I come from a dysfunctional family. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Big deal, we all come from dysfunctional families Michele.”

True, but I don’t think you understand... I’m come from one of those fist fights in the front yard, broken beer bottles, Jerry Spring type of dysfunctional families.

I come from one of those families so seeped in their own fears that they breed mistrust in each other because they see everyone around them as reflections of their own fragmented selves.

And from those fears my family creates all manner of myths about each other. Myths about other people’s intentions, myths about their own victimization, myths that allow them to hold harmful grudges masquerading as self-righteousness for years or even decades.

For a long time I believed it was my responsibility to “fix” them, to heal them all in some way, to make them understand the importance of loving each other despite our many flaws.

But lately I’ve come to the conclusion that my only responsibility ~ to them, to myself and to our children ~ is to forgive them. Nothing more and nothing less.

This week my family has again reminded me of the value of forgiveness by again giving me an opportunity to forgive. And for that I choose to be grateful because I recognize this as their gift to me... the gift of forgiveness.  
Add Comment
 
 
This morning I called my dear friend Ann Marie, who told me that her loyal companion for the past 12 yeas, Molly the Dog, had taken ill. The vet suspects leukemia, but won't know for sure until the test results come in on Monday.

My heart sank as I recalled that Annie has lost 3 of her other pets this year... first Gracie, her loving black cat of many years; then Zeus, her smart-as-a-whip German Shepherd; and just a few weeks later Harold the cat, Zeus' best friend, who was the victim of a water moccasin attack. 

It's been a rough year for Annie and her family of animals, and the thought of losing Molly is so surreal, so unfair that tears filled my eyes and all I could do was promise her and Molly my love and my prayers.

And then my mind wandered back to a time several years ago when my son attended a local Christian school. Yes, I know, it's ironic that a Pagan High Priestess would send her son to a Christian school, but I had my reasons. 

First, the level of academic education was superior to that offered in public schools in my area. Not to mention the environment was much smaller and safer than the public middle schools around here.

But more than that, I wanted my son to be exposed to other religions so that he could choose his own spiritual path from an informed place, and not just blindly follow a path laid down for him by someone else... even me. 

One day, Tyler came home from school very upset. When I asked him what was wrong he informed me that during the morning prayer request one of the girls in his class raised her hand and asked the class to pray for her cat, who was very sick. 

The teacher scolded the girl, who was obviously distraught over her furry friend's illness, and told her that they would NOT pray for her cat because... are you ready for this... animals don't have souls. Tyler, a pretty mild mannered kid, had to fight the urge to throw his math book at the teacher. 

Now I don't by any means think that this is a belief held by all Christians. In fact, in my experience this is a belief that could only be held by someone who has never known the loyal love and companionship of a pet. (Which is pretty sad if you ask me.) 

Because if you are someone who has ever looked deeply into the eyes of a dog, you have seen a loving and trusting soul so pure it would break your heart. If you've ever held a purring and contented kitten in your arms, you've felt the warm playfulness of one of God's own messengers. And you know without a doubt that animals are among the most soulful creatures on this planet. 

But the hardest part of having animals in your life is the knowledge that one day you will have to say goodbye to them. It doesn't seem fair, but I guess it's the trade off we make to be loved so unconditionally. 

So now I reach out to all the animal loving peeps in my tribe of amazing, soulful people of all faiths, and I ask for your prayers for Molly the Dog and for Ann Marie her faithful and loving person. Blessed be!
Add Comment
 
The Hardest Day 10/13/2010
 
Waking up in my nieces' room this morning, surrounded by Twilight posters and the soft sounds of little girls' sleeping, I lingered in bed just a little longer than I should have. Maybe I was trying to hold onto their innocence for just a few more minutes before delving into the inevitable discomfort of the coming day.

Within a few hours, my two sisters and I were off to our mother's house to clean up one hell of a mess (literally and figuratively). Last month my mother underwent major surgery and almost lost her life. And, while she was in the hospital in a coma, her husband shot and killed himself in their home. 

I cannot describe the thickness of the energy in and around that home when we walked in this morning. All of the anger, disappointment and sadness clung to the air like the cigarette smoke clung to the walls, making everything dingy and depressing.

Together we packed, we cleaned and we fought ~ the tree hugger, the neurotic caregiver and the high priestess ~ like strangers who know each other all too well. 

And when the time came to pull up the living room carpet, the very spot where our mother's third husband had taken his life, the emotion came flooding in for all of us. Emily, who was raised by Randy in a less than ideal childhood, grabbed a kitchen knife and started to cut away the carpet with a fierceness fueled by her grief and our recent fight. 

Then Lizzy, overcome with emotion and frustration at the entire chain of events, which she's been at the center of since moving to North Carolina two years ago to be near mom, began to rip away at the carpet with her bare hands. Within a few minutes, her 14-year-old daughter was right beside her tugging and pulling the carpet out with pure strength of will. 

Finally, I began to roll the tattered carpet up and tear at the padding below while choking back curse words through teeth clenched in anger. Over the years Randy had put my family through so much ~ abuse, trauma, alcoholism ~ and now THIS?!? I was mad and not ready to forgive.

Then, like a wave, the salty tears started to flow from each of us one by one. Ripping and tearing at the carpet with our dirty, calloused hands, we cried as we pulled, pried and pealed away the layers of flooring and emotion. 

I reached out and hugged my sister, who just minutes before I'd been having the most ridiculous argument with. We apologized and let our frustration with each other melt away in the presence of heavier emotions. As we held onto each other, we let go of our anger. 

Then we all worked together in silence, systematically pulling up sections of old carpet and carrying them out the truck with tears streaming down our faces. It was surreal in so many ways... like a scene you'd see in a movie or read in a book. We were all in the moment together, all fully present in our sadness and our grief. It was awful. It was meaningful. And it was cathartic. 

Tonight, as tired as I am, I can't seem to find the comfort of sleep as I sit in a tiny recliner at my mother's bedside in a room that stands in stark contrast to the one I woke up in this morning. As my mother sleeps I watch her 400 pound frame wrestle with unseen demons in her dreams. 

I want her to be well, to heal. And yet I'm helpless to help her unless she chooses to help herself. I pray that she will, but the more time I spend with her the more my hope wanes as her old self-sabotaging habits sneak back in, defying her words and good intentions. 

In two days I'll be back home in Florida. I'll slip into my routine of clients and coaching and swim meets with my son. I'll spend mornings working in bed with my dogs at my feet and afternoons walking on the beach, and all of this will feel a million miles away. I'll feel a million miles away, separated from a family I don't always feel a part of.  

But today I was here. Today I was present. And no matter how hard it was, no matter how many tears I shed, I'll always be grateful in some way that I could be here for this... the hardest day.
6 Comments
 
 
Enough letting go, enough being strong, enough tears... just ENOUGH!


Those of you who know me or follow me on social media know that the past few weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions for me and the people I love the most.

My Mom's been in and out of the hospital for the past several months and today I learned that they're doing emergency surgery for a perforated bowel tonight. 

Since I'm in Florida and she's in North Carolina I can't get there to be with her before surgery and I feel so helpless and worried. So I sit by the phone, candles burning, prayer beads in hand, and I wait. 

Then I received phone calls from my two best friends, sisters in my faith and my life, to find out that they're both saying goodbye to their beloved pets today. 

Ann Marie lost her beautiful cat Harold (who joins his brother Zeus, the German Shepherd, who crossed over just 2 weeks ago) late last night. 

And Erin, my dear friend in Virginia who's 7 months pregnant, has had to make the hardest decision any pet owner will ever have to make for their best friend as she lets go of her long-time companion Mr. Niles. 

We're the kind of people who love our pets with the same devotion some people reserve only for their children, and so feeling their pain is like feeling my own. And feeling it combined with my own is absolutely overwhelming.

Needless to say, it's a hard day. I know I will get through it; I know that my friends will get through it. I know that our love and compassion and all of our spiritual tools for healing will somehow carry us to the other side of the pain. 

And, whether we like it or not, tomorrow the sun will shine and the world will go on. We will grow, and heal and learn. 

But for today, I just want to say, ENOUGH.

Add Comment
 
 
Every Goddess needs a little pampering now and then.

So imagine my surprise when my mother-in-law, Aggie ~ whom I love like perfectly chilled pinot (and that's a lot) ~ told me just a few weeks ago that she'd never had a pedicure in her entire life (gasp!).

To think that this woman raised two kids, divorced two husbands and worked two jobs at a time but had never treated herself to the simple indulgence of a well deserved pedicure just broke my Goddess heart.

So as a belated Mother's Day gift to her (and myself) I made it my personal mission to set things right in the world 10 toes at a time.

To this end, I made us side-by-side appointments at a little spa in our area that lets you bring your own wine (I know, right!?). And Aggie and I  sat down in our heated massage chairs, sipped our wine and talked, completely undisturbed, for an entire hour while we were washed, clipped, rubbed and polished pretty.

When we left Aggie looked at me and said, "I can't believe I never knew how great this is. I should do this every month. And anyways, when's the last time you and I had an hour to just sit an talk?"

We then took our pampered piggies out for a lovely sushi lunch and sat and talked for another hour or two. It was purely divine and our inner Goddesses were absolutely purring by the time we got home.

I'm so grateful for the women in my life, for having a mother-in-law I love so much, and for being able to honor the Goddess within each of us today in such a simple yet indulgent way.

Have a beautiful day Goddesses!
Add Comment
 
 
I love being a mom. And so you'd think that it would follow that Mother's Day would be one of my favorite holidays. I mean, what could be better than a day to celebrate the magic of life and the unique love of a mother? How much more "Goddess" can you get... right?

But 7 years ago on Mother's Day morning I got a phone call that changed who I was forever. When the phone rang, waking me up from fitful dreams, I already knew.
 
The voice on the line was soft and comforting, but the news, however, was not. It was one of the nurses from Hospice calling to let me know that my dad has passed away in the wee hours of the morning.

My range of emotions were like a pendulum, swinging from sadness for myself and my sister and joy that our dad's struggle was finally over. It would be years before that pendulum found its balance again.

But the hardest part of that morning was knowing that I had to call my little sister and greet her with the same news I'd just come to know. No breakfast in bed from her sweet little girls, no day at the beach picking up sea shells, no Mother's Day brunch at her favorite restaurant. Just the harsh reality of life and death and grief. And as hard as it was for me, I knew it would be worse for her. 

I met my sister at Hospice that day and we cried together. We refused to let anyone even say the words "Mother's Day" for years because it would send us into a spiral of grief and tears we still couldn't get a grip on. In fact, I don't even think we called our own mother (who'd divorced our dad more than 10 years earlier) on Mother's Day for many years after that (sorry mom).

Seven years later though, I'm finally starting to enjoy Mother's Day again. I'm sitting here in bed this morning without the heavy heart I had back then. My son just brought me a cup of coffee and I can smell bacon wafting up from the kitchen.

My dad is certainly on my mind today, and I miss him like crazy, but in some ways that makes me want to celebrate even more, to honor the parts of him that are still alive in me. Yeah, today's gonna be a good day. It's Mother's Day afterall.
Add Comment
 
 
Yesterday I had a mini-meltdown. Yep, that’s right. Just after 5:00 last night I sat on my girlfriend’s couch with a glass of white wine in my hand, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around my legs and a box of tissues in my lap as I let the floodgates open.

My two best Divas sat on the couch across from me with compassion in their eyes as I blubbered on about my family dramas, my business challenges and my self-doubts.

They didn’t interrupt me, they just listened. They didn’t tell me that everything was fine when we all knew damn well that it wasn’t. And they didn’t judge me when I finally broke down and allowed myself the rare indulgence of self-pity.

When the tears dried, they offered me some solid support, a new perspective on some old issues and a few inspired ideas for change. Not the usually lip service you get from people who are just trying to make you feel better ~ I’m talking the deep stuff that comes from people who truly know your soul.

And when I left their sacred company I felt a little lighter, a little freer and a little more confident than when I had arrived.

Remember ladies, the Goddess smiles on us through our vulnerability, she cleanses us through our tears and she heals us through our Divas. Viva la Diva!

To stay connected with Michele, click here to sign up for the Wake Up Goddess ezine.
1 Comment
 
 
Yesterday I had the amazing opportunity to take my 16-year-old son, Tyler, to see His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama give a live speech at a local university.

The very fact that we had the honor of being in the presence of someone who is such an embodiment of compassion was not only humbling, but also very inspiring… as you’ll see.

The Dalai Lama, although a rock star by most spiritual standards, seems to be one of the most down to earth people on the planet. He was warm, approachable and very funny throughout his presentation, even laughing at his own jokes at times.

Although Tyler admittedly had a difficult time understanding some of what the Dalai Lama was saying (his accent is very thick and his English is sometimes broken), apparently the message got through in a big way.

Among the simple truths and spiritual wisdom offer by His Holiness yesterday was the idea that compassion should be the foundation of all of our human interactions. Because despite our vast outward differences, we’re all basically the same on the inside; we’re all just human beings.

But, as the Dalai Lama pointed out, sometimes fear, anger, trepidation and a whole host of other negative emotions can stand in the way of compassionate interaction between human beings. The biggest danger we face in life, he cautioned, is loosing compassion for one another.

It sounds simple, and it is; very simple in fact. But not always easy. Sometimes, life clouds our perception and muddies the waters of compassion.

As honored as I was to hear first hand the spiritual messages and concepts passed along by this beautiful spiritual icon, today I must admit that I had an even bigger experience. Today I saw the art of compassion in action.

You see, my son Tyler had a doctor's appointment this morning and, as we sat in the lobby of the office waiting for his name to be called, a strange man approached us.

The unshaven man in the dirty, tattered shirt was obviously down on his luck and most likely homeless. He wore a hospital ID bracelet on his right wrist and walked with a slight limp.

When he walked up to us, holding hospital discharge papers in his shaking hands, he explained that he was a veteran and he’d just been released from Good Samaritan Hospital after being robbed and stabbed in the leg. A fresh wound on his calf lent credibility to his story.

He said he’d been walking for hours and he just needed bus fare, and could we help? Sadly, I’m not in the habit of carrying cash on me, so when I looked the man in his sad, distant eyes and told him that I didn’t have any money, I was being completely honest.

The man gave a resigned nod and began to walk away. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my son stand up, reach into his pocket and produce a $5 bill.

Without hesitation, Tyler walked up to the man, tapped him on his shoulder and said, “Excuse me sir, here you go. I hope this helps,” and then quietly sat back down beside me.

Right about this time, the clinic staff discovered the man and asked him to leave. Obviously used to this type of reaction from folks, the man said simply, “Okay, thanks to this young man I can go catch my bus now.”

Tyler didn’t say a word, he just looked up and nodded as the man made his way out the door amongst the suspicious and frightened glares of the staff and other patients.

My eyes filled with tears because in that moment I knew that where others saw some weird, scary homeless guy whose experience was worlds away from their own, my son saw only another human being.
2 Comments
 
 
Yesterday was a difficult day. Why? (Cue rant…) My grandpop discovered that the cancer that had been in remission for years has returned more aggressively than before. My brother-in-law had his second car accident in two days. My mom’s dog was hit by a car. My best friend’s grandfather was admitted into the hospital for kidney failure. And I’m fighting off a miserable little sinus infection that makes my head feel like it’s going to explode. (End rant... refocus...)

Yesterday was a difficult day. But today will be better.

Today I will focus on the fact that grandpop is in good spirits and that I have the pleasure of enjoying his company while he’s here from his home in Belize for his medical treatments. I will be grateful that my brother-in-law, who I love like a brother, is absolutely fine. I will breathe easier because, although my mom’s dog is a little banged up, she’s not badly hurt. I will remember that my friend’s grandfather is surrounded by loving family and uplifted by the prayers of those who can’t be near him physically. And finally, I will honor myself by caring for my body and soul in ways I've neglected lately.

Like many of us, I have a terrible habit of letting my own health and wellbeing go when I’m stressed out. I don’t exercise; I eat foods that lower my vibration, making me feel heavy and weighed down; I don’t sleep at night; I work too much; and I don’t take the proper time for meditation, journaling and all the other things that ground and center me in my spirituality and help me reconnect with my divine nature and spiritual support system.

But today will be better. Today I’m going to start out with a long walk to clear my head and listen to my Guides. I might even follow that up with a little yoga just for good measure. Then I’m going to take a good healthy dose of vitamins and eat wholesome, nourishing foods throughout the day that make me feel vibrant and alive. I’m even going to see if I can schedule a massage with my friend Taina who just had the most beautiful little girl, Anala Rose, who’s angelic face brings me joy and hope for the future.

Today I’m not going to race the clock or push myself into the corners of my schedule. I’m not going to worry about my deadlines. I’m going to ignore phone calls I don’t want to take and I’m not going to return e-mails unless I absolutely feel like it. Today I’m going to play a game with my son and kiss my husband on the lips and not beat myself up for anything I don’t do. Today I’m going to take care of myself so that when I need to, I can take care of others without feeling drained or stressed or overwhelmed.

Yes, yesterday was difficult, but it's over. And today will be better. It will be better because I will make it better. Because life isn’t about what happens around you or even to you, but how you move through it. My goal is to move through it with grace, and with the faith that today will be better.

For more tips on how to care for you body and soul, click here to sign up for my newsletter.
Add Comment
 
 
I'm one of those people who can usually hold a head cold off even when people are coughing and sneezing all around me. But last week my family was here ~ a whole tribe including two younger sisters, three nieces ranging in age from 2 to 14, and one really patient brother-in-law. And, you guessed it, they were all sick.

So despite my neurotic hand-washing (during which I sang the "Happy Birthday" song to myself to make sure I lathered long enough to get the best germ-killing results) I caught their crud, and so did my son Tyler.

In fact, Tyler's been sulking around the house with a low-grade fever for the past 3 days mumbling, "That darn baby" in a voice that sounds exactly like Napoleon Dynamite's.

As for me, being sick holds some blessings, like reminding me to take impeccable care of myself. So to this end, here is my recipe for recovery when coping with the common cold:

1st ~ Nap all day long and allow yourself to be utterly  relaxed, ignoring any distractions that would cause you stress, guilt or worry (especially house work!).

Case in point... right now my Solstice tree sites downstairs half decorated, while ceramic snowmen and stuffed Santa's look back at me with sad, knowing smiles as they prepare to make their annual sojourn into the attic. And although this would normally send me into an OCD frenzy of activity, today I pay them no attention.

2nd ~ Read a semi-trashy romance novel. It's important to have mindless entertainment when you're sick and romance novels fit the bill perfectly. Make sure to read the whole thing cover to cover and avoid full-length mirrors until you've actually washed your hair and changed out of your pajamas.

3rd ~ Take lots of long, luxurious hot baths. And use the good bath salts! I cannot stress the importance of this step enough. Water is healing in nature and soaking just feels good.

Plus, as  an added bonus, you can take your romance novel into the bathtub with you and read while you soak. Add a cup of hot tea and that's the best you can possibly feel when your sick.

And 4th ~ If you have an appetite (and I always do, even when I'm sick), eat really simple, really healthy foods. And, whenever possible, have someone serve them to you in bed.

My hubby actually did this for me yesterday and it instantly raised my energy, making me feel very well cared for and loved.

So there you have it ~ 4 tested and proven ways to "get well soon" or at least make the most of being sick.

To sign up for my newsletter, click here.

Bonus Tip ~ Stay in your most comfy pajamas all day long. I do not understand why or how, but I'm pretty sure pajamas have magical healing properties. Be well!
Add Comment