ORAC Dixie's Best Kept Secret Podcast

Humanity

 

pichaus.com/pic/hug

When I pass by you or we meet for the first time,

when I see you on the news and listen to your story,

when our unconsummated fb messages meet from untraveled corners of the globe,

IF I chose to feel your happiness from connection or allow your pain 

from loss, from disappointment, from hunger or illness or physical injury,

IF I chose to comprehend your joy of overwhelming triumph, 

the rush of accomplishment, laughter, pleasure, relief,

IF I chose to acknowledge your fear of self doubt,

of burdens too large to carry, the worry of an unknown future, 

and the energy draining weight of schleping the past behind you 

when it no longer serves,

IF I chose to open myself to your passion and anger, 

your depth of violence that is terrifying living inside you

along side your heart that desires nothing but peace,

IF I chose to search for the tenderness there,

IF I chose to try to understand your vulnerability,

to feel your strength and know the cocky, confidence of one day 

that easily blends into the hopeless dispair of another, 

to experience the depths of the failures you have suffered 

and the pulsing drive of dreams waiting to be fulfilled,

IF I chose to really see, there is no distinguishing 

your worry about shelter, about safety, about finding purpose in your life.  

Your essential need to be seen and heard, valued and loved is no different than my own.

There is no culture, no language, no gender, no belief that excludes you.  

Our differences only superficial, our separation fabricated and temporal.

IF I chose to look within you, I would recognize me.

Song of the Day Egyptian Protests and Social Media

Sout Al Horeya صوت الحريهThe Voice of Freedom

I went out and said that I wouldn’t come back
And wrote with my blood on each street
We made our voices heard to those who weren’t listening
And all the barriers/obstacles were broken

Our weapon was our dreams
And tomorrow was clear before us
We’ve been waiting for a long time
Seeking but not finding our place

In every street of my country,  the sound of freedom is calling

We lifted our heads high
And hunger no longer bothered us
What’s most important are our rights
And to write our history with our blood

If you were really one of us [Hosni Mubarak]
Stop talking and telling us
To leave and forget our dream
And stop saying the word “I”

In every street of my country, the sound of freedom is calling

The spoken poetry at 2:14:Tan Egyptian arms against discrimination stretched in the midst of roar shattering its imposed enclosures The wonderful youth have spoken turned Egypt's Fall to Spring and accomplished the unimaginable Awoke the dead from under tyranny

The spoken poetry at 2:31Kill me (if you can) Killing me, will not bring your regime back for with my blood, I write a new life, for my homeland. Is it my blood, or is it Spring has sprung? For both seem green today. ...

Hunting

Every fall when my girls were little we would go caterpillar hunting.

Sometime between the middle of August and the first week in September, the monarch butterfly caterpillars would be ready. At this late stage in their caterpillar existence all they do is eat and poop, the eating and the pooping in equally massive quantities. So it was imperative they be neither too small, requiring us to feed them for more than a few days. Or too big because they would immediately begin looking for something to super glue their back-ends onto and begin their transformation. You want a couple of days in the house before they start picking out their spot in preparation of, well, there just really aren't words to describe what they do next.

With their butt glued to almost any surface, suspended upside down, they wiggle and twist and squirm in uncomfortable spasms for hours until they shed their striped skin and reveal a milky green chrysalis with shiny gold dots.

This incredible activity happens along highways, dusty back roads, in the middle of thick green pastures and on solitary milkweed plants in vacant inner city lots with most of us taking no notice. And that's a shame because it's one of those things that leaves you wondering about possibilities, it leaves you in awe. Watching that tiny little caterpillar work so hard to become something so different and amazing makes you feel astonished and that feeling is what I think is missing with our kids.

There is no substitute for the feeling of success. Nothing comes close to working hard and being proud of your best effort. There is no drug, no amount of money that can match the feeling you get when you don't think you can do something, feel like quitting, know you have nothing left to give and give one ounce more and succeed. And the only way to know those feelings are through personal experience. You can read about it or hear about it and be inspired but the price of knowing it for yourself, is in the doing.

I watch the school system even the playing field so that everyone “wins. Where the hell else in life does that happen? I watch helicopter mom's (yes I was one for a while...but I got better) rob their kids of opportunities to fall and get back up again, their every helpful message screaming, “I think you're incompetent”.

When I worked for Colgate one of our program directors in Philadelphia told me that they were having a hard time motivating the inner city kids. She said, “How do you interest a child in working hard when they can stand on a street corner and look out for cops for the dealers and earn $400?” It always bothered me because I didn't have an answer. I do now.

I'd give that kid a monarch butterfly caterpillar. I'd watch the amazement on his face as it struggled and changed. I see his eyes light up with understanding as that milky green chrysalis became clearer and clearer until it revealed the black and orange and white butterfly inside. Like magic. And together we would watch it break open and work to stretch it's wings and fly away knowing, that from that day on he would always wonder about his own possibilities.

Unprepared

she hit me with a brick today 
the pain so severe and unexpected,
i thought i'd pass out from the hole it left behind

i recognized the poison, i'd drank it's kind before

but not from you, so out of place from you

and realized it wasn't you hiding, (never was), it was me walking with eyes closed

run! the scream so loud, ears ringing, attempting to stand

tripping, almost through plate glass to get away

from what i longed for, ached for, suddenly feared

the cliff's tallest portion, scrambling barefoot, clawing frantic

until silent sitting, watching storm clouds blacken

forcing presence in the pain, beg for understanding of an agony so large and frightening

confusion sorting, numb and mindless

the shock so raw slowly ebbing on insistent winds, and finally peace came

remember trusting, knowing, the child i love and see so clearly, the river i am on

and came so clear the answer, all my stories, my control, my absolute denial

i was in deep and there she was to save me, knowing me so well,

brick in hand and not afraid to use it, just a flesh wound that would heal

and just in time

another twenty-four hours invested, or seventy-two until a tragic ending

the unexplainable exponential weight of connection that happens with only you

so i missed you, alone in that wild place

the wind whipping my hair, setting me free, truth blinding

i let the painful waves of missing you wash over me hard and complete -unprepared

and loved you, lifted my face into the wind, eyes closed

and felt the deepest gratitude for the sum total of joy that comes

from you added to my life

and i thanked her for showing up now

instead of later

when it most certainly would have been fatal

wiped the tears from my eyes, redrew lines and looked up

shocked at the huge black clot of clouds surrounding me and thought

what a fucking crazy place to be sitting in a lightning storm

Song of the Day Gravity

Sara Bareilles

Jbarra-
Brave, courageous, true.
A good wind and calm seas.
-Splash

Expectations in Free Fall.

My friend Leslie and I met at a personal training conference in 2007. That 4 day training would end up being one of the most emotional, difficult and memorable experiences of my life. Another girl in our group worked in advertising and she told us they had traded a client's advertising for tandem paragliding rides and we should come too. Being newly self actualized beings, we'd experienced some recent radical shifts in our perceptions. For the first time in my life, I thought “I can do this” and the dream of flying seemed truly possible.

By the time nature cooperated and provided the right conditions for our first tandem flights, we were already certified paragliding “para waiters”. We'd been to the mountain 3 times and every time the winds had come too strong or too light or too west and our flights had been canceled. So the initial terror of stepping off a 300 foot cliff had been all but forgotten. It came roaring back to life as Jonathan, my tandem pilot, announced “it's a go” and began loading me into the harness.

I'm terrified of heights. Ask my kids. Our fun little adventure to Dead Horse Point near Moab one summer turned into a nightmare as I bottle-necked the road with my little Jeep, traffic piling up in both directions. I hadn't realized I was driving across a cliff with shear drop offs a million feet down that narrowed to about 8 feet wide on both sides until it was too late. Eventually the rangers got my white knuckled grip off the steering wheel, moved us out of the way and got us safely back to the visitor's center. I remember distinctly being invited to “not try that again”.

I'd heeded that sage advice for years. But here I was, assuming the position, (swan dive) walking calmly to the lip of the drop-off fully intent on stepping into thin air. It was pure insanity. With nothing but carabeiners connecting me to my pilot, fishing line connecting him to our wing and one monstrosity of a kite effortlessly jerking us around in anticipation of taking flight, we slowly made our way towards the edge. Jonathan's assistant thankfully stood beside me, holding me to the ground

We are told all our lives to find a firm footing, keep our feet on the ground, build a strong foundation. Strangely, all the things that had ever hurt me in life, had happened on the ground while I tried to be that grounded, stable person that was expected of me. Maybe it wasn't the best advice to listen to. Maybe getting our feet free and off the ground is a better goal. Maybe being grounded is just like it was when we were kids, a bad thing. I think having the ability to go airborne in moments of crisis and despair, having the ability to launch yourself free of preconceived notions and expectations would be a much more advantageous position from which to address the inevitable disappointments and perceived failures that life holds for us all.

The Point of the Mountain in Draper, Utah is a geographically oddity that produces some of the best paragliding/hangliding conditions in the world. A tall, bumpy ridge born of the sandy remnant of the ancient Lake Bonneville is skirted by the Wasatch Bench with a modest height of about 300 feet. That bench is a staging area for take off and landing and then by flying back and forth across the face, when the conditions are just right, a paraglider can achieve enough height to “bench up” and take advantage of the lift along the taller ridge and reach altitudes of 2,000 feet off the valley floor or higher.

For my tandem, my friend Matt was flying with us and he was benching up behind us as I got my first experience of the peaceful, transcending feeling this sport allows. Suddenly, just like that, I was now one with all those people I had envied for most of my life growing up in Salt Lake City.

Being that far off the ground with no noise, exposed to the elements (birds flying close enough to touch), gives you an amazing perspective. It diminishes the overwhelming bearing of problems and worries. It feels like breathing again for the first time after holding your breath for a very long time. It is a tranquility I still find impossible to put into adequate words.

Off on my left, Matt began swinging back and forth. “Can we do that?” I asked Jonathan, and he explained “wing overs”. We began the rhythm of leaning back and forth, pulling and pushing like a little kid on a swing set and soon the wing was rocking ahead and behind us in an ever increasing arch.

Matt pulled into a spin and began rapidly descending. “Can we do that?” “You have to promise not to barf.” “Absolutely”! And with that we angled into a tight turn and the world began circling faster and faster, the G force shocking me, the ground rising quickly, the world, the wing, Jonathan and I all rushing towards impact. It was exhilarating and I was screaming, laughing, and struggling not to puke the entire ride down.

Jonathan gently pulled out of the spin and we turned over the parking lot and back into the wind to land and reconnect with terra firma. There was Leslie visiting with our friends. Jonathon guided us barely over her head as we swooped low over them. He flared and we lowered until my toes gently touched down and it was over. Nothing like anything I could have imagined.

I have a saying written on a little card that my mom gave me before she died. It reads “If you are ever faced with two seemingly equal choices, always go with the bolder choice.” It took me most of my life to get to a place were I would understand that idea at the deeper level I think she was trying to share with me. Looking back I see all the opportunities I had in life that I walked away from, not because I didn't want them, I did, I wanted them badly.  But I passed them by because of my fear, my expectations of a bad outcome, my lack of belief in myself.

“The most important decision we make,” declared Albert Einstein, “is whether we believe we live in a friendly or a hostile universe.” Trying to create indestructible static footings in a universe that is dynamic and constantly moving hasn't panned out in my experience. There is nothing guaranteed to be forever, unbreakable, without pain. And the expectation of having the wall hold firmly when the flood hits left me time and time again, struggling for breath under water while still in the shock of trying to figure out how bad things could happen when I was supposed to be safe, when I had taken the prescribed measures.

Reality is, life is constantly changing, people are messy and even your favorites are going to disappoint you some times. Things break, storms come, the worst thing you could imagine sometimes happens and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Rather it is our perception of what happens and our constant comparison of what was supposed to be and what really occurred that does us in.

Leana Horne said, “It isn't our burdens in life, it's how we carry them”. And for me that has turned out to be unquestionable truth. When I let go of my expectations I am usually given more than I wanted. I believe it is a loving supportive universe that we live in. I believe even our greatest disappointments move us to places we somehow are asking to be taken. Becoming your greatest rendition of yourself calls for letting go of the ground, even free falling sometimes, flying.

Leslie and I went into that weekend's seminar training ready to brag up a storm. Proud of ourselves and each other and the fact that we had faced a fear and not only beaten it but willing signed up for the P2 certification program. We would fly!  “That's fantastic”, said our trainer. “But wait till you see what you're doing tonight. It will blow your mind.”  He was right. Walking on fire is pretty cool too.