A Big Fear

for me is falling.

     This fear controls what shoes I wear, what activities I choose to do,  and how fast err uh sllllooooowwwww I walk.  It is always on my mind consciously and subconsciously.  Well, today folks, I fell and fell hard.  Thanks GAAHD I fell on my butt which as my Grandma Pagano pointed out last month is big because, "Italian women have big butts."  I got really scared and started crying and thought, "OMG what did I break,?" but thanks to my cushiony buttocks --nothing.  My husband rushed to my side and lifted me off the floor completely freaked out as well.   After our initial hysteria, I realized that I was fine and gratitude rushed in for my man.  He was there within seconds and picked me up immediately.

My nephew told me that my spaghetti bolognese was "yummy".  

     What would I do without him?  He helps me in and out of the shower and does a million little chores for me every day --like, can you reach that?  Can you get me some water so I can take my supplements?  Can you drive me to meet my friends because my leg hurts too bad to move from the gas to the brake in a safe (quick) manner.  (No one tell the DMV please.)  I attempt to return the favor by expressing my gratitude verbally at least a dozen times a day, and through actions via EPIC meals.  I was actually cleaning up after cooking when I fell.  I have devised a system where I sit on my desk chair while cooking so I can cook for hours without my legs raging in pain.  And here's where I fill you in on another big secret; I adore cooking for my people, so it's literally my pleasure.  For me, I love bringing people joy via good home cooked food.
     Oftentimes wonderful memories arise as I cook.  Memories of being in the kitchen with my late Grandma Karalfa as she made dozens and dozens of cookies for Christmas.  That lady could bake like no other.   I still have some of her mixing bowls and cooking utensils.  A certain metal spatula warms my heart every time I use it; I make a point to use it almost everyday.  My late Grandma Bopp had some sock monkey pot holders and I managed to grab one after she passed and it is proudly hanging up on my kitchen wall.  I can't bring myself to use it though --it's too cute to mess up!  I remember helping my Mom prepare new meals that she was trying out for the first time.  We had a "summer of ginger"; I grated more ginger for her than I will for

Jennie rolling bracioles at ninety years young

the rest of my lifetime.  The juice irritated her hands so I took the lead on ginger grating for all of her Asian kitchen experiments.  And then there's Jennie, my Grandma Pagano. She can teach you more about cooking in a weekend then any culinary school.  She is a master.  Her Italian cooking will put you in a food coma and she can whip out apple pie or a meatloaf that will be the best you've ever had.
     These lovely memories swirl around this food history of mine.  But not all of the  memories are pleasant.  My Step Dad was nasty to me growing up verbally cutting me down (it seemed) any chance he could get. I guess I am still healing from his verbal abuse because I just thought about a long paragraph of passive aggressive nastiness  where I berate him that I could relay to you about his behavior, but I will refrain .
     He was a stark contrast to the women in my life.  He liked to cook too, but if I was in the room with him while he was cooking all he would do was berate me and tell me how much of a crap job I was doing.  Good times!!!  He screamed at me and my Mom once about how he couldn't afford to have me peel potatoes because of how much potato I was peeling instead of just skin.  I think about that scene every time I peel potatoes.  And, I'm sick of it.  Once he was prepping vegetables for something like potato salad and was digging into me about how lousy I was at something.  I have forgotten what the screaming was about.  Well, being the angsty pre-teen that I was who was so angry, powerless, and sick of his mouth, I happened to notice his wedding ring lying on the counter not in his line of vision.  I took that ring walked outside and pitched it down a tree and underbrush filled gully.  Take that Steppy.  I hated him.  And I wanted him to die.  And hoped that he did everyday.  I think about this horrible memory too sometimes.  I've been tempted to tell him and apologize now that we are all older and calmer.  I no longer hate him.  He and I have come a long way and age and granfatherhood has mellowed him tremendously.
     So hateful memories --ain't nobody got time for that! I don't want these memories to resurface the old feelings of hate ... sadness ...  powerlessness .... Perhaps this old emotional pain is directly linked to my current physical pain?  Hmmmmm, YES --certainly part of it!  Let go love myself.  Release me from past hurts.  Live now, my kitchen is now my own and so is my life!  And I make dishes of love for my husband .... my people.  This is part of my path, my path to healing.  As I walk and live and learn and brace myself from falling literally and from my spirit falling into past trauma and pain I heal releasing regret and hate.  I give the child in me a big long hug while creating new warm and loving memories peeling potatoes for my encouraging, supportive, and kind husband.  I love you baby ....... You always catch me and let the divine catch my spirit.

Falling In & Out of Love

With Myself

     Do you ever get a song stuck in your head?  Well, I do all of the time.  Thankfully, it's normally a song that I enjoy.  During the spring of 2011, in beginning of my separation from my husband, I started listening to country music a lot --like every day.  I went on to rap --a  lot of Ice Cube and Biggie.  Then landed in soul and jazz where I still am today rolling around in A Love Supreme and Dreams to Remember.
      Ok, back to country, so here I was with my country music on Pandora, listening to it on the radio and in the car.  Discovering the Judd's song Grandpa and sing/crying to Patsy Cline songs.  What American woman has not divulged in a little sing/crying to a Patsy Cline tune?  If you haven't --Please Youtube Patsy Cline's She's Got You right now.  Get your sing/cry on.  It's phenomenal for the soul; let it out!  Ok, so I went there, I rolled around in the sadness and heartache of country music, mostly old school country.  None of that new country pop (crap).  In the midst of my listening, Pure Prairie League's Amie kept popping up in my head and on my playlists. I like this catchy tune, but had no connection or history with it.  Why was this song so insistent on getting my attention?
     One late morning, I was getting ready for a Master Ou long distance healing and Amie was the last song to play before I headed outside to relax in the backyard for the healing.  As I was singing along, I thought perplexed, "there it is again."  I hadn't yet realized or honed in on consciously tuning in yet or, I may have figured out the significance sooner.   Who am I falling in and out of love with; as far as I could recollect no one?
     You may be wondering what in the world I meant by a  "Master Ou healing" in the previous paragraph?  How do I explain?  You can click on the link I created for a description on pangu.org.  I believe it is a little different for everyone.  That particular healing love gushed, swarmed, washed over, and enveloped me.  I felt alive and confident during and afterwards and immediately realized the meaning of the song Amie.  The person that I fall in and out of love with is myself, ME.  I wish I could say that now that it is the summer of 2013 two years later I have rectified this situation, but, no.  I still struggle with self worth and love.  This blog subject of self love will be further developed in future posts.  There is so much to this; I am really overwhelmed just thinking about it.  I am not sure that I have a wise and well written summation in me at this time.  This is an ongoing struggle for me with many faces and many reasons for being.

Frida Kahlo The Broken Column 1944

     A few months ago, I was walking towards my bedroom and my RA pain was raging; I was stooped over and really struggling.  I felt like someone was trying to shove me down face first.  I feel like this pain wants me to lay down and stay down.  Throw in the towel.  Screw it, as Frida Kahlo said, "burn this Judas of a body."  The doubter in me is angry and hateful about my condition while rolling around in victim-hood and stagnation.  The strong woman who loves and smiles and knows she will get better loves herself and fights this other debbie downer every day.  It's a tough fight --a fascinating fight as well.  An "out of this world" fight as I dig deep and find help from the divine.  I believe this fight is building something beautiful something worth fighting for.  Since I want to help others with my writing, then I have to start with me.  Love all of my messy, be kind to the good and the bad.  Love it all; accept it all then I can accept others fully with kindness and benevolence.  Or, love your neighbor as yourself.  :)

"Usual things can be understood with usual thinking,
while abnormal things can be comprehended only with unusual views.
You would be more calm if you think like that."  

A statement made by Pan Gu to Master Ou in the book The Path of Life page 117

For sanity's sake or to be "more calm" I will continue to believe that this fight is worth it and good things are brewing ... a happy and healthy healed heart, soul, and body.

Warrior Pappy

     As I was telling a family story to a friend, she stopped me and said, "did you just say Pappy Bopp?"  "Why yes I did.  Don't you wish you had a Pappy Bopp too?"
     Technically Pappy Bopp was my step-grandfather, but who cares about technically.  I met this firecracker of a man when I was five-years-old, so he's my Pappy and let no person tear us asunder.  Where do I begin in my description of him?

     He was so many things: father, husband, grandfather, great-grandfather, fisherman, farmer, hunter, WWII veteran, Pearl Harbor survivor, retired coal miner, fighter of black lung, blue collar and proud, Catholic, German American, old school Democrat, union member and fighter, yankee, clearly, in his prime, a total warrior bad ass --(what coal mining Pearl Harbor survivor isn't?), hilarious with an infectious laugh, with his hands laced behind his back, an enjoyer of a quiet walk in the woods dogs in tow, sensitive and sentimental which became more apparent as he got older, eater of copious amounts of garlic, (he would eat it raw since it was good for his heart),  Hooch er uh wine maker, Steeler, Penn State, and Pirate fan, and animal lover.



     Animal lover is not really the correct label.  It seems like a new term that doesn't really apply to him exactly.  Sure he loved his animals but his relationship with the animal world was very organic and natural.  Nothing sappy about it; more like matter of fact and wise --an integral aspect of Pappy.  Wise about nature out of necessity and affection.  He hunted deer with his beagles and always fed whatever cats came around.  Raised animals with my Grandma for their family to eat, proudly hosted fish fries, offered homemade smoked salmon and deer jerky  to loved ones.  Holy crap do I miss his deer jerky and him!
     So there you have a granddaughter's memory of him.  Towards the end of his life, everything became a struggle.  Depression set in after my Grandma died.  His knees, hands, and elbows were extremely compromised from the years as a coal miner, and his heart was failing him. During the winter of 2011, he was going and his sons were having a hard time with that reality.  I could feel Pappy fighting for them.  A part of him wanted to die but a more urgent part of him ...the father energy was holding on and his sons were holding on too.  It was apparent to me and other family members that the time to pass was here.  But, the energy of the sons and father were fighting hard.   With the help of my teacher Master Ou, I started sending him healing energy ... whatever he needed.  My intention was not to save him but to help him go in peace.  This was very new to me, I had been practicing PGSG for less than a year, but I wanted desperately to help him. The shell of my warrior pappy in that hospital bed --heart breaking!
     Well, he lingered for many weeks after I started sending the energy causing me to become frustrated and unsure if I was helping him or just wasting my time.  Was this PGSG just some woo woo silliness?  So one evening, I sent him more energy, but before starting I asked the universe, "am I helping?  I need a sign?  Pappy is still here and suffering."  Crying, I started and loud and clear a song popped in my head with the lyrics, "you bring light in".  As I described in yesterday's post, my body was engulfed with chills and strong qi sensations.  So, ya' know, I took that as a very loud, palpable answer and threw my uncertainty out the window.  He passed shortly afterwards.

     Yesterday, as I was getting up from my computer chair having just published a blog post that same song came on my Pandora mix of nineteen stations.  Hmmmmm .... coincidence, maybe?  But I closed my eyes "to tune in" and the rush of chills and qi met me immediately.  Thank you universe for more confirmation.  I asked while still tuned in, honest blog brings light in?  I was answered with more chills and qi and a strong feeling of love.  I'll take that as a yes.
     Before starting this blog, I felt like I was going to explode from holding everything in.  The reality is this is me, I have these helpful communications with the divine often.  I struggle with physical pain everyday and come from a family with many layers of emotional pain.  I am tired of pretending that everything's fine.  Who am I kidding; have you seen me try to walk lately?  I open myself to you readers, I offer you all of the messiness bringing light to you and me.  Thank you Pappy for helping me realize what I am capable of and the power of PGSG.

The Song, Two Months Off, by Underworld

" ... You bring light in

To a dark place

Walking in light

Glowing walking in light

Gold rings around you

The hues of you

The golden sunlight of you

You bring light in

Cool wind following

Follwing after you

Rising for you

Your skin beautiful

Everything comes natural

Fantastic fan

Rocking rocking floating ... "

  

Don't Stop Believin

     During the summer of 2011, I was out with my girls on a Friday night watching one sing in her Heart cover band.  Good times ='s Getting Tipsy.  I always feel guilty about the getting tipsy part and tipsy is a very soft description of my behavior.  Alas, I have a tendency to not drink for a month and then totally blowing it out in one night spending a bunch of money because I prefer expensive red wine or liquor.  Is this bad?  I don't even know so, I'm gonna try and deconstruct it.  Pretty much all of my close family members and friends play along.  I don't get the impression that any of my PGSG friends participate in this sort of behavior.  The ones I know well don't that's for sure.  So ... the guilt ... eghhhhh!  And you know our society, binge drinkin is straight up 'merican!  Come on ya'll our society promotes it! Weekend warriors are where it's at.

     Ok, so enough about society and other people.  What about me?  Because I only have one body, and my peace of mind is something only I can wrestle with.  So, truth, I feel guilty, my RA is about five times worse the next day (ouch), and my poor road weary liver.  When's a girl gonna get a handle on this because it's fun for about four hours tops and then it's total crap for the hangover?

     This has been an ongoing issue that I want to resolve.  My goal --being able to get out and have two to three drinks instead of seven to ten ( a few of them shots).  Hmmmmm I wanna do it should I try?  In the words of yoda, "Do or Do not there is no try."  So I solemnly swear to the interwebs, the intahnets, this information superhighway, to myself, and to the spirit in the sky.  I will do this!!!  This will include some

changes in the dynamics between me and my peeps.  I have a tendency to lead the charge in frivolity, shot buying, and all around silliness while hanging out.  I get things going and normally keep it going instigating binge behavior.  Because, who wants to do this alone?  Yawn ...  At this age, I've pared down my friends and I don't think anyone will mind the shift.  In my twenties, I may have lost some friends, but not now, thankfully these older and wiser days my people are all keepers.
     I gotta believe in myself ... no stopping.  Speaking of believing by now you've read the title of this post and perhaps listened to my Journey power song --let's delve into believin.  That night, my friend's band was the opening act for a Journey cover band.  You know cover bands love em or hate em, after you've had a few drinks or quite a few they sound fantabulous!!!!!  Well, even on my fun boat of intoxication I could tell the main singer was amazing.  The pipes on this guy took over the room.  His voice was spot on and if my memory serves me correctly, unfortunately, he looked more like Meatloaf than Steve Perry.  But his voice --he had me spellbound.  

My old church's breathtaking alter

     And then something very out-of-this-world happened.  Strong chills started swirling all over my body as a powerful feeling of love washed over me and I was transported way back to my childhood listening to Father Sabo belting it out at my church, St.Mary's.  Father Sabo was an extraordinarily gifted singer and as a kid I thought his singing was par for the course at a Catholic mass;  Beauty, faith, and dedication all rolled into a voice of a jolly priest. This assumption created a let down for all of the Catholic churches I attended in the future.  (It took over twenty years to find another sincerely spiritual and beautiful voice in Master Ou Wen Wei the creator of PGSG.)  I felt Father Sabo there encouraging me, loving me, guiding me; tears poured down my face.  His spirit was with me as this cover band was playing Don't Stop Believin.  And I realized all of those years Father Sabo sounded like Steve Perry (probably better because of the sincerity of his heart and faith) and he was using this song to communicate with me, encourage me and love me.  Don't give up, Cristen, you got this!  You are not alone.  Aghhh what a moment in time --so thankful.
     So now you are thinking a drunk delusion, no, no, no, I say, this has happened many other times sober.  What happened was real and now when I listen to Journey I am reminded of Father Sabo's support and love.  Always there even on the other side.  So when you drop your head and say I can't unleashing excuse after excuse don't ever forget that even though you may feel alone and helpless you never really are and you can.  Encouragement and strength are waiting for you to harness their powers.  You too can utilize Don't Stop Believin as one of your power songs.  It's great fun!  The song is full of positive energy.  Whatever you are struggling with you got this!  Just as I will get a handle on the binging and all of my other issues ... rheumatoid arthritis, pain, emotional problems, etc.  In the spirit of Yoda, Steve Perry and Father Sabo, yes you can, don't give up, and don't ever stop believin.  

Great Expectations & Anxiety or Dreams & Gratitude

At thirty six or thirty sexy as I like to joke around and say among friends

I expected to be:

A Mom

     Where does this expectation take me when it rears its needy head in my thoughts.  Frustration, Depression, and Anxiety.  Oh bully!  My life is on a course (not the course that I expected at all).  When I first got sick my husband I were married for a month before the RA diagnosis.  Yes, you read that correctly, one month. Sigh.  Then, the drugs were really really bad for a fetus.I have been sick my entire marriage ... not really conducive to child bearing.
     When I found PGSG, we were freshly separated.  Now that we are back together, I am still in a lot of physical pain and now I don't want to try out motherhood at all.  I gaze admirably at my friends with their kids --maybe a little longingly at times.  Of course there are oodles of options, but for me, personally, I refrain.  My husband has the same mindset, but none the less, it's still a big disappointment.  I told my cousin a few months ago that I wish I would have just gotten knocked up in my early twenties.  No such luck, woulda coulda shoulda .....  Where would my life be if I did?
     So, here I am free of children.  We can travel when we want and I can have as many furry friends as we can afford.  There are other positive aspects to my independence. I have a good amount of free time that I can designate towards healing.  Like the time spent on this blog for example.  Sharing my personal experiences is extremely healing and my hope is to help others in similar predicaments or help people with loved ones with chronic disease understand them.  I  am grateful for these gifts that I have to offer.  And let's be honest, I have a humongous family --all sides.  Lots of siblings, cousins, young second cousins, etc .....  I have plenty of options spreading my love in a supportive and nurturing manner.
     Oh but that dream of motherhood.  To look at it as a dream instead of an expectation helps.  I remember this dream.  I live in the present.  I continue to save all of my childhood books because one day maybe.  But for now, today I preserve my dreams keeping them in check from turning into expectations.  I keep the books and spread my love among all of my family and friends because I am blessed with many.  I heal and I love .... myself included in this love that I spread.  I hope that my example heals others.
     Turn your expectations into dreams nurture them while living in the present making each hour fruitful and full of love.  Remember them but don't let them own you.  Easy right?  Not really.  I'm a practical girl who needs practical directions.  So here's what I do.  When you feel your dreams slipping into a pushy expectation look around at all of the beauty that surrounds you.  I don't care where you are.  Look outside the box and beauty will be doing jumping jacks hoping for you to notice.  I can see beauty in a dilapidated, closed steel mill.  Just look.   A mourning dove perched on a rail singing it's quiet call.  Otis Redding embracing you with his soulful voice.  Dreams to Remember.

Fishing with a sweet little four-year-old who happens to be your nephew.  Let yourself smile and soak in the beauty allow gratitude to rush in.  It's been doing back hand springs for you to notice.  You have so much to be grateful for.  It's just waiting for you; embrace the beauty and gratitude all the while holding on to your dreams ......
     

Striving for Peace Healing from Chronic Disease

     Metamorphosis, tear off the leaves of pain, Arrive at the heart of peace.  

Have you ever eaten an artichoke by preparing the entire bulb, stuffing it with yumminess, then tearing the leaves to get to the prize --the heart? If you haven't yet, you really should. Artichokes are prickly and messy but delicious.  The first person to try one out and actually eat it had to be pretty ambitious and daring.  They look like a weed; a large take charge sort of weed.  

Baltimore 2012

      Like Maryland crabs, they're one of those superb treats that take work. You may prick a finger in preparation or accidentally eat the choke.  (Don't eat the choke, just stick to your prepared stuffing and the heart!)  What does this unforgiving yet tasty vegetable have to do with peace and metamorphosis you ask? rheumatoid arthritis a crap diagnosis and a crap disease.  My immune system attacks my joints.  My own body inflicts horrific pain upon itself --Quite the mind boggle.

 Well, everything to me.  I have

     After being diagnosed in 2004, I hit the road of prescription drugs and hit it hard.  Go to the doctor and get well, that's how I always did it before.  Six years on this road, my enthusiasm for taking whatever my rheumatologist prescribed hit quite a few egregious pot holes --osteopenia, elevated liver enzymes, and considerable weight gain.  Ouch! Fear set in.  When I would sit down to shoot my thigh with methotrexate which was never an issue, I would get nauseous and the prick hurt about fifty times worse than it ever had before.  The drugs offered relief from the pain, but they also always seemed to fizzle and the pain would come back after several months subdued.  In turn, I began to explore other options.

    Thanks to my older sister, I found Pan Gu Shengong (PGSG) during this period of fear.  I learned the moving form and practiced every day.  I saw an acupuncturist and a PGSG healer regularly and my pain began to decrease.  With my acupuncturist's and healer's help, and my dedicated PGSG practice I was also able to ween myself from the drugs that were causing the alarming side effects.

pangu.org

    Nothing has been easy about my path to good health.  PGSG healing energy gets to the root of a disease.  So for me, I have had to face my anxiety and depression ... each leaves of pain.  Pain from childhood abuse, grief from a loved one passing twenty seven years ago that I never fully dealt with, pain from an emotionally unavailable parent, and another who took a complete break from parenting for about twenty years.  Some of these hurts have more than one leaf, so I deal with it .... tear it away ....and it pops up again as I come closer to the heart of peace.  True good health and happiness is worth this process just like the messy and prickly job of getting to a delicious artichoke heart.  Once you are there, you are at peace and have quite a treat ahead --a life free of worry and pain.

My blog shares my metamorphosis with you exploring each leaf while attaining health and happiness.

BTW, here's a delicious recipe for stuffed artichokes click here.  Enjoy!