspects of divorce is the death of the dreams someone formed when they decided to marry. Being childless is a bit like this for me. How can I really greive something that never happened except to acknowledge the death of the dreams and hopes I imagined around being a mom one day.

Fortunately, there is no remorse or regret in me. I can't look back at my life and see a juncture when, if I had only made a different choice, things would have been different and I might have become a mother. My life is and has been breathtaking. There is a fullness I cherish and this fullness includes the sadness I feel that something I wanted did not come to bear. Even now, as my eyes fill up with tears and my breathing becomes unsteady, I am utterly grateful for the bounty of my life - pain and all.

Ben is beautiful. Gentle Ben. I don't subscribe to the opinion that he acts as a surrogate child for me. He does not live in my life as a replacement. He is Ben. A dog with so much love coming out of him, so much to teach me about showing up and being engaged. He sleeps when he sleeps. He eats when he eats. He runs around in circles and does rodeo-bull jumping when the feeling overtakes him. No self-consciousness. Just the manifestation of this love-energy I've decided to call 'Ben.' I'm lucky he likes me too.

Ultimately life is about loving; a courageous act of opening and receiving, allowing without grasping, offering without attachment to outcome. Perhaps this process culminates in the act of Creativity - one expression of creation is giving birth, only one expression amongst an infinite number of creative expressions. A future blog entry will no doubt encircle and explore the dance of creativity and the ultimate vulnerability which it demands. For now, the day is coming to a close. Labour Day is coming to a close. My little Labradoodle is circled up in a ball, asleep at the foot of my rocking chair. I sit on a deck under the stars above northern New Hampshire. I don't know what mysterious acts of God/Creativity are awaiting my presence in the fertile void. But I'm awake.