Holiday Letter 2003
Ahhh… the year in brief? So many eternities and lifetimes and incredible experiences, and yet it’s hard to believe a year has gone by so quickly? Time is so amorphous.
I spent the early part of 2003 painting a lot, although I continually see Reiki clients as a part of my spiritual healing practice. Just after New Year’s, I finished decorating a donation box for the St. James Infirmary, a lovely non-profit clinic that provides non-judgmental health and social services to sex workers. It’s an amazing place where clients access services ranging from Reiki and acupuncture to western medicine and food and clothing. For the donation box, I painted three watercolors, Man Love, Womyn Joy, and Trans Power, and decoupaged digital images of the paintings onto a wooden box, and hand painted a decorative border. January found me busily painting for the February Art Show at City Art Cooperative Gallery in San Francisco where I regularly show. I finished my second and third acrylic paintings for the show. And in March, I was thrilled to show at the grand opening of Sacred Profanities, a new art gallery in Berkeley.
The end of March brought the shock of mortality when my Dad’s youngest brother, John dropped dead. John was the farmer uncle I idolized most during my formative years. A life long dairy farmer who was staunchly himself, his passing marks the trickling out of a New England breed.
April found me bicycling to Santa Cruz to teach a Reiki class to a group of radical faerie brethren. On the spur of the moment, I packed my bicycle panniers and decided to trust Spirit’s call to me to bicycle the hundred miles from San Francisco to Santa Cruz. I got a late start, and pushed hard to meet my destination of Pigeon Point Youth Hostel. I arrived there at 6:30pm just as the last vestiges of light silhouetted the lighthouse against the ocean and sky. After four and a half hours of non-stop pedaling, I was exhausted. I stumbled off my bike into the Hostel’s registration office and inquired for a bunk. When the clerk replied, “Sorry, we are full up.”, I was flabbergasted. I had used every bit of my energy to get there by dark and had “bonked” as they say in the cycling world. I had called the Hostel’s voicemail in the morning, and it had said there was plenty of space. But apparently, I wasn’t the only traveler to take advantage of this fine spring day. Fortunately, the keen clerk noticed I was traveling by bike, and he said, “Oh, if you are traveling by bicycle we can’t turn you away. We will find floor space for you.” I was relieved, although I don’t know that I would have traveled another foot anyways! I enjoyed a good solid night’s sleep like only a good physical workout can provide. In the wee hours of the morning I awoke to a huge thunderous explosion… I wasn’t sure if it was a wave crashing on the shore, or lightening striking the lighthouse, but it was loud and thrilling. And yet it was comforting too, knowing Spirit was indeed alive! And I was thankful to be inside. The storm passed by daylight, and I was able to travel the twenty some easy miles to Santa Cruz with some ease, in spite of being pretty wiped out from pushing so hard the day before. The next day, I awoke near sunrise and roamed the beach watching the surfers. My knees were sore, and I thought I might be rather lame for the weekend, until I thought to use the Reiki on myself (like so many healers, I often forget to heal myself). I laid my hands on my knees and they felt good within a few minutes. In fact, that afternoon, I ventured forth on a ride to Wilder Ranch, a state park about 5 miles north of Santa Cruz. And, there, I rode my first “single track” mountain biking trails… trails just a few inches wide across meadows and canyons in the foothills that arise from the coast. I had the time of my life and felt as invigorated as a little kid reveling in piles of leaves or skateboarding. This set the stage for a vigorous interest in cycling which I continued throughout the year. I taught my Reiki class the following day, and had a delightful time teaching a class of about ten.
April brought me a grand lesson in trusting Spirit, as I found myself wanting to declutter my room and replace my desktop computer with a laptop. One night I lay in bed thinking that perhaps it was time to delve into my limited savings and get a laptop. But then I decided I didn’t want to deplete savings, because I’ve not had savings for a while. And I also didn’t want to go through the process of figuring out what model to buy. So I said, “I want someone to give me a laptop!” A few days later, I found an email from a friend with an offer to buy me a laptop! My first thought was, “No! I can’t accept such a gift… there might be strings… it might not be the right computer…”, and I rationalized some excuses why I shouldn’t accept the offer. But then I realized that I had asked Spirit for a laptop, and Spirit was offering me one. Was I turning my face to God? Like the man who asked God to dinner, but did not recognize God in the beggars that came to his door. And so, I decided to address my concerns and see about accepting the gift. There were to be no strings, assured my friend, and I could help pick out the computer. And so I/we did! It was a marvelous lesson in asking Spirit for what you want, and then allowing it to happen.
In June, I set off for Oregon for a weekend to participate in a prayer ritual shared by Native Americans with Radical Faeries. I had participated in the ritual last year as well, and I had found it profoundly powerful. This year was even more powerful. As soon as I set my intentions and made my prayers and was accepted into the ritual, I felt Spirit working on me. A bout of poison oak taught me that I have fears of a dangerous universe, that I need to replace with trust in Spirit and a supportive universe; the experience was also a lesson that prayers can heal, as when the itching began to overtake my entire body, I put out a call to our prayer list, and the symptoms turned around immediately. I also learned that my prayers were effective: that others who might have been exposed through me did not manifest symptoms. Spirit taught me that we need not live the story of catching things in a dangerous world. Words cannot explain the intensity of my experience from the ritual. I have felt a strong connection to Spirit almost daily since I made my prayers and participated.
The festivities of Pride in San Francisco ensured fervor and excitement and gratitude, like only Sand Francisco Pride can. Many friends from across the country converged in San Francisco and it felt good to reconnect with extended family. I rode my bike in the parade with Mikes On Bikes, a fun contingent in which cyclists dress up or down according to each individual’s calling to express themselves. Always well received, Mikes on Bikes follows the leather clad Dykes on Bikes, making a wonderful display of diversity from nearly uniformed women on motorcycles to free spirited men on bicycles in a kaleidoscope of attire.
The day after Pride, I packed my bicycle in a box, and boarded a red-eye flight to Binghamton, NY, my portage point for Garrattsville, the land of my paternal blood ancestors. My visions of sleeping soundly on the overnight flight turned into only two or three hours of sleep. But, nonetheless, I was thrilled with excitement, and managed to reassemble my bike and depart Binghamton airport for my 90 mile ride to my Uncle Howard and Aunt Priscilla’s in Edmeston. I bicycled out of the airport at 11am, a bit discouraged at finding my front wheel bent during transport. I decided to stop in Binghamton and have the wheel trued. The afternoon dragged on as my weariness wore through the initial adrenaline rush of excitement. I contemplated laying over for the evening, but at 6pm I rolled into Mt. Upton, and the remaining 25 miles seemed possible. And so I breathed deep breaths and let the air of the Butternut Valley carry me “home” to Edmeston. I ran into my Uncle Steve and Aunt Isabel, out for their evening stroll in Garrattsville. As I pushed on over the hill to West Burlington, a farm boy finishing his chores yelled out “Faster!” And I laughed and continued the song of my ride, thinking if he only knew my journey, he would know I was going fast enough, with my panniers loaded, my body tired, but my Spirit strong with excitement of a journey almost done. I rolled into Edmeston at 8:30pm, and was warmly received by my Aunt Priscilla and Uncle Howard. It felt good to be home. My reflections wondered how my ancestors had traveled along the Butternut… bicycle was indeed faster than horse and wagon… but still a similar feeling to reach destinations under your own power. I noted the absurdity of my own life, having traveled that route by car with my parents each year coming up from Delaware for our family reunion. And how seven years ago, I journeyed 3 days to travel the hundred or so miles from Dryden to Garrattsville by horse and buggy. Last year, I flew from San Francisco, and rented a car. This year, I flew and rode my bike. I suppose walking the route along the Butternut is the only mode left. Each mode of travel shows such a different view.
I spend two weeks in New York, with a side trip to Delaware, enjoying the family reunion, and helping my Aunt Priscilla organize family photographs and genealogy going back several centuries. I enjoyed a few bike rides in Leatherstocking Country of Otsego County, New York. It’s some of the best cycling around, with plenty of unpaved roads and little traffic. I was grateful to see a lot of the family, and to also visit with my parents, my sister’s family, and my brother as well.
August found me preparing new course material to teach in New Mexico, at a Faerie Shaman’s Gathering. I taught five classes in energy healing there. It was one of the most intense Spiritual experiences of my life. A highlight was a faerie shaman helping me expel a ball of energy out of my belly that had it remained would have left me vomiting. The magic and love at the gathering will be remembered for years.
September marked my first stage performance in Naked Inquisition at the San Francisco Fringe Festival. Naked Inquisition describes the historical cycles of the oppressed becoming the oppressors throughout time; for example, one scene shows a Roman interrogation of a Christian during Christ’s time, and the next scene shows the Christian inquisition during the 1500’s. It was a fun experience.
September found me attending daily to a Reiki client, who lay sick in hospice. She honored me deeply by having me present at her death. It was my first experience witnessing a person dying. I was amazed to see how Reiki soothed her troubled last breaths from gasps to easy breaths. And I felt the Reiki help her make her final choices in the body: love the body and let it go; body love the spirit and let it go. It was intensely profound as I felt and experienced, that each of us is just one thought, one intention, away from death. The experience of helping her spirit move along its path and leave the body, was beautiful and profound beyond words. I find it funny that so many of us fear the one certainty in our life, death.
I took two overnight bicycle camping trips to China Camp which lays 30 miles north of San Francisco. It was the first time in seven years, that I missed the usual gathering I attend in Tennessee, but it felt good to relax at home. I started several new hobbies… indoor rock climbing, and staff spinning. Plus, I started writing some, mainly journaling. I continue to volunteer Reiki for the St. James Infirmary every Wednesday night.
Lessons of the year for me seem to be:
Remember that every thought is a prayer and intention,
Choose them carefully.
Never underestimate the power of your prayer.
Trust Spirit, and trust yourself.
And in my journal, I found this quote from Helen Keller:
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men experience it as a whole. Avoiding danger is not safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing.
And so at years end, I look back and see I have lived more adventures than I remember, and this doesn’t even begin to account for the countless clients I have seen and miracles of Spirit that I have witnessed. I don’t know why I so often think my life boring and uneventful!
I am thankful I choose a story of Peace and Abundance in these times when so many live in fear, anger, hostility, and scarcity. Peace begets peace. Trust begets trust. Friendliness begets friends. Faith begets security.
I send you and everyone blessings for Peace, Unconditional Love, Joy, and Abundance.
