Archive for the ‘Laughing Heart’ Category

Hello dear Friends,
I’ve been writing my next book, that’s why, no matter how much I want to, I can’t fit in more than a monthly post, here on Lord Flea Sings. I think you’ll agree though, that my current project is pretty relevant to what’s going on all around us, all of us. Read about that at end of this post. By the way, yes, these recent posts have been longer than usual because — the subject matter is way too important to synthesize into a convenient little sound bite. So bear with me, and stick with this lengthy exploration of our current times, if you wish to share what lies ahead for us in these exciting times, as I see things. If you’re looking for a “quickie” little sound bite … visit me on FB, Instagram or Twitter @tezalord. Thanks for your interest in my ongoing spiritual activism.
united in our cause to make a difference--one person at a time

united in our cause to make a difference–one person at a time

Everywhere I turned this past month I heard the malaise of discontents arising from the Dems who lost. Many are scared, we hear in the media and they personally tell me. Some can’t even see any hope at all. “We’re doomed,” they say. Speaking of president-elect Trump as “That bastard!” instead of giving him a chance. They know he’s evil, they’re sure. Seems to me that these kinds of people think of politics as their religion, and I wonder why they give so much power to who wins and who doesn’t, in this power game called governance? It has made me sad, and truthfully, my sadness is what has fueled this post. What I want to share with you today is the endless possibilities that lie ahead. As always, I’m approaching my subject from the spiritual p.o.v. I’m not a teacher, I’m just as spiritual activist, remember please. I have an obligation to my chosen path to share my deepest thoughts. Here and Now.
I’ve spoken to many friends and strangers alike who can barely get out of bed in the morning these days. Even other yoga teachers I know of, couldn’t teach after the spiritual-crushing results (for them) of Nov. 7. Others, like us, my consort Carter and I, look forward to the upcoming changes that we felt were necessary in American society lately. If you’re new to Lord Flea, you might want to read the previous post to see how I interpreted this shocking event, and how upsetting our recent Presidential Election’s results were to … so many folks.
Sure, some areas of society are more tenuous now, especially the environmental progress that’s been fought for and successfully made so far. But, no matter how it looks from the outside, I truly believe that change is good. But change is hard, yes. However, many people, environmentalists and women’s rights activists, think we’re doomed because of who won, I thoroughly disagree. I think we have now, even more than ever, a greater possibility to spiritualize our society, one individual at a time. And that, my friend, is MY politics.
Perhaps what “the losers” (sorry, I hate using this term, but gee, this is the fact) feel is that the world now faces The Unknown. And to many, the unknown equals the increase of dangers. Again, I differ in this respect. As a confirmed “change-junkie” (except Carter, I’m keeping him) I believe that change propels every person, and all of society too, to make assessments and transform old don’t-work-anymore ways into a new and better versions.
This has happened in my life over and over, that’s how I can say this outrageous statement.
Allow me to give you a few examples.
I was abused as a child by an alcoholic family member. Instead of that being the catastrophe that ruined my life (as it does to many other child victims) from an early age “it” compelled me to … look at my unhappiness and make changes, always changes, so that eventually I found the “right answers” and finally — I found true inner peace. If I hadn’t been abused, perhaps I would have never been so propelled or even interested in “self-improvement.” I would have stayed the same miserable, freaked out, mistrusting, badly behaving person, only as a grown up.
I truly believe that having been traumatized at age 10 pushed me into becoming an addict (alcoholic by age 15, druggie by 20) and then, after I’d had my 21 years of self-abuse, I discovered the spiritual recovery of the 12-steps when I was 36. Because I’d done so much self-sabotaging by then, I was ready to surrender to a higher concept of living. But only after having experienced the most degrading, depressing, and dangerous side of life. Since then, I have devoted myself to living sober, and learning how to erase my negative tendencies. My progress on the spiritual path has been (now here’s the catch) equal to the degradation to which I drove myself, intent upon self-destruction that’s also defined as the dark realms of self-abuse.
Guardian of the Sky, mixed media, 27“x60”

the Spirit of Destiny sometimes ties to knock us over!”

So you see? Not every “catastrophe” is really that. Sometimes what we think of as a simply awful and untenable situation (such as some feel T’s ascendancy is), could really be Nature’s way of pushing us toward a higher path. Here’s another personal example:
Followers of my blog know that I’m Angel Mom to my consort Carter’s two children. At the time of deciding to marry Carter (when the kids were very young) all my friends shouted No No No! The situation just “appeared from the outside” to be fraught with negatives and dangers (for my inner peace and life’s success). Even my own mother tried to talk Carter out of marrying me (God rest her soul). But I was already 7 years sober then and I decided on my own, to follow my heart. I chose to not listen to all the naysayers. And … from the outside what appeared to be a disastrous situation (a bio-mom who was a troublemaker, to put it mildly; living in suburbia after decades of travel and adventure) … our household turned out to be the perfect opportunity for me to become who and what I truly am (artist/writer/spiritual seeker) more than any other situation that had ever presented itself before me. BTW, Carter and I just celebrated 25 years of fulfilling-to-both marriage, and believe me, we’ve worked hard to get here. We have moved from suburbia, thank you Goddess!
So, I hope you can see from these two examples, that “Things are not what they appear to be” in both our familial and now, our current political clime.
What the world faces now, with Trump’s radically different, sometimes Twitter-irreverent and oftentimes women-irreverent, environmentally-conscious dubious presidency soon to happen, will lead us — I know, intuitively — to a better, more functioning relationship with every aspect of our complex world. This is not just my hope and prayer– it is my expectation. I feel like I’m watching a long-awaited movie. I’m so excited about this RADICAL change that I’m literally on the edge of my seat, watching, monitoring, seeing the opportunities present themselves left and right. For those scoffing at me, just remember: change is hard, but change is always good.
Carter (a Rep) and I (totally non-political) are certainly not pessimists about the new administration. We personally feel that the Dems have — inadvertantly, in their zeal to “fix society” — caused a lot of stagnation and polarization in our society. Social media has added a discordant sensationalism to the mix, but this also is part of our changing times and we must learn to filter truth from hoaxes, constantly. Many in America are out of work. Many black friends of ours voted for Trump because they are sick of promises not kept, and jobs that kept disappearing. And when people can’t eat, they get scared. When they get scared enough, they change. These were the “silent Trump votes” that were so unexpected.

Instead of seeing possibilities in change, others continue to choose to suffer as malcontents who wail and wag their fingers “I told you so!” spewing hatred more than T ever did (his theatrics got him elected, didn’t it?), even after election shock has worn off for many of us. In our household we remain expectantly hopeful as we hear our disappointed and depressed Dem friends complain, wasting their precious energy.

the sound of Aum: Ohhhhhmmmmmmmm

Instead of negative, send out positive energy! Like … Ommmm

I believe that so-called negative things are really “catalysts” propelling us forward. This is the story of my life’s story, right? In my story I had to suffer and come close to death, in order to find the porthole through which, thanks to great teachers, I have learned to live in the Light. Acceptance is the portal to the Light, for those of you who want a hint how to get started on the spiritual path.

I am a former close associate of the Dark. I know the ways of the Dark intimately. I was never frightened to go right up to the hungry open-toothed maw of evil — until I learned to surrender. Then I learned to kick my way out of the Dark. Until … finally, I succeeded. I’ve never been back. I turn my back on the Dark today. But I am all too familiar with the Dark’s horrors, its crushing lack of trust, its pernicious suspicions — until I found my way out to discover, or remember, rather, who I really am.

We are all children of the Light. But in order to get there, we must not be afraid to confront the Dark that’s naturally found within each human’s heart. It’s simply part of our human nature, that’s all. The Dark is the back side of the Light, nothing more. I believe experiencing this, personally, is the true meaning behind Eve giving the apple of good and evil, of temptation to Adam, back in the Bible’s garden of paradise. Without  challenges, without choosing goodness over evil, what is life but doing what everyone else does, mindlessly? Why look for the Light, when the semi-grey (the in-between stage that hides both Dark and LIght) can be so comfortable, intoxicating … and … unchangeable.
Wake up people! That’s why shocking things like 9/11 and Trump’s winning are so necessary! It’s ALL good, really, truly. Once we accept things as they are.
The world needs all the waking up and shaking up and change that we can get!
Too much really really bad stuff is happening for complacency nowadays. Our environment is melting and souring. Indigenous People are not treated equally as the more politically powerful are (Standing Rock Unite!). Our oceans are sick, our society is sick, and many human individuals, are sick as well. Neurosis and disrespect is rampant. We need the biggest, baddest shake ups we can get. I herald Trump! I don’t like him as a person, but … I love the fact his Republican party has shaken up the status quo in my own country, and the entire world is already feeling the must-change ramifications of his win, big time.
It’s my belief that, in America, if the status quo had continued (with Clinton’s win) that complacency and discontent would have just fomented more, with four more years, at least, of economic woes, the gist of what’s been happening here and much of the world over. To me, a government’s main job is not to be a babysitter, but an economic, human rights’ leader.
In history, a government’s main responsibility has been to watch over its people and protect it from dire circumstances. Like establishing values for staples, and saving grain and other commodities in storerooms for times of drought. The U.S.A.’s democracy governs with laws that are in place (thanks to our forefather’s Constitution). To me, a government’s job is NOT to pay for someone’s ills, lacks, or wages. That’s up to individuals who engage in business, commerce, or philanthropy. And we who are “workers” and not “owners” of businesses, we earn wages. While the heads of businesses’ jobs are to watch over their workers. This is not a government’s job. Sadly, this socially, more than economically, conscious attitude seems to be the basic difference between Dems and Reps, as I understand it. I may be wrong, but from someone who’s not engaged in politics, that’s my take.
I look forward to Donald Trump, a successful businessman, to take the reins of governance with the same savoir faire as he did his controversial stint as an entrepreneur and entertainer. Sure, he doesn’t operate like the “common man.” I know many successful business people. They all operate, like Trump, using the established laws to benefit the growth of their companies. They’re not going to pay the same taxes as a “worker.” They are not workers. They are … leaders. Leaders think, act, and benefit society differently than common workers. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.
With a great bit of over-the-top showmanship and even bits of clownish inappropriateness, Trump reinvented himself, again. From business guy to now President. I for one am happy to see someone in power who’s not a die-in-the-wool politician, such as Hillary Clinton is. Who cares he’s silly sometimes, he’s not PC, he’s never claimed to be. That’s going to be his presidency, too. Get used to it! He’s elected, folks. Just relax, sit back, get yourself involved in some positive efforts that will satisfy your own needs to help others … become a leader yourself! and stop whining. Start a recovery meeting in your town, “12-step Trump-ism meetings” sounds good to me. Make something positive about something you think is negative.
Believe in Miracles

Believe in Miracles

And for those of you who aren’t the whiners (my many ultra-liberal friends really don’t want to hear the other side of Trump’s possibilities) … I look forward to sharing with you at deeper, more insightful levels about other things than the uproar of this year’s political climate in upcoming posts.

As a yogi/meditator, I see many who are suffering disproportionately from the change in our society’s power structure. Anger is everywhere. Blame, more hatred than compassion is more often spoken aloud than wonderment, or common decency. I have some friends who continually curse Trump and spend all their energy hating him, his choices, his affront to decorum (totally modern a la Twitter). Then they wonder why there seems to be more waves of hatred in the world. They don’t see how they themselves are feeding that same negative energy. Okay, they’ve had their time to mourn. Now they simply can’t see they’re part of the problem, and not using their energies to create better solutions to our world’s woes. The best one being, in my opinion — compassion — for all beings, including Mother Earth Gaia.

 

A good old friend of Carter’s put it straight back in spring of ’16 when Trump first announced his candidacy. This came from our Dem friend who happens to be in charge of the entire USA’s borders:
“When the new guy gets elected it’s time to stop complaining and get on board with the new administration.”

As one of the smartest guys in Carter’s Harvard class, who has worked in Obama’s administration all along, this guy Al, as we do, believes that the beauty of democracy is how the electoral vote chooses our leaders, not the popular vote. Now it’s the Rep’s turn. The pendulum of change has swung. Period. We have to watch and wait, and send positive energy that Trump listens and follows his hand-picked advisors.

We must respect the office of the President of the United States. That office demands our respect. Anyone who doesn’t respect Trump for having won this election … is not a compassionate person. You may disagree with me, and that’s your choice. But … compassion is not about right or wrong, Rep or Dem. It’s about respecting life: as it is. Accepting life, as it is. And changing what we can about what we don’t like. With respect and compassion.
My New Book
I wish I could write posts more than my recent once-a-month output, but … I’m too involved with my next book. Finally I’ve finished the second draft. This complex story is starting to shape up. I’m excited about the story:
Teaching yoga and meditation to teenage girls in high security lockup during a bulls-eye hurricane hit, and how that experience is parallel to staying in our inner core, where our inner calm always resides — if we can just remember.
When I first worked on this idea, a true story of my life, it was a mishmash of notes from those days of a decade ago. Based on written and memory-fueled vignettes, and recent reminders from speaking to the former-director of the facility, who is now a close friend, I started piecing my ideas together. The reason I chose to write this story from scratch, when in my closet I have five already-written books waiting to be published, is … I believe right now the world needs this special story of hope more than my others.

Weaving everything together in a timeline to show the progress of 2004’s hurricane Charley, and how the apprehension awaiting “the shoe to drop” relates to how anxious these at-risk girls were, in general, always acting out instead of knowing how to channel that energy of angst that was their commonality — this has been a challenging book to organize. To make sense out of the chaos within the girls’ psyches, plus the hurricane’s churning immensity. But I think I’ve got the organizational part of the book in a reasonable form. Now … to make it juicy, filled with inspirational stuff, nice word phrasing, and … a page-turning intriguing plot. I’m excited now. The hard work, the bones of the story, is mostly over.

 

This next book’s subject of “helping stressed out individuals calm down” is more appropriate in today’s clime, than sharing my “blended family” story was. That’s the spiritual memoir currently with an agent. Even though the story of my own uniquely blended family also parallels much of our worldwide blended family’s story of today.

 

Until we meet again, be well my friends! Stay positive!
With love,
your pal Lord Flea aka teZa Lord
Who would have thunk it?

Who would have thunk it?

Life is like cooking a delicious bouillabaisse. First, you get all the ingredients right, as fresh, as pure, as wholesome as possible. Then you chop, mix, blend, and spice, adding whatever seems appropriate for the time and place. Next, comes the most important part of all for a well blended array of sensory delights: the cooking period.

For me, my relationship with my stepdaughter is such a masterpiece that it required extra-added attention in so many ways. Mostly in the cooking time. Nearly half her lifetime our beautiful daughter has marinated slowly in the souring juice of hating my guts, her stepmom … until … until the day finally arrived people told me would come: “Wait till she has a kid of her own,” or, “Wait till she’s thirty; then she’ll appreciate you.” Sure enough, that is now – and her ratatouille is thankfully done.

Soon after the very day that she turned thirty she spoke to me about her healed heart.

“I finally realize how very much you’ve always meant to me, teZa. I wouldn’t be anything without you having been there, guiding me, nudging me, showing me how I could be what my own birth mother couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried.”

All the years, all the misery, all the stabbing spears and arrows, poisoned glances, ignored or denied by her, taken directly in the heart by me, flung unmercifully at my long-sought, self-preserving detachment – all was healed with one that honest, soulful and soothing conversation.

In an instant, a decade and a half of our heartbreaking estrangement – erased.

How did our daughter arrive at this juncture in her life? Where she was finally able to see that I had always been her devoted friend as well as full-time custodial mom – her advocate and not the enemy she determined I was since first arriving at her adolescence’s fickle door?

The hands of fate pointed the direction of her healing; I had nothing to do with it. Since she left for college, well over a decade before, I’d settled for her calling me “my father’s wife, my stepmother,” instead of the more true “Angel Mom” that I flippantly called myself when first I decided to marry and help my man raise her and her little brother, aged 7 and 4 then.

Now she is indeed a mother herself, for nearly three years. And now – finally, after so much time, in agony since her pregnancy activated the hidden, now understood-to-be dormant symptoms, unleashed only then – she’s been diagnosed with long-term undetected Lyme disease. Now, instead of an unknown ailment that topsy-turvy tossed our once-strong daughter’s health upside down, she realizes she has a formidable disease that others – if they work hard at it – have been able to recover from. No one could have foretold that the bite of a tiny deer tick the size of the period at the end of this sentence, gotten so long ago, could so drastically change a family’s destiny.

A theory among some is that nothing, absolutely nothing, happens by accident, including personal tragedy and disease of all sorts, even worldwide catastrophes. When our daughter’s earliest weeks of pregnancy included quizzically severe symptoms, no one knew what the heck was happening. Her husband, inevitably, began to believe she was losing her mind: newly fraught with the anxiety of the couple’s happily greeted pregnancy. She lived among her husband’s extended clan out West, far away from us. From our two-thousand-mile distant point-of-view, we heard of the strikingly bizarre maladies she was having: a distinct lack of energy accompanying constant nausea, persistent insomnia, excruciating joint paint, limb-twitching, and severe mood fluctuations ranging from off-the-charts crying jags of depression and anxiety to, sadly, totally unlovable rage.

Admittedly, her husband suffered tremendously from our daughter’s strange, uncharacteristic change. Neither he nor anyone, not the legions of doctors or any holistic healer was able to figure out what her problem was. When their healthy baby boy came bursting into this world, instead of everyone greeting him with ridiculously ecstatic feelings of life’s continuous renewal, all we could do was glance at our still-suffering daughter bent over like a broken pretzel, hunching her way through breast feedings, diapers, limping through the marathon demands a newborn added to her and her husband’s already burdened mountain of medical woes.

All of us were puzzled, her father and I, along with her husband and his family.

But, like I said, those of us who believe that even bad things happen to good people for purposes that, when finally figured out, can lead to making life a little more bearable, maybe somewhat easier if we’re lucky – her disease ended up bringing her before a closed door that had somehow shut around her heart years before.

The day arrived when our daughter and her distraught husband, plus her ever-giving, concerned father, my husband, met in an office in Dallas. There, the specialist handed them the news that indeed our daughter did have Lyme, the hard-to-detect, often-camouflaged, spirochete-shaped, killer-bacteria that attacks neurons in the brain, among other places in human physiology. Our daughter’s initial reaction was more weepyness over her life’s fate. Being given a clinical diagnosis of such magnitude, her depression was understandable. Her innate anxiety was now exacerbated, since most Lyme patients get emotionally whacked out, even without the added pressure of a nearly-done, care-giving mate and a demanding two-and-a-half year old.

Within a month our daughter and her husband weren’t just legally separated, but in a whirlwind they became – consciously or unconsciously – uncoupled. In the western state they lived in, such a “dissolution of a marriage” type of divorce happens literally overnight if both parties agreed not to squabble. There would be no custody battle either. Our daughter was given primary parental rights because our ex-son-in-law was … well cooked, if not fried.

And so our daughter – my long-lost child-pal, besides my charge – came back to me, her nurturing champion, her childhood’s main female-link to healthy living. Within days after that diagnosis of Lyme given on her thirtieth birthday, she made a heartfelt, earnest amends to me. She apologized for all the shitty things she’d ever done, said, and thought about me, ever since she’d become a teenage werewolf, transformed from the angelic girl I’d fallen in love with, along with her younger brother, when her dad and I married so long ago. But when she morphed into the bitch-on-wheels, at fourteen, never again did she regard me with respect or love – until now, she humbly admitted.

This disease of hers, then … was it needed to teach her, to show me, too, that, weird as its flavor was, our life-stew hadn’t yet mellowed into a palatable, tasty morsel, that could now be made triumphantly scrumptious with that secret ingredient of ours – forgiveness on both sides? Could the innocuous tick bite that probably happened when she was a 16-year-old camp counselor in Lyme-ridden North Carolina, possibly have festered, asymptomatic in her system all these years? Did her disease, crippling too many with the rampant spread of this tick-borne plague’s spread, keeping people from woods and meadows everywhere – did this illness come into her life as a gift, disguised as torment?

We shall see.

After just one more of countless tests, and a big decision about what type of therapy she’ll choose, the years-long treatment will soon begin for our daughter. We’re expecting her symptoms to worsen, a typical reaction when Lyme spirochetes are attacked. We expect she’ll get sicker before she begins to feel better, it’s part of the recovery process. But already she feels relieved, her anxiety lightened. She has returned home to Florida, her innately troubled marriage, now over. Now her son will have two separate sets of parental families to view life through, as our daughter did herself. Her son will have a blended family, as his mother has had, to both love and help expand his worldview.

Our daughter’s disease has brought her a renewed commitment to working with life’s signs – as they are handed out by the winds of fate, not as she or anyone else wants them to be.  That miniscule tick bite brought – now that recovery lies hopefully on the horizon – the ability for our daughter to accept life, not resist or fear it. She now sees her choice: to greet each set of circumstances as the next step, the next breath she can inhale with either resentment, or joy.

When our daughter was a child, she and I loved each other – deeply, magically. Now we are free to love each other again, both of us, woman-to-woman.

I’m happy to not be Angel Mom to anyone anymore. Now I’m just a trusted pal to our daughter and her brother.  I prefer that easier, softer way of loving.  True friends accept each other’s faults easier than some moms can.