Illuminaeum

I’ve had Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten” in my head lately, the lyrics

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in…

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten….

I remember in January feeling very nebulous…without edges, undefined. I’m trying to recall it, that sense of being both nebulous and luminous, which is hard to separate a bit from the sense of being small and adrift in a void (‘I am not yet wise in grief, and this great darkness makes me small…’), because both were both prevalent in my sort of inner world.  I remember someone close to me being very conscious of not edging me, that the formlessness had to play itself out. By contrast, it is weird to be in a somewhat reconstituted self, where self-hood once again feels very strong but my awareness of it as somewhat constructed is also very strong. I wonder which one was the illusion…neither really, both – and. What was frightening about being in the nebulous space was this sense of nothingness mixed with immense possibility. Hmm…just checked, the possibilities are still there. J I’m not sure what made that surface tonight, but here it is.

Life paths take one interesting places!

I can’t describe the lift in me in driving at sunset towards the jagged peaks of the Rockies. The circumstances that brought me to Boulder are a little wonky, even for me, but fun to me for all that. I had an appointment with a woman named Karin. I’d never met Karin, didn’t know (and still don’t) what she does for a living, and followed my way to her like water eddying in a shallow, downstream. While I was at this consortium of leaders in Chicago a few weeks ago, I got to sit down and talk with my friend and mentor Bob, whose ‘hit’ while he was meditating one morning turned out to be about me and that it would be good for me to connect with someone who was a powerful influence and formative in his development, years ago – to hone what he called my intuitive gifts in relation to people. (I’m not infallible, it’s nothing I consider woowoo, I just have a really good people sense.)  I looked at him and said, “That sounds right to me, give me her number.” He tracked her down, and I called her out of the blue. It was definitely one of the more interesting calls I’ve ever made. “Hi, you don’t me, I don’t know who you are, or what you do, but I think I need you, even though I don’t know what for or how.” (I was slightly more eloquent than that, but not very.) It’s interesting that it’s very much a product of following where my own impulses lead. A friend of mine texted me with “Be careful”, to which I replied, “Always. And Never.”, to which he replied “Never less.” It seemed an apt conversation. For me, life is to be examined through the full faculty of one’s senses, rational and intuitive, and so being full of care is necessary, and then there are those inexplicable things that call for a leap of faith (and I’m not wedded to any definition of the word), this has been one. Care-ful with deliberation and thoughtfulness and awareness of choice and consequences needs to co-exist with space for the for the spontaneous, the possibilities in any given moment that cannot be anticipated, prepared for, or even imagined.  Anyway, there’s been so much transition in my life the last few months, and with it, the opening up of so much that it seemed the right time to speak to a wise woman, so to speak. 

The fun thing was not having any expectations in showing up on her doorstep. I had no clue what she  looked like, web searches on her turned up nothing, no idea what I was going to say to her or what she might have to impart to me. All I knew was that she was considered a wise woman by my friend Bob, and that it ‘felt’ like the right thing to do. This could mean anything from a type A consultant-y type (though I doubted that) to an overly woowoo woman with crystals and feathers taped to her forehead (to my relief, she wasn’t that – I have little patience for those who have no pragmatism).  

I instantly liked her, I liked looking into her eyes and being in her home. She’s a beautiful woman in her 60s (I so would not have guessed her age) with a lot of life experience and wonderful ability connect. Her home is lovely, with greenery and soft sounds, and beautiful textures. The first thing she did after introductions was to applaud me for my courage in showing up to the unknown, and we both held amused acknowledgment that it was equal parts “fool” (in the archetypal sense). 

I found her wondrously insightful – it’s quite an experience having someone be able to instantaneously call when I’m being authentic, inauthentic, making excuses, genuine or masked -  just by seeing. There is no hiding from her in any way.  It was also very affirming of some of the aspects of change in the past few months, and also in gaining clarity on a few key things, and I felt very ‘light’ leaving her residence and fully plan to continue to be in contact with her. I’m still processing what I learned from her. In general, I find being in contact with other generations to be a particularly rich part of my life.  

Afterwards, I went exploring through Boulder. I could live here, though something about the Pacific Northwest still calls to me. The drama of jagged mountains in the backdrop combined with the atmosphere of healthy people and really great shopping was fun.  The Boulder creek that runs through the center of the city is a wonderful, energetic, burbling creek. I took a walk along it, and constantly saw playing children, young adults inner tubing down in, people conversing and biking along it, in peaceful co-existence with the life of a stream, not choking it out as streams mid-cities tend to feel.  

The Boulder Public Library spans the creek, and beneath it in the shade, I saw an older man practicing tai chi with the grace of a fighter and a dancer. It’s one of those things I want to learn to do someday, to add to an already lengthy list.  I passed a crew of volunteer workers building a labyrinth out of brick and red sands, and I smiled because it seemed right to pass a labyrinth in progress. (I’m fascinated by labyrinths, from a metaphorical perspective.) 

I treated myself to a lovely lunch of Moroccan chicken and couscous, as well as some champagne, at the gloriously beautiful Dushanbe Teahouse by the creek. The teahouse was constructed and then imported from Russia, so it has all this gorgeous tile work and a very non-US feel to it. Then I took a stroll and got cajoled by a nice young gentleman into supporting “Environment Colorado”. While I AM interested in environmental issues, I was also conscious of choosing to support him in his clear passion for the environment and my hope that such as he continues that work.  People like that need all the encouragement they can get.  I also picked up an incredibly cute bikini from a little store called Chelsea. There are also any number of phenomenal used bookstores, which make me very happy – any place I ever end up living must have great used bookstores in the area. On a side note, sometimes bizarre things are sold – like the random absurdity of books containing a selection of pop-up Buddhist goddess altars, which just somehow struck me as funny. . . 

No surprise to anyone who knows me and my draw to water, I went wading in the creek. I love the feeling of cool, clear water running by between my toes. I had this sense that I’m struggling to articulate of touching some source, renewing, standing there in that crystalline flow and chill of clean water - and while it was a physical and visceral experience, it’s also not something I need to be standing in a creek to have. Some  lyrics from “Soul Meets Body” burbled up in my head, “And bathe my skin in waters cool and cleansing and feel…feel what it’s like to be new… I do believe it’s true that there are roads left in both of our shoes

With much grateful thanks to Chrysoula, Impassionata.com is now mine. I’m planning to migrate all my personal blog posts over there, and keeping Illuminaeum as a site for more academic/professional/less personal writing, as well as a reference place for articulating some of the kinds of work I’d like to do for non-profits. Perhaps someday I’ll set it up more officially for non-profit consulting.

I’m trying to think of a good tagline for Impassionata. I wonder if one that would work for me is, “Impassionata – Life Exuberant”, or “An Exuberant Life”. I’m not sure I like the word ‘exuberant’ … perhaps one with some equivalence in meaning. I’m not even sure where the word Impassionata comes from. It shows up in the document I wrote last December attempting to articulate what was going on with me, but I don’t know where I picked it up or heard it. Marc says it is very “Gayle sounding” which amused me even if I’m not quite sure what that meant! Neil says it reminds him of combination of passionfruit and piñata. I suspect I was more going for the implications behind impassioned and sonata. Perhaps, “Life Lyrical”… Any ideas would be welcome.

Apologies for the transition - I need to transition everything over to Impassionata, but will continue to use Illuminaeum for a bit - excuse the ugliness too while I redesign the look of both sites - currently using a default template until I get that done in my copious amounts of spare time.

I’m going to bed. It’s 5pm, just got done having 6 back-to-back sessions of presentations rolling out this new compensation plan with a client. So wiped, but also deeply satisfied. I think we’ve put in place something that fundamentally will improve the quality of life for a whole bunch of people…which makes the last two nights of running on 3-4 hours of sleep worth it, and I even mind less the rash that has caused my entire face to flake off and itch so badly that I’m constantly clawing at it. Whew. Sleep. I’ll sleep well tonight.