My Feet Barely Touched The Ground

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different . . .” –C.S. Lewis

So October, we meet again. This is the first time I can remember in a long time that I don’t have some sort of ominous feeling looming over my head. In fact, celebrating my birthday was a pleasant surprise and while I have thought of my father, I haven’t felt as sad as I have in years past. I’d say it’s more bittersweet. Perhaps that comes from the realization that I’ve had so very many beautiful experiences with him and fond memories. Not everyone can say that about a parent and while I’ve missed him growing up, wishing he could share in my major life experiences, I’ll gladly take the memories. They are a beautiful gift.

We don't remember days, we remember moments. I am so very thankful for these moments.

I reigned in my new year with grace. In all honesty, it was the most fun, carefree and memorable day I’ve had in a long time. I spent a few hours doing something I love: tango. I shared a few beautiful tandas with one of my favorite leads and had a lot of fun with perfect strangers that are simply there to share in the passion of the dance and the love of the music. While I could have easily tangoed the night away and barely let my feet touch the ground, the world’s best boyfriend wanted to celebrate with me and I was recently given a new revelation: He doesn’t like dancing and only stuck around in tango because of me. No one has ever made me feel more valued, treasured or cherished as this man and I consider myself to be one extremely lucky lady. He’s my friend, my protector, my spiritual comrade and my rock.

You are my rock, my here and now, my everything - and for that I thank you. 

I left the milonga early to spend time with him. He greeted me with red roses and swept me off my feet . . . . literally – because he insisted on carrying me over rain puddles so my delicate feet didn’t get wet. Thank you for saving me from the rain. We ended the night with a beautiful dinner and one of our long conversations that could have easily stretched into the wee hours of the morning. It didn’t this time. I’ve just gotten over some sort of nasty bug and the world’s best boyfriend caught it because he insisted on taking care of me while I was at home feeling miserable. He still wasn’t feeling well on my birthday, but was determined to spend time with me anyway. Have I mentioned how lucky I am?

Sweeping me off my feet - it looked something like this; but there was rain and puddles everywhere

I’ve made an effort to get back into my spiritual practices and expressions of gratitude. I thought smudging might help my boyfriend feel better with some of the issues he’s facing in life. For those of you who don’t know what smudging is, it’s a Native practice that is used for cleansing and healing. While I’ve performed smudging in my room and on myself, I’ve never done so on another person. This meant I had to consult with experts . . . . which was really an excuse to go to my favorite place in the pacific north west: Mystery Gallery.

I love this place because just by walking in the store I feel like my spirits are lifted and the owners obviously care about what they do and the people they help through their work. It’s a small family owned business. I discussed my mission with the husband who gave me some tips for smudging and when I asked for some form of stone that would help my boyfriend I was pointed to one for grounding. For the record, the world’s best boyfriend loves it and that makes me happy. The smudging session was longer than I anticipated and required a very intense focus on my end, but it was therapeutic for both of us.

Smudging. We have much to learn from the Natives.

Imagine my surprise when a couple of days later my boyfriend shows up with a gift for me: a wolf pendant on a dainty silver necklace. Few people have ever given me something so meaningful. I wear it every day and since I first opened that box it was immediately my favorite piece of jewelry and a constant reminder of him - and also my fearless she-wolf.

I have not just one, but TWO fearless guardians. 

I’m still a work in progress. He accepts me as I am. He’s teaching me to accept myself as I am. I’ve learned to let go of my expectations of what I think life should be and accept it as it is. Did I think I’d be here ten years ago? Not even close. Am I okay with that? You betcha. I'm elated. 

I can't see what's just around the bend. I have no idea, actually, and it's really not possible if one wants to take in each and every present moment. 

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."  - Joseph Campbell

Proceed With Caution

“I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions”  - Augusten Burroughs, Magical Thinking: True Stories

I recognize that I’m a deeply flawed person. To some degree, I think we all are. I’m broken and I’m trying to put the pieces back together. I’m probably not good relationship material, either. While I give fair warning to those that want to step beyond the bounds of friendship, I get the impression that he thinks he can ‘fix’ me – that he’s my knight in shining armor that has come to rescue me from my pathetic life. I’m not meant to be fixed or saved. This is something that only I can do and I’m working on it.

A friend recently told me that what I need is a rock; I see a lot of truth in that. I’m working on fixing myself. I can’t help someone else make repairs in their own life. If I need anyone in this life, it's someone who can hold me up without expecting me to cater to his every whim. I'm just not capable. Sorry. 

A misunderstanding took place between my former boyfriend and I. Before the relationship started, before the friendship started, I told him I wasn’t sure that I’m ready for a relationship. In other words, proceed with caution and enter at your own risk. Perhaps the biggest mistake I made was letting him stay with me to escape the heat from the campus dorm. We hadn’t known each other that long, and it was far too soon for something like that.

Did I mention his incessant paranoia? I think it was contagious.

I think we did our best to accommodate each other. He helped me when I was stretched too thin and I adjusted my own habits and time to make more time for him because he felt he was competing for my attention. Then there was a Friday. I had literally just finished volunteering my time to one of my former professors and was getting ready that Friday morning for two interviews. As I’m sorting through suits and applying makeup, I hear a lot of banging on the other end of the house. I went to see what on earth was going on.

I see him there, shoving things into bags. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was leaving. Of course, this took me by surprise because there had been no prior discussion and here I am trying to prepare myself for two interviews when he drops a bomb on me. His timing couldn’t have been worse. He assured me that it was no fault of mine and said there was too much tension and it was time to go.

The weeks leading up to this, his behavior was a bit erratic. He said he felt like he was competing for my attention in tango and I got the impression that he felt like he was competing for my attention when it came to my dogs. I always danced the most tandas with him. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to always ensure he had a good evening. My dogs, on the other hand, have been with me longer than any human being and have given me so much love and support – of course they hold a special place in my heart.

These beautiful creatures have been my steadfast companions through the good, bad, and just plain ugly. I love them above all else. 

I received a few messages from him the week leading up to last Friday. He wasn’t feeling well and there was nothing worthwhile in the contents of these messages, as it was just his day to day activities. That week gave me a lot of time to think about what a future with him would look like. It wasn’t what I wanted. Not even close. I realized I was nearly bored to tears and felt like I was dating an 80-year-old man. Not good, but I was willing to attempt to work it out and give it another try.

He shows up to the milonga last Friday, doesn’t approach me and makes no eye contact whatsoever. Fine, I thought to myself. I’m not going to let him bring me down when I have no clue why he's behaving this way. Eventually, he asks if we can talk. I oblige and we step outside. I’m angry and it’s obvious. I’m angry because I felt his actions were selfish and he knew that I had important things lined up on the day he left. I’m angry because he already knows I have issues of trust and insecurity and springing something on me last minute is not the best of moves.

I would say: Game Over. Rather than married. I couldn't find an appropriate photo. Don't. Judge. Me.

So we’re talking it out. He mentions my trust issues. I pointed my finger at his chest and poked him saying, Of course I have trust issues. You knew that already. He got quite defensive and told me not to touch him. I threw my hands up and said something along the lines of, “F*ck this. I’m done talking for now.” I was frustrated because he needed to be pacified and I just don’t have that in me. I’m trying to hold myself together. Thanks.

I finish out the night. I had nothing else to say and no desire to try to communicate with him any further until we’d both taken a breather. So, I was a bit surprised when I received an e-mail from him the next morning.

He was vicious and biting. He laid out my flaws and outlined the grand life I would have had with him if I hadn’t given up. Given up? Perhaps he hadn’t heard the ‘for now’ portion. Then again, maybe he chose not to. He went on about my abusive behavior and lifestyle that would leave me dead by the time I’m 30. I find it all laughable. I rarely lash out – ever. In fact, I chose my words very carefully around him because he was a sensitive soul. There’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t judge that type of personality. I acknowledged that aspect of his being and was very careful with my choice of words and tone. As for me dying before I’m 30, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I’ve climbed up the same hills he has and never needed to take a break because I have more endurance and was by far the most active one in the relationship. My health is perfectly fine.

I do my victory dance when I reach the top, not when I'm half way there. 

This is where I’d like to say I took the high road. I didn’t. I was just as juvenile and hit below the belt just as much. Why? Because it was petty and I lowered myself to his level of communication. I’m not proud of it – but still, I did it. He said he felt exploited. Really? After staying in my house for weeks on end? I barely asked him for anything, just a little help around the house. Truth be told, I felt exploited. I exerted so much patience and understanding through some major relationship issues – he still chose to blame them on me.

The ironic thing is that after I hit ‘send’ I began laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of it all. This is about as belittling and juvenile as human beings can get – and I was an active participant. I laughed because he knows how resilient I am and that I could care less what others think of me. Who’s going to survive the nuclear holocaust? Ava; because in my past life I was a cockroach. Cut off a part of me and I grow back like a starfish. There are few things that phase me when it comes to words or gossip regarding my character.

Resilience: The courage to come back . . . over and over again.

That’s the thing about repeated exposure to trauma. It’s a double edged sword. I am extremely resilient, yet find it difficult to relate to others who cannot understand what I’ve been through and are traumatized by third person events. One of your childhood friends died in a car accident; you weren’t involved and now you’re scared of large vehicles and driving? I found my father’s dead body. I was abandoned by my mother. I watched my grandmother die. I’ve been exploited for someone else’s financial or social gain my entire life. My childhood friend died because her mother tweaked out and shot her along with her siblings. I could go on and on with one sob story after another. No. If you’re upset by something like a car crash, I cannot relate to you.

I was a bit bummed the days that followed our encounter. So, Ava, you’ve failed yet again. That’s what I thought to myself. I’m a total and complete failure. I’ve failed at any form of success whatsoever whether it be in life, love, or the stinking job market.

As I’ve been cleaning, I stumbled across one of my Rumi books. I loaned my personal copy to him. I rarely do that. Also, he wrote in it. For Pete’s sake, he may as well have taken my personal journal and scribbled in it. I feel the urge to burn that copy and purchase a new one while reminding myself why I don’t lend my personal things. There are few things that are precious to me – my favorite books happen to be one of them.

I’ve wanted to retreat back into myself and hide away. A good friend of mine told me to forgive myself a little because I gave him fair warning. Another friend told me to pick myself up and try again. I’ll compromise. I won’t hide – but I’m not marketing myself for relationships, either. I’ve failed in the dating world: I fell in love once, and somehow I managed to screw it up. He may never truly know how much he meant to me. It burns.

Just getting away for a while would be nice. I don't care where. 

While I can admit my heart is certainly not the first to be broken, all I can ask the male population is this: be a friend to me. I’m far more complicated than a pretty face and fun-loving nature. While I’m friendly, outgoing and down to earth, deep down is a very fragile soul. Handle with care and proceed with caution. 

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."  - Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

More of the Healing Process: The Battle with the Demon Spiders

" I believe that in the end the truth will conquer." ~John Wycliffe

I had the second bath in the spiritual healing process.



Before the bath that night, I thought I’d spend some time in meditation and relaxing before I left myself vulnerable to the spiritual world once again. I saw my mother’s head floating in the darkness during my meditation. Her hair split down the middle and formed two horns. Her mouth elongated into a sinister smirk and she grew fangs. You know how dogs twitch and snarl when they are dreaming of chasing something or fending off a predator? I was physically doing this with my mouth. I felt myself clenching my teeth, my lip curled and twitching – warning her with my physiological reactions that this was my space, not hers and she was to go away. I eventually fell asleep and woke up to my alarm.

I drew the bath as usual and immersed myself in the water. Again, I saw her floating head in demonized form and again my lip started snarling. She was then wearing a black mask, cape and hat. She was trying to rape me. The vividness of the experience scared me. I opened my eyes for a moment so it would stop. I then relaxed and closed my eyes again.

The first thing to greet me is her floating demonized head. I then see hundreds of them and notice they have small spider bodies – the body of a black widow. I’m now in the forest of my first vision. I’m running towards the river and am being chased by an army of millions of demonized black widow spiders. I stop at the bank of the river when I see fish jumping out of the water. The fish are piranha like with her demon head and are biting at me. They are swimming upstream, against the flow of water.

I tell the fish that they are only fighting it because they are afraid of what waits for them further down the river. They are not welcome here and they must leave. The fish swallow a few of the demon spiders and allow the water to carry them downstream. The spiders are surrounding me, getting ready to attack me. A very large Aztecan man pulls me up into his arms. He is so large that I feel like a child when he carries me. I see one of the spiders jump onto his back. I hiss at her, trying to scare her again and again I feel my lip twitching and snarling. She bites him and he falls to the ground on top of me and we both sink into the earth. I feel quite safe with him, although I don’t know what’s happening.

I’m now watching the same Aztecan man. He is on a high hill surrounded by grasslands and is worshipping the sunrise. I see a white wolf looking at me and my spirit enters her. On a side note here, I’d like to mention that having a wolf as a spirit guide and animal is an honor. She is vicious and protective. To see a white wolf REALLY means business. The white wolf symbolizes victory and conquering.

Once again, I feel myself in river water. The Aztecan people are dunking me in, trying to remove one of the two smudges I have on the left side of my forehead. It doesn’t seem to be working. A very tall Native American woman walks up; she is dressed in a wolf skin which she wears as a cape, so that the wolf’s head is on top of hers like a hood. The white wolf is with her.

The Native woman lays me down on the bank of the river. She reaches for the smudge on my forehead and begins to squeeze. From this smudge emerge thousands of the demon spiders which seem to continue for a long time. Followed by the spiders are Lenora, her two daughters and a lot of pus.

The process seems to have emptied me, as if my entire body was filled with an infection of demon spiders. The Native woman breathes her breath into the hole in my forehead and alternately fills it with water from the river until my body has consistency once again. She plugs the hole in my forehead with mud earth from the river bank. My spirit again goes into the white wolf, which walks side by side with the Native woman back into the forest, away from the river.

I’ve discussed these visions I've had with a friend. We are both wondering what the indigenous may represent to me: a past life? An instinctual way to life that I’m constantly fighting? To be honest, if I had my way I’d do nothing but play in the woods all day. My friend thinks that this may be related to finding my tribe or my niche in life.

Namaste.