Sunday, July 31, 2011

Sacred things.

I have been in LA for the past week spending time with Kristin and her close friends and family as she navigates the end of her days with extraordinary grace and courage. She is 41 and leukemia is winning. We are not sure if we have a few minutes, hours or days left with her.

I was talking to my mom and she referred to this time, this intimate experience of transition, as holy. She is not religious but I understood her entirely. She was speaking of the word in the transcendent sense.

And today I went to a dance class at the Sweat Spot for one of my first excursions out of this house of grace in a week. Joe taught us a lovely choreography to Adele's "Someone Like You." It was filled with contractions and expansions and rises and falls and rolls and shudders. We went slow and we went fast. We remembered. We reached. Our dance was filled with moves that I have watched this week as Kristin fights to keep her dignity with her body and to understand the new dance that she is being forced to learn.

At the end of class I wept. (Thanks Joe for holding that space for me to disassemble a bit.)

Because when I was lying on the floor, curled up in the fetal position and ready to begin dancing this choreography for the last time, I thought about sacred and transcendent words, words and ideas that deserve to be elevated and honored. I thought about Kristin, hanging on to her breath and her body and her mind long after it seems humanly possible.

Here they are, my sacred words for today:

Grace ... Holy ... Dignity ... Body.
Family ... Friends ... Love.

And now I will return to the family room, where we will laugh and/or cry and/or sleep and/or eat. We will listen to what Kristin wants us to remember. We will do no harm.

And it will be holy. For sure.

Monday, July 11, 2011


I'm a talker. I've got a blog, for heaven's sake. So that's how you can tell. But all the good stuff I've learned has come from developing the skill to be still enough to listen.

The last couple of months I've slowed the dance down to listen. I've listened to teachers and healers and authors and scientists and a lawyer and an accountant and broken people and hopeful people with an equally democratic ear. I'm trying to learn the next steps so I need to listen very, very carefully.

This weekend, I will do more of the same.

I have invited some awesome girls and women to join me in a circle to reflect on the True Body Project and to think about where we have been and where we might go. The True Body Project is a reflection of the collective truth of how we live today and how we might make that easier, safer and more fulfilling for more girls and women.

I can't wait. And after we have listened hard and planned long (oh not too long, don't you worry), then we'll start talking. We'll spill the beans on our awesome True Body Project plans. We'll tell you how to come be a listener with us.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Breaking through the noise.

I've been a a bit mum the last few weeks as I've been taking care of business to keep the ship from sinking ...

(Remember my Financial Frenemy? She came knocking but I let her in and we have made a good deal.)

... and I've also been slowing down my usual high octane approach to creativity and communications to consider what, in the middle of the noisiest time ever in the history of communications, is worth saying.

I've seen close to 20 theatrical events in the last month, including theatre, opera and dance, read several books, looked at a gazillion Facebook posts about a gazillion ideas, opinions, creative expressions and a few cats. And I'm trying to be discerning about what stands out, what feels relevant, and what feels important.

I'm not sure yet of my own creative direction for the next few months. I am not sure if I will write a novel or a play or a pilot or something with others. But I do know this ... authenticity stands out. Which is why I present to you this lovely song and video by Slow Club. Thanks to Julie Rawe for finding it for me.

"Hold on to where you’re from, it’s where you heart goes when you’re done."

That seems relevant. That seems important.