Life does not wait: Whether we spend our lives meaningfully or not, the time will be used up moment by moment. – the Dalai Lama.

OK, I know what you’re thinking…first a song-lyrics phase, and now a quotations phase? Oh, well: this one caught my eye on the Quotidian Quotes page.

The above thought strikes a chord with me, of course, as I continue to question the meaningfulness of my life at the current time. I realize that I’m not, really, living in the present moment, but rather waiting for something else, presumably better, down the road. This is not much of a way to live and I know that. Is it within my power to change this state (other than totally changing my life)? Yes, I suppose it is. I am certain that things must be different than they are for me…but what if I’m wrong about what that looks like? What if it’s just my attitude that needs adjustment? I admit that that’s a possibility. (Yes, most of the time I believe it’s a remote one, but it’s a possibility nonetheless.)

This limbo-like state that I occupy these days is disorienting. I’ve never been so unsettled for so long…

…well, as I write that, I know that that’s not entirely accurate either. I was, for the whole of my 20s, in a condition that was barely emotionally survivable. I had chosen poorly in terms of a marriage partner, and spent nearly the entire ten years living with unhappiness & despair – and a variety of physical ailments (including chronic, debilitating tension headaches) that signaled, to anyone paying attention (though certainly not me at the time), the unsatisfactory condition of my life. I believed, truly believed, that I was not ever going to see my 30th birthday. When, on my 29th, I was still living and breathing, and it occurred to me that my personal lifespan assessment may have been in error, I started to make some radical changes. First, I weaned myself from the Valium habit I had developed (prescribed by a series of physicians for coping with my headaches), and then ultimately left the dysfunctional relationship that was at the root of my problems.

At that time, as I finally decided: what was called for was a radical reshaping of my life. I knew deep down (really, even through all the years of denial) that wholesale change was needed. And my life experience since then, and the several dramatic transitions that have been called for, has taught me to trust my judgment when I believe that change is necessary.

So, is an attitude adjustment in order? Definitely. But, on a higher-self level, I know that I must restructure this existence of mine in order to survive it.

I continue to struggle with my peripheral-neuropathy symptoms (tingling & numbness in my left foot and toes). I rather feel like a yo-yo in terms of the emotions that go along with all of this. Some days, I am almost “normal.” Other days, like today, totally unexplainably, I have symptoms that are more acute and I get depressed. I had an acupuncture treatment today, but it brought little relief. I requested that we get as aggressive as we possibly can with treatment, so we’ll see if anything will happen. As it stands now, I am, for the first time, “wearing” a few tiny magnets in my left ear (taped in on top of traditional acupuncture points) to see if this will help. This particular technique is a first for me.

Fortunately, my condition does not really limit me. It’s more nuisance-like than anything. So, given that it got up to a sunny 56 degrees this afternoon, I went for a walk through Mt. Tabor park – one of my favorite places here in SE Portland to take a stroll.

I came across a person recently who said, surprisingly, she “didn’t believe in acupuncture.” I really hadn’t heard anything like that from anyone in quite awhile, perhaps due to the company I typically keep. I haven’t necessarily ever thought about “believing” in acupuncture or not. The practice has been around at least 5,000 years, and though it’s considered “alternative” therapy here in this country, it is traditional Chinese medicine. I believe it is as legitimate as anything “western” medicine has to offer…it’s merely an option to explore. Once you can get past the idea of having a bunch of needles in your body (I know that’s difficult for some folks), it can actually seem quite “normal.” I was so relaxed during my session today that I went to sleep and, at one point, woke myself up with my snoring!

Let’s hope I can get my body’s energy force, qi, back in balance. [FYI: I’ve heard some variations in the pronunciation of qi, but am told that it roughly should be said “chee.” And, now that I’m trying to write about this, I am unable determine whether or not it should be capitalized: qi or Qi? I don’t know…]

Anyway: balance. That’s my goal.

At this point, as you know, I find myself in a position in life that’s pretty challenging. Wherever I turn, it seems, I am encountering instability, uncertainty, rejection, loss, and heartache. Love and appreciation, two terms I used in my last entry, are not universal elements that have been flowing my way. Chinese culture uses the term “qi” to denote “life force” or “spiritual energy.” My qi is in decline, I suspect. One small example: I’ve talked about the East Wind here as “spirit-sapping.” Then, on a more profound level, I’ve found myself showing up to a spiritually-bankrupt environment everyday for months now that, I know, has affected me to my core. To turn the corner on my spiritual (as well as my mental, physical & emotional) health, I know deep down that I need to make significant changes. I’m hoping that I can make this happen soon.

I’ve started to visit an acupuncturist. I haven’t done this for a few years, but I’ve begun again in a conscious attempt to alter the decline of my qi. As part of the treatment, my current practitioner uses moxibustion, “a traditional Chinese-medicine technique that involves the burning of mugwort (a small, spongy herb) to facilitate healing.” This practice has been used for thousands of years and, as with most forms of traditional Chinese medicine, is supposed to “strengthen the blood, stimulate the flow of qi, and maintain general health.” The symptoms of peripheral neuropathy I’ve been exhibiting for months motivated me to pursue this course; the physical-therapy techniques I tried, dead-ended. I’m hopeful that I can get back on track, health-wise, this way.

I spent the night of the science fair sleeplessly. The energy expenditure of the day was considerable, though I guess my adrenaline concentration stemming from the experience was too high to be ignored. Fatigue has turned into utter fatigue as insomnia continues. I’m guessing that this condition only serves to enhance my typical, transitory, post-event post-partum depressive tendencies.

I know that I’m exhausted and overly-emotional. And, as happens to me in this kind of space, I tend to socially withdraw a bit and reflect on my existence. What am I doing here? Is this really my life? What can I change? How can I change?

I was touched by a couple of folks who gave me huge compliments today on my leadership ability. Their comments were exceptionally kind and generous, I thought.

Am I that generous with others? Oh, I would like to think so; but I’m not always so sure. Extending sincere appreciation to those around you, I believe, is a mark not only of exemplary leadership, but of generosity and simple humanity. In whatever form it takes, saying out loud words like “I appreciate you” is a powerful thing. The message can be as significant and affirming as “I love you.”

Can we live without being loved and appreciated? Yes, I guess so, but it makes the difficulty level of life much more significant.

I frequently think of the May 2002 episode of “ER” that marked the passing of character Dr. Mark Green. (Yes, Jim, again with a TV show!?) Why this comes to mind for me at this particular moment, I’m not sure, except that is has to do with the concept of “generosity.”

In this episode, Mark is near death and he makes the decision to spend his final days in Hawaii. With him are daughter Rachel, wife Elizabeth, and their baby daughter Ella.

The most moving moment, and the one that has kept flashing into my psyche over the years, is his final piece of advice: “Be generous Rachel,” he says, “with yourself, with your life, with your love. Just be generous.”

I would love to be known as a man of integrity – and generosity. For now: I’m working on it.

Soundtrack Suggestion

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

(“The Circle Game” – Joni Mitchell)

In the midst of everything else going on for me right now, I finally have finished reading Linda Carroll’s biography: Her Mother’s Daughter. As I have written about before, I’ve known Linda for over 25 years and identify her as one of the most influential people in my life – indeed, I consider her one of my family on this planet during this lifetime. (I’ve absolutely no idea if she has any thoughts along these lines, though.) She’s served as my counselor, confidante, friend, mentor and spiritual guide – helping me through some very difficult spots. I am incredibly fortunate to have met her and to have had her in my life for (at this point) nearly half my time on earth. Frankly, any attempt to think about this lifetime without Linda in it hardly seems like my life at all.

I first mentioned Linda in these pages after reading Borrowed Finery by Paula Fox. Fox is the famous author of novels and childrens’ books who, early in her life, gave Linda up for adoption. Linda finally tracked her mother down after the birth of granddaughter Frances Bean Cobain. Although quite elderly now, Paula is still alive and she and Linda continue to maintain a relationship begun, belatedly, in the mid-1990s.

In the time I’ve known Linda a lot has happened to her, both personally and in terms of her public notoriety. She is, after all, not only Paula Fox’s daughter, but Courtney Love’s mother. The stormy relationship between Linda and Courtney has been reported in the popular press, up until this time, exclusively through Courtney’s eyes. A number of unflattering and outrageous things have been said about Linda that are totally inconsistent with the good-hearted person that I know and love. Not that I ever really knew much of Linda’s story before reading the book, though; I have only had glimpses into small parts of her life. As my counselor, Linda has been focused on listening to the rhythms of my story, not the other way around. Most of what I know about Linda the person has come through my experience with her in various workshops over the years. The most recent group experience I had with her was about 7 years ago now, in a PAIRS (couples) course led by her and husband Tim.

Now that I’ve finished reading Her Mother’s Daughter, I’ve searched out some of the literary reviews and am discovering that they appear, well, mixed . Some praise Linda’s narrative style and general ability to draw the reader into the drama that has been her life. Others take a more critical stance, sometimes judging her life itself, apparently overwhelmed by the chaotic nature of Linda’s existence. For myself, I was amazed at the detail Linda was able to relate to me, the reader, describing experiences from an age when I would have no memories to draw on at all. Further, I was totally engaged with her writing style, finding it smooth and conversational, mirroring the “real person” that I know her to be.

Of course, upon reading the biography, I tend to agree that Linda’s life has been chaos. And in terms of order of magnitude of lifetime chaotic experiences, her biography rivals her mother’s. As much turmoil as I believe I’ve personally experienced, I admit that my story has had less overall drama than either Paula’s or Linda’s. Linda is on her fourth marriage; she gave birth to six children, one who died as an infant; an adopted child subsequently discovered another home for which he was a better fit; she escaped San Francisco by moving to Oregon, then moved to New Zealand and back to Oregon; her oldest child is Courtney, likely one of the most “out there” celebrities since Madonna’s younger days; and (not covered in the book) she once found herself the therapist for Katherine Ann Power, an activist from the 60s who spent most of her adult life underground.

Zounds: what a life.

I’ve lived my life parallel to a good portion of Linda’s drama, and I have sought out her big heart, attentive ear, and perceptive nature time and time again. She has never said she was not available to me. Whenever I’ve shown up, she’s always been totally present. Truthfully, I only had hints here and there that she was living the life she describes in this book. Even though her own existence has surely been an emotional roller-coaster, she has always been able to focus on me and my story and provide help when I sought her out. Simply, Linda is a human being of the highest caliber. The meaning of the chaos of her life, for me, I now understand, is that she’s always been able to assist me with my own frequently-chaotic existence.

A psychic I once consulted, who relayed to me some of my past-life experiences, reported that Linda and I had been twins at least two times in previous lifetimes. It is, at the very least, an entertaining thought. I know I feel very, very connected to her. My relationship with Linda is one of the most cherished things in my life. I glad she wrote her story so that I can know it: so that I can know her better than I do.

Thank you for being in my life, Linda.