Archive for October, 2006


October 28, 2006

At about 11 am I was on the phone with my friend, Ralph, catching up on some things. I started hearing some kind of loud, sharp noise that could have been someone poking around downstairs. Because the carpet was removed for the painters to do the trim, and I have no car in the driveway, the place looks pretty empty. So, I asked Ralph to stay on the phone while I checked. Nobody was there. I figured maybe the house was shifting. I had the stereo on and I was mostly focused on our conversation.

A few minutes later, an officer rang the doorbell insistently and I trundled downstairs quickly (in my nightshirt… I had run bathwater, but then Ralph called). He informed me that there was a fire next door and I should probably (how’s that for the Most Gratuitous Use of “Probably” in an email?) leave the house till they had it under control.

Since he didn’t grab me or insist I walk out the door in my nightshirt, I went back upstairs, dressed quickly in last night’s clothes, while turning off and packing the computer, grabbed my purse and cell phone.

I saw flames shooting out of the condo 3 doors down from us as I left the house. That helped my adrenaline levels quite a bit. Aubrey tells me I was not quite coherent on the phone, that I was missing some of her questions. Okay. Maybe I was a little bit shocked.

At one point, describing the scene to someone on the phone, I counted about 13 or 14 emergency vehicles with accompanying official-looking personnel.

Apparently, it was so well known that drug dealers live there that when our realtor called, he told *me* about it relieving me of the decision just as I was trying to figure out how to say something. Aubrey has information from a friend in the sheriff’s department that an arrest was made on a previous controlled substance warrant, but no Haz Mat team showed up, so no one was making drugs at that moment.

They let us go back into our houses, all but the one where the fire started and the one adjacent after about 4 hours. So, about 2:30 or 3. The rest of my day was kind of a wash other than a good conversation with Cricket. I just finished talking with Aubrey for half an hour and then I called Sean for a little emotional support, and left a message for Ralph that I’d like to talk tomorrow.

I can smell smoke (and paint), but I feel like it’s more in the air. I believe we’re far enough away that any damage here is unlikely.

Aubrey told me that her mother said, “Oh, how awful!” and Aubrey assured her that, while certainly there were losses, it might help clean up the neighborhood.

Even her realtor called me and offered to come by and be emotional support. He’s completely different than I’d expect a realtor to be. He has consistently offered to be there for us if we get overwhelmed at all. I told him I have a good support system, but that I’d call if need be, and that there was apparently no smoke damage that we could find at this point.

I wonder if a fire will figure in my fiction now?  🙂  I’m beginning to look at everything, every story that happens as fuel for the f… no wait, let’s choose a cooler metaphor… as . . . I don’t know… fodder, inspiration.

Okay, I will likely sleep like a log.

I’m okay. My roommate is okay. We’re both a little shaken, but that would be normal. 

I’ve been taking time to be as aware as possible of “who’s business am I in when I think that thought?” after becoming aware that I have used other people’s business to avoid my own.  So, I’m not all that interested in this whole story beyond whatever plot line the experience might assist or whatever assistance a live human being might need around here, especially my roommate re: the refurbishing and sale of her house.

Good night,
~ Stacy


“Stress Makes Us Blind and Stupid”

October 18, 2006

It’s true.

There I was in Ireland not really enjoying it. Why?

I was stressed and not clearing it. Not like I wasn’t trying. But I wasn’t getting there by myself. I literally could not see straight.

I’ve done nothing but learn ways to clear stress my entire life. At least that’s one way of looking at all the counseling, rebirthing breathwork, neurolinguistic programming, meditation, Work of Byron Katie, Quantum Wealth, etc. that I have spent tons of time and money doing. I did breathwork. I looked for thoughts to investigate.

Finally, I wrote down, “I need someone to help me.”

It was true. There was nothing to investigate!

Sometimes we are so overwhelmed, so “blind and stupid” that we need a hand-hold, an assist, a little help from our friends.

I have told clients that if we were meant to heal alone we’d be on a planet alone. The fact that there are 6 BILLION other humans here is a clue.

I did finally ask for help.

I called Boulder and requested a session with one of my teachers. The stress cleared up. I came home in a state of bliss.

I met fascinating people on the way home. Talked with a guy named Mauricio most of the way across the Atlantic. He was like a brother. We got our nasty airplane food. I asked if he wanted my roll. He gave me his salad. We talked like we had known each other forever, in both English and Spanish. I will likely write more about that later. He was good company. I met a woman in the Chicago airport, a financial investment counselor, who was going to meet friends in Boulder. She said they studied some American Indian path, something Sioux, she said. I taught her how to say “All my relations” in Lakota Sioux. Mi takuye oyasin.

Everything was interesting that had not been before. I found myself thinking about how to write about the people I met. I noticed the Irish countryside as I flew over it, and Colorado’s when I got here. I said Ireland was like a green egg carton. The landscape was bumpy and green. Colorado was flat and brown. I was blissing out on even flat and brown.

Bliss is not dependent on where we are or who we’re with or what is happening. I knew that, but for a couple of weeks there, I just couldn’t connect with it at all.

It’s a little weird to be back in Boulder right now.

In a way I kind of feel like I chickened out and left Ireland due to lack of funds. Maybe, maybe not. I thought I had a place I could stay a while, but missed connections and directions, and ended up sitting around in Cork for an extra week.

I could have taken what money I had and gone to London and been there this past weekend to see Swami Vishwananda, which was something I wanted to do very much. One of my former roommates is there. I had spaced it out until I got a letter yesterday from the Seva (work) group that they organized to support Swami’s work in Boulder. I had totally spaced out that it was this past weekend. Of course, that could have something to do with being in bed all weekend. Now I appreciate that distraction more than ever.

Of course, Swami will be here in a few weeks. I can see him right in my own backyard. And that was one of the things I noticed even before I left, of course. Nothing new there. I wasn’t leaving to find anything in Ireland that I could not find here. There was nothing in Ireland or elsewhere than I couldn’t do here, in fact maybe more of it here. That felt like a rationalization for going home (or before I left for not going), though, and from my stressed state, it was.

I imagine I could have gotten enough together to get back if I had gone on, but I was in that state of worry that keeps me from thinking clearly and didn’t get it clear enough to see my choices. 

At the same time, Aubrey keeps telling me how she doesn’t know how she would have gotten through the move without me. I’m living in one bedroom and the rest of the house is currently covered in plastic and being painted. I believe I will be able to open the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets again by Friday. The place is empty except for a few things I have and a little clutter in the basement. I’ll live here till the place sells unless something else comes up sooner.

So, not knowing how to talk about all of this is why I have not written much about Ireland. I was all busy doing image management. I didn’t realize it. And I didn’t want to look at it. I got to do The Work last Tuesday and realized how much energy and how much of my life is spent on this. I cried for half an hour first, though. I could not see it at all. I did not want to go there. I was still trying to look good.

So many people had helped me to get there. I was supposed to be feeling grateful and having a wonderful experience, but I was not. I didn’t feel like I could be honest with anyone about that.

Frankly, I hated Ireland for days at a time. I was bored. I was restless. I didn’t know what to do or where to go next. I was panicky, really. I finally got honest enough to say it that way to my friend, Erica, yesterday, and then I found myself writing to Ruth in a little more detail, and the next thing you know, I finally felt like I could write honestly about it for this blog.

It’s hard to say you hate something when you have worked so hard to get there. And it’s not that there was anything wrong with Ireland. There wasn’t. It’s just a place. I was just too “blind and stupid” to be clear about it and enjoy it. Once I got clear, all was bliss again.

But then I got home, and immediately immersed myself in someone else’s problems and worked on Aubrey’s house. I didn’t make time to stop and think about Ireland even though Aubrey was urging me to take a couple of days to myself and let her do the packing. Actually, I was getting stressed again and her stress was just a cover for my own.

I can now see several things I will change the next time I head out for something like this. From a different, less stressed, perspective, it was an incredible learning experience. I would not trade it. It is embarrassing in some ways, yes, but there’s not much I can do about that.

Wonder what’s next?


“Stress makes us blind and stupid.”

                       – Steven Sashen, Quantum Wealth workbook

Truth or Lie? Can You Tell? Yes, You Can.

October 12, 2006

Back in the 80’s I discovered what I then called my “yes/no feeling.” For 20 years, I used it as a primary intuition and decision making guide.

About 6 years ago, my friend Steven Sashen showed me a new framework for it and a way to go beyond this seeming duality to a place that I call “spontaneous right action.” That is, action that is not a reaction. Not moving away. Not moving toward. Just moving as an expression of who I am.

So, if you want to find your own feeling of truth/lie, try this:

Can you remember a time when you lied to someone you loved? (We all can.)

What does it feel like in your body as you remember that? Usually somewhere between your chin and your tailbone. Most people find feelings in their torso.

Great. I usually insist people find their own feelings, but this a blog and I’m not there, so way down at the bottom of this post, I’m going to tell you what you’re *likely* to find. (NOTE 1)

Now, float any statement through your mind. Anything. Try one of your favorite negative beliefs about yourself. “I’m not good enough.” and stuff like that.

Notice how you feel. Is it in any way similar to the feeling of lying to someone you love? Highly likely that it is. Maybe in a slightly different place, maybe stronger, weaker, something, but it is likely to have the same “flavor.”

Know why?

You’re lying to someone you love… YOU.

Don’t believe me on these things. Test it with all kinds of thoughts.

And yes, there is a truth feeling. See NOTE 2 below the signature.

Run anything you believe past this.

It’s internal kinesiology, aka “muscle testing.” You’ve probably heard of and/or seen this. If not, I can tell you about that, too. Your muscles go weak in the presence of a lie or something that isn’t good for you, strong in the presence of the truth and things that are good for you. With another person, you hold out your arm and it’s either strong or weak. Testing for yourself is generally done by trying to pry apart your own fingers (with the opposite hand) held in an “OK” sign.

I like the internal version better. Less obvious to others, very clear to me.


You’re welcome to call me or get together sometime if these written suggestions aren’t enough or you’re confused or even if you’re just interested.

Also, The Work of Byron Katie is, because it is based on our own internal knowing of what’s true, much truer to me and gets me very connected and awake. Katie is awake. So are many of her students that I have met.

Awake and true are 2 different things.

Many people are awake, far more than we realize. Many of the theories and explanations of it all that come through many of these people’s personalities may or may not be true.

So. There it is.


NOTE 1: Most likely you will find some kind of contraction, tension, tightness or heaviness.

NOTE 2: It’s open, expansive, light and relaxed. Sometimes there are “truth tears,” involuntary tears. Not quite crying, just tears. Sometimes chills, tingles.

Astrology & Bedspreads

October 8, 2006

Speaking of people’s rights, something we still have the right to do in this country per the First Amendment . . .

I was mildly annoyed that the hostel in Ireland blocked my astrology sites, even on the wireless access.

It strikes me as very odd that those were blocked, perhaps censored, while at the same time the bedspreads in every room have a zodiac with all the signs, and a happy smiley sun and moon on them.

I never really got the chance to ask the manager about it. After my first query about why my astrology sites were blocked (after I had been accessing them for a couple of days, so I suspect this was an intentional act) the manager was somehow always very busy and never really spoke to me in person again. All he said was, “Can’t do anything about that until Monday.”

I wonder if I actually encountered the famous reluctance of the Irish to ever use the word, “No?”



People’s Rights

October 8, 2006

I have lately been forwarding a few of the political writings I’ve been receiving, particularly Eric Francis’ and one from Garrison Keillor that was posted to a list I’m on.

A man from that list emailed me and said, “That’s some pretty powerful stuff you’re posting.” He went on to tell me that he is putting together a show of anti-war readings and wondered if I had any suggestions. You all know that I know next to nothing about politics, but I sent him the few ideas I had, including Marianne Williamson, The Peace Alliance and Byron Katie’s sites.

His reply went into more detail about what he is trying to create.

He finished by saying that he just wants to get it done and worry about rights issues later.

I kid you not.

I wrote back that I could not support that. People’s rights are people’s rights. And that includes copyrights. Ignoring people’s rights is what is of such great concern in the posts he responded to.

Not just blind, but completely blind, to the fact that not honoring copyrights, publishing rights and performance rights is precisely the problem I have been forwarding articles about.

I was floored.



Mema’s House Fairy Trail

October 5, 2006

Around the backyard of Mema’s house, there was a low stone wall with wonderful green ligustrum bushes growing from them. The inner border was purple iris. There were a couple of other bushes. We called them “bee bushes,” because they had little white flowers that attracted honeybees.

I was never a child to play very many games. I wasn’t very good at most of them. I set up dollhouses and never touched them again. But this stone wall was an exception. I dubbed it the “Fairy Trail,” and led my brothers, sisters, friends, anyone who would follow me, around the border of the yard telling them that this is where the fairies lived.

It truly seemed that way to me.

In the spring it was lush and green. My grandmother was a wedding florist, so you can imagine that the woman could tend a garden. She even grew African violets and you know how hard those are to grow!

Birds sang in her yard at dawn and dusk. I know. Birds do that. But our house was out on the edge of town in a new subdivision and there weren’t really enough trees to attract that many birds. And the birds liked the berries on the ligustrum bushes. They were loud in the morning! I loved it.

Magic lived there. I knew it.

I spent 3 weeks in Ireland recently.

When we arrived at the bed and breakfast on the Emerald Island’s Baere Peninsula where our class met for “Celtic Cosmology and Modern Spirituality,” no . . . wait . . . it was titled the other way ‘round, “Celtic Spirituality and Modern Cosmology,” ANYWAY… I took one look and suddenly understood my deep affection for my grandmother’s backyard.

She wasn’t Irish. She was French and I don’t know what else. But her backyard had the lush green grass and shrubbery border of Ireland’s green and pleasant land. I loved that.


Colorado is far from green. Well, there are the pines and the junipers and the blue spruce. Okay, it’s perpetually green. Except for the grass. It’s brown.

From the air, Ireland and Colorado are diametrically opposed topographies. Where Ireland is green and rolling fields, just a little more shallow and irregular than an egg carton, Colorado is flat, flat, flat and brown. Except for the mountains, but Denver? Where the airport is?

Colorado: Flat. Brown.

Ireland: Green. Rolling.

That’s okay. I didn’t move to Colorado to live in the flatlands!

I love the mountains. I love the rolling hills.
I love the flowers. I love the daffodils.
Boom dee ah, la boom dee ah, la boom dee ah, la boom dee ah.

I Don’t Know Means I Don’t Know

October 1, 2006

One of the oddest things since I’ve been back in Boulder is that a couple of people . . . only 2 who have told me, anyway, had the idea that my class was a year long.


Class was ONE WEEK.

I just didn’t want to spend a week in class morning & night and not stay in Ireland, my first ever trip off the North American continent and not stay a little longer to see what was there.

What I had was an intuition that I *MIGHT* be able to stay for 2 months to a year if I found something to do there.

I didn’t.

I had 6 or 7 leads and several other vague ideas, none of which materialized.

So, I came home.

It’s funny what people hear when I say “I don’t know.”

I admit I follow it with possibilities.

What is truest most of the time, maybe even all of the time, is that “I don’t know” means “I don’t know.” 

Maybe it’s a different way of living that what most people do.