Baby, What You Want from Me?

"I try to pretend I'm the strongest. 

That one friend you have that can endure pain the longest. 

I try to bury my feelings so far you can't see them 

and try to put meaning to all the bad things I'm thinking.

And one by one they come to the edge

and everyone slips and falls in the trench. 

But I warned you to stay away, they said I'm damaged in every way..."

Except I didn't warn anyone...I told everyone! There's a difference between a warning label and an explanation of benefits. Maybe I should come with both...hehe.  And, I didn't tell anyone to stay away, either. I invited those I thought were of like mind in with my genuine warmth, energy, and vision of co-creating something really special in the world, part of a new existence that I feel we are all moving toward collectively. I ignored all sorts of signs that not everyone is ready or even wants to be a part of something so different from what we are used to, or maybe just not in the way that I want them to be. I know better now, but it took some hard knocks to understand. I had to learn a few things about myself, pieces I left abandoned in the shadows before I could see the forest through the trees.

In 2018, I went through a radical transformation - mind, body, and soul. With the help of many different resources, including Julia Cameron's, The Artist's Way, and Connie Kaplan's, The Invisible Garment, I discovered parts of myself I didn't know existed and read about the way I "be" in the world within the pages of those books.

In my blog post from August of 2021, The Artist's Way...My Way!, I describe the life-changing experiences I had working through that book. The Invisible Garment is a body of work delivered to the author from the divine, from Angels. I've had a few real-life angelic visits myself, so Kaplan's work piqued my interest for sure. Kaplan received an explanation of 30 life principles, our primary reasons for incarnating in this life, and was instructed to share them with the world. Using my natal birth chart, I found which principle matches with aspects of my chart. My primary life principle is Resistance, but it doesn't mean what you think.

In this context, Kaplan defines resistance as a resistor in an electrical circuit, which changes the flow of energy within the circuit. I change the flow of energy everywhere I go. I am the thing that one comes in contact with that allows one's authentic self to be seen, to be heard. The good, the bad, the ugly - whatever is meant to come up within our experience together. I am dying to be truly seen and heard, so it never occurred to me that others may not feel the same way. I am a big-ideas and future-focused vision person, looking for other dreamers who share in my kind of vision for the future, one filled with more light, love, respect, cooperation, and willingness to give of ourselves for the greater good. So far, the ones most resistant to the energy shifts I unintentionally create are filled with fear...of change. I've upset more than a few apple carts so far on this journey...oops!

I read Kaplan's four-page explanation of "Resistance" and I wept with relief. I have walked through my entire life feeling as though I was unloveable, unwanted, and a problem for everyone close to me. While I no longer believe I'm unloveable, I kinda am a problem for those close to me. I am definitely viewed as the problem for people not ready or unwilling to change and evolve, which is not entirely untrue. It just isn't the whole truth.

I can't know in every instance, but I've been shown enough to know that once I go away, the "problem" still remains. We can blame the messenger, but we can't unhear the message without numbing ourselves into oblivion. Believe me, I've tried. I am not the only "resistor" out there in the world, and I have run into a few mirrors of my own. I am not the problem, I am the one flowing the energy available to make those life changes. Just like our gifts of music, art, and words, my gift flows through me, regardless of one's readiness to receive it.

Even when I read this definition of myself, my primary reason for existing in this lifetime, I didn't recognize it as a gift. It was a thing, for sure, but certainly more of a curse than anything. It has led to a lonely existence at times, as people who are not a match for what I bring (and vice versa), fall away, and many run screaming. The ones who feel they must stick around are super uncomfortable around me, and I, them, if they want to stand still, or I want to push. I am sure many of those people feel tremendous relief outside of my presence after such an experience, but I've yet to meet one who doesn't want to either feed off of my energy or diminish me so they feel better. I have tried to diminish myself and behave more like how others want me to, but I just can't shut off the way I be in the world. I know better now. Before this understanding of myself, there was no good explanation beyond discomfort to describe what was actually happening. Until now that is...you've been warned. 😂

In fairness, being fully seen, especially in our darkness, is mostly an unwanted experience. I know when this happens to me, it is at the very least uncomfortable, if not downright painful. Sometimes I will deny what I'm being shown, but it's like trying to un-ring a bell. Once I see it (and that can take a while, at least for me), I am compelled to remain awake and aware, to take those rose-colored glasses off, and to truly see. Until that pea is removed from under my mattress, I cannot know the sleep of the just. I cannot show up fully in the world. I can no longer be me. If I know some truth about myself that I deny, I am just a fraud...and human. I now allow some grace between the initial awareness of a thing I can't quite square with, and the action to change said thing. That work is not instantaneous, but a willingness to go there is absolutely required.

"Dad, I just have to experience things myself!" I remember saying to my father in exasperation as a teenager about what felt like his unrelenting need to control. 

"You can't live long enough to make all the mistakes, I'm just trying to help," he replied. 

And so he was, at least in part, and I still needed to experience things for myself to truly understand. My dad and I were often at odds, but his heart was in the right place a lot of the time. I couldn't accept his gifts back then, but now I understand what he was trying to do. We enjoyed more than a few laughs together as I grew up...and I have had to eat a lot of crow. It's becoming a delicacy in my life.

So, here I am, with a much fuller understanding of how and why I walk through this world at this time. I know just enough or maybe have experienced just enough, to truly trust in the Universe...most of the time. I have been given so much in my life, especially in recent years. Since learning that operating as a "resistor" is my gift, I now know I am meant to give my gift freely, without expectation or control over what anyone chooses to do with my gift. Like with my dad, I can acknowledge the times I have been unable to accept someone's gift in the moment, and have appreciated the compassion and autonomy I required to grow in my own ways and in my own time. I am learning the true meaning of non-attachment, non-judgment, and flow. It is not easy for this recovering control freak, but it is work I am committed to after having been shown...the way.

"At times I look into the mirror,
And wonder what they see and why they couldn't see me clearer.
I try to hide in the shadows
To protect my ego
From all the dangerous people
Who threw my smile out the window."

Yes, some may "throw my smile out the window", but I now know my smile is my gift. My gift is not for everyone at the time I give it, and maybe they will never be able to accept it, but that doesn't mean I stop giving it. I couldn't even if I tried. I just cherish the time with those who can accept my gift, cuz sometimes I get to witness pure magic and I am so happy to have been a part of it!

I have lifetimes of anecdotal evidence that allows me to believe, to know, that the Universe truly has my back. And I'll have yours...when you're ready.

"Now I'm just sitting at the cafè deluxe
And saying "Baby, what you want from me?
You're the only one I know would ever talk to me.
And I know I shouldn't be talking to a coffee cup,
But you're the only one who lets me open up".

~Osei The Seventh

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Maybe It'll All Be Alright, Ma

Resentment...

Oh, this one runs deep. Real, real deep. So deep, in fact, it is compromising my body's ability to process the regular, everyday physical stuff. This emotional hoarding, along with some poor lifestyle choices, and my spiritual journey via a high-speed train for several years, has got my system in overload...and I am struggling to be who I came here to be, and do what I came here to do.

I want to tell you all my tales of woe starring my core soul wounds: abandonment, rejection, betrayal, humiliation, and injustice, but at this point, those stories don't even matter. My young kiddos often want to find who is at "fault" for any given unsavory circumstance. I speak to them now about responsibility instead of fault, giving myself a lesson too. All those things, those core wounds, really happened to me, beginning in childhood, and those experiences shaped who I have become...or not become. No, none of that was my fault, but it is entirely my responsibility to heal those wounds as I become aware of them. If I choose to remain unaware or unwilling to do this healing, those wounds will continue to be ripped open through present-day circumstances, reaffirming a sense of victimization. I am no one's fucking victim.

Look What They've Done to My Song, Ma...

No matter who I'd like to blame (and then shame, and then force into indentured servitude under my unyielding control), it is my responsibility to heal these core soul wounds and not behave from the same darkness my aggressors have. It is for me to come to terms with the fact that I don't really know who I am. I only know myself through the lens of these injuries and the coping mechanisms I developed to stumble through life, attempting to never feel those things again. I have only known myself through others and their needs, so I could feel safe...and resent every bit of it! It is my responsibility to get to know myself as I am now, and as the person I want to be. I am no one's fucking victim.

Look What They've Done to My Brain, Ma...

Somewhere along the line, I learned that things are not what they seem. I am not who I seemed to be, and neither were the people around me. I couldn't get my bearings. I didn't know who to trust, but I knew it wasn't my mind or ego, or anyone/thing outside of myself. So I started to trust in and surrender to...Spirit, my Higher Self, the Universe, God, Jesus, and All of His Carpenter Friends. I was gifted several suspect situations with people who wanted to somehow "put me in my place". As I felt myself bending to outside authority, my soul said "NO!". I was allowed to get solid with what I believe, what I will allow, and what kind of energy I am willing to mix it up with. Who would think being shown things like mutual exploitation, energetic vampirism, betrayal, and injustice could be gifts?! Without actually seeing those things for what they are, I would have continued to unwittingly participate in those lower vibrational activities. I would not be who I say I am. I am no one's fucking victim.

I Wish I Could Find a Good Book to Live In...

In previous blog posts, I've mentioned many of the resources I have used on my healing journey and encourage you to take a gander if you feel so inspired. My current revolution is being divinely guided by Paolo Coelho's, The Alchemist, a short story providing the Cliffs Notes on following your dreams: Live out your "personal legend" by following the signs and omens, and by doing what you came into this life to do, no matter what obstacles happen upon your path. It is such a simple story, and THE BEST part for me was receiving an omen upon finishing Coelho's book in his teaser description of his next book. I witnessed a unique natural phenomenon a few years ago, which left me in awe and wonder, and with a knowing this was something profound and of the Divine. It took my breath away in the moment, and reading Coelho's teaser describing a form of that phenomenon after finishing his little parable that tilted the world on its access for me, well, it was a sign just for me! I absolutely love recognizing that I am always surrounded by divine magic - miracles!

The other book on my nightstand is by African Shaman Elder, Malidoma Patrice Somé, Of Water and The Spirit. Although a much heavier journey than that of Coelho's fable, Elder Malidoma's personal account of his experiences growing up in Dagara tribal culture and in the white man's seminary before his initiation, has left my jaw agape every night for weeks. This is not a book to be devoured, it is an account to be processed. I feel I am processing through my own journey with the help and experience of Elder Malidoma. I am nearly finished, and already planning to start back on page 1 to really grasp what I have just gone through relating to Elder Malidoma's experiences. I am no one's fucking victim.

Maybe It'll All Be Alright, Ma...

And I'm learning it really will all be ok! I started to let go of everything and the way I thought it should be. I continue to heal. I am learning to trust...myself. And as I feel my energy shift, I interact with the world differently. I feel like I am re-learning how to walk where gravity feels different. I can now speak with others who have gone through similar circumstances and share what helped me let go of the pain, at least what I have been able to release so far. It really does run so very deep. Every time I think I've "got it all", my shovel hits another rock that I have to excavate from my path. I've got this, for real, even on the days when I don't want to leave my bed. I am no one's fucking victim.

Just before I received the lesson on "mutual exploitation" through a specific circumstance in my little village, I heard circus music in my mind as I waved hello to one of the players in that lesson. After a few more real-life manifestations of my core soul wounds, I realized that the circus music I heard was similar to that at the beginning of Melanie's Look What They've Done to My Song, Ma. And so Melanie and I worked it out together while I belted out her tune written about what the world did with her song, Brand New Key. Melanie got there, and with her help as well as Paolo Coelho, Elder Malidoma, the real-life suspect players, and countless others who support me on the daily, I got there too. I am no one's victim. I am authentically me, doing what I came here to do...most of the time.

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

The 3 G's...Gifts, Grief, and Ma's Guitar in the Key of Gregg Hall

📸Valerie P. Wood

Ma's gone. 

Her smile, her laughter, her stubbornness, her stories, her music, her feistiness and zest for life...all gone. Yes, of course, she's still with us in memories and maybe some ethereal visits (where ya been, Ma?!), and in all of us who she influenced in one way or another. But, her house is empty now and our time together in this life is over. 

And it all happened too damned fast. 

Looking back, I can now clearly see she was in transition out of this life at least three days before her death on January 28, 2024, probably much longer. I wish I could have allowed myself to see, to accept what was happening, and to have been more present with her during those last days. "They" say everything happens just as it needs to for where we are on our journeys. Based on my anecdotal research, I think "they" just might be onto something.

So much more than Ma's presence has disappeared from my life. Anxiety, illusions, people, expectations, denial, pain...a list of unexpectedly sad departures.  Thankfully, I was given a most appropriate circumstance for the tremendous grief that came in like tidal wave after tidal wave. I had just lost my Ma on the heels of my dad's passing, prefaced by several years of acute stress and personal upheaval. I had lots to grieve, I just didn't know how far beyond the obvious sources of that grief I would have to go. My God...so much to acknowledge, to accept, to process, and to release. 

And with all that I released, I opened up space for some truly wondrous gifts! 

As fate would have it, I had just taken Ma's guitar to be fixed by the talented folks at Dave's Guitar in La Crosse, WI, a few weeks prior to her death. 

"Now, there's no rush on this. It means a lot to our family and I just want it done right." I said as I dropped her Melody Maker off for some TLC. 

I was shocked to have to call not even two weeks later to say that indeed, there now was a rush, as I wanted Ma's guitar to be played at her funeral service. Whether it was because they remembered Ma from when she used to frequent their dumpster for tossed boxes during her eBay power-selling days, or because I called with my quivering voice having to tell yet another person that my Ma had died, Dave's Guitar friends had it ready for me in a few days.

Well then, who is to play Ma's guitar at her service? I didn't know who to ask, mainly because I wanted it to sound like Ma, and no one will ever sound like Ma. Can you ask your new rockstar friend to play How Great Thou Art and In the Garden on your Ma's guitar at her funeral service? Turns out, yes, yes you can!

"I got you. When is it?" Gregg Hall responded immediately when I messaged him with my request. 

I cried with joy and relief. Gregg shared that he had just played a blues version of How Great Thou Art at his aunt's funeral a few weeks before I contacted him about Ma. 

"He may not play like Ma", I thought, "but he will sure do her justice with his own amazing style and talent". 

And my God, did he ever. Although every cell in my body wanted to jump up and applaud his renditions of How Great Thou Art and In the Garden (along with everyone else in attendance), the former Catholic in me kept my tush on the pew, and my hands in my lap. When I was a kid, I absolutely LOVED to hear Ma and Aunt Doris play those songs together during the Guitar Mass. What a gift to find I could love those songs just as much coming from my dear friend and outlaw country rocker, Gregg "Cheech" Hall! 

During her brief stay in the hospital a few weeks before she passed, Ma and I had a little time to catch up. I loved to listen to Ma tell her stories from childhood, but this visit she wanted to hear about things going on in my life. I told her about my kiddos, my business, and the lovely souls who have stuck with me through the toughest year of my life. I shared my vision and progress on the radio station I'm creating with the help of good people like Gregg Hall and our friends at Happy Productions Studios, and Ma said aloud what I think on the daily, "Isn't it nice to be around good people?!"

"Yeah Ma, it sure is", then I showed her a picture of Cheech. 

"Oh my, he is a guitar player, isn't he?!" she said with a big smile and sparkly eyes, no doubt wishing she could play a song or two with him. The two never met, but I know Ma would have loved for Gregg Hall to play her guitar. She would have delighted in his love of music and his willing spirit. Ma celebrated anyone who puts themselves out there and works hard, especially in terms of making music. She believed it was their gift to be shared!

Inspiration for Ma's eulogy was the final gift I received in the days surrounding her death. I sat outside of my shop in the early morning hours on the day of her funeral to practice my tribute to Ma, which I had only just written a few hours before. I couldn't get through more than a few lines without crying...like howling, sobbing from places deep within I didn't even know existed. 

"Ma!" I exclaimed, "You've got to help me get through this! My words are my gift to you and everyone who is coming to show they love you. Please help me honor you today."

Just like all of us who showed up to honor Ma on the day of her service, Ma showed up for me. I had no more tears. I delivered a beautiful tribute I am so grateful to have received the inspiration for at the 11th hour, no less! I felt complete and utter joy throughout the entire mass, the school bus ride to the cemetery, and while visiting with everyone who came to remember Ma. My Ma was a sacred rebel who lives on within me and all who loved her.

In Loving Memory of Dolorous Marie Heffner

📸Valerie P. Wood

📸Valerie P. Wood

Well, this video is a little rough, but is a present-day snippit of the cassette tape recordings of the sing-alongs at all of our family gatherings. Ma is on the piano, Aunt Doris, Aunt Shirley, Uncle Bob. September 30, 2018.

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Begin a New Beginning

Our father was cared for and loved by the staff at Hospice Serenity House in Tomah, WI, for the last few months of his life. They made sure bird feeders were kept full outside of his window, that his favorite music played all day, and that cards and mementos of his life were within his view. I visited my dad on his 87th birthday, just a week and a day before he died. We watched the wildlife outside of his window, talked about life in Trempealeau and days gone by, and chit-chatted with staff members as they came into his room to make sure he had everything he needed to feel comfortable. Even the staff cleaning his room were full of a kindness and love one could only hope to be immersed in at the end of life. I am grateful that good people exist everywhere, especially for my dad during a time when I could not be one of those kind, loving, present people in his life.

One week after his birthday visit, I was literally packing up the car to leave for the Serenity House when we received a call that Dad had severely declined and that if we wanted to say in-person goodbyes, we should come that day. Ma and I arrived in the early afternoon and one of my brothers joined us a little later. I have never sat vigil at someone's bedside as they neared the end of this earthly life. Dad was sleeping, experiencing severe apnea, so we watched and waited with each breath to see if it was indeed his last. We witnessed Dad reach his arms out several times, grasping at something unseen in the room just above him. He was mostly asleep and non-verbal, but he did moan once that he could hear us.

We did it all that day, the three of us, and Dad listening as he did the work of letting go of this life. We prayed, we cried, we laughed, we sang, and just talked on and off throughout the evening. We held Dad's hands and told him it was okay to let go, that Ma was well cared for, and everything else was in order. I truly thought Dad would pass while we were there, and I think we each hoped for that moment to come when we could be by his side. Within the first few minutes of sitting next to him when we arrived, Ma said "I'm staying here. No one should die alone like this." I was prepared to do the right thing, but along with praying for my dad's smooth transition out of this life, I prayed for a miracle that would spare Ma and me from spending a sleepless night listening for his last breath.

And what a miracle we were given! Somewhere around 9pm, weary from the day's big emotions, we decided it was time to go home, and Ma decided she wanted to go home too. Dad didn't respond when my brother said his goodbyes to him. Before I could say farewell to my dad, our mother shooed us out of the room with a wave of her hands, commanding, "Now you two get out of here! I need privacy to say goodbye to your father!" 

My brother and I stared at each other for a second, then did what any curious kids would do, and stood outside of the partially open door and listened intently as our parents exchanged a beautiful goodbye. Dad became conscious for a few moments, long enough for the two of them to have a brief conversation filled with love and reverence about his departure and their lives together. I can't remember all the words exchanged, but I heard Ma distinctly, "You're my guy, Larry!" before they shared their last kiss. And so he was, just as she was his girl for over 66 years. 

The peace and gratitude I felt at that moment cannot be described. One of the few things I've carried in my heart from my Catholic upbringing is the belief in miracles. I have witnessed a few, and this was certainly one of them. After Ma and my brother had left the room, I went over to Dad, I took his hand in mine, bent down, and whispered the last words I would speak to him in this life: 

"I love you, Dad. 

I forgive you, Dad. 

I'm sorry, Dad. 

Thank you, Dad. 

It's ok, you're safe to go now, Dad."

My brother arrived back at Serenity House just after Dad had passed away on the following night, October 3, 2023. He gathered Dad's belongings and began all the doing family does when one of their own passes. I thought I might be there when Dad left this planet, and I thought for sure I would feel his departure, but neither came to pass. I think I didn't feel Dad leave the planet the day he died because he had only left his body, his spirit still remained.

He came to me in a dream on All Hallows Eve, with a wave and a sheepish look that said, "Hey, I'm still here, can you see me, will you let me in?" Outside of that dream, I don't see my dad, but I feel him. I feel him wanting someone to take him by the hand and tell him it's ok, you are loved beyond words, and it's time to come home. I feel him still afraid that he won't be allowed into the light, a light he was so desperately drawn to within my mother especially, but just could not participate in for long periods because of his own darkness. My dad and I had a tough time together in this life, but I know he loved me. And as soon as he can walk into that light, he'll know I have always loved him too, even when I was too hurt to show it anymore.

I had the chance to honor Dad on my own, in my shop on a recent random afternoon this December. I gathered the materials and intentions required for the occasion and queued up a song. Once I lit the candle, I let the music move me. I spoke to my dad and I cried tears of grief and joy, love and sorrow, regret and hope. I cried for things and people who are no longer a part of my life, as well as for those walking with me today. I cried for the life and love I never had as a child, and that my father never had either. And then I cried with gratitude and awe of myself. For my courage and dedication to the healing I have done so my children will never have to cry the same kind of tears I have...and it was all so good.

The lovely caregivers at Serenity House honor each of their residents' transitions from this world to the next with a procession accompanied by music and a loving farewell by those on staff as the newly departed's body is moved out of the building. During the last few decades of his life, Dad's ears would perk up when he heard a song I was playing that he enjoyed. "Now, what is that?" he would ask. I was surprised to find that some of my dad's favorite songs were by 90's groups I listened to in my teenage years including The Cranberries, 4 Non Blondes, and especially Enya. I made him a few "mixed tapes" with some of his favorites. He had me buy every Enya album out at that time, which he played on repeat for years and years. I wasn't with Dad as he passed from this world, but if I had been DJ'ing his body's procession, this is the song I would have played, allowing it to carry his spirit as well as mine, as we both "begin a new beginning".

In Loving Memory of My Dad, Larry John Heffner

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Trempealeau Mountain Music...Where It Really Began

Growing up, our ancestry was a prominent topic at family gatherings and in everyday conversations. My great-great-grandfather, Antoine Grignon, a half-Native American, half-white man, was an explorer, fur-trader, U.S. Army servant, documentarian, story-teller, adventurer, and was one of the first settlers in Trempealeau. He is of great importance in our family’s history. Until embarking on this passion project, Trempealeau Mountain Music, I thought he was the most important player in our history, with tremendous influence on his descendants and this place in which we are deeply rooted.

I was wrong! While Antoine Grignon certainly contributed to the people we are today, the individuals who have been the greatest influence in shaping who I am today are the women of my family. Story-tellers, musicians, survivors, joy-makers, hard workers, and even dreamers, the women of my family have carried heavy burdens, lightened by the camaraderie of music, stories, and laughter. I grew up with sing-alongs at every family gathering, stories of people I never met, but who meant a lot to me. I am grateful for the women of my family, my Ma especially. While I didn’t inherit her gifts as a musician, I did receive her love of music and story-telling, gifts I am grateful to share through the creation of Trempealeau Mountain Music: A Locally Curated, Universally Connected, Internet Radio Station. I can't wait to welcome TMM home to my place, in The Caboose at The Station, on Main Street in my hometown of Trempealeau, Wisconsin!

My Aunt Doris, a writer, reporter, photographer, singer, and all-around interesting lady, also very connected to our family’s history and legacy, has been a tremendous influence in my life and has provided the memories I needed to become the woman I am today. I was not around for many of the events in which our family’s memories were made, but are a huge piece of the fabric of my soul. I consider Aunt Doris my link to the truth of our family, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I am grateful for her following recollections of the “Shelterhouse Sing-Alongs”, which she and other women in our family created during the early 1970s. Even though I didn’t arrive Earth-side until 1978, some part of me was there with them then, and they remain with me as I gather the community of souls to bring Trempealeau Mountain Music to life now. Ma and Aunt Doris would say “God is so good”! I say thank you, from the bottom of my ever-lovin heart…I am so grateful for each and every one of you, the women, the leaders, of my family!

 

Shelterhouse Sing-Alongs

Recollections of Doris Deutsch

 Sometimes good things just happen without any planning. Dolorous Heffner, of Trempealeau, WI, loved to play her guitar so people could enjoy singing.  Pauline Kessler, also of Trempealeau, loved playing the piano so people could sing along.  But they didn’t have a place to join their talents and make music happen.

Around 1970, a strange thing happened. Doris Deutsch, Dolorous’s twin sister, decided to try operating the concession stand in the Shelterhouse at Perrot Park.  One evening Dolorous brought her guitar out to the park and they had fun singing with whoever stopped by.

This gave Dolorous an idea: With a piano, they could add cousin Pauline Kessler.  Good ideas come with good luck. Dolorous managed to exchange a portable dishwasher with a lady who had an upright she didn’t want, so now they had a piano! The next step was to get the piano to the park and that alone was “a small miracle”, Dolorous said.  They had a two-wheeled trailer that couldn’t stay balanced with the piano in the middle of it.  Took a long time, and many prayers, according to Dolorous, but it arrived at the Shelterhouse in good condition.

Then the third step was to find the sing-a-long slides and a projector.  Dolorous found a drive-through restaurant that was selling a set, so she bought them all, and a projector.  No one remembers the exact opening night, but it would have been about 7 p.m. on a Saturday in the summer of 1970.  The Saturday Shelterhouse Sing-Alongs became a favorite recreational event at Perrot Park.

The ladies took up a collection that paid for the slides, the occasional replacement projection bulb, and best of all, someone to tune the piano!  Pauline was not able to play in all keys because the piano had a few issues, but her talent on the keys made any shortcomings of the instrument unnoticeable!

Dolorous remembers the raucous laughter, the fun singing with many harmonizing, and the joy of families having fun long before hand-held screens separated them.  People came ready to share their own abilities, and their own musical instruments, including drums and a bagpipe - anything goes!  And go it did!  Carloads of people from the village came to join in the fun.

Shelterhouse Sing-Alongs on Saturday nights lasted from roughly 1970 to 1975, but five years is only a guess.  No one took notes or even photos, so there is no absolute correct account. This bit of remembrance embraces that time. A sing-along revival happened in the early 1990s when members of our California family spent the summers as "camp hosts" at Perrot State Park. Dolorous brought her same guitar, same amp, the projector, white sheet, and "shakey slides". Doris sang harmony and campers stopped in to sing-along or just listen. It was lovely in its own right, but not the same as the Shelterhouse days.

The trio, Doris, Dolorous, and Pauline share a common relative—Antoine Grignon, one of the earliest residents of Trempealeau, and a true Wisconsin historical figure.

So, here's our celebration of the future of Trempealeau Mountain Music at Perrot State Park! Please join us if you can, whether at our fundraiser show or at any stop down the tracks!

Where Do We Go from Here?

 

Oh boy, so much has gone down since I was last inspired to write. Thinking back to over a year ago when I began this work, I realized that I started my blogging experience with a daily entry, spurred and supported by a dear friend and avid writer and creative, Lisa K. Adams.  Instead of looking forward, I am looking back for a way through my current life circumstances.

So, which is the way that's clear?

Since descending into my Dark Night of the Soul Journey one year ago, I have done so much internal work! Although in many present-day moments I often think "Wow, how can I still be this f'd up after all this healing work?!" And then I turn and look down the latest mountain I have summited and I feel like a rock star! I used to go looking for problems to heal, which took me down a dark, tormented, seemingly endless path to nowhere good.

Now, I allow myself to work with the next thing that comes into my awareness. I don't know about you, but there seems to be a quickening, individually and as a collective on this planet. All the things we attempted to sweep under the rug have been built to mass proportion and need to be healed and released. I have given up on global concerns, which used to be of utmost importance to me. Speaking for myself only, I have determined that by healing myself, I am healing my children and my lineage, bringing more authenticity and light into the world by releasing my own darkness. 

Who goes with us, wherever it is we are going?

Quite simply, those who are ready. I have made some drastic changes in my life in recent years. Some people have embraced and supported me, while others have not. Some, who I thought would walk with me through my entire life, are no longer even acquaintances. Some have taken my hand and have shown me the way through my own darkness, just as I have done for others. I have received so many gifts in the form of new connections, and strengthened old ones,  with beautiful humans who have taken the time to support me in one way or another, and I hope I have done the same for them.

It was always important for me to feel liked and appreciated, even if that meant behaving in ways that pleased others while undermining myself. I have learned being liked is no longer a concern as long as I am genuinely myself. Only those who value me will be a part of my life and I can wish all the others well on their own journeys. I learned this in such a stark and startling way about a year ago. Within the span of one minute, I encountered a beautiful soul who told me how much they loved me and what I'm putting out in the world, followed by another expressing "I HATE that woman!!" after they thought I had left the restroom. My thoughts were tormented for days after, trying to reconcile why and how I could have earned someone's hatred, especially someone I have almost no interaction with at all?! 

One of Don Miguel Ruiz's agreements in his book, The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, states "Don't take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a result of their own dream or perception of their rules. We all make rules about how things should be, but when you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering". 

Well, ain't that the truth?! With no way to redress whatever I had done to earn this person's hatred, I had to choose to not take that statement personally, or let it eat me alive. It took a hot minute, but I got there...a place I'm quite sure I won't be seeing my super non-fan. A place I'm glad to have found, along with all the others who were already there waiting. A place I didn't have to travel to find, but I did have to journey deep to be able to see it when I got there.

What do we do when we get there?

We keep showing up and doing the work. The healing, the learning, and growing. The celebrating and the grieving.  The chopping wood and carrying water. We do the things that light us up and share them with others. The light, the dark, and everything in between. I make my children watch Disney/Pixar's movie Soul with me whenever they are agreeable to it. In the end, the main character wonders aloud "I thought I would feel different" after he attained one of his life-long dreams. His colleague tells him a story of a young fish who swims up to an older fish and asks "Where is the ocean?" The older fish answers, "you're in the ocean right now". The younger fish replies "This?! This is just water. I wanna swim in the ocean!" So, maybe part of what we do when we get there is realize we've always been there, some of us just couldn't see that from our distorted views and beliefs.

Why do we choose to go, anyway?

Because we believe it will be better. Better than what is right now, wherever we are. Again, I can only speak for myself, but I believe my motivation to change and grow - to go there, is because I believe I will be a better person after having made this kind of sacred journey. As a mama, a co-parent, a partner, a friend,  a daughter, a sister, a community member..., there is no way a more healed version of myself doesn't benefit me and everyone in my life. As a better, stronger, wiser, more solid version of myself, I am more equipped to share who I am and what I am doing, right here, right now. And what I'm doing is no big deal to anyone but myself and the people who want to share in the experience and vision I bring...when I arrive.

David Essex says we Rock On...good 'nuf for me!

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Leavin' On a Jet Plane

 

“We’re all dying, Shirley"! Ma exclaimed as I told her that Dad is nearing the end of his life. I agreed but explained the why’s and how’s of his expedited journey now.

I’m sure to some, including my Ma, I have a rather cavalier attitude surrounding death. I’d like to give you the 4-1-1 on my beliefs in detail, but suffice to say, I believe when it’s our time to go, it’s our time to go. I will dearly miss all of those I love who pass before me, including my dad. I am doing my best to honor their lives by living mine with honesty, integrity, and allowing my unique, authentic sparkle to guide me on this journey, as open to new experiences as I can be. I won’t always get it right, but I heard you can't get it wrong, cuz you can never get it done. I kinda love that idea.

I won’t pretend to tell you what a great kid I have been – I haven’t. I gave my parents a run for their money as their baby (13 years after their last baby), as their only girl, and as the most sensitive of humans. They didn’t know how to deal with me, and at 43, I’m just beginning to know myself. I was a handful, but not in the traditional ways one might think. I didn’t act out in school, but I hated going there. It was…too much. Too much noise, too much stress, too much anger, and condescension from a few adults dealing with their own lives within a less-than-perfect system. I didn't know how to navigate well as a highly sensitive person, so as a child, I made myself sick feeling badly for those “naughty kids” who kept getting yelled at every day. I could feel something was amiss with each one of them, and wanted to scream “THEY DON’T DESERVE TO BE YELLED AT"!!! But, I didn’t. I fretted and turned myself into an anxious knot, sick with worry about these kids who seemed to have no safe place to land. Some of whom, I found out later, came from homes where love, safety, and food were intermittent luxuries.

I didn’t know the details of any of their situations then, but I could feel it. I could feel their defeat and shame as their cries for help were drowned out by punishment and harsh tones and words. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t take it. I stayed home sick…a lot. I am so thankful that some folks who could help them, did. I just didn’t recognize it at the time.      

I reflect on those situations now, as I feel judgment from many of those outside of my sphere. In the eyes of many, I am now one of those “naughty kids”, whose behavior indicates deep pain within. In recent years, I allowed my elderly loved ones to fend for themselves in ways and situations in which I used to be heavily involved. And, until recently, I was no longer involved, at all. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t take it. As an adult, continuing my deep growth and transformation, I now call my behavior “setting boundaries”, but I understand that it can look and feel like abandonment.

So now, there’s nothing left to fix, explain or take. There is only finding a new way of life that allows everyone to live out their days with a little more peace and a little more joy. With the help of many, many Earth Angels, my brothers and I put together a plan to help our dad return to Montana, a place he called “home” for 14 years. A place where his heart and soul feel at ease.

Our Dad has flown ONE time in his life, and he hated it, so when he said he wanted to charter a plane to his old stomping grounds in Broadus, MT, my brother and I just looked at each other in dumbfounded confusion. After some flailing around with that idea, I made the calls, asked the questions, and got a flight set up from Eau Claire, WI, to Miles City, MT, just over an hour away from his final destination. The runway in Broadus, MT, was too short for the plane by 900 feet. Damn!

Oh, the journeys I went on with my family from Thanksgiving until our December 14 flight! Each day of preparation brought its own trek through emotional minefields I would have preferred to avoid, but the time had come for some explosions to clear the air. Like so many others, I have much to acknowledge, forgive, let go of, restore, and honor. My biggest fear was that one of those emotional minefields would render us unable to carry out this grand plan…together. Instead, this experience has brought us closer, a kinship I never knew due to such extreme age differences. Even through all of the difficult emotions, realizations, abandoned dreams, and heart-wrenching experiences I may face now or in the future, I have found a true sense of family, within my family. I would choose other words, but Ma’s “Praise the Lord!” seems to fit, just about right.

When I reflect on what has come to pass and what will in the future, I think of my children, their experience here, and the kind of parent I am. Lots of good, bad, and ugly come up for me to reflect on, but this thought rose to the top: I ask two things of my kids when it comes to school or outside expectations:

1. That you always do your best

2. That you allow yourself to have fun

As I learn and evolve, my "best" becomes better each time, but I will never be perfect. The best I can do at any moment is be authentically me, "imperfectly perfect," I hear a dear friend's voice saying in my mind. Throughout life and certainly, when faced with the challenges of recent years, I was not always graceful or kind, but I can say with complete honesty, I did my very best.  

And when it was time to leave on that jet plane, by-golly, we allowed ourselves to have some fun!

I know this song is by John Denver, but I LOVE Peter, Paul and Mary's version. I remember watching them with my parents on PBS when I was a kid. Their harmonies moved me just as much then as they do today. "...don't know when I'll be back again...leavin' on a jet plane..." Oh boy, the feels! This wasn't a romantic send-off, but I'm quite sure it was one of the most dramatic I'll know in my life. Here's to safe soul travels of all kinds!

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!