The Source of Strength

Through the course of writing this blog (it's almost 1 year old!), there is a comment that keeps coming up, time and again. It's not one that I mind, but it's one that confuses me.

I write to inspire. I write to encourage and I write to share my story. I written about testifying in court against my mother and how I'd like to approach my own death. I've written about what it's like to skydive, what it's like to have a stroke and what it's like to have PTSD.

The comment / compliment that keeps coming up, throughout my sharing stories with you is about how strong I am.

To this compliment, I normally reply, "At the end of the day, we're a lot stronger than we think we are," and this is true, but it's not the end of the statement.

Yes, I've had a lot happen to me in my short 32 years. Yes, I've had many adventures and weathered many storms, but I don't think I'm necessarily "stronger" than anyone else. When it comes down to it, there are two options of dealing with what this world can throw at you. You can either weather it and let your story continue, or you can let it break you.

Gandhi has a nice quote about this:

Most of the time, I've chosen to weather things, seek help and try to move beyond them. I choose to not surrender. Most of the time, even through depression and Lupus, I convince myself that my story isn't going to end with the latest setback. I remind myself that my story isn't all written, yet, and that there are many shining and brilliant days awaiting me.

Maybe that, in itself, is strength - refusing to "go quietly into that good night."

But, again, I don't see myself as a "strong person." I merely see myself as a person who decided to not let the bottoming-out define me. We all have failures. We all have tragedies and mistakes and oopsies in our past, but we don't have to let them define who we are, forever.

Yes, I'm depressed and have anxiety. Yes, I grew up in an abusive home and I have health problems. But those things are merely facts about me and things that happened. They are not "me."

In the movie, Dark City, a race of aliens is searching for the existence of the human soul by swapping people's memories between different bodies. At the end of the movie, the aliens state that the soul is more than just the sum of our memories. Our past influences who we are, today and in the future, but we are more at our core than just the sum of our memories.

From what I can see, all "strength" is, really, is the ability to pick yourself up when you've stumbled along the way. And if I or any of my readers have done this, then maybe we're all strong people. We all have falling down moments, but in the world of Oriah Mountain Dreamer in her poem, The Invitation,"

"It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children."

That, I think, is real strength.

So, my lovelies, do you think that you are a strong person? Why or why not? Are you willing to own your strength? Tell me about it.

Until next time,

Love to All My Relations,

-Bri

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Resistance and Spiritual Line Work

"All spiritual practice brings us face-to-face with our particular resistance. It's important to remember that resistance isn't what keeps us from our spiritual work. It is our spiritual work."
-Rabbi Avram Davis

This quote rang true for me in my reading, this week. It rang true to me, not only for spiritual work, but for creative work, as well.

I'm in the middle of doing a very large mixed media piece. It's 2 1/2 feet wide by 2 feet tall. All the detail work is very intricate and complex. It's Zendoodle and Zentangle plus some. And it's a very intimidating piece to work on.

Every day, I come to this piece and every day I meet resistance. I come to the paper and look over the work from yesterday. The resistance comes. "That section looks like you were just trying to fill space." "You didn't even try to make it pretty, there, did you?" "Why did you put that color there? It throws off the whole piece." "Wow! That's all the better you could do? I hope you're not planning on showing this to anyone. It's embarrassing."

Resistance. That voice in my head that tells me to stop doing art because I can't draw hands well. That voice that tells me that I'm no good at spelling and therefore I shouldn't write. Resistance comes from that voice in my head that tells me, no matter what, I will always fail. Every single one of us has that voice in our heads.

My art and my spirituality are fundamentally linked. To me, they're one in the same. I make art that reflects the spiritual beauty and oneness that I see in the world. My line-work shows the base intricacy of energy in the process of existence.

A very abstract concept, I know, but basically I try to represent my impressions of the energy of life in visual form.

Flower Line Work
8 1/2" by 11"
Mixed Media
Framed print - $19.99

Every time I approach the paper or the glowing computer screen, I meet resistance. The practice of making art is not the not-having of resistance in your mind. The practice of making art is hearing that resistance and not listening to it, not letting it stop you from making your art.

In this way, it could be said that the process of making art may be more of an accomplishment than the actual finished piece, itself. It takes great bravery to show up to the page, show up to the computer, show up to the wheel or the paints or the canvas and to push past your own demons of resistance. And I urge each and every single one of you to hear the resistance, but not let it rule you.

The process of making art can be just as great as the finished piece. Take joy in your practice and tell that inner resistance voice to shut the hell up!

As always, my lovelies, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel!

Love to All,

-Bri

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Original Art: The Wise Self

The Wise Self
8 1/2" by 11"
Mixed Media
$15.00 Framed color print

Forgiving Dr. Mengele: Episode 2 - Surviving the Angel of Death

Read Episode 1 Here

Awhile ago, I wrote a review of the documentary on Netflix, Forgiving Dr. Mengele and how much the subject of the documentary (an amazing woman by the name of Eva Kor) inspired me regarding the psychological aspects of my own troubled past.

At the end of the documentary, I was shocked to learn that not only was she alive, but that she lives in the same state as I do. Eva, with her message of hope, forgiveness and healing, was right in my back yard. I waited awhile, mulling over what I should do with this information.

On Mothers' Day, this year, my in-laws came to visit my family in our new house. Being distinguished and recognized in his field, I asked my father-in-law if he'd ever heard of Eva. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I served on a panel with her and Maya Angelou, once." The man always makes my jaw drop. I told him of my idea about Eva and he gave me encouragement. I sent out the email that day.
 

Hours later, I logged into my email, intending to clean out the clutter of the day. To my surprise, a familiar name popped up. Eva Kor emailed me back! Not only did she email me back, she granted me an interview with her!

So, my lovelies, sometime after mid-August, you can expect a breakthrough interview with Eva from me on this very blog. I've got my photographer all lined up and the times are set. Needless to say, I am over the moon with this news. Eva's message is on par with Mahatma Gandhi's and I feel so blessed to be granted the opportunity to sit down with this woman face to face.

Elie Weisel said, "For the dead and the living, we must bear witness." In order to fully do justice to this story, I bought Eva's book, Surviving the Angel of Death. I felt I needed to read it so that I could really know what Eva went through. On the day that it arrived in the mail, I read it cover to cover. So detailed is the story that I had to take breaks every few chapters in order to mentally digest all I was reading, but I wanted to bear witness. True and fully informed witness.

I've been coming at this story in a round-about way for years, now. When I was in 7th grade, I took a trip to Washington DC. There, we were shown the Holocaust Memorial Museum. I can remember walking through and just not understanding how in the world something like this could happen. I've never understood hate that runs to those depths.

The image that sticks in my head the most was a pile of shoes in the museum.

Shoes confiscated from prisoners at Majdanek, on loan from the State Museum of Majdanek, Lublin, Poland. Photo courtesy of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum

I walked through the whole museum on that trip, completely silent, but I knew that I was witnessing something important. That trip, that museum and that pile of shoes does and will influence me for years to come.  

I am a visionary. I use my art, my writing and this blog to bring to light issues I care about. I care that people are mistreated all over the world. I care about human suffering and I care about inequality. I know that I can use my voice, my ability to write and all the other gifts that I have been given to speak out against hate and to speak up for peace, for healing, for beauty, for fun and for creativity.

Art can be activism. Art has power and can be used as a catalyst for change. Sue Hammond West, my art professor who influenced me the most, taught me that.

The only thing I can do, my lovelies, is hope to do justice to Eva and her wonderful message. I look forward to this adventure and to sharing it with you.

Remember, dears. We are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.

Love to All My Relations,

-Bri

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This is Water: Changing How We Think

This week, I found this wonderfully amazing video. Before I go on to my thoughts on this subject, please watch it.

Wow! I don't know about you, but that was one of the most amazing videos I've seen, this year.

As much as I try to live my life outside of what people call, "the daily grind," sometimes it sneaks in. Sometimes I do have to go someplace during rush hour in a big city. Sometimes I do need food at peak grocery store hours. Sometimes, life's little annoyances happen to me, too.

And, as much as I try, sometimes I forget my goal. I go into a grocery store in my hometown and see the little brother of an ex-boyfriend. I'm sure he doesn't know why my body posture goes stiff when I see him. I'm sure he doesn't understand why I have to strain for polite words. But his eyes, the eyes that his brother also has, reminds me of a time of great emotional pain.

It is times like these that I remember that I am still struggling with keeping myself grounded, that I am still (despite all my inner work) having a hard time forgiving and that I am not a 100% enlightened being, yet. Still, I do try. In the parking lot, sitting in The Visionary Van, I try to calm my heart rate. I try to find that wise portion of myself which is capable of distancing itself from the memory this boy invoked. I try to feel what it would be like to extend to him, to his family, to even his brother the handshake of friendship and shared experience that I try to offer all of humanity.

My art, my writing, my creativity, my inner emotional and spiritual work. These things are not separate. They are all intrinsically linked to each other. Back before my loads of inner emotional and spiritual work, my art was about pain and longing. It connected with people on an emotional level of shared sadness and suffering. I even received some minor notoriety for it, publishing 3 books and having 1 art showing.

As I began to change and heal, my art and writing began to change. I began to see how we can connect with each other through the shared experience of beauty, joy and (the most basic heart response) love. I began to put my lifelong quest for modes of healing into my writing, into this blog, into seeking out others who are shining out the same light I am.

I know I am not alone in this journey. I know that there are a million souls out there on this planet and beyond that are seeking a connection with each other. We are seeking something more than what we've been shown. We are looking out into the night sky and deep into the eyes of our neighbor, asking each the same question, "Is there anyone that feels like I do?"

Well, I can tell you, my lovelies - YES! There are millions of us out here. You are not alone!

When we change the way we think, when we change the way we view our own world, our lives begin to change. Nights that were once spent alone and terrified of our aching need to be loved are replaced with nights where we are alone and comfortable in our solitude because we know that we are never, ever really "alone." No matter what we have gone through or what we desire to create, another soul in this vast place has felt and desired the same thing.

No matter where you are in your journey, just keep remembering that what you look for, you will find. Just keep reminding yourself to be kind, to seek your truth, to be as creative and joyful and peaceful as you can. We will meet, one day. Of that, I am certain. And, oh do I look forward to that meeting. I can't wait to see your eyes as you see that, yes, I am a real person and, no, you aren't really alone.

Choose what you desire your life to be and seek to make it so. Remember - this is water!


Until next time, my lovelies, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.

Love to All,

-Bri

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Forgiving Dr. Mengele: An Inspirational Story

Today, I watched the wonderful 2002 documentary, Forgiving Dr. Mengele.

A quick history: Dr. Mengele was a doctor in the notorious Auschwitz concentration camp in Nazi Germany. Eva Mozes Kor and her sister, Miriam, were children that survived Dr. Mengele's experiments on twin children. The documentary focuses on Eva and her journey in mentally processing what happened to her in Auschwitz, forgiving the perpetrators of the crimes against her and the effects that her forgiveness has had on other survivors and the world, at large.

The documentary is, as of this writing, available for viewing on Netflix streaming.

Of all the documentaries I've watched, I deem this one to be the most profound and important. 

None of us comes through this life unscathed. As a victim of rape, violence and abuse, I have come through much in this life. Others have come through much worse.

We come through unloving parents, teasing and ostracizing by our peers, rape, violence, abusive relationships, gaslighting, poverty, racism, sexism and intolerance. But, no matter what we have come through, for the most part, none of it comes close to the horrors and pain that Eva, her sister and all the survivors of the Holocaust came through.

I found this documentary inspiring. Eva and her twin sister, Miriam, survived atrocities and pain that most of us could never even dream of experiencing. Even after the death of her sister (which was a direct result of Dr. Mengele's experiments), Eva still manages to look past the pain and toward a brighter horizon.

This horizon is one that few of us could imagine getting to after such an ordeal. Eva's horizon is the forgiving of her tormentors and the building of hope for a better and more understanding future.

This begs the question, for me, "If Eva can forgive something so great, why can't we all forgive the things in our lives that seem so small by comparison?"

I would have thought there would be support for Eva for such courageous acts - even going so far as to visit the house of a Nazi doctor who worked in Auschwitz in order to gain some clarity and closure. But it seems that this is not the case. Arguments fly of "Who are we to forgive them? We are not God!" and "If I forgive, I would be dishonoring the memory of my family who died." to "We demand acts of atonement for what was done to us!"

I can not say that I would blame those who are still hurting over their experiences. Maybe, if I were in their shoes, I would feel the same way, hard pressed to let the past go. But Eva's response is simple and pure. "Getting even has never healed a single person."

Eva is not about forgetting. And, in fact, world should never forget the horrors that happened, lest we lose the lesson found therein and allow something like the Holocaust to happen, again. "I don't want to be a victim all my life, " says Eva. "That is why I forgive."

And Eva is right. Our forgiveness does not change the nature of the acts committed against us as wrong. It doesn't even matter if the people who hurt us deserve to be forgiven. Forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves, our own hearts, our own spirits. We have things we want to do and people (hopefully free from pain) that we want to be. We forgive because we want to move on.

What was done to Eva, her sister and millions of others was wrong. Nothing will change that fact. But holding on to the pain, to the trauma, to the hatred of the perpetrators does nothing for the healing of the wounds in the human soul. Everyone is entitled to feel whatever they wish regarding this issue, to forgive or not. All I am saying is that Eva and her perspective inspire me.

Eva inspires me to think that, if she can forgive such a huge encroachment on her being, why can we all not forgive the little (by comparison) violations in our own lives. Eva and her story give me hope for a more forgiving world.


And I come to find out that Eva and I live in the same state. How amazing and cool is that?!? Maybe, one day soon, I'll get to meet with her and thank her for all the work she's done.

Me? I've forgiven most of those who have harmed me. As I said in my first vlog, amnesty is granted to all. (And please, make no mistake, there is a big difference between forgiving people and allowing them back into your life so they can hurt you, again.) I do not want to live out my days in fear, in pain, in keeping the negative things in my life in the forefront of my brain. I prefer hope, joy, reason, compassion, empathy and oneness.

Until next time, my lovelies. Please remember that we are all visionaries.We just have to figure out where we excel.

Go to Episode 2

Love to All,


-Bri


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If I Had a Fortune Cookie

If I had a fortune cookie for this particular day, it would have said "You will take the best bath of your life. Afterwards, still glowing, you will go outside to get your sweater and be covered in a cloud of pig poo. This will propel you into a realm of pissed that you never thought your gambit of emotions could experience. Your lucky numbers for today: None. You're going to get covered in powdered poo. Sorry."

In May of 2010, hubby and I had gone to visit his parents' house. Out in the middle of the country and surrounded by fields for farming, their house is quiet and peaceful. On this particular day, my stepson was doing his homework at the kitchen table and my body really started to ache. So, I went up to the parents' bathroom, upstairs. Newly remodeled, their bathroom was beautiful - all sandstone tile and big mirrors. AND a built-for-two garden tub with jets.

In the vanity, I found some bubble bath and I poured some in as the bath filled and I patiently waited while the tub filled up. I slid my aching body into the hot water and bubbles and I was in heaven. At some point, I think Hubby even came in and asked me how I was doing. I was so relaxed and feeling so good from the water, I think I mumbled, "Hold all my calls. I'm never coming out."

Eventually, my brain came back into reality land a bit and I realized that I was sweating and that it may be time to get out of the tub. So, I did. The process of drying off and getting clothes on was apparently a little much for my blood pressure at the time because my heart was pounding in my ears. I looked at my bra that I'm going to put back on and I thought, "There is no way that is happening. I'm too relaxed and putting that on is gonna be a lot of effort. Plus, I don't want to be strapped into that torture device, right now." I dressed and walked down the stairs to the kitchen, dopey and happy. I felt like the world was perfect. I was relaxed and calm. It was a little chilly downstairs, so I decided to go out to my car and get my sweater.

I went outside and noticed that the farmers were spreading stuff on the fields, but it didn't really register in my brain as something I should pay attention to. People spread stuff on fields all the time, here. I walked out to my car, grabbed my sweater from the back set, put it on and then I looked up and saw this gray cloud rolling my direction. Still, it didn't dawn on me. And, even if it had, that cloud was so big, there was no way I was going to be able to avoid it. I just stood there, hot water-dopey, and watched that cloud roll towards me like a movie. I had just enough time to wonder, "What the . . . " and that's when it hit me. And it smelled worse than anything I'd smelled, before.

At that point, I realized what has happened. They were spreading pig poo from the c.a.f.o. (contained animal feeding operation) on the field and I had just gotten hit with a cloud of flying poo-dirt that the spreader kicked up. This proceeded to send me flying off the handle into a realm of pissed that I never could have dreamed existed within my gambit of emotions. And I stayed outside for a minute, fuming, 'cause my stepson was downstairs and my mind is very inventive with the English language when I get mad. I stayed outside and I calmed down for a minute, enough that I wouldn't explode into new, inventive profanities when I went back inside

After a bit, I went into the house and Hubby could tell right away from my face that something was amiss. He asked me what happened. "I. Just. Got. Covered. In. A. Cloud. Of. Pig. Poo."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Can you smell it on you?"
"I was in the middle of it. I don't know. Can YOU smell it on me?"
Hubby proceeded to walk over, sniff me, then immediately stumbled back 3 paces, clutching his face. He suggested, "Why don't you go take a shower?"
"And put on poo-covered clothes when I get out all clean? I don't think so."
"Here," he says. "I brought a change of clothes. You can put these on." And he handed me a pair of his pants and a beaten up tee shirt.

I took a shower and I put on Hubby's clothes. And, when my in-laws got home, I was still standing there, hair wet and still mad. Hubby told them all about what happened. My mom-in-law patted my shoulder and tried to reassure me by saying, "Oh, we're sure it was mostly dirt. . . "

Some days, my dears, the poo's going to hit you, whether you're ready for it or not. Really? It's best to find the humor in it and learn to laugh at the situation. I hope you enjoyed this tale.

And please remember that we are all visionaries. We just to figure out where we excel.

Love to All,

Bri

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Levitate - Can You?

I found this video last week and I was amazed. Before I go on, I'll let you watch it.

The song is by a band named Hadouken and is called "Levitate." The lyrics are as follows:

Heart in my mouth, but my head in the clouds yeah
I can feel it rising
Bound to the Earth but, we could ascend yeah
I’m realizing
I feel both feet lift off the ground
I can levitate
With every truth that leaves I close my eyes
And levitate


Oh, my darlings. Where to start? Every time I see videos like this of my fellow humans reaching for the sky, I am inspired. Every time I hear a song that alludes to Universal Truth, I feel so grateful to be alive.

My dears, each of us can aspire to be the highest and best versions of ourselves possible. We can take up the mantle of our Spirit-given gifts and run with them. We can use them every day in this world to lift each other up, inspire each other, help each other.

The truth of it is that we can work together, if we can put all of our efforts into making this world beautiful and whole, we CAN levitate. We can raise each other up, higher and higher. By working together, can banish poverty and sickness and the hurt that lies in the hearts of our neighbors.

I may be an idealist. I may speak of something that is beyond what we think the people of this world are capable of doing, but I have hope. Even if it doesn't happen until I'm long, long dead, I believe that we can turn our lives around and shine forward our best faces for The Universe to see.

Be amazed, my lovelies. Be in awe. Be humbled by this world and all the people in it and give thanks that you are alive to see such wonders. The Babylonians couldn't even conceive of a thing like the internet, where we can talk to anyone, anywhere in the world at pretty much any time we desire. That we, through technology, have access to all the collective knowledge that man has amassed. How cool of a thought is that?

And we take it for granted.

I believe, dears, that we can levitate. More than levitate, I believe that we can fly past what we've ever thought possible. I think it's only a matter of time before every soul, everywhere sees it. I'm just the visionary.

For a long time in this life, I was angry. Sure, I was happy and sad and in awe, but beneath all those emotions at the core of me was anger. And I was angry at everything. I was angry with sexism and classism and racism and homophobia. I was angry that I had a traumatic childhood. I was angry that people around me teased me and found me to be "less than" them. I was angry that I'd been hurt and I was angry because, in my mind, I secretly felt that I deserved every single crap thing that happened to me . . .

I know. It's tough to admit. . .

I am different, now. Now, my underlying emotion is one of joy. Sure, I get sad and I get mad, but my "default setting," now, is joy. But my anger made me fierce. In my younger years, my anger galvanized me into someone who could look past all of the negative and see through to the light.

And, now, I can turn back and show everyone the path. Through my words and art, I can tell my story and illustrate to you that, if I've walked the path of coming through all the worlds' negativity, you can too. No matter your story, you can step beyond it into a life of pure, unbridled, down-to-the-tip-of-your-toes happy.

Right now, I'm levitating. But I can't do it alone. In order to truly fly, I need other to come to where I am. We all need each other. We are communal organisms. We thrive best, together.

I'm so happy that you are all coming with me on this journey of life. I feel blessed to be able to write to you.

Until next time, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.

Love to All,


-Bri


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What the World Needs Now. . .

I think almost everyone has heard it. And, according to the 1965 popular song sung by Jackie DeShannon, what the world needs now is love - sweet love.

What can I say, my lovelies? I disagree. I think the world needs more than that.

In the world today, where war rages, race and religion divide us, spiritual and political ideologies make us think that our neighbors are our enemies, what could this world need more than love, you ask?

In my opinion, the world needs YOU, my darling.

That's right. The world needs you!

Alive, blessed, fully-present. This world needs people who can see, can speak, can dance, can march, can invent new and better ways of being.

This world needs you. Every single person who reads these words. It needs your great ideas, the love from your tender heart, your strong arms that hold your children, your determined feet that carry you through this life, your beautiful voice that sings songs of triumph, joy, and sadness.

You do not have to be more than you are. You do not have to do more than you already do. You are seen by this Universe, you are known, you are beautiful and you are loved. And, most of all, you are not alone and you are so vastly important.

Don't think so? Allow me to convince you.

Take a moment and think about all the great leaders that have come from this world. Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Martin Luther King Jr., Ghandi, Mother Theresa, Einstein. These names and people are our legacy as the human race. These are the shining examples of us as a human family.

I used to watch "Def Poetry Jam" and I loved the poets on it. Some beautiful quotes that ring through me come from here. "Don't let the universe regret you." "Be worthy of your ancestors."

As humans, all a part of this species, all of the names I mentioned above? They are our ancestors. What a beautiful legacy to try to live up to, no?

And think about those people, how each had teachers and food preparers and trash collectors. Every single one of these people had a vast support network of people around them. And those people may not have had any clue as to the part they were playing in human history!

Who made the pencils that Einstein wrote with? Who wove the blankets Mother Theresa used to comfort children? Who made the paper that held Martin Luther King, Jr.'s famous speech? Who was Marie Curie's teacher? All of these unnamed people, by just doing what they did, helped and supported these wonderful icons of love, of freedom, of kindness and discovery.

So, no. I don't think that all the world needs is love. I think it needs more than that. I think this world needs every single person, doing what they do with love in their heart. You never know who you may be supporting.

A girl comes through your shop line and is 3 cents short for ice cream? You give her the 3 cents and, later in her life, she goes on to become an EMT who saves lives on a daily basis.

A boy receives a building block set for Christmas from a stranger? He goes on to become the next Frank Lloyd Wright.

Oh, my dears, never think that you are of no use to this world! Never think that you're alone, unseen or under-appreciated. We visionaries, we are out here. We see what you do and we say prayers for your safekeeping and strength at the end of every day.

Om Nama Shivaya

The bracelet I wear on my left wrist

To the hands that sewed the beautifully comfy, maroon pants I'm wearing now, thank you! To the heart that composed the song I'm listening to on my IPod, thank you! To the arms that harvested the rice for my Chex this morning, a million thank you's! To the legs that walked the fields and produced the coffee in my cup, there is no amount of gratitude that is adequate enough for you!

Just by going about our lives and doing what we do, and maybe doing it with kindness, we enable such wonderful leaders to rise. We enable Virginia Woolfe to write. We enable Alex Grey to paint. We allow Betty Friedan to march.

And what a beautiful thing to be a part of, this life that we have been given. No matter the circumstances.

So my dears, I am Visionary Bri. And I am telling you that what the world needs now is you, dear soul. Just you.

And please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.

Love to All,


-Bri


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Carry On

Oh, my lovelies. This life can be trying sometimes, can't it?

We are capable of wonderous things, but we slip along the way, don't we? We say the wrong thing. We step on toes. We get upset and say things we don't mean. Ah, the crazy ride it is that we call "life."

I know it's not always easy out there. I know that times can seem bleak and uncertain and downright, boots-knocking scary. It's okay, my lovelies. Breathe. Deep breaths. It will be okay.

In the middle of our darkest times, I know it can feel like the whole world is crashing down around you. I know it can feel like the stars have fallen out of alignment, the tides are all wonky and even the cement under your feet seems unstable. I have been there, dear ones.

I've been right where you're standing - in depression so bad that getting something to eat from the kitchen seems to take so much energy that you just don't have. I've been right there - not leaving the house for weeks. No matter how bad you feel, no matter how bleak it seems right now, I'm going to tell you something both amazing and true.

It gets better.

Listen. . . do you hear that? On the wind.

Do you hear that?

It's the universe and it's singing to you, singing through you, thumping in every beat of your perfect, gentle, tender heart. Do you know what it's saying? It's saying . . .

No matter how bleak or how sad things get, no matter how hard or trying or difficult the road, always remember that your story can continue past this ugly funk. Always remember that there can still, yet, be dreams and sunshine and laughter. It will come back around.

I promise.

And you can bank on that, babies!


And to close and send you to the weekend with joy, a song. "Carry On" by Fun.

Until next time, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.


Love to All,


-Bri


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Boundaries and the Sacredness of "No"

Throughout my life, I have had a problem with boundaries. For a long time, in my formative years, I was not allowed to have boundaries. I was not allowed to set parameters of what I would and would not accept as situations in my life. Even a boundary of, "When I'm in the shower, that is a time for privacy. Do not come in and talk to me while I"m naked," I was not allowed to have.

Secret thoughts written down in a journal? No. My journals were taken, read aloud, and I was made to pay a psychological and emotional toll for "thought crimes." Any possession that I had was subject to being taken from me on a whim. A pocket knife given to me by my father? Taken. Books of poetry that expressed any thought other than happiness and rainbows? Confiscated.

"Did you grow up in some sort of strange cult?" you might ask me. The answer is yes and no. This is one of the tolls on a person's mind and emotions when they're living with an abusive parent.

After I got out into the world and my life became my own, it took quite awhile for me to learn how to respond appropriately when my boundaries were crossed. It took therapy, medications, meditation and a lot of deep breathes to center myself when presented with conflict.

In the depths of being in this emotionally vulnerable state, I recall one such boundary breech situation where I did not respond well. Though I constantly strive for higher understanding and sharing of the force and experiences that unite us as people, I am human. And sometimes I miss the mark, make a mistake and don't respond as well as I could have.

In my hometown, there are no 24 hour coffee shops or diners. When I need to write, these are the places I prefer to go. From the age of 18 on, instead, I began to frequent a local bar. I would sit in a booth by myself with my books and my journals and I would drink coffee. Always coffee. And, since I got known for being very quiet and not causing trouble, I was allowed to stay in the bar past "all ages" time. I became so familiar there that they allowed me to get coffee refills, myself, whenever I wanted. The hours that I've spent in this bar have been great.

For years, I would venture out into the world, trying to find my place in it. But I would always come back to my bar. Employees came and went, but the new ones quickly learned who I was. Sometimes, I had no money and they let me drink coffee for free. If I had a dollar or two, I'd give it as a tip to the lovely bartenders who were always so kind to me. Over time, I got to know them and became their friend. Many a time, I counseled them through good times and bad, and I became known as the "bar therapist." If that bar is the hometown bar from the TV show Cheers, then I am the "Frasier" of The Inn.

Once, while at my bar, I left my journals and books on the table and I went to the bathroom. This was not uncommon. Every common patron of the establishment knows (at least) of me and, with it being such a small town, no one had ever bothered my things. 10 years I went to that bar doing the same thing and never once did I experience a problem. Until one day. (There's always an 'until' that comes after a 'never,' isn't there?)

On this particular day, I went to the bathroom, then stood at the bar chatting with the girls. When I returned to my table. I was horrified. The bar was mostly empty, yet there were two men sitting in my booth. It was obvious that they'd done so on purpose and, horror of horrors, one of them was flipping though and reading my journals.

When I saw this, I felt so violated. It's not that this man that I barely knew was reading my journals, he was peering into my mind. He was seeing into my heart and soul, deep thoughts I'd never uttered. And he was doing so without my permission. I instantly became panicked and afraid. I stormed up to the booth where the men sat and they looked up and me. I exploded at the man holding my journal.

"What are you doing!?!"

"Oh. We didn't know that this stuff was yours," he lied.

"Yes, you did! Everyone knows that I'm the only one that comes he with books and writes! Get out of my booth!!!"

"We can sit anywhere we want." The man's friend taunted me.

"Fine!" I yelled. "At least stand up and let me get my purse."

"No." The men refused to get up, so I did the only thing I could think of to do. I dropped down on the floor, crawled under the table and retrieved my purse. Then I stood up and took all the books and the journal off the table and out of their hands. Immediately, I bolted for the door and deposited the things in my car, which I locked.

I went back into the bar and told the bartenders what happened. I don't really know what I wanted them to do. I wanted the men kicked out, yelled at, arrested. Something! In my mind, you couldn't just violate a person's space like that and get away with it. Talking to the bartenders, it became clear that they, basically, couldn't do anything about what happened. Nor should they. It was not their wrong-doing or their fight and I knew it. I calmed down and went back to the table.

Going back to the one that had read my journal, I asked if I could speak to him outside. In the parking lot, I apologized for flying off the handle. Then I asked him why he got into my things. "I don't know," he said and I never got an explanation. But what happened next shocked me to my core.

"I read that thing about being a mountain. Did you write that?" Hesitantly, I replied that I had, knowing that he had stumbled upon a guided meditation I'd written for a friend. "I really liked that. The part about the goats? I didn't know anyone else thought like that. Sometimes, I go and sit and just watch the sun set, lying on the hood of my car. I didn't know anyone else thought stuff like that, at all."

Here he was, this man that had just pried into my inner world without my permission and he was standing there telling me that he didn't know that others in the world thought like he did. 'What a lonely life,' I thought.

"You liked it?" I asked, still hesitant. "Yeah," he said. I felt my shoulders relax and my anger subside. "Well," I said to him, "I'm glad. But you still shouldn't have gone through my stuff. That wasn't right." "I know," he replied, looking at the ground.

This man violated a boundary of mine. He invaded my personal things. He shouldn't have done that, but I did calm down, we did talk it out. I ended up giving him a connection in this world and he knew, finally, that he was not alone in his experiences.

Still, I continue to set boundaries and I continue to enforce them. These days, though, I try to be more understanding and more level-headed when they are breached. I, occasionally, even overstep someone else's boundaries; most of the time on accident. When it is brought to my knowledge that I've done so, I apologize.

I have always thought that saying "yes" to life was a sacred thing. It opens you to new experiences, new lessons and new levels of understanding. But, in this new Visionary Bri project, I have come to learn that saying "no" can be sacred, as well. When I say "no," I am not denying another person. Instead, I am standing up for and honoring my own integrity and self.

No, I cannot be your unpaid web developer.

I'm sorry, but I can't run your business for you.

No, you must make your own art, your own path, your own life. I will give you advice and help, but I can't do it for you.

Saying "no" allows each "yes" I say to be a full extension of my being. It means that I have committed to bring myself fully to the experience I am agreeing to without reservations. If faced with a choice, if it's not a 100% yes for me, then it's a no. And, once this is understood, people often take my "no's" a little easier because they understand that I can not be with them, fully, in the way they are asking.

But I am working on ways where I can say "yes" more often. I am receiving so many requests for help that I am coming up with a way to offer creative counseling sessions by the hour. This way I can say "yes, I can help you" and my needs can be met in that exchange of energy, as well.

Look for more new and exciting this coming up, here, in 2013. I will announce them when the time comes on this blog, on my Facebook and on Twitter. So be ready! When I open up the spots for Creative Counseling, I will only have a few spots available and they will be first come, first serve.

As always, my lovelies, I hope that you can take something from this post for use in your own life. Please feel free to leave me a comment and I'll reply back to you ASAP.

Remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.


Love to All,

-Bri

My Christmas Eve (with video by Bob Welsh)

This video was sent around on my family's email. When I saw it, I just knew that I had to post it for this beautiful day. It's Christmas eve, tonight. It's that one holiday that magic can happen. It's the time of year that people are giving, are kind, and that we are all the people that we truly want to be. So, without further ado, here it is:

So often that we get wrapped up in our own lives, our own tragedy, we hardly ever stop to think of the helpers. Maybe someone told you a truth that you didn't really want to hear, but desperately needed to hear. At this time of year, I think of endings and I think about the various people who have helped me. Tonight, I send warm blessings to all of them, whether they had to give me "tough help" that I really didn't want or bestowed friendly help.

This is the time that I remember those people in my life and how they are so much more precious to me, in this world, than jewelry or electronics or pretty clothes. At Christmas, we all turn into the best possible version of ourselves.

Through trying times and deep sorrow, still, there is hope. And there will always be hope. There will always be those of us who try to reach out, try to give more than we get and help our fellow humans.

Goodnight my dear readers. I hope you found this video as wonderful as I did.

Blessings and Love to All on this Christmas,

-Bri

Skydiving Samadhi: Episode 1

 Samadhi (def) --a non-dualistic state of consciousness in which the consciousness of the experiencing subject becomes one with the experienced object i n which the mind becomes still, one-pointed or concentrated while the person remains conscious. In Buddhism, it can also refer to an abiding in which mind becomes very still but does not merge with the object of attention, and is thus able to observe and gain insight into the changing flow of experience.  Wikipedia

In the summer of my 20th year, my parents took me down to the Richmond Boogie, the second largest skydiving event in the world. My father has always enjoyed planes and air shows, so I had been taken to a number of them in my youth.

All afternoon, we sat in lawn chairs and watched people fall from the sky. Starting way up high, you could hardly see the plane, let alone the people as they began their dives. Slowly, a dark dot would come into focus, no bigger than a bug. "There!" My father would tap my shoulder and point up into the blue. The dark dot got bigger and, soon, a brilliantly colored blossom of parachute would unfurl. The diver slowly and gracefully floated down towards us, landing as a full-sized human on the air field.

Skydiving Samadhi: Episode 2

Finally, it came my group's turn to dive. Divers were loaded in the plane. We sat in a long line, legs outstretched, almost in each others' laps. I was in my Senior Masters' lap. The plane, to me, looked like the plane in Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom that carried Dr. Jones to India. I could almost hear the chickens squawking over the engines.

There was a wave of excitement that swept over everyone as the plane began to taxi to the runway. I calmed my nerves, looked out the window and prayed. "Great Spirit, I'm going to fly, today. Please take me in your hand and bring me safely back to Earth." This prayer would continue until my moment of truth.

Skydiving Samadhi: Episode 3

Back to Episode 2


At first, I wasn't sure I was out of the plane. The first couple of seconds of free-fall stretched into what felt like minutes of nothing but blackness and the feeling of wind on my face. I had no awareness of falling, no concept that I was strapped to another human being. It was nothing but tranquil being. Then, I opened my eyes.