Me Too

When the shrill beeping of the wheelchair lift sounded, I was prepared for a longer wait but not the passenger who would board.

A couple rows back by a window, my view was skewed by the seat back. I caught glimpses of his shocker yellow high-tech wheelchair, a sharp contrast from the usual rickety buckets. He was almost jovial with the bus driver and fellow passenger who helped fold the seats up to make room. How bizarre, as most wheel chair bound on this 358 route scowl as they are pushed aboard by an equally weathered friend and stale alcohol.

Once resigned to a typical stop and go rhythmic bus ride home, I was now intrigued. This man glowed with such an incredible spirit, I had to pay attention. He scanned around the front of the bus, looking as if he would talk to someone, if they started a conversation. His blue eyes were bright. I felt myself being drawn in, peeking around the corner of the seat back to get a better view of his military style haircut, his muscular upper body and his missing legs.

I had to talk to him.

At the next stop, the woman sitting across from him got off. I scooted out and around and sat across from him "May I ask you a question?" He turned wobbily toward me, "Of course" as I asked him where he had been. "Afghanistan." His face was soft despite a deep three inch scar in his throat and some missing teeth. "How long ago did you lose your legs?"

For two questions in, I was feeling bold. I had had conversations with people who have an obvious "disability" who always said they would rather be asked than stared at. So, here I was asking because I sincerely wanted to know. And because I just couldn't stop myself.

He didn't seem bothered by my questions, telling me it was two years ago. We kept a constant eye contact. An instant connection. "So, you are probably just now really starting to feel better. Feeling healed." He considered this for a moment, "Yes. Yes I am." He looked as if he had almost just realized it in that moment.

The severity of his wounds meant he was shipped to Germany, then to the U.S. for the complicated surgeries. He explained that as he came back, his body was so weak and his mind overwhelmed. The hospital was a hard place to be for him and he "pushed hard to get out as soon as I could." It was too difficult to focus on getting better when constantly surrounded by chaos.

His glancing told me his stop was coming up. I didn't want him to leave.

Asking him what branch he had been in, his response of "Army" shook me a little. "My Dad was in the Army in Vietnam. A medic." He glowed in recognition, "Oh Infantry!" My eyes started to tear up and I had to look down, not able to squeak out that he had died almost a year ago. His hand appeared to shake mine and I took it, looking up to his shining face saying, "It was really nice to meet you."

Expressing the same, I added "Thank you for your service. I am really glad you are still here." He smiled, "Me too."

****

I couldn't breathe or bear to watch him leave. Tears were edging out of my eyes, snot seeping out of my nose. My stop was next and as I exited, the full body weeping sobs began.

Meeting that kind of spirit is a profound gift and it rocked me to my very core.

Othcur Wuv

Running tonight, I was just about halfway around Greenlake, when I saw a familiar face. Brown eyes focused forward, short little legs clipping along, tongue hanging out just a little, nose twitching the air for good stink.

I raised my voice just enough to be heard as they approached, "Oscar!" His focus didn't break. "Oscar! Oscar!" He saw me, and his face softened as he pulled on his leash to get closer. Kiss kiss kiss kiss JUMP kiss kiss TWIRL kiss kiss TAIL WAGWAGWAG!! Oh so happy to see me. Oscar greets me like he hasn't seen me for years. Every time. I love his greeting. It is so sincere and heartfelt, since he is genuinely happy to see me. I know that I represent good adventures, time with his dog friends, trips to the park and walks around Greenlake. I also know that Oscar is my buddy and like any good pal, he is always happy to see his bestest friends.

I made small talk with his human, Ryan. And as our conversation wrapped up and I had to bend down to tie my shoe, I watched Oscar. He didn't want to leave. Ryan walked away, Oscar dragged toward me and then he would relent a couple steps and turn around. A couple steps and then walk in front of Ryan to turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Drag back. Turn around. He kept watching me, watch him. We kept locking eyes. He wanted to hang with his girl. I knew we'd see each other soon but my heart was so happy to see his loyalty and love.

As I started my run again, I smiled. My heart was just a little bit lighter with Oscar's Love.

Inertia Words

I guess the first step is always the hardest. The best part of it being, is it gives you moving in a direction. You have overcome the inertia of being at a complete standstill.

Last Friday, I had an early day and got home from dog walking around one. I laid down. Aside from doing my dogsitting duties, I really did not get off the couch. I didn't run. I didn't do Jiu Jitsu. I was so beyond exhausted, all I could do was eat and hang out on the couch. This went on for Friday, Saturday, Sunday and on through Monday and Tuesday. This whole week has been about talking myself in to doing the most basic things to get by. These include: get up. make coffee. get dressed. feed self. feed dog. leave house. drive to get dogs. walk dogs. take dogs home. go home. shower. couch. eat. pass out on couch. wake up. turn off tv. go to bed.

Written out, it is actually a lot. When I am not so drained, that is the normal goings on of any day. It seems so simple and fluid, yet this week is like climbing a mountain every day.

Today I woke up, telling myself I would run. I haven't ran since last Wednesday. I came home and showered, sat on the couch and debated. I searched the web for other projects and I came upon some words that made sense.

Dana Torres, the 41 year old mother and Olympic 2008, silver medalist has a new book out. "Age is only a Number" I saw it on Amazon and read some of it. Detailing a rough time at the Olympic trials and not feeling well, she shares her mantra, "You don't have to feel well to swim fast. You don't have to feel well to swim fast."

Well, if Dana Torres can not feel well and still put records on the boards, I can run Greenlake. My version of the mantra becomes, "you don't have to feel well to run Greenlake." I didn't feel well. I felt drained. I got dressed and I drove my ass down there, grateful for the nice balmy weather and the shifting evening sun. I got down to the lake and was inspired to see people biking, running, laughing, walking with dogs or friends or both.

I started running. I was right behind a woman who was annoying to watch run. Her legs shifted out to each side and back in almost a circular motion. It made me wonder how she stood upright, much less was able to run in a straight line. Her pace was just enough in my face that the words on the back of her shirt draw my attention. "If it is meant to be, it is up to me."

Always is, isn't it?

I passed her. I ran the lake. I enjoyed listening to Paul Simon in one ear and snippets of passing conversation in the other. I ran it in 30 minutes. I crossed my finish line, patted an adorable English black Lab named Johnathan, stretched, got in the car, cried and drove home.

I discovered I could overcome my inertia. I don't have to feel well to run Greenlake and that if it is meant to be, it is up to me. I hope that this first step starts a new momentum of direction...to keep going, knowing that the journey will lead you to where you need to arrive.

I am Clay

Sometimes, first thing in the morning I have a few soft and brilliant thoughts. They always come in that quiet space of time, just before the gravity of the day hits me, while I rub my eyes into focus and hear the soft snoring of my dog. Coltrane's presence and warmth next to me is a comfort and makes me giggle. You have never seen a dog so content as he is when he is allowed to sleep all night on my bed.

This particular morning, I thought of my friend who I had chatted with the night before. He was struggling. Lamenting that he was a "victim of his own bad choices" I pressed him for more details. What's going on? I am here to listen. How can I help you?

He struggled.

He told me that negotiating life with his wife has caused him to compromise too much of himself. Her worries, her issues were all too easily blamed on him. She would get annoyed that he wouldn't come to bed. It hurt her feelings. Well, he's an insomniac and it's not about hurting her, he can't sleep.

Just one of the many things, but it boiled down to something basic. He has lost some direction. In trying to be all he can be to his wife, he has forgotten to do that for himself. However, he is a competitive guy and has never been one for just "settling" and hence he struggles.

He struggles because he is hearing is heart. He is hearing his spirit. He is hearing that beautiful voice within telling him, "This is not right. This needs to change. We are suffering now, but we will suffer more if this continues. You must change this situation. What will you do?"

I reminded him of who he is: You are loving. Driven. Loyal. Kind hearted. Passionate. Pain in the ass. Spiritual. Funny. And then I told him, that while life experiences shape us, we are really the same person all the way through. There is a core part of us that always is, no matter the situation.

The core part of me will always be the same too. I am also Loyal, kind, loving and have an open and warm heart. I am incapable of really truly lying. I am compassionate. I believe the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few (Shout out to Spock) and I will defend the little guy to the bitter end, so don't try me on that one. I will win.

My spirit woke me this morning with my sweet and softly brilliant thought, "I am Clay." Hmmm...am I a lump of goo? Well, maybe sometimes. But I'd like to be more introspective about that. To think of what clay BECOMES is amazing. With so many options-clay can become any sort of container: bowls, coffee mugs, pitchers, plates and vases. Or maybe something less "useful" but more aesthetic: figurines, piggy banks you'll never break, or maybe a sculpture that make no sense.

Too think a lumpy shapeless piece of "mud" could become something beautiful is special. The journey it takes is significant in that there are so many variables and experiences that will mold and shape the clay into something that resembles the end result. The wheel will spin faster or slower, hands will guide and provide the boundaries of movement, water smooths out the friction-allowing movement and shaping to take place.

Hands use pressure, sometimes with more force and at other moments a light touch for details. If the wheel spins too fast or the hands are too rough, a beginning structure will crumble and collapse in on itself. Then, hands must pound the clay back into a beginning lump to start from again. It is the vision of the artist and a combination of mistakes and lovely intention that bring a lump of mud into something beautiful.

At our cores, we are all a lump of clay. Life spins us like the pottery wheel. Sometimes life is too fast or slow, but then it depends on the pressures and experiences that our applied to our core's that shape us. If too much is applied too fast, we collapse under pressure and unrealistic expectations. If it's too slow and light, we will remain mostly a shapeless lump. Very unexciting indeed.

To remember that even as muddy goo, we have so much potential. Even if we have to collapse and start from a humble beginning again and again, there is always the expansive possibility of becoming anything we want. I am Clay. My Spirit is the artist with the vision to what and who I will become. My heart is the water that allows the movement and shaping. My Inner voice is what guides me through the pressures of the spinning wheel that is my Life.

I am Clay and the possibilities are Endless.....

Swishing Tales

It’s an eclectic bunch who cruise Greenlake. Street musicians smatter the perimeter, offering unsolicited but harmless commentary. Walkers cruise at their own comfortable speed. Sometimes there is a coffee in one hand and a conversational hand gesture in the other. There are people with dogs. People walking mindfully alone. Mothers with children who sometimes walk in groups. The kids themselves typically are watching, taking it all in from their strollers.

One toddler noticed us. Her eyes became saucers as we approached. With awe, “Mama! Look! That’s a lot of dogs and one lady!” Mama looked up and our eyes met, both of us laughing. She told her toddler, “Yes honey you’re right. That is a lot of dogs and one lady.”

One woman. Ten dogs. That tends to stop people in their tracks. Ten happy swishing tails. Forty-two feet clicking in rhythm together. A look of calm across the faces of the pack moving together in unison. Most every passerby smiles in acknowledgement, some scowl at the poop making machines and almost everyone else ogles. We have been stopped for photo opportunities. Sometimes people ask and sometimes they don’t. Either way we stop and smile happily, but it doesn’t matter as long as we keep moving.

Movement is what makes this possible. With ten noses constantly testing the air for Eau de Squirrel and de Pigeon, their focus on me and the path ahead is what keeps us together. It is a personal challenge to keep instincts from snatching the leashes from my hands. For the dogs it’s a challenge to stay focused and use their teamwork and energy to make it around the lake.

As people approach, watching a formation of smiling dogs and wagging tails, they wonder how I do it out loud. Often we will hear “How do you manage all of them? I can barely handle one!” or the ever popular, “Wow! I can’t believe they all get along! How do you do it?” If we are just walking by I simply smile broadly and say “Practice!” It seems like a smart ass reply, but I am sincere. I pride myself on the fact that we are there walking the lake as a team. All of my dogs enjoy being there and it shows.

Distractions and interruptions are constant and bombard us from every angle. With an invisible shield of understanding, the dogs ignore it and tune into me. They mirror my energy, my emotions. If I am having an off day, where I feel disjointed and unbalanced, they do too. Their movements become erratic while they jockey for a place in formation, unhappy with where they end up. Sometimes I swear I can hear them whine, “But I was there first! That’s my spot! You NEVER let me have the outside so I can bark at the bikers! NO FAIR!” It is funny too, because whatever “spot” they have when we start our journey is the one that they want to keep for the duration. No matter how many stops we have, or people stopping to take pictures and shrilly announce how amazing this is and “Oooohh my goodness, you guys are just the cutesiest things EVER!” Their excitement spreads to the dogs who begin to jump up and want to get closer to be loved on and hence, tangle their leashes. I untangle the leashes and as we walk away, each dog seeking their original place in line.

Our Zen radiates to all those wandering folk who pass by with smiles. On days where I am focused and calm, we are a moving, balanced being. There is lightness in the synchronicity of our steps, and our movement around the lake. My head is up, shoulders back my arms are relaxed and swinging in rhythm to my own walk, which determines theirs. In perfect movements, even the dogs step together in unison. The dogs feel one another, their calm hovering over their bodies and mine, floating us around the lake. It is a calmness of movement gets noticed too. Once a woman stopped and stared at us, smiling with her friend as she said “Wow. You all look really Zen.” It was true. We were very present in our own moment and world.

While we are present in our Zen moments in our walk, so are others who pass us. One young woman stopped to talk to me after we were finished, getting ready to get back into the car. She was probably in her mid twenties and twinkled with peacefulness. She smiled when she spoke. “Oh! I saw you yesterday walking and I meant to stop you and say something about how great you all are! This is amazing! But what I wanted to tell you was that after I saw you yesterday I went on about my day. Every once in a while I would stop, think of seeing you all and I would smile. I just really wanted you to know that you brought me a lot of Joy. Thank you for bringing me so much Joy!”

And all I did was walk around the lake. One woman. Ten dogs. Amazing.

Chick of Death!!

I have a new nickname today. "The Chick of Death" spawned out of my black NW Jiu Jitsu Sweatshirt and a creative mind. It fits.

Tonight in my non fiction class, we had a guest speaker Robert Birkby, author of "Mountain Madness" a story of Scott Fischer. Robert had been good friends with Scott and decided to write a book to tell the story of Scott and celebrate his life. One of the best side stories about it is that in high school, Scott had a girlfriend named Fiona. Since he was crazy about all things outdoors and she wasn't the relationship ended, but there were stories of that time that Robert included. Because he couldn't located Fiona, he called her the "New Jersey girlfriend" and published the book.

A while after Mountain Madness was published, Robert got a phone call from Fiona's brother. He and his wife had been out to dinner and went to a bookstore afterwards, where they saw the book. Her brother thought, "oh no not another one of these books about his death." but then he realized it was about his life. He picked it up. Read it and loved it. Scott had been a part of the brother's life when he was just 8 or 9 and then Scott disappeared into the adventure that the mountains held.

Fiona's brother, through Robert connected Fiona up with Scott Fischer's parents to reconnect. To hear it told in person, it was far more touching. It was a meaningful beautiful connection that came to be because Robert chose to write a book to honor and celebrate his friends life.

I am so going out and getting the book and getting him to sign it! Robert dubbed me Chick of Death after he shook my hand and remarked on the strength of it. He asked me to shake his hand again, which is when I explained that it was the Sweatshirt of Death that did the job. Especially the intimidating part. And it went on from there.

The other part of class tonight, we talked about sucking it up and asking people for the interview. In my case, I know that Rigan Machado is coming to my school to teach a seminar. Legend has it that he is a super nice guy, but he is, after all one of the founding geniuses behind the sport. It is intimidating. However, what I learned tonight is that I should just go for it. Just ask him. The worst he could say is No.

And since I have been duly named The Chick of Death, how could he possibly say No?!!

Teriyaki Prayer

Another day of a sweet unexpected surprise. I suppose though, if I expected sweetness, it wouldn't be a surprise when it it showed up.

Almost a regular day, it started out with dogs. Laying in bed, I was surrounded by warm bodies and peering, pleading, big brown soupy eyes. "Puuuuhhhhleeeazzzee get up. We are awake. We want to eat. We HAVE TO PEEEEE! and if you are not careful, we have no qualms about peeing on the floor. At all. Ever."

Somehow I convinced two enormous Rodesian Ridgebacks and my dog Coltrane, that more cuddling was needed. It really wasn't a tough sell. Bunch of sappy cuddle bunnies, they are. One Ridgeback by my feet and another off to my right, Coltrane came in for the prime space. I was laying on my back and he got up to lay his front paws and face on my stomach. He was situated so that I could easily scratch him. He could look right into my eyes and tell me that this was a perfect moment. He was warm, happy and getting scratched behind his ears. Yummy. He yawned with a laziness that only can be translated as pure bliss. Eventually, one of the Ridgebacks got up and stood on the bed, hovering over us, sniffing Coltrane. Any other dog in the world would growl over his mistress. Not Coltrane. He knows he is there to share the Ridgeback's home with me and that he is sharing me. Amazing.

Eventually we got our blissful butts out of bed for peeing, breakfast and out the door to walk. We went to Greenlake, where it was actually a beautiful day. It was warm and the sun was out and the sky was actually blue! There were tons of people there, all out to enjoy the benefits of friends, walking, running and biking. Don't forget all those walking their dogs! Tons and tons of dogs! And puppies. Nothing stops you in your tracks faster than an eight week old yellow lab named Jake. He was dragging his 7 year old misstress around the lake, smelling EVERYTHING, greeting EVERYONE and his tail wagging excitedly the whole time. When he met us, his wiggle butt scared the big Ridgebacks, but Coltrane just sniffed him and Jake sat down. Jake hung out for a minute, took it quietly in and then dashed off, dragging his little owner behind him. She didn't seem to mind.

We made our way around, running into Vegas and Carmen, a silly Golden Retriever and a wicked smart black lab, respectively. We said our hellos to them, their baby and their owner. Moving along, we bumped into folks who we had dogsat for, met their babies and moved along. We ran into Janet Horton (Jane's sister in law) where she explained that she had lost her dog Lucky just after Christmas and her boyfriend of 3 1/2 years broke up with her shortly after. Shitty. But here's the thing, and I told her this, "Janet, I am really sorry that happened. But honestly, you feel pretty good to me. You have a clean slate, no restrictions. This is a great opportunity. I am excited for you!" She mostly agreed and said that it was how she reacted to it that mattered. Good to run into her and I am excited for her, in spite of her loss. Her losses are actually a huge gift.

After that, we moved quickly back to the car, hopped in and hit the road. I was hungry and thought of Yosuko's on Greenlake. It wasn't very far and chicken and rice sounded good. Simple sounded wonderful. So did cheap. The drive was quick and just as I was about ready to look for a spot, I noticed the Closed sign. I thought it was weird for mid afternoon on a Saturday and as I drove past, noticed the chairs and tables were gone. The spirit of the place was empty. It was closed permanently. Bummer deal. Ahh well, I will find something closer to the Ridgeback's house. And I did.

Toshio's Teriyaki was right on the corner of Massachusetts and Rainier. I have been driving past this place twice a day for three days and today I NOTICE it. Well, teriyaki was on my mind and this was on the way home. It was a dingy looking spot from the outside, but since I subscribe to the "hole in the walls have the best food" mentality, I was game.

Walking into the ENTRANCE, it was a small room with a couple of chairs to pass through before you walked into the main room. In this little room were hand written Bible verses. Some verses spoke of patience, some of courage and of faith. Most were scribed in English, but then translated into other languages, like Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Spanish and others that I have no idea. Wow. The energy in this place was soft and the faces were kind. They took debit cards and put to go orders in containers made of compostables (for an extra ten cents)

I scanned the upper parts of the walls, with more verses:

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in the time of need." -Hebrew 4:16

On Patience: "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith" -Galatians 5:22

"But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it." -Romans 8:25

"Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud of spirit. Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry: for anger resteth in the bosom of fools." -Ecclesiastes 7:8,9

It is just a few of the many. How inspiring. How different. Usually scripture outside of a church for me feels fake or pushed onto me. This display of faith and belief held a softness for me and a beautiful meaning. This teriyaki shop was adding its love and thankfulness and faith to the whole space, as well as the food.

As I waited for my food, I explored. I read all of the verses I could. Noticed a beautiful painting and an explanation of its inspiring artist.

http://www.myhero.com/myhero/hero.asp?hero=TomihiroHoshino

I had made it out to the foyer, when the owner came in, to refill the pamphlets that were now gone form their pockets. Pamphlets on Courage, Faith, Patience and Fear. Her name is Yoko Wang. She is a beautiful Japanese woman of indeterminable age. She shines. I mentioned to her how wonderful I thought this place was, how much I liked the verses on the wall.

Yoko began telling me that she likes to minister, that she believes that every Christian is a minister of the faith. She talked of how she married her husband and she wasn't Christian. Every day, he prayed for her to believe. He prayed for seven years. Every day. Yoko, after seven years finally answered her husband's prayer. She said, "It took me seven years, but now I am the one who is the most excited about telling everyone!"

I told her I liked the article on the wall, the one that is titled, "Jesus, Teriyaki and Bicycles" by Howard Strickler. Yoko asked me why. I told her I hadn't read the entire piece, but one sentence caught my eye. "I left that place knowing I would heal and I did."

"Do you want it?" she asked me. "Oh sure, if you have a copy that would be great." Yoko took the copy off the wall, telling me she had another in the back to replace it. I was grateful and excited, while I mentioned how wonderful this place made me feel. I told her how I appreciated the verses on the wall and how they were translated. Yoko's response made me well up. She said, "I understand that everyone is different. Everyone does things a different way. Everyone must accept one another's differences. It is what makes us beautiful."

Tears started streaming down my face. Her words were exactly what I needed to hear in that very beautiful moment. Yoko looked at me and asked, "How can I help you? Is there something that I can help you with? Can you tell me something, and I can pray for you?"

When a kind heart looks you straight in the eye and offers help, resistance is futile and foolish. I told her that I had come to a place in my life that I didn't know which direction to go. Do I wait? Do I go forward? If so, which way is the best? How do I know? I don't know.

She took my order to go from my hands, setting it down on a chair. She took my pamphlets and writing piece from the wall and set them on a ledge. She walked through the door and came back with a tissue to dry my tears and nose. She watched me fix my nose and put down the tissue saying, "Let's pray." She placed her right hand on my shoulder, her left hand up in the air. My left hand went to her waist and my right mirrored hers in the air. I didn't have to say anything I just listened.

I heard Yoko pray for me. Yoko prayed to God that he would give me strength and that through his wisdom and his path for me would show me the way through vision, through dreams, through a sign to lead me down the path. She told God that I was having trouble finding my way and to help me. She asked God to lead me, so that I might follow the light and my heart on the right path.

I have never in my life had anyone pray with me, for me and do it with such reverence, strength and beauty. She might be small in stature, but she is big in heart. And Faith.

During "our" prayer I felt her strong energy coursing through me, giving me peace. After the last Hallelujah I told her Thank you so much. I hugged her. Yoko pointed out that part of God's answer, his path for me was bringing me here today. "It was not an accident that you arrived here today." "Normally," she said, "I am very busy with no time to spare. Today I wasn't busy. It is not an accident."

I believe her. Today I was reaffirmed that good spirits and beautiful angels walk this world with all of us. You must pay attention, or you will miss a golden opportunity to share something beautiful with a complete stranger.

I found a phrase that sums up this moment, "Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgving let your requests be made known to God." -Philippians 4:6

Yoko made a request to help me find my way and I think everyone was listening.