Things I know:

I am blessed.

I am privilaged.

I use my privilages and blessings with purpose and joy.

I enjoy the company of my Mother.

I love the way Spanish language feels in my mouth and ears.

I trust the universe.

I trust my gifts.

There are a lot of people in the world.

All of them love and shit and eat and have yearning.

I miss my guitar.

Barcelona has the best fucking food in the world.

There is always enought time.

I cannot make a wrong decision.

Estoy lista.

If there is music, laughter and food, I am home.

I am blessed.

I am privileged.

I will use my privileges and blessings with purpose and joy.

Amen.

Granola breakfast.

European MTV.

Sauna.

Chevre, tomato, olive flat bread in the Grand-Place.

Walk.

Walk.

Cathedral.

Cathedral.

Walk.

Coffee.

Sit.

Stare.

Cathedral.

Park.

Walk.

Chocolatier.

Shoe shop.

World Cup.

6 pillows.

Solitude.

Cup of tea.

Chinese.

Japanese.

Dirty knees.

Look at these.

5:00 PM, Cape Elizabeth Maine: Picked up in black stretch limousine.

7:15 PM: Arrive to Logan Airport, Boston Massachusetts.

7:45 PM, Logan Airport: Try to act cool as I hang around in Business Travel lounge. Hold Mom's hand at the bar. Eat some potatoes and fish even though I am not supposed to.

8:20: Board the plane. Give mom a kiss. She is going upstairs on a plane. I go to the back of the plane. Sit in between two women.

9:30: Watch movie so terrible it's already almost forgotten. Queen Latifah manifests her greatest life dreams when she thinks she's dying of a brain tumor but wait! There was a problem with the CAT scan machine. It was all just a mistake, so she can now marry LL Cool J, run a restaurant and hug Emeril Lagasi. Not once do I even consider having to choke back tears.

11:15: Catch the end of Peter Jackson's "King Kong." Within 4 minutes I'm choking back tears. Red-head looks at me. Don't look at me, I'm not in the mood.

8:00 AM, London Heathrow Airport: Stumble around confused because I didn't sleep under the fluorescent lights and with the red-head crinkling her plastic bags and newspaper. Hold back nausea. Buy 60 dollars worth of make up I don't need just because it looks like it wants to be purchased.

10:30 AM, Depart London for Brussels. Read about Eddie Vedder and chat with kind gentleman from Great Britain.

12:00 PM: Land in Brussels. Merick from the Delhaize Group Distribution center picks us up. Tinny sounds of Elvis on the radio make me nauseous and confused.

2:15 PM: Arrive to Marriot. Room's not ready. Mom and I go to the locker room for showers. Take a sauna and count my lucky stars. Tale three deep breaths of steam and I'm feeling better.

3:30 PM: Mom leaves for her meeting. Room's still not ready. Brought to the Executive Suite. Decide that Executive Suite is a sterile room full of fucking bullshit artist business men who want to feel important because they don't have to pay for their soda and crackers. Tote my bags down to the lobby bar so I can watch people on the street and drink a beer. Gladly pay double for the beer and meet the bartender so I know him later.

4:00 PM: Room's ready. I am peeling off clothes as soon as I walk through the door. Collapse in the bed. There are 6 pillows. Have a nightmare that I'm lost in a foreign country and S. is mad at me.

4:30 PM: Sound of cheering in the distance wakes me. I fall back asleep.

5:3o PM: Mom comes home from meeting. It hurts to open my eyes. She says they are "red as anything." I ask her to speak more softly.

5:45 PM: More cheers in the street. Then more. Now horns and cars and horns and cheers cheers big roaring cheers.

I go to the window.

5 men gather at the Stock Market building. It's and ancient with columns and spires.

5:55 PM: 20-30 people have joined the other men. Red, white, green Italian flags are flying. They are chanting and clapping and hugging. More cars go by. More flags. More honking. The men in yellow shirts are sulking.

6:15 PM: 200-250 people are gathered on the steps. Red, white, green. The police arrive. Flags and honking and hugging and clapping. Flags in the middle of the street. Flags for the cars to drive under. Jumping and cheering and honking and more flags.

I stumble to put some clothes together. I put on my new make-up. It feels great.

6:45 PM: Outside is cool and gray and life and energy and joy and passion in the streets. Everyone smiling and laughing and honking and celebrating and carrying Italian flags.

7:30 PM: We sit for Thai food. Five Americans and one Dutch man eat Thai food in Brussels. It is the best Thai food I have ever had. Fresh and herbal and light and fishy salty. We talk about business. We talk about sports. We talk about food. Pizza. Basketball. No one asks me a question.

10:15 PM: Back at the hotel. Find beautiful email from S. waiting for me. Smiling and feeling that Portland is not so far away.

10:30 PM: Walk very slowly with mom to Gran Plaz. Arm in arm. Silent. Walking very slowly around the Plaz. She knows where to go for a waffle. It's not a Belgian Waffle, it's just a Wafle because we are in Belgium.

We walk.

Very slowly.

Arm in arm.

I look up at the tall spires and my lucky stars are poking their heads behind them. Hi, stars. Hi, lucky me.

We walk slowly to the streets where every restaurant is red and yellow and warm and seafood with vegetables. All is outside and beautiful and different.

We walk back. We are silent.

We come to our room. More horns. More cheers. Mom snoring. She hates it when she snores. Lucky stars are still there.

Behind the yellow curtains in our room.

Him: "Do you find that you compare yourself to other musicians?"

Me: "Well...I guess. Especially if I'm hearing them for the first time. It's probably impossible to just listen without stealing ideas or getting inspiration or thinking, 'Wow, I could do something like this,' or 'I could never do something like this,' you know?"

Him: "Yeah."

Me: "That's why I can't wait to do another album. Because I want to see what will come out if I approach it from the angle of thinking about the listener. What do people like to hear? It's not something you can pin down, but I didn't think about that at all with this project. I mean, it didn't even occur to me that people would be reviewing it and listening to it on a regular basis."

Him: "I think there's a certain value in doing it that way too though."

Me: "Yeah, it's probably a balance. But I haven't had the time to just sit down and experiment with songs. Most of the songs I've written in the past 5 years were written because I had to survive something, and the song helped with that. So they're pretty heavy tunes. That's why it's nice to have the time to just explore some other themes besides fucking heartbreak and sadness."

Him: "Yeah."

Me: "Do you want to go out tonight?"

Him: "I don't know, do you?"

Me: "Curling up and watching a show sounds pretty great."

Him: "Sounds fucking perfect."

Just Looking For Trouble - Hafiz (Mystic poet c. 1320-1389)

I once had a student
Who would sit alone in his house at night
Shivering with worries
And fears,

And, come morning,
He would often look as though
He had been raped
By a ghost.

Then one day my pity

Crafted for him a knife
From my own divine sword.

Since then,
I have become very proud
Of this student.

For now, come night,
Not only has he lost all his fear,

Now he goes out

Just looking for
Trouble.

From an email I sent to my sister last week who had just returned from a Vision Quest. Vision Quests can be accomplished in a number of ways. This program puts participants alone in the woods for a period of time with a knife and a few emergency supplies.

Good good work, sister. I can hear your voice. You are such a brave warrior to go to the dark places in the woods and in your heart. Never underestimate what courage it takes.
It starts to feel normal when you are hanging around with a bunch of other folks who also like to go into the woods, but it is not normal.

I have seen grown men cry in the woods! They cry in fear because nature is a mirror. The universe is chock full of signs and symbols and when you start to see them clearly it is terrifying.

I had a similar epiphany about courage when I realized the other day that most people don't write songs - especially songs based on their personal lives. Well, it's easy for me to self-criticize and feel like I'm a mediocre talent because I'm comparing myself to a bunch of other song-writers. In fact, I shouldn't be comparing myself to anyone at all. (That's why I didn't want to read the reviews of the CD. A reviewer is not a song-writer.)

The truth is, to write an original song with original lyrics is a creative and courageous act. Fuck what anyone thinks about it. Even if I choose to sell it, I don't care what others think or say about it. They will bump into it. If they are moved, they will turn it into their own experience. If they are not moved, they will leave it behind. It has so little to do with me even as it comes into my hands and even as it leaves my hands.

I thought of a song lyric just yesterday. "I looked to the sun for an answer and it gave me one as it destroyed my eyes. It said, ' just shine'." Now, I'm not saying that's brilliant, but it's an important message. It rings true to me. Remembering that line and writing it down was an original creative and courageous act. In some ways, I don't even feel like it's "mine." It just passed through me and I was able to grab it. You know?

Then the other day, I was lying in a hammock, looking up at a spruce and I could see all these hundreds of thin branches coming out from the trunk. Just layers and layers of spiraling branches, reaching out for the sun, and wind, and reaching fearlessly into the world and I thought, "That's what I hope my core looks like." I hope my spirit is a thousand branches reaching out to the rest of the universe. To the sun and the birds and clouds and rain and to the people around me. To all of it. To the pollution and the people who carve their initials in our bark. To the people who piss on us and chop us down. And to the people who water us, and sit under us and hug us and pray beneath us. Just keep reaching out. And even if you burn us, we're still ashes and seeds. Absolutely fearless and upright.

Like you, I have been tapping into anger as an experience and a powerful emotion. Man, it is hearty. Like crusty bread. Sink your teeth into it. Look at the strength and depth it can give you. Shake its hand and say, 'How do you do? Would you like to stay a while?" Observe it like a curious child. "Well, isn't this fascinating. My heart is racing and my hands are shaking. I feel like I could spit rusty nails. I even feel violence taking over my hands. I want to physically hurt something, someone, or even myself." That is no joke. That is darkness. And darkness is a part of light. All the movies about good overcoming evil are full of shit. Light and dark are eternally married. They can't be enemies because they rely on each other.

As for D. I am furious with D. Furious. This week it feels like it will never go away. It feels even like I don't want it to go away. I am savoring the bitter taste of hatred even as it repulses me. It feels like all I want to do is push him away and be done with it.

But maybe I can get curious about it. Maybe there's a lesson here for me. Maybe I can learn something about myself. Maybe I can prevent hatred in someone else. Maybe I can make sure I never ignite this kind of hatred in my own children, friends, lovers. I want to know why he sparks this fury. I want to know how it's bleeding into my other relationships. I don't want to give it the power to tear D and I apart. I'm stronger than that. I want to diffuse it. Reflect it. Deflect it. Jump over it. Redirect it. Drop it to the ground and put it in a choke hold.

The good news is that we both recognize it's not a war to be won or lost. But the fact is, we are stuck in the ring together. In fact, I think God threw us in the ring together for a reason. What better way to learn about yourself than to brush up against your polar opposite on a daily basis. Of course we're going to get a black eye every now and then (I think I gave him at least 2!)

So, I'm shopping around for a therapist. I'm digging deep this time. And the topic is anger and men. I'm ready to look at it. I'm ready to get to a place where I accept that I can be a woman, an artist with an equal partner who flies and who loves to watch me fly. Or to learn that I am a woman and an artist who does not want to make the sacrifices that come with our Western traditions of commitment, matrimony and all the other rules around "romance." I want to make my own rules and see if I can find someone who fundamentally agrees with them.

There are rules all around us, sistee. They have become invisible to almost all of the people aroud you. Remember, the average American watches 4-6 hours of television a day. That creates very powerful blinders. But your spirit smell those rules and regulations from 10,000 miles away. Your spirit is so uncomfortable with the logic of these rules, in fact, that it makes you feel like "you don't belong in this world."

My dear angel. You are of this world on every level. From the cells in your blood to the spirit in your (???). The thoughts you think. The things you see. The truths you understand. They are all of this world, and this world is in you. Isn't that part of what you experience in nature? That you are in a place that transcends the rules of what is 'right' and 'wrong.' That you are in a place of freedom - no matter how scary, it is free of society's rules and it feels better, or true, or some other word that doesn't exist in English.

I think you and I struggle with the same questions. Where do I fit in? How come I see God in everything, and yet I am so often discouraged, or clumsy, or doubtful? What is the right or good thing for me to do?

What if there is no good or bad choice? What if it's all unfolding just as it should? What if you could make your own rules and live by them, even in this mundane world? Even though it makes people scream with fury and confusion. Even if it takes the status quo and smashes it over the head. All the greatest visionaries are doing same thing, sistee. Making their own rules. Keeping their own scorecard. Taking the rules and saying, "Fuck you! I hate you! You don't ring true to me. This is how I'm going to do it."

Of course it's much easier said than done. You wrote, "I feel like I have my feet in two different worlds, so I can't fully belong in one or the other." If that's the truth (and I don't think you would make up such a feeling) then what must that be doing to your power? Can you take a stance when you have one foot in quick sand, and one in white water? What would happen if your feet were planted on a warm rock and you knew that anything that came at you would be gently and kindly redirected to another place?

You have a gift from Nature. From God. From Heaven. That gift can feel like a burden because it's can be very uncomforable at times. The gift is that your spirit is going to take care of you. It is more powerful than your mind and your emotions. Your spirit is going to squirm and squeal unless it's living absolutely in the current of your deepest values, beliefs, joys and enthusiasms.

Well, thanks a lot, God! That can be a real pain in the ass when your deepest values don't have to do with cars and clothes and sex and raising kids and all the other things that society screams at us to care about.

But what a divine relief to know that your spirit is going to take care of you. It will drag you to hell and back and then back to hell again until you really listen to it. Your spirit is fierce. Not everyone can see that in you because the shell doesn't always what's beneath - in fact it rarely does. Look at a cuddly kitten when it defends itself. Fierce. Focused. No questions. No doubt.

There is a animal warrior spirit in you and it will not be tamed. If you try to tame it (and we all try because society tells us to in a million ways every day), you will get sick. First in the body, then the spirit and mind. I have tried it myself and it is hell on earth.

That's cause for celebration! What do you say we make a fire and scream at the top of our lungs? Maybe paint our faces with blood? Randy, baby yeah!

We are little girls and fierce animals. We are both. They cannot be separated and it's dangerous to try. Trust your spirit. You have been stepping closer and closer and closer to it all the time. How brave. How commendable. Really, sister. How fucking...I don't even have a big enough word for it. Trust your spirit. It will take care of you. Listen to it. Stroke its head. Lie back on it and relax. Let it take you to the perfect shore.

Some of the questions I've been asking myself lately (be careful, they're big ones):

What am I putting up with?

If I knew no one would get hurt, what would the truth really be?

If I say "no" to this thing, what am I really saying "yes" to? (and vice versa)

I love you and I am with you. I want to run through a sunny field with you when you are done being a heavy rock lady. But for now, grow the moss and sink into the dark. It is a part of you.
Huuuuuuug (for at least 5 minutes)
-Megan