Lynnda Polliotag:lynndapollio.com,2011:/blog//12011-12-29T15:35:41ZMovable Type 3.35Away We Go!tag:lynndapollio.com,2011:/blog//1.192011-12-29T15:01:49Z2011-12-29T15:35:41ZIt’s been quite a year! Many have experienced considerable and unexpected change. And even though we are staring at some scary realities as we propel into 2012, tremendous opportunities exist beyond these challenges. Never has there been a more important...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
Take care of your body. Feed it with things from the earth as much as you can. Move it often. Rest! There is nothing that deserves more respect than this magical vehicle that transports your spirit through life. Physical and mental health will be our single most important priority during 2012.
Stop doing the same things over and over again. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting the same results. Seek help in discovering your blind spot in recognizing and releasing obsolete patterns.
Be kind to others. Their journey may appear different from yours, but in the end the destination is the same. Judgment is merely another mask created by fear to protect itself from truth. Do something good every day. Kindness is persuasive and contagious.
Allow loss and endings. The Great Purge that began in 2011 will continue this year with a letting go of people, places, beliefs, and possessions. Be inspired to cultivate something new within the space created by these endings. This is opportunity knocking.
Hearts will be activated. Both personal and global events will engage the human technologies of wisdom, intuition, compassion, gratitude and empathy. Learn to trust and utilize them as innovative, powerful tools. Love is all that will have mattered.
What you value will change. This will affect what you consume, who will be in your life, and what you do with it. Reach out to like-minded people to cultivate values-directed partnerships and communities.
Children will speak. Born wiser than generations before them, children will begin to express that wisdom and gently help coax us into the world they envision for themselves. Listen to the small voices.
Be brave. If there was ever a moment for embracing risk, this is it. Find the right people; engage inventive resources, and go beyond past experience and success models. This will be a year of either breakdowns or breakthroughs.
Keep going! It’s sure to be a wild ride. Trust what is changing in and around you. Reach out to others. Strength and solutions come from sharing our vulnerabilities.
We are heading into an era of accelerated growth and transformation. 2012 will be a year of surprising new discoveries, global advances and profound realizations. Even with all the uncertainty, it is a great time to be alive. Take full advantage of the possibilities cloaked within chaos. And this year, do something you’ve never considered before.
Wishing you a happy new year! ]]>
For Those Who Are Rememberingtag:lynndapollio.com,2011:/blog//1.182011-01-23T17:39:04Z2011-01-23T17:48:43ZSurely, there is wonder. And many will come and fall and rise again with chins held high. Quietly the world will turn and thought will follow them and become them. So what of the fearful ones who wait in the...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
Surely, there is wonder. And many will come and fall and rise again with chins held high. Quietly the world will turn and thought will follow them and become them. So what of the fearful ones who wait in the corners and along the edges? Who will come for them? Or will they spend eternity waiting for the moment that became another and another too soon? The conscious cosmic mutt scratches at the door of unknown certainties, howls at a moon soaked in spirit, dripping its silver sweat onto earth.
It is not as others but is of others with its snout in the ground, ears to the stars, listening to ancient ones, yelping the word of god. The tree understands and the waters and the turtle resting in the shadow of that tree. The man does not and wails for his pain but leaves not his place at the top of the hill with his foot caught in an old trap of his own making. He clutches his truth, hiding from choice.
The buttercups have died under tired weight, yet tiny blossoms beg from beneath the dirt, forgiving. Sanguine sunsets seduce barely noticed. You are not alone. The man does not believe and cries, surrounded by love that cannot touch him for his heart is not willing, captive of a mind torched by lies. But still the patriot sun rises yet again and warms his hard face and holds to its promise.
There is nothing beneath your skin that does not yearn to be with the other. No fear is too great. No action too strong. No time too enduring. Yet you sit invisible to all you know. To the secrets excreted in dreams, in sadness and in joy, in the detail of leaves passed unseen. Peep from one eye then the other lest the windows stay shut and dust gathers so deep in corners you cannot breathe. How bright those corners can be!
Three crows gather on a mountain behind the sun, ready to take you back to the place forgotten by life. We will be there as you please, when you have remembered the wonder and what you have been here. These sorry trials will be your victory though old misers deny their worth. To have lived! And what was done through the years to know it? Do not listen but to cherry blossoms birthing in spring and perfect snow falling on darkened lakes and all that is of life and its goodness. You are as you should be, holding the key tight.
You have not been forgotten. It is but for you to remember.
The Great Awakeningtag:lynndapollio.com,2010:/blog//1.172010-12-26T20:07:48Z2010-12-26T21:20:20ZWe are entering another year of transformation. Who you are right now will be different than who you will be next January. 2011 will forever alter our world. The earth will roar, forcing us to listen. We may face continued...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
We are entering another year of transformation. Who you are right now will be different than who you will be next January.
2011 will forever alter our world. The earth will roar, forcing us to listen. We may face continued financial hardship, health challenges and sudden endings of relationships. Institutions we relied on might disappear. People we placed our faith in could prove unworthy of that trust. The unexpected will become the familiar.
These struggles are real but the potential to gain from them is profound and long-lasting. Nothing outside of us holds the truth to our happiness. When things we believe in crumble, when we lose grip on the handles of external control that dominate our lives, we are finally free to experience who we really are and begin to build a more meaningful, satisfying existence.
There will also be breakthroughs in awareness and technology, including the human technologies of love, kindness, intuition and empathy. You will care for strangers in ways that will surprise and nourish you. If reached for, tremendous opportunity lies just beyond decaying belief systems.
Change will be particularly illuminated in 2011. It is how we manage this change that will determine the people we become—and the planet we inhabit. There has never been a more important time to take care of your body. Invest in your health with good foods, physical activity and nutrition. Seek innovative ways to dilute relentless stress. Play!
Honestly share your experiences with others and seek solutions together. Be open to new ideas. Own what is happening in your life, however difficult. It is important to engage these experiences completely so that you are not swayed by fear and anger, but instead learn to empower yourself through wisdom, compassion, and gratitude. We have strayed too far from these words. Be particularly kind to mothers, as they will bear the emotional brunt of our struggles.
We're heading into extraordinary times. Not for the faint of heart, but for the full of heart. Follow the nagging goodness within yourself, regardless of how far that seems to take you from the pack.
The faint light of a new world is beginning to emerge. We are all in the process of becoming something else. The promise of what that could be lies within each of us.
The Bracelettag:lynndapollio.com,2010:/blog//1.162010-11-07T18:53:13Z2010-11-08T03:27:33ZElenora Holmes stared out a yawning bedroom window, the snotty March winds taunting her face. The unfamiliar image reflected in the glass pane startled her. She had avoided looking at herself since that day almost five months ago, when she...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
Elenora Holmes stared out a yawning bedroom window, the snotty March winds taunting her face. The unfamiliar image reflected in the glass pane startled her. She had avoided looking at herself since that day almost five months ago, when she left the hospital for the last time. Everyone knew there was nothing left to do but die. She understood that fate three years before upon discovering a lump in her breast. The right one, the one her dead husband, Peter had always favored. He named it Marilyn, teased it, coddled it, and adored it more than any other part of her robust body. She realized the lump was Peter’s invitation to join him. Mostly for her family she endured the surgery and chemotherapy. But, it was also because of hope, that mischievous flirt that had companioned her through life. Then the dream came. She knew Peter was waiting. And he was never a patient man.
Lilly was out in the driveway with that damn boy again. He had one of those cars that young, foolish girls think mattered. And he promised that her rump, larger than Lilly’s liking, was amazing. So that was it. She was in love. Lilly was sixteen and had already been arrested. With him of course, up at a place lost kids go called The Sanctuary. The police, and increasingly, Lilly knew it well. More than once, Elenora heard the sad squall of an ambulance racing that way to salvage yet another of the town’s possessed children. Lilly was only fourteen when they first discovered she was drinking. By fifteen her mother had found marijuana tucked inside the secret pocket of her favorite jeans. Just two months ago, after meeting that boy, she had been rushed to the hospital on some kind of pills and arrested.
Lilly was Elenora’s youngest grandchild. Sometimes it seemed as if the family had run out of love by the time she arrived. That wasn’t true of course, but Elenora knew Lilly felt that way and couldn’t blame her. Her parent’s marriage was already near extinction when she was born, forced together by this unexpected new life. Soon Lilly’s father was gone, off to love another woman’s children while her mother poured her pain into Lilly’s blossoming spirit. By then her mother was tired, busy and bitter. Lilly learned to raise herself. Elenora and Lilly had a sanguine, though long-distance relationship, punctuated by cherished vacation visits. Most of their lives though, had been shared through a telephone line or through the colorful story images Lilly sent to Elenora on paper. Before she could do anything else, Lilly drew pictures.
Elenora’s favorite was kept tucked into the dresser’s mirrored edge. It was her as a happy stick figure, dancing in a garden, embraced by flowers. She wore only a bracelet presented by her own grandmother upon her sixteenth birthday. When Lilly was five she was mesmerized by the glistening gems nestled in sculpted gold. All seven colors of the soul captured in a perfect circle, captured in Lilly’s treasured picture. Elenora wore that bracelet every day of her life. Even in the hospital where there was no beauty, the bracelet remembered a better time.
Elenora was now just a whisper of a woman trapped in a mindful current, sweeping her furiously towards Peter. Nothing she owned mattered anymore, not even the bracelet. All the things that had been her life were becoming ghosts. She heard Barbara negotiating the stairs. It was time for her medicine. Instead, she decided to heed the trenchant wind. Barbara stumbled at the door and swore under her breath, bottles rattling, tumbling to the floor.
Still, she entered with a smile, chirping how it was that time again and supper would be ready soon. Elenora’s eyes never left Lilly. "Not now,” she told Barbara. “But, Mom, Doctor Milsom said you need to take these three times a day.” “No, Barbara, no more.” Elenora insisted in a tone that frightened her daughter.
Elenora recognized the anguished moan Barbara released as she placed the tray on a corner table and collapsed to the bed. Some twenty years before she had faced this same moment with her own mother when it was her turn to die. Barbara was trying hard not to cry. Elenora struggled to rise, planting herself next to her daughter, wrapping a gaunt arm around Barbara’s shoulder.
“I know this is hard sweetheart but...” Barbara burst into sobs. “We all must be strong enough to choose our time, honey. I’ve had a good life with your father and you kids and my wonderful grandchildren. Great friends and many happy moments have graced my days. I’m ready...ready as one can ever be, I guess.”
Barbara shook her head in sorrowed understanding and gently squeezed her mother’s hand. Elenora was relieved her decision was not protested. Barbara was always the most practical of the four children. Maybe that’s the reason her and Lilly fought. They were so different in spirit.
After a long talk, Elenora announced there should be a dinner for the family so she could make her final wishes clear. It would be Saturday, the day following her 71st birthday. Barbara gathered up the medicine bottles and threw them into the garbage pail. “It’ll be a birthday party then, Mom,” she said, catching her mother’s eye, sharing a sagacious glimpse that only mothers and daughters ever know.
Elenora smiled and nodded with approval, then returned her gaze to Lilly who was sliding into the car seat next to that boy. As they drove away, Elenora knew something had to be done about Lilly. She closed the window and pulled a ribbon-bound journal from beneath the pillow and began to pour her final wishes onto paper.
Lilly never returned for supper. The family sat at the dining room table forcing small talk, trying to make believe a stinging haze of concern wasn’t choking the room. Eric, the oldest, was talking about college. At twenty, he had finally acknowledged the limitations life would hold for him without its influence. Besides, his new girlfriend insisted. With the sudden decree delivered by her magical breath, every stupid word his mother ever uttered about education was transformed into truth.
The middle one, Katlin, was seventeen and had already been accepted into Boston College. She was the brains of the family. Ever since she was young, Katlin studied like she knew what life held for her. Childhood, her family, were just the nest she was incubated in. Come September, she would flee towards a future that had been waiting for her in secret since birth. Like the mockingbird that lays its eggs in other birds’ nests to be raised by strangers, Katlin was always sure she belonged to another flock.
By the time supper was finally cleared Lilly stumbled home, drunk or stoned, no one could tell anymore. Barbara once again started yelling, the only response she could muster these days. Elenora realized Barbara was railing at herself more than Lilly, ranting against her impotence to save her daughter, angry at her own loneliness and the ruthless marks of age which were creeping up her body like a poisonous vine. Elenora understood that the ferocious sounds belching from Barbara no longer had anything to do with Lilly. Lilly knew it, too.
Eric helped Elenora up to her room, the place that had been her home for the past five months. The home she figured, that would be her last. She missed the house in the Upper Peninsula with its pretty gardens and celery walls saturated with memories. Peter and her bought that house soon after marrying. They raised four imperfect but kind children; living a fertile, comfortable, and like most, occasionally sloppy life until God grabbed a hold of his heart that Sunday morning. Somehow she always believed she’d die there, too. But her family all lived in the East now, scattered like dandelion seeds from Wiscasset to Charlotte. So this is where it would be.
Elenora lay in bed and wrote in her journal as she did most every day for the past six years, since Peter left. It all started as messages to him, words she felt less foolish putting on paper than tossing into the air. Slowly though, it became a friend, a secret space that sliced through time. Sometimes words she didn’t recognize fell onto the pages, like maybe they belonged to some other questioning spirit, another woman in a distant town spilling life into her own journal. And at that exact moment, in the flickering pause between thought, their words had collided. Or might they be the invisible counsel of a wiser soul, generously sharing truths that would have otherwise swallowed lifetimes to understand?
Elenora’s will was already in place. The house would be sold. Proceeds, the cold carcass of what she owned in life, to be split between her children. Already a couple of the kids had hinted of their favorite chair or table or painting. Even her teen-aged gaggle of grandchildren was curious of the prizes death would grant. Only Lilly never minded. She knew Lilly had already taken what she wanted from Elenora. More than once she discovered some of the small white pills given to her for pain were missing. Barbara and her did their best to hide them from Lilly, but it didn’t matter. The desperate howl of a bruised soul can’t be silenced. Elenora understood the soul must first be healed. A soul she knew would not be saved in the sad blink of time remaining to her.
By Saturday, the troops had arrived. Dolores, Bud and the kids were camped at the Comfort Inn downtown. Michael and his second wife were up in the spare room. The two kids from his first wife, Joan, were given sleeping bags and sent to the porch. Connie, without John as they were still having problems, was staying with her two kids at the Jackson’s next door. The women had been cooking all day.
Elenora rested upstairs, drenched in the lyrical chatter of a family long ago created from love, girded by years of struggle and joy, hope and pain. She laid in bed, eyes closed, smelling the supper that was being prepared, inhaling the warmth of the sun as it cut through the curtains and ran over her face. Elenora took a deep, deliberate breath. There was nothing to do but wallow in the contented constancy of the moment.
“It’s time,” a soft voice promised. When she first opened her eyes, she could have sworn it was Peter. But it was Katlin. The party was beginning. “I’ll be down in a minute, sweetheart,” Elenora assured her. It was still light outside though lanky shadows brushed the walls and that perfect golden sparkle of completion had begun to fill the room. Elenora stood up and looked out the window at Lilly who was sitting alone under a massive tree. “She looks like a fairy,” Elenora whispered to herself. Lilly was small with long brown hair, a sort of chestnut, the color horse owners refer to as sorrel. And even from this distance you could tell her eyes were blue, though Elenora had seen them turn to lavender when she was young and they would fill with tears. But Lilly didn’t cry much anymore. At least not in front of her family. Elenora pulled out her journal and wrote a few more words, then wrapped a colorful, butterfly-laced scarf around her naked head and struggled downstairs.
Yellow balloons with lingering, curled tails dangled from the ceiling. Others were tied to each chair, waving towards the heavens, reminding Elenora of the spring flowers that gleefully sprouted each May in the garden and all along the house in the Upper Peninsula. It was her favorite time of year; all that hope poking defiantly through the sleeping earth. Barbara led Elenora to her place at the head of the table. Lilly had to be called three times before finally joining the family. All through dinner she squirmed until Elenora suddenly removed her bracelet and snapped it onto Lilly’s arm. The table gasped.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Connie asked, alarmed. “You can’t....” “I can do anything I want,” Elenora reminded the rumbling voices. “But it’s been in your family for so long and its quite valuable. Lilly’s so...young.” It wasn’t Lilly’s youth that the family was objecting to, of course.
Elenora took both of Lilly’s hands in hers and forced her eyes to listen. “This Bracelet will guide you, Lilly. The love of my grandmother and hers before lives within it. When I die, I too, will be caught in its stones. It is a place of miracles. Promise me you’ll never sell this or give it away, that you’ll care for it like you cared for me during our time together. It’s a gift for your own granddaughter. You are only its guardian.”
For the first time in years Lilly’s eyes turned lavender. A tiny smile kissed her face. The table exploded in discord and Lilly bolted from the room, out of the house, far from their scorching words. “She can’t be trusted,” Bud reminded Elenora. “She’ll tell you anything. That bracelet’s as good as gone!” “Mom, I know you mean well but this is Lilly we’re talking about,” warned Barbara. “Why don’t I keep it for her until she’s older. Maybe for her 21st birthday, when she’s settled down.”
Elenora pulled herself up. Her legs were trembling. “She needs it now, Barbara. I want no more dispute about this. Now all of you sit so we can finish.” Dissenting glances sliced through the room but the threatening words ended. Elenora continued with her wishes until everything of her past now belonged to those who would inhabit the future. By the time she closed her journal, the room was dark, save for the presence of a magenta sun bouncing off the living room mirror, spilling generously across the hardwood floor.
When Elenora awoke the next morning, Lilly was sitting in the chair next to the window. The breeze seemed tolerant of Lilly. It was still cold but there was softness to it, a kindness only offered to one of its own. Colored markers and pastel crayons were splattered across the carpet, surrounding her. Elenora kept quiet, studying Lilly as she carefully chose each instrument, placed them purposefully to paper. Just as Elenora was about to speak, a car pulled into the driveway. It’s horn barked and Lilly jumped from her seat, evaporating without saying a word. Barbara and Lilly’s quarreling wearily gushed through the house until the front door slammed. The reckless rumble of an engine swallowed Lilly’s voice as it furiously escaped down the street.
Three weeks later, Lilly’s drawing of an angelically-winged Elenora hung over her bed. She could hear gingham curtains slapping playfully against the windowsill. The breeze was now warm and comforting. Elenora knew daffodils would be struggling to be known, stretching their fresh faces towards an encouraging sun. But she could not see them. She sensed Peter standing in the corner, waiting. She wasn’t quite ready to surrender this life of hers. She reminded him to be patient. There was still work to do, life to be lived. Vague voices filled the air, along with the affirming echoes of prayers, tears, and memories. Occasionally she caught Father Hallup’s assuring voice drift over her body, his words wrapping it in what felt like music. Barbara was in her ear, whispering about love.
It was morning. The smell of breakfast still clung to the house. She could not open her eyes but her ears had never been more awake. Still, the voices weren’t only from the living. There was Melvyn Barrows, the old man who ran the corner store when she was young and loved her like a daughter. Aunt Patricia, who died when Elenora was eleven, run down by a drunk driver on her way to a pottery class. And her mother, promising to catch her when she fell from life. But it was Peter’s presence she felt most. It was he who opened the door to flaunt the great love that was waiting for her.
She wanted to sit up and tell them all not to cry. That the pain had passed. So had fear. She had finally entered into the secret. That crease in life where all questions are answered and all doubt dissolves. She wouldn’t call it pleasure, but baptism into a truth so profound that it bestowed a feeling best, though quite feebly, described as bliss. She wanted to laugh when she heard Katlin tell her to go towards the light. It amused her how little they understood. She knew it was Lilly holding her hand. She could hear her hushed prayers, felt the heat of the bracelet warm her shivering heart. Elenora picked a stone. The ruby, she decided, Lilly’s birthstone. That’s where she imagined her love would reside. She prayed to God that He allow her to help Lilly; that death not squash hope.
As her prayer ended and silence filled the room, Elenora began scattering into millions of Elenoras, saturating everything, every moment, every experience that had ever, would ever exist throughout time and space. For a moment, she was lost to this infinity, then suddenly found herself hovering above the bed, attending to their sadness, loving their naive longing for her to stay. She reached down and touched Lilly’s arm. Lilly jumped and stroked the bracelet, fondling the sparkling ruby, weeping with those lavender eyes. But then Peter appeared, took her hand and in a moment that was both fleeting and everlasting, Elenora passed into memory.
Diluted by death, Elenora’s love couldn’t hold Lilly. Like a tangled kite snapping in an unforgiving wind, one blistering Tuesday evening, Lilly ran. Galloping down the highway with that boy, Lilly didn’t understand why she did what she did, felt like she felt, hurt that way. She was young, even Lilly seemed to understand the inherent treachery of that exalted state. By next morning the sting of her mother’s careless words had eased.
On any other day, she would have come down to breakfast and held her mother, both crying with regret. But this time she was miles from home, alone with him and nothing but a sack of clothes, a few dollars and the bracelet. They were both hungry, sick from the vodka they had mixed with grape Hi-C the night before. He asked Lilly how much money she had and grunted disapprovingly when she pulled the small, crinkled wad from her jeans. His eyes fondled the bracelet. “Maybe you should give me that.” She pulled her arms under the table, hiding the bracelet. “No, I promised my grandma.” “We gotta keep going Lilly and we might need it for traveling money. I’ll get you another bracelet some day.” He could sense her resistance.
Lilly stared at the table but said nothing. They ate breakfast and crawled back into his car. Lilly considered going home but he insisted she stay, stroked her long hair and off they went. She rolled down the window. As the sun warmed her arm, the bracelet’s charged stones threw a rainbow of color across her body. The red glow of the ruby struck her heart and for a flash, Lilly thought she caught her grandmother’s eyes bounce off the flickering windshield. Lilly leaned over the front seat and watched as the undulating charcoal ribbon that tethered her to home grew longer.
There was nothing much of the place where they stopped. A gas station, small convenience store and the remnants of some kind of church, roofless, stripped of any religious identity. It did have pews. But, it was mostly the sense of stillness Lilly felt walking through the open door that made her decide it had once been full of prayers. He stayed outside, talking with the pimple-faced attendant; trading gas, a bag of Cheese Doodles, Oreos and root beer for a single cigarette stuffed with marijuana.
The sky above was cut so blue it almost hurt Lilly’s eyes. Proud, voluptuous clouds, lit by the mid-day sun hung like Chinese lanterns, spilling all the golden ebullient light it couldn’t contain down onto Lilly. She sat for a moment in the spot she was sure the altar had once been and talked out loud to her grandmother. An angry clap of thunder brought her startled gaze to the heavens. A menacing cloud now hovered like a giant jellyfish in a deep cerulean sea, long tentacles of rain dangling from its body. More drenching legs sprung from the darkened underbelly until it completely devoured the defiant mountain nearby. Lilly watched as rain swept towards the church like a wave. She bolted for the car, reaching the door just as a cleansing hail of water claimed it. Within minutes the cantankerous creature swam towards the horizon while gleaming sunshine released the sweet smell of a satisfied earth.
It was dusk the next day when the police finally caught up with them. While they handcuffed that boy, Lilly hid in the fields behind an old abandoned farm where she had gone to pee. They all called to her but something told her not to go. “Stay with me,” is what she softly heard in her head or heart or wherever imaginings live. The police car drove away with that boy cursing her name out the car window. Officer Barrows stayed to search for her. Soon there would be others, so she crawled through the tall grass until reaching the road on the other side of the field. She walked for over an hour, hiding each time a car appeared.
Night hit suddenly. She wasn’t prepared for such darkness and stumbled down a small, unmarked road until reaching the end where a yellow house sat on a small patch of unmowed grass surrounded by willow trees. No one seemed to be home, so Lilly snuck into the shack out back and laid on the ground that was covered by a large painted sheet. Across it were slaps of orange and blue and deep burgundy. It had been a long day. She took off the bracelet and held it between her palms and prayed for Elenora.
“What’s your name?” Someone was poking at Lilly’s back. She thought she was dreaming as her eyes opened and new sun replaced darkness. “I said, what’s your name?” Lilly jumped, realizing it was not a dream and crawled into the shadows to see who was behind those words. He couldn’t have been more than ten. “Lilly. My name is Lilly.” “Like the flower?” he asked. “Yea, it’s my mother’s favorite.”
He was thin with sprouted blonde hair. There were dark circles under his eyes. “My name’s Kevin. This is my house. You’re in my dad’s studio. He was an artist. He painted pictures.” Kevin kicked at the ground. “He died a couple of years ago. It was an accident…they think. He was cleaning his gun and well…he died.” Now it’s just my mom and me.” Lilly didn’t know what to say. ”I’m running away from home,” is what fell from her mouth. "Don’t you love your mom?” he asked. Lilly didn’t think of that—of course she did, but what did it matter?
“I could never leave my mom ‘cause I’m all she’s got now,” Kevin whispered. “Doctors are trying to say I’m gonna die too, but I keep telling them I can’t cause she needs me. She doesn’t believe me, though. I hear her crying most every night when she thinks I’m asleep. I got cancer but I keep telling everybody I’m not dying for Ma.” Lilly stood up and brushed her clothes off. “Where’s your mother now?” “She’s at work. She has two jobs ‘cause of the doctor bills. My grandpa is in the house, but he watches television all day.”
“I better go,” Lilly announced, pushing back her hair. “You hungry?” Kevin asked. Her stomach answered. “You wait here and I’ll get ya some food, okay?” Lilly nodded. He was gone a long time and Lilly was getting nervous that he had called his mother, or worse, the police. But Kevin finally showed up with a ham and cheese sandwich and Hershey’s chocolate milk.
“Sorry it took so long but Grandpa was worried about me. I hadda show him I was feeling good enough today to go out by myself. He’s watching that Wheel of Fortune show. Here, eat this.” Lilly took the sandwich and chocolate milk. She was still hungry so he ran in again, this time to grab her peanut butter crackers.
“So why you running away from home?” Lilly wasn’t sure anymore after what that boy was screaming out the window, and how he had tried to take Elenora’s bracelet. “I never fit in, so maybe it was time for me to leave.” Kevin looked at her like he didn’t understand. Sorry about your dad,” Lilly decided to say. “My grandma died a few weeks ago. She gave me this.” Lilly showed him the bracelet. “Wow!” His eyes widened. “Never seen anything so beautiful. Your grandma musta really loved you.” “Yea, my family didn’t want her to give it to me cause they think I’m trouble.” “Are ya?” he asked, resting on the ground.
She rubbed her finger over the ruby. Tears rose from her heart into her eyes. “Maybe I’m just no good. Maybe that’s why they never wanted me.” “Nobody gives nothing that pretty to somebody no good,” he promised. She smiled at that thought. “What kind of stuff did your Dad paint?” Kevin stood up and tried pulling something from behind an old wood stack. Lilly could see he was not well and insisted she help. She let him think he was doing most of the work, but as his hands touched each frame, she pulled out four pictures. He took off the dusty cloth and leaned them against the wall one after another. Lilly stepped back.
“Kevin these are great!” “Yea, me and Mom think so, too. They’re the last ones Dad did before he died. A couple people have offered to pay for them, but we don’t want to give them up. It would be like losing him all over again. Sometimes I feel like his spirit is in these paintings watching over me. Crazy huh?”
Lilly kissed the bracelet. “I’m an artist, too. At least I will be", she said.” “Really? Why don’t you paint something for me, like my dad used to do? I got his paints and stuff over here. We couldn’t get rid of them. Mom comes in here sometimes and talks to him. She likes to wear his favorite shirt. The filthy one he painted in. He didn’t call it his lucky shirt or nothing, but he wore it till it was full of holes. Mom had to sew it up almost ever time she washed it. We used to laugh at him all the time. My Dad was funny.”
“My Grandma wasn’t funny but she listened to me. Rest of my family thinks I gotta be different than what I am. Grandma let me be what I felt like being. Even sometimes when I thought I might go crazy, she told me it was fine to feel that way. It was just part of growing up, and if I’d just talk it out and let it go, it would eventually disappear like my brother’s nasty farts.”
“She sure sounds funny to me.” “I guess she was sometimes. In her own way.” Lilly kept looking at the paintings lined up against the wall. One was a portrait of Kevin before he got sick. “Dad always promised I’d be healthy like that again. He believed in miracles.” “Give me some paints and I’ll paint you something,” said Lilly. “Really! Thanks, Lilly.”
She heard police sirens and got scared. “But you gotta promise not to tell anybody I’m here.” “Promise,” Kevin whispered, crossing his heart. The sirens got closer and Lilly told Kevin he better get out for now so they don’t come looking for him. As Kevin walked across the yard towards his house, a police car pulled into the driveway and Officer Barrows got out. She watched from a crack in the door as Kevin and his grandfather talked to Officer Barrows at the side door. He glanced at the shack and crooked his head in the general direction. Kevin and his grandfather looked too and Lilly pulled her face in, her heart beating hard. “Please Grandma,” she pleaded, clutching the bracelet in her hand. “Don’t let them find me.”
Next thing she knew, the car was pulling away from the house. Soon after, Kevin returned with more chocolate milk. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?” Kevin asked, coming back through the door. “The policeman seemed pretty worried about you, Lilly.” ”You want a painting, don’t you?” ”Yea, I want you to paint me something so I won’t die.” His words surprised Lilly. “I can’t promise you that, Kevin. Nobody can do that.” "You can do it...that’s why God sent you to me.” “You think God sent me to save your life? I’m just a nothing of a girl, Kevin. My mother says I can’t even save myself, so I can’t do nothing for you but paint a dumb picture. You living or dying is up to the doctors, I guess.”
“I almost died twice from infections the cancer medicines gave me, so I know what dying feels like now. And it’s not so bad, really. I know I coulda gone both times if I wanted, doctors or not. Like I said, I gotta stay for my Mom, so I fought to come back and so I did. That’s how I know God sent you to paint me a picture to save my life. That’s why we could never throw out my Dad’s stuff. Because somehow I knew you were coming.”
It was getting warm. The sun had dipped to the other side of the sky. Kevin found a small canvas and pulled out as many paints as he could find. Lilly told him it would be a surprise so he couldn’t look at it while she was painting. “Sure. My dad was like that too. He hated us peeking at his pictures before they were done. I’m tired, anyway.” Kevin leaned up against the other side of the wall and fell asleep.
When he woke, Lilly was standing at the window. Sunset filled her face. “I gotta go home.” Lilly announced, her eyes never leaving the sky. “My grandma would have wanted it.” Kevin reached for the painting. “No Kevin, don’t look at it until I’m gone. Ya know, just in case you don’t like it. I’m gonna call my mom now. You have a phone I can use?” Kevin and Lilly walked to the house together and Lilly called Barbara. Both burst into tears at the sound of their voices. Soon Officer Barrows arrived to escort Lilly to another chance. Kevin and Lilly exchanged numbers and hugs.
“You’re gonna be fine Kevin,” Lilly said, believing it with all her heart. “I know. That’s why you’re here, Lilly. So my Dad’s promise in his picture of me would come true. He used to tell me sometimes just showing up and being you is all it takes to make a miracle.” Lilly filled with a truth she had never known before. “You take care of yourself Kevin. Thanks for the sandwich and crackers. I’ll see you.” “Here Lilly,” Kevin offered, picking at the daffodils growing along the side of the house. “These are for your mom.” She held the flowers and smiled, knowing what they would mean to her mother. Lilly waved before closing the car door. Kevin waved back until she disappeared in a cloud of August dust.
As his grandfather coaxed him towards the house, Kevin walked back to the shack and uncovered Lilly’s painting, He laughed as he held it high to show to his father. It was Elenora’s bracelet, the ruby shining bright within the glow of Kevin’s happy, healthy face.
Go Conscious!tag:lynndapollio.com,2009:/blog//1.152009-12-30T16:23:14Z2009-12-30T16:42:56ZWelcome to the beginning of a new reality. We are entering another year of tremendous change, both personally and culturally. Who you are right now will be different than who you will be next January. Take stock of yourself at...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
Welcome to the beginning of a new reality. We are entering another year of tremendous change, both personally and culturally. Who you are right now will be different than who you will be next January.
Take stock of yourself at this moment. How do you feel? What concerns you most? What life do you seek? Be fully present as you step into the hurried current of 2010. It will take wisdom, wellness and awareness to navigate its chaotic currents.
This year will forever transform our existence. We may lose more jobs, face financial hardship, health challenges and sudden endings of relationships. Institutions we relied on might disappear; people we placed our faith in could prove unworthy of that trust. The unexpected will become the familiar.
These struggles are real but the potential to gain from them is profound and long-lasting. Nothing outside of us holds the truth to our happiness. When things we believe in crumble, when we lose grip on the handles of external control that dominate our lives, we are finally free to experience who we really are and begin to build a more meaningful, satisfying existence.
Change is inevitable and will be particularly illuminated in 2010. It is how we manage this change that will determine the people we become—and the planet we inhabit. There has never been a more important time to take care of your body. Invest in your health with good foods, physical activity and nutrition. Seek innovative ways to dilute relentless stress. There are many people waiting to assist. You will need your health more than anything else to sustain you this year.
Honestly share your experiences with others and seek solutions together. Open to new ideas. Own what is happening in your life, however difficult. It is important to engage these experiences completely so that you are not swayed by fear and anger, but instead learn to empower yourself through tolerance, kindness, compassion, and gratitude. We have strayed too far from these words.
We're heading into extraordinary times. Not for the faint of heart, but for the full of heart. Follow the nagging goodness within yourself, regardless of how far that seems to take you from the pack. Everything is about to change. And that’s a good thing.
Enjoy the ride!
Reasonhoodtag:lynndapollio.com,2009:/blog//1.142009-10-21T21:44:49Z2009-10-22T03:32:03ZI recently read a brilliant essay called Reasonhood. It’s about the relationship between reason and adulthood and deserves much consideration and accolades for its author, Brandon Peele. Though I have a short attention span and a long to-do list, it...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.comReasonhood. It’s about the relationship between reason and adulthood and deserves much consideration and accolades for its author, Brandon Peele. Though I have a short attention span and a long to-do list, it caused me to slow down, immerse myself in new ideas and think.
Personally, I believe we are living in an age of unreason. Like the Romans who went mad eating from plates tainted with lead, our societal toxins, technologies and pace have numbed much of our ability to reason. Thus, reason like truth, is easily manipulated these days, even if we reach for it. I wonder if we have been so damaged by our cultural conditionings that as a society we are incapable of knowing what reason is anymore.
In generations past, humans had to become adults earlier. Work, marriage, and children usually entered life during puberty. It’s been our blessed existence for the past fifty years that has allowed people to remain children—emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. (Even aspects of the current New Age movement reflect a spiritual naiveté born from life being relatively easy.)
I guess the definition of adulthood depends on our personal and shared journey and how it shapes our ability to reason. Reason seems grounded, somber, and sober. But, is there also room in reason for joy, spontaneity, fun? Our definition of adulthood is much different than what we thought it was as children. When we were kids, adulthood was our most desired destination, full of freedom and enjoyment. But as we age, adulthood increasingly brings responsibility, struggle, compromise, loss, and we yearn to be children again with all the unconscious bliss it represents. Of course, corporate brands, the media and government are more than happy to oblige the illusion.
Each era defines adulthood. And I believe it’s our era’s unwillingness to truly embrace change that holds us back from accepting adulthood. The precipice into adulthood is scary. We are usually forced through the door, unprepared. If we could forge a new definition of adulthood that transforms our childish follies through reason into a deeper joy of life, we’d have a lot more adults out there.
Brandon stated, “Without reason and the structure it can create, imagination is only escapism and can not become honest self-expression”.
I agree that imagination requires the structure of reason for it to meaningfully manifest in the world. As someone with a dynamic imagination, and maybe not enough reason as structure, I struggle with expressing my imaginative musings in a way that is honest in its clarity. But I am adult enough to realize that old emotional patterns have painted my reasoning abilities and I continue to search for solutions.
The 60’s birthed a new thought form, which unfortunately was not completely understood by its recipients. Like children with a new toy, it was played with, escaped through, but not fully utilized. There seemed to be no apparent reason behind its emergence beyond the moment. New knowledge and truth arose during the chaos of that time which could not be properly applied because we were not mature enough as a culture. Without reason, it became escapism.
We are experiencing a similar time now, where the potential for a major transformation is available to us, but many are merely escaping into technology, busyness and media instead of sex, drugs and rock and roll. If we could restore our reason and the wisdom within it, we could see the opportunity in our current experience. That would be our transcendence into adulthood.
Brandon concluded that, “Reason allows the observation and transcendence of a particular emotional state (e.g. sadness, madness, anxiety, fear, and shame) and the realization that one is experiencing that state and therefore cannot be that state”.
This is an important point. If you can observe yourself having a negative experience, then you cannot be that negative thought. It is simply an experience that is to be felt, reasoned through and learned from. Knowing you are more than an emotional state is critical to the rise of the adult within. And reason is a great tool to manage errant emotions.
By the time we reach what should be adulthood, our emotional patterns are set in place. What we have been taught to believe about ourselves, the emotional charge connected to these beliefs and their external triggers, are well established. Being an adult helps us recognize these patterns when they are occurring. And that’s important. But it is hard not to react, even if it’s only on an unconscious level. (Which many of our patterns have become by the time we are so-called grown-ups). Teaching people how to break out of these orbits once they are able to recognize them would be a tremendous boost to reason, adulthood and humanity.
Brandon’s treatise on emotions should be a book in itself. As a culture, we do not know how to experience or express our emotions, let alone use them as tools for our growth and happiness. We either engage them as feel good drugs, bury them deep within denial, or turn them into weapons. Gratitude might be our most powerful and neglected gift in cultivating a healthier relationship with our emotions.
Brandon argues, “Conditioning, repetition, and perception do not yield an objective reality, only one that is mutually agreed upon.”
But then doesn’t this mutually agreed upon reality become objective? Theoretically, I think he’s right. I want him to be right. Though, if we are the result of our conditionings and we respond accordingly, doesn’t that become our reality? And, if so many others share that same manufactured reality, what about the few who profess to see past it all? Are they seeing into a truer reality, or merely seeking to escape reason? Either way, those escapees often evolve humanity by living outside of it, so something must be going on there.
Language. I don’t think there’s a more important concept in his essay than language. We cannot become what we have no words for. Like a ship in the fog, we might feel something coming, and evolution via chaos will always generate new things to consider. But how can emerging thought become mass reality without proper languaging that resonates with the idea? Language reflects consciousness. The word computer didn’t exist (I don’t’ think) before computers did. The technology revolution arose from a bunch of strange people, living on the outskirts of reality and reason, using fledging languages, both verbal and digital, to create a new world. It wasn’t until the complete language arose which expressed these alien concepts that the masses were able to slowly understand and accept them. That’s when this new technological thought form hit its tipping point and transformed humanity.
The consciousness movement with its emerging “programming” of social responsibility, sustainability and wellness, among others, is analogous to that first wave of technology. But it is still seeking the right languaging for mass engagement. Much of the current vocabulary stems from the movement’s infancy, and is stale, mistrusted or no longer reflective of the current state of these trends. Once we discover the relevant language, communicate on a level all can understand, the consciousness movement, which in effect is the next generation of transformative technology, will have its tipping point and again the world will be changed forever.
Brandon says, “An adult will never fully believe what he says is true, only go forth the best way he knows”.
It took me a long time of thinking I knew it all before realizing I knew nothing and maybe never would. Being satisfied with that uncertain reality and understanding its power was probably the most adult moment I’ve had in my life. Everything you believe can change tomorrow. The adult in us knows this and is able to thrive within it. Now I move forward with my second set of eyes wide open, knowing what I know, accepting what I don’t.
Although I applaud Brandon’s Aids to Reason, I wonder how realistic they are. Most people are unwittingly addicted to each of his Barriers to Adulthood, (Media, Chemical Dependency, Emotional Dependency, Frenzy and Social Contract). So, the first and maybe most profound step towards Reasonhood would be the recognition of these unconscious addictions. External guidance and wisdom should then be available to people who truly want to become adults but need support in doing so. That’s where the government, media and corporate brands can make a difference. Most of us need help growing up.
I believe there are many closeted adults out there, waiting for the opportunity to come out when they aren’t so afraid. Along with his great suggestions to assist in this growth, experiences that force the illumination of our cultural programming, there are various other practices and tools that could serve to awaken the sleeping adult within us. We just need to make them acceptable, and available through multiple platforms.
Brandon’s essay was a guided mediation in its own right. I have been hovering around the edges of beginning a letter. I want to create a new corporate position that would engage and apply many of the principles he expressed to increase both company morale and productivity internally, and reputation and revenue externally. This position and its progressive concepts don’t currently exist in the corporate mind-set, so I have to take myself down that rabbit hole and search for the language that will lift people beyond what they believe to be true, a little further into their knowing adult who might have the wisdom to listen. Reasonhood helped bring my focus into that magical space between imagination and reason.
I’m interested in where it brings you.
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The Big Treetag:lynndapollio.com,2009:/blog//1.132009-05-07T20:40:52Z2009-05-07T21:14:35ZYou expect time to heal the wounds of someone's passing. And, that once you get through that first god-awful year, the ones that follow are more filled with love and warm memories than of pain. I think that is true...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
You expect time to heal the wounds of someone's passing. And, that once you get through that first god-awful year, the ones that follow are more filled with love and warm memories than of pain. I think that is true with many people we lose. It has been that way with my father, who died thirteen years ago.
But with others, the loss only deepens. Three years ago today, one of my closest friends died unexpectedly, filling me with grief I never knew I could feel. Richard was part of my atmosphere, someone I could count on, and I knew he would always be there for me.
I sobbed for two weeks without stopping when I learned of his death so very far away. I would never see him again or hear his warm voice promising to visit. I would never hear him call me foolish, silly or crazy in that way that should have sparked anger but made me feel loved instead. This was a man whom all should have known. Richard was a passionate rain. I grew because of him. I became the strength he saw in me. And sometimes it feels like he took it with him when he left.
Life is a landscape. When we look outside our window, we see some people as beautiful flowering plants, others, thorny bushes. There are annuals and perennials and too many weeds. Most of these relationships wither with time, replaced by others. A special few continue to blossom, adding beauty to our days. If we’re lucky, two or three big trees punctuate this place, unwavering, constant, throwing their comforting shade across the years. When others leave. we grieve, but time eventually fills up the hole with soft moss or new sprouts and something wonderful eventually grows to heal what was lost. But when one of the big trees gets ripped from our world, nothing ever replaces it and our landscape is changed forever. Richard was one of those big trees, out at the corners my life, strong, powerful, protective.
One day I will join him, wherever he went, and knowing that diminishes my own fear of death. There’s something comforting about knowing someone you loved is waiting, ready to catch you when you fall from life. Maybe that’s why those we love so much sometimes leave too early. Could we have made a deal before birth that this time, he would leave first?
Richard died on this day and tonight I will go to the place we met many years ago and sit and share a martini with his memory. Richard died on this day and maybe if I keep telling myself that, somehow I will believe it and my heart will finally accept those ugly words.
I guess pain is a small price to pay for having him in my life for as long as I did. In some strange way, we are closer than ever before. He now belongs to the invisibles and is with me whenever my thoughts go to him. I feel him laugh at my worries, still share my schemes. And on some lucky nights, he comes to me in dreams and lives again.
For all of you who have lost one of your big trees, I send my blessings. And I send hope that you come to realize that what you lost was worth what you gained in loving them. It doesn’t take away the pain. Nothing ever will. But there are others who love us. We are alive. I can’t think of a better way to honor Richard than living my life fully, passionately, the way he would have.
Brand Wisdomtag:lynndapollio.com,2009:/blog//1.122009-02-27T04:41:32Z2009-02-27T04:48:51ZWe have just begun a fundamental shift in all of our established social structures and are embarking on very challenging times. Although much will be lost, there is an extraordinary opportunity to strengthen consumer relationships using brands as guides. And...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
We have just begun a fundamental shift in all of our established social structures and are embarking on very challenging times. Although much will be lost, there is an extraordinary opportunity to strengthen consumer relationships using brands as guides. And in doing so, provide people with the tools, information and wisdom to help care for their families…and themselves.
In addition to massive job loss moving well into 2009 and the credit crisis that will ensue, the most devastating phase of this cultural transformation will be the collapse of adequate healthcare. As families lose income and insurance, massive numbers of people will stagger into the faltering healthcare system. More than ever, it will be critical for consumers to invest in staying healthy through nutritional foods and innovative wellness programs. One way or another, consumers will be paying for their health. Educating them to the broader benefits of better health, wisdom and wellness practices, while incorporating brands into these practices will secure business bottom line and engage consumers in progressive ways. It will also create a profound relationship with the American mother who will bear the emotional brunt of these struggles.
This is sobering stuff. Consumers will be hard hit in the months ahead. They will need food for the soul, as well as the body. It’s important that companies authentically participate by cultivating innovative programs and creative solutions that add deep, psychic value to ongoing marketing platforms. These kinds of wisdom and wellness initiatives do not replace conventional marketing think. They add value to them, increasing both the consumer’s quality of life and brand revenue.
Intuitive initiatives supporting consumers should become part of the nature of marketing. Traditional strategic and creative processes need to be infused with the new level of consumer consciousness that is emerging. Consumers will be making more conscious choices. Content, community and brand wisdom, as much as pricing, will determine the brands that they choose to guide them through this pivotal era.
Wisdom is about to become the new Green.
Crenshaw Melonstag:lynndapollio.com,2008:/blog//1.112008-10-04T22:39:33Z2008-10-04T22:54:13ZCrenshaw melons were on sale. Christina’s bare feet slapped against the icy hardwood floor of the old house. Crenshaw’s were John’s favorite and she wanted to surprise him this birthday morning. So she set the alarm, rousing her before first...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
Crenshaw melons were on sale. Christina’s bare feet slapped against the icy hardwood floor of the old house. Crenshaw’s were John’s favorite and she wanted to surprise him this birthday morning. So she set the alarm, rousing her before first light just as Mr. Handler would be opening the produce store around the corner from their home. She was sure to be back before John was up and out of Tallulah’s room where he had slept for her fear of the Wanderling, some imaginary playmate Tallulah wasn’t always so happy to see. Tallulah complained he wandered into her room at all times, uninvited, even interrupting important teas with Pooh and Tigge. Sometimes at night, he’d keep her from sleeping unless John or Christina kept watch. Seems the Wanderling wanted nothing to do with her disbelieving parents.
Winter was squeezing the house hard, sneaking slyly through the windows and doors that John had promised to fix before Thanksgiving but never did. Now it was January in Wiscasset. Snow would have been welcome. At least it would have been pretty, better than this grey death that saturated everything. Christina was careful as she climbed down the creaking staircase. Her littlest, toe-headed Cameron possessed the ears of some jungle animal and Christina had no intention of bringing him with her. She’d be back in 15 minutes. She put on a pot of coffee from the beans they had brought back from their trip to Costa Rica in September. It was a second honeymoon. They stayed in a tree house that dangled high above aquamarine water and indigo fish, while their kids stayed behind in New Mexico getting to know their cousins better. Christina’s sister had moved there three years ago, after Jim left her because he was feeling strangled by the marriage. He sent money every month as the courts demanded, but the girl he was seeing wanted to live on the beach, so they both moved to Florida. He hadn’t visited Jimmy Jr. or Beth since escaping to Pompano.
She pushed her dirty blond hair up into a hat and threw on the warmest coat she had even though it was also the oldest. She glanced at her image in the mirror before leaving and swore she wouldn’t be caught dead outside again looking like this if God only got her home without seeing anyone she knew, particularly Margie Kaplan and that big, disapproving mouth of hers. She threw on a ghastly red lipstick she found in the coat pocket. Even the car keys were cold, which she decided to use even though it was only a ten-minute walk. In this kind of weather, every minute mattered.
Mr. Handler had put aside five of the best Crenshaws for her, knowing she was coming. The sun was just piercing the horizon as she left the store. It wasn’t warm but it was bright and gold and hopeful. Christina stood happy at her open car door, arms full of melons as the blinding bliss of the day kissed her naked face good morning. She could see her breath, even in the car, and rushed down the road around the corner for home. The bag of melons didn’t quite make the turn with her as they tumbled over the front seat. Christina reached for the largest one, which had carelessly rolled onto the filthy floor. She knew it was a stupid decision, but that thought only occurred to her as she applied it, and next thing she knew she was greeting the Farrell’s historic maple, judged to be over 100 years old.
John woke suddenly, hearing only some shadow of sound. Tallulah was still asleep, so John slipped his arm from under her small body and went in search of his wife. By now Cameron’s ears had detected movement in the Clayor household and was gurgling from his prison crib. John smelled the coffee percolating downstairs and took the time to change Cam’s diaper. By the time he finished, sirens were spoiling the morning air. He called to Christina as he walked down the stairs. The kitchen was empty and for no reason, John got a sick feeling in his stomach. He could see the faint flashing of Deputy Collins’ car. It must be him on duty this early on a Saturday. He walked out to the porch with a warm cup of honeymoon coffee. The trouble was down the road, near the Farrell place, just barely out of sight. Christina’s car was gone and although he was sure nothing was wrong, he ran to where all those twinkling lights were competing with the rising sun.
Danny was the first to grab him, trying to slow his arrival to the inevitable truth, but it was Bing Collins who told him it was Christina and that it was bad. His mouth suddenly got dry, so dry he could barely ask what happened and where she was. The ambulance workers were pulling her from the wreck, covering her whole body with some big white sheet, and what the hell did that mean he thought to himself. He saw a part of him walk over to that sheet and pick it up and see it wasn’t Christina but instead, some unimportant stranger that somehow was in her car. But the rest of him, the truth of him, was being held back by Danny and Bing. It was only then he noticed he was crying, screaming Christina’s name as the ambulance drove away.
“She’s gone, John,” Bing warned, letting the future out with all its unknown certainty. John walked over to the car, to the smashed window and crumpled front seat. To the steam rising on that cold day, rising like Christina’s soul up towards heaven. To the melons, all five of them. With his bare hands he killed each one, throwing them hard against that historic tree that had nothing more than a small crack on its proud-ass trunk.
Breaking Patternstag:lynndapollio.com,2008:/blog//1.92008-03-01T19:04:18Z2008-03-01T21:09:05ZWe are all stuck in prisons of our own making. From difficult relationships to financial struggles, to the mundane habits that create frustrating blocks, every energetic pattern is connected. And once we discover this natural law, we can disconnect those...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
be willing to let go.
I do not ask you to climb a mountain. I ask that you just take a different path around that mountain and notice what you find there. Try exercises in joy. At first they will feel unusual, uncomfortable, unnatural. How much joy have you experienced in life? Your old patterns will question why something so simple feels so strange. Part of you will not want to make even the smallest change. But your mind will know that is a foolish thought. And your body will have the courage to take those small steps.
As someone who is also walking that path, I am here to guide you through these initial steps. To encourage even the smallest change. To show what you are capable of. To begin, think about your life, your disappointments, and of the decisions you made that no longer serve you. When was the last time you stepped beyond your previous conditionings? Regardless of what you want to believe, your life is the result of the choices you’ve made…and those you were unwilling to make.
So, you need to learn to make new choices. And hopefully to see how much power you have everyday to change anything you want in your life. You have the power to change everything you want in your life. YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE EVERYTHING YOU WANT IN YOUR LIFE. But it does not come from anyone or anywhere else. It comes from you, right now, if you are ready to begin.
To start, you must know that you are loved exactly the way you are. There is no other way you have to be unless the need to change is coming from deep within yourself. Let no one else own that power over you. You are perfect. You simply want to evolve. And that what is what I am here to help you do.
The first thing to ask yourself is why do you want to change. Not what…why? Are you unhappy? Scared? Sick? Do you not like the way you look? Or is it about how much money you have? Is it because your children did not turn out the way you had hoped? Is your marriage suffering? Ask yourself questions so that you can understand why you want to change. It’s important that you want change for the right reasons. For your own growth and happiness. Not for someone else and not to feed a selfish ego or societal quest. I want to first bring you back to your true self. Let you spend time with who you were before others changed you….before you allowed others to influence who you were always meant to be. Until you rediscover your essential self, you cannot change into anything else that will sustain itself.
If you’re ready, you’ve reached a certain level of pain, which is causing you to take action…to move towards change…however hesitantly. I feel compelled, because of my own life experience, and what I witness around me, to begin this process and see where it leads. I encourage you to share your experiences. I especially ask that you keep a journal of all you do during this time. What are the small changes you make, how do you feel, where did you find your hidden habits, and what new shifts do you experience.
I also ask that you disconnect from the outcome of change. For now, release of old patterns is all you should seek, knowing that what is best for you will be the highest expression of that release. Soon, you will fill what has been released with something brighter.
So are you ready to remember who you are and micro-shift into a new life?
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soul seedstag:lynndapollio.com,2008:/blog//1.82008-02-08T23:59:03Z2008-02-09T00:12:41ZOkay. I have this book I wrote. It's called soul seeds. Actually, it was channeled to me but my agent doesn't really want to tell people that. So, it's "literary fiction," a novel filled with spiritual messages and secrets. It...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
soul seeds. Actually, it was channeled to me but my agent doesn't really want to tell people that. So, it's "literary fiction," a novel filled with spiritual messages and secrets. It works on different layers of consciousness. The first layer is simply to be read as a novel. It's the story of a young African-American woman in the South during the late 1930's, and what she learns about herself and life. (As you can see, I'm a white woman from New York). The second layer reveals the spiritual messages and life teachings intertwined throughout the story. Like finding the courage to become who you are and not who others want you to be. The third layer is secrets...though that's not quite the right word... that only those of a particular frequency will recognize. Maybe its more like resonances, instead of secrets.
I didn't plan it like that...I just listened to this unexpected voice one day and allowed her to take me on a journey. Her being Addie Mae Aubrey. I'm hoping my agent finds a publisher. They are a wonderful group of people who loved Addie Mae and her story as much as I did. But I have this nagging feeling that soul seeds won't find its way to readers in the usual way. Maybe you're where I begin. Chances are publishers will only see the story and won't embrace the other layers. So I thought I'd tell you something about me and Addie Mae and see where that takes us.
Since her first whispered words, Addie Mae has been my guide into truth. Not just the kind you tell other people when you’re feeling righteous. But the hardest truth—the kind you tell yourself when you know there’s been a lie festering inside for a long time.
We’ve been together quite a while, Addie Mae and me—longer than I expected. She’s held me captive, holding my heart with her surprising voice. But because of her, I now see magic where there was only coincidence. Faith has replaced fear. And time has become the most miraculous gift. There is always a choice, a chance for change. Eternity resides in every moment.
Addie Mae and I were joined by love, by a contract I suppose we made many lifetimes ago—or maybe merely in my imagination. We never know these things for sure until we join the invisibles. But if I created her, so has she created me. I am as transformed by her presence as anyone else who ever entered my life. Of course, it wasn’t all her. I had to be willing to listen, take the bold leaps, rise above the obstacles and insecurities and face fear and the darkness of uncertainty. Loneliness often flirted with me. Still, I was blessed. She was always there, reminding me that the best journeys take us through fog and fury as much as glory. And that loneliness is merely the birthplace of a new life.
We are here to share our journey together in hopes that yours may be made easier. Many are awakening to truths that for years have been silent. A vague uneasiness creeps through your days. New life scratches at your soul. Some will know Addie Mae, have heard her wise whispers. Maybe they came as other voices, or discarded thoughts, or small sparks of courage that had no space to burn.
soul seeds is also a call to those who love, to experience how this love connects us all, through time and geography, race, gender and age, beyond the small mindedness of cultural and societal conditionings. You are now part of the journey. By reading these simple words you are opening a window to a powerful place you can’t yet see. I think that for those who follow Addie Mae’s voice as I did, listen to the wisdom tucked within her words, you will witness magic, experience great awakenings and find your way home to the person you were always meant to be. In her strength, you will discover your own.
She may have been with me all my life, in the shadows, waiting for me to catch up with her. There have been dreams. Right from the start I wondered where Addie Mae was leading me. It took too long to realize she was giving me a gift. Never before had I surrendered so much trust to one person and accepted such struggle. Sometimes only by looking back on something can we see its grandeur, what it gave us. Moments become monuments that if we recognize, create new beginnings. I somehow sensed that this was my opportunity, my moment and regardless of the outcome, I had to follow her words wherever they led. Now I know that despite everywhere else she took me, all along the way, she was always leading me to you.
Often it seemed our lives ran side by side; hers as a memory, mine unfolding with each stuttered step. Even though we were strangers occupying a different time and space, we shared existence through the emotion of our experiences. But then something happened. Either by chance or fate, our worlds touched and Addie Mae, having gone before me and the wiser for it, saw me flailing in the distance and generously decided to share what she knew. But I was still asleep, too earth-bound to hear. So she silently guided me into experiences that brought me closer to her understanding, closer to her wisdom, to the wisdom of the invisibles. Close enough so that on one magical day, like two planets within each other’s orbit for the first time, we were close enough for me to hear her whispers. And I was finally ready to listen...]]>
The Year of the Hearttag:lynndapollio.com,2007:/blog//1.72007-12-16T19:39:01Z2007-12-16T20:01:38ZI’ve been thinking a lot lately. And, wondering if that’s such a good idea. The mind is a cunning suitor, makes me feel brilliant, informs me I’m important and special and right about ohhh so many things. I’m lucky. Mine...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
really loud. Then, just when I’m ready to give up on it, demand it shut up, my mind does something miraculous that makes me fall in love with it all over again. I’ve seen it perform great feats of magic. It’s given me beautiful words to say at the proper time. I’ve harvested diamonds of cultivated knowledge from its fertile soil that I didn’t even know were there. Still, I give it much too much power over me.
I’m not alone. I see many people’s foolish minds choking their spirits. I witness the worry, the fear; the callous lies it whispers to them on street corners and in elevators, or over lattes at Starbucks. The mind summons our fears, incubates them in one of the seven deadly sins, and then sends its newborn disciple out into the world to build monuments to it. Through the mind and its shadow thoughts all the suffering in the world is birthed.
Waiting patiently for me to notice through all of this self-absorbed chatter is my knowing heart. I wish I had the courage to spend more time with this quiet sage. To listen to it’s soft beat of clarity and purpose. My heart knows that I’m perfect. It loves even the cruelest stranger on a rainy winter night. It is happy all the time. It wants for nothing because it understands I have everything I need. And unlike my racing mind, it is content in stillness and the sacred truth within. It never lies. It only loves.
The mind constantly conspires against my heart because it recognizes its death in it. It makes me believe that my heart can’t be trusted; that my worth resides only in its own polished intellect. But experience has taught me otherwise. My heart gives me the courage to make bold leaps across treacherous canyons of fear. And it is in these uncertain leaps, I am given back to myself and born again. I’ve always been happiest following my heart. When I act from this place of light, the crust of others’ expectations crumbles from my being and I remember who I really am.
I like my mind. There’s not another one like it on the planet. And I’m fascinated by other dancing minds for that same reason. But it’s a raucous child, grasping, intent on staying within the narrow walls of its inexperience. My heart is the wise elder, quietly revealing the possibility waiting beyond these walls. So in 2008, I will entertain my mind and love it for all it does for me. But this year, particularly this year, it is my heart that will define me and determine everything I will become.
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Gaia's Gifttag:lynndapollio.com,2007:/blog//1.62007-08-20T19:12:57Z2007-08-22T15:56:15ZI've just returned from a two-week pilgrimage to the New Mexican wilderness. Most of my time was spent in and around a little gem of a town, Silver City. It’s Geronimo’s birthplace and Billy the Kid’s childhood home. The land...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
Silver City. It’s Geronimo’s birthplace and Billy the Kid’s childhood home. The land is steeped both in history and great beauty. It’s still undiscovered, though it was chosen by Oprah as one of the 10 Best Small Towns in America.
I also spent four extraordinary days at a Shaman’s retreat at The Anima Center, a bewitching wilderness sanctuary nestled deep in the Gila Mountains. No running water, no electricity, no indoor toilet—it was truly an adventure. Resting on 80 spectacular acres, surrounded by 3.4 million more of the most remote land in the country, I really had no idea what to expect when I arrived. I stumbled onto the Anima Center site quite by accident while roaming online for an antidote to New York’s anxious masses. I instantly knew this was the place I was to visit to renew my vows to Gaia, to the earth. Of course, I had to overcome obstacles. My own fears and those around me who thought I'd disappear into a cage in the ground or the belly of a bear.
I told myself I was heading west to make changes to my novel, soul seeds. And I know this experience helped on the long road I have traveled with Addie Mae. I have now completed the final edit of soul seeds, and it is in the hands of my agent at Namaste Literary. But what I really needed was to immerse myself back into the earth that feeds my soul, to sense every molecule and claim my rightful place there again.
After the pretty two-hour drive north from Silver City, I bounced down a long, wet dirt road and parked the car. This was the point of no return. With no electricity and no cell-phone service, I was on my own. I had to hike a mile or so through the primitive canyon, over seven testy river crossings, high and mighty from recent rains. All along the way, I felt chunks of decaying stress fall from my being to be anointed by the river’s cool breath.
The retreat’s group had gathered there from all over the country, from different walks of life but with the same commitment to support the planet. It’s amazing how much you have in common with strangers who share a deep love of the land. After being advised of the potential pitfalls of wilderness living—mountain lions and bears and rattlers, oh my!—we relaxed into what the earth and it’s compassionate custodians, Jesse Wolf Hardin, Loba and Kiva Rose, were there to teach us.
I felt the eyes of nature on me everywhere I went, whether meditating, surrounded by Mugwort in the fairy circle or hiking over the rocky arroyo. The most powerful experience was our journey upriver the night of the full moon; to the sacred ground Wolf so generously shared with us. We snaked through the high grass together in cloud-draped moonlight—a gift from the gods who temporarily stayed the monsoon rains. Walking in silence, listening to a distant flute's sweet promise while the cathedral rocks patiently waited on our arrival was intoxicating. We built a fire and gathered around it as generations of Indians had done before us. Loba's celestial singing, Wolf's shamanic drumming, Kiva's practiced wisdom, along with the energy of our gratitude conspired to raise our vibration. I could feel the pleasure of the land for our attendance.
Next morning, I walked back there alone and was privileged to witness in daylight what I had felt by moonlight. As I started off, four turkeys rose from the tall brush alongside the river...hundreds of grasshoppers snapped around me like firecrackers. Hummingbirds, butterflies and dragonflies floated everywhere. Footprints of elk stained the water’s edge. Above me, living within the rocks was a powerful Indian chief, an eagle in flight and a group of what seemed like wise, cosmic Elders. The river shook. Holy dirt clung to my bare feet. I didn't want to leave.
I thought about staying longer to feed what was just beginning to stir within me. But by late afternoon, I knew it was time to leave and return to my own world. Though my soul belongs to the wooded canyons, my hedonistic body craves the comforts of civilization: its hot showers, home delivery, and thick, Egyptian cotton towels. This was the first time in my life I've allowed my body to live so close to the land and experience such raw surrender. It was challenging but brought me into the moment and into the truth in a way that no hot shower ever could.
It's difficult to decide which moments mattered most because every one of them, whether profound or forgotten, held great importance. It had been a fairy tale. The magic was real, rooted in love, fueled by earthen energy. And secrets were revealed to me that are still simmering. But I've had enough mystical experiences to know the memory of them dissipates like a fragrance and soon I'll be questioning even my most certain experiences there.
All ten of us who found our way to the Anima Center feel blessed to have been called by this sacred place. We wished we could adequately communicate our experience to those we love, to strangers seeking a guidance on a conscious path. So much of what we truly yearn for can be found on the land and in our relationship with it. But we understood that for all we might say, for all the photographs we would offer; nothing could express what actually happened to us there. All we could do was make a pledge to share this place with others and trust that someday they would find their own way to this glorious piece of earth or to anywhere in nature that calls to them. Because for all of our searching, everything we need to know about life is out there waiting for us under our own bare feet.
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The Next Big Thingtag:lynndapollio.com,2007:/blog//1.52007-07-08T22:00:50Z2007-08-19T21:16:26ZWe are all in the midst of unprecedented change. From our institutions to personal lives, from technology to the economy, there’s an ominous rattling of the familiar. New life scratches at the weakening walls of conventional structures. Those of us...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
The Next Big Thing. Within five years, the conscious consumer will stand alongside the advent of computers, the birth control pill, and the explosion of the internet as monuments that transformed our existence and not only how consumers consume, but who they are. Companies who recognize this tectonic shift, expand their marketing perceptions and brave the unknown, will gain unprecedented social and financial leadership while creating more authentic, meaningful relationships with their consumers. Where will you be?
Please contact me at Lynnda@LynndaPollio.com for more information about my marketing, branding and content development work with the conscious consumer.]]>
First Anniversarytag:lynndapollio.com,2007:/blog//1.32007-05-07T14:16:50Z2007-07-24T05:24:54ZA year ago today, one of my closest friends died unexpectedly. It was the biggest loss of my life, filling me with grief I never knew I could feel. Richard was part of my atmosphere, someone I could count on,...Lynnda Polliohttp://lynndapollio.com
A year ago today, one of my closest friends died unexpectedly. It was the biggest loss of my life, filling me with grief I never knew I could feel. Richard was part of my atmosphere, someone I could count on, and I knew he would always be there for me.
I sobbed for two weeks without stopping when I learned of his death so very far away. I would never see him again or hear his warm voice promising to visit. I would never hear him call me foolish, silly or crazy in that way that should have sparked anger but made me feel loved instead. This was a man whom all should have known. Richard was a passionate rain. I grew because of him. I became the strength he saw in me. And sometimes it feels like he took it with him when he left.
Life is a landscape. When we look outside our window, we see some people as beautiful flowering plants, others, thorny bushes. There are annuals and perennials and too many weeds. Most of these relationships wither with time, replaced by others. A special few continue to blossom, adding beauty to our days. If we’re lucky, two or three big trees punctuate this place, unwavering, constant, throwing their comforting shade across the years. When others leave. we grieve, but time eventually fills up the hole with soft moss or new sprouts and something wonderful eventually grows to heal what was lost. But when one of the big trees gets ripped from our world, nothing ever replaces it and our landscape is changed forever. Richard was one of those big trees, out at the corners my life, strong, powerful, protective.
One day I will join him, wherever he went, and knowing that diminishes my own fear of death. There’s something comforting about knowing someone you loved is waiting, ready to catch you when you fall from life. Maybe that’s why those we love so much sometimes leave too early. Could we have made a deal before birth that this time, he would leave first?
Richard died on this day and tonight I will go to the place we met many years ago and sit and share a martini with his memory. Richard died on this day and maybe if I keep telling myself that, somehow I will believe it and my heart will finally accept those ugly words.
I guess pain is a small price to pay for having him in my life for as long as I did. In some strange way, we are closer than ever before. He now belongs to the invisibles and is with me whenever my thoughts go to him. I feel him laugh at my worries, still share my schemes. And on some lucky nights, he comes to me in dreams and lives again.
For all of you who have lost one of your big trees, I send my blessings. And I send hope that you come to realize that what you lost was worth what you gained in loving them. It doesn’t take away the pain. Nothing ever will. But there are others who love us. We are alive. I can’t think of a better way to honor Richard than living my life fully, passionately, the way he would have.