Pictures from Panama

Hi Guys,

I am super tired after a long and wonderful day so I will just post these pics for you tonight... more to come

just love,

Patrice

The Sun Also Rises!

Okay guys,

This will be a quickie as the sun has finally come out. This after 3 days of unrelenting rain in Panama. The entire country has been flooded out for weeks- so of course that's when I would arrive!! But being the great travel trooper that I am, I made lemonaide out of the rain soaked lemons.

Highlights so far, one night in Gamboa deep in the rainforest ( did I say rainforest!) at a georgous resort which though stunning, is not how to see Panama. I don't want to be hanging out with tourists so much when I travel ( the comradery is fun and helpful sometimes- you went where and did what?-)Where I get really juiced up is when I get out with the people that actually live in the new world that I find myself traveling in.

We had a great early evening wandering the streets of Panama City in search of a "pharmacia" for my sore throat ( yes I have managed to get sick) - joy!!!

It is a real melting pot this Panama, a true international city, on our walk we saw orthodox Jews in all their gear headed to temple, East Indians in their saris and punjabs, Asian, Europeans, Americans, and all manner of Latin Americans all going about their buisiness in the city they call home. After a great dinner at the hotel Intercontinental Miramar right on the waterfront, I lay in bed looking at the truly beautiful Panamanian skyline...Hundreds of needle thin huge sky scrapes all lit up and magical. Then suddenly Captain Mark ( and let me say that we have been at odds with each other so far- chalk it up to frazzled jet-lagged, rain soaked nerves) yells out "Fireworks!" and sure enough to our amazement an esqusite display over the water unfolded before our eyes. Not sure of the occasion, but a treat none the less.

Awoke this morning to bright sunlight streaming in, so we are off to explore.

More later...

Just Love from Panama to all of you,

Patrice

On the Hellish flight to El Salvador

Okay, it is no secret to any of you by now that I do not exactly have the ability to keep my mouth shut about how I am feeling, especially when I am feeling miserable…. and Oh Lordy, am I MISERABLE… I have done a lot of flying in my day but never have I experienced anything quite like this…

It is 4 am we have been flying for 3 ½ hours now since leaving LAX on American Airlines flight 797 red eye with my husband Mark on en route to Panama and Costa Rica by way of San Salvador the capitol city of El Salvador.

Discomfort has given way to despair as we have been smashed in with 300 El Salvadorian natives, it appears that are used to being literally packed in like sardines (actually, I believe that sardines would have better experience) The seats sit bolt upright with barely any ability to recline even the slightest bit, I am sitting so close to my next door neighbor, a sweet El Salvadorian man named Jose whose entire life story I now seem to know, (even though he speaks very little English and I very little Spanish) as a result of our new found close proximity to one another.

Poor Jose, is going home to visit momma as he does several times a year, since he got his arm crushed at the machine job he worked at. Anyway, the point is that Jose and I have become fast friends as the result of the seats being so tight together that we are honestly almost sitting in each other’s laps. But wait, there’s more….. It is stiflingly hot, I am hyperventilating, the turbulence is out of control, dozing is impossible sitting bolt upright in Jose’s lap, and I am trying to repeat my newly created mind of matter over matter mantra that goes something like,” I will not die, I will not die,” as I gasp for breath.

Said mantra is not working at all. So I have been forced to resort to praying, bitching and begging the overworked and not- moved- whatsoever to my pleas for help crew to let me move up to the one seat that I can see thought the curtain is still open in their version of “business class”. At least up there they appear to be somewhat normal size seats that have some sort of ability to recline, but my sob story of panic attacks, phobias, hyperventilation, and my final appeal to have them let me have the seat if I gave them the upgrade right now on my credit card,
has all been met by deaf ears and the kind of smug smirk that makes me think that they may get some kind of evil pleasure at seeing the “so used to comfort Gringo”, just having to deal!

I swear, I did not think it was even legal to put people through this… not for a five hour flight, not for 799$ a pop and not on American Airlines for the love of God!

The only bright news in all of this is that I have discovered reason #249 of how blogging has changed my life—are you ready? At God knows how many thousands of feet up in the air, in the boiling El Salvadorian sardine flight from Hell, I now feel with a certain confidence that I didn’t have when I started this blog that I will indeed live and be able to write you of more wonderful chapters of this Panama journey that I just know are coming soon. I have managed to get through the panic attack, I have killed at least an hour, gotten all this off of my chest (and speaking of chests, I even managed to free" the girls" without Jose or Mark who is sitting other side of me and trying his best to deal with an out of control wife on an out of control miserable flight), by taking off my bra under the blanket. This, by the way, took some brilliant maneuvering and worked out so well. I was immediately able to breathe better. Bras are torture devices in the best of times and on this flight….well, let’s just say—it was one hell of a smart thing to do! Aaaahhhhh.....

Yeah, I just heard that we are on final descent--- I made it. I lived!

More later,

Just Love,

Patrice

T'was the Day Before Turkey...

....and all through the town, The Christmas lights were going up and Patrice was getting ready to fly to Panama!

What? Yes siree, Patrice is getting ready to go on a grand adventure with Captain Mark ( also known as her husband). Mark, who is a boat captain, got a gig bringing a million dollar yacht up from Panama through the Canal, Costa Rica and Mexico to it's final resting spot in Marina del Rey, California. When I first heard about this journey, I told him in no uncertain terms that I was going. He knew better than to disagree, good boy- that Mark.

Anyway, as much as he may of had visions of being away from all things familiar including his often irritating wife, he will have plenty of "solo dude sea time" when I get off the boat after a few legs of the trip ( Captain Joe will be joining us who I have never met- God I hope he's at least interesting)... I will not be going the whole distance, because #1 son Eli ( who you know from prior posts has been missing in action from my life, since he moved to his oh-so-organic vegan and not my favorite person in the world dad's house in Santa Cruz) is coming for Christmas and I will be back for that with bells on!

That said, we bought  a one way ticket for me to Panama and depending on how well the sea sick patch works, the weather, and how much of being stuck on a yacht with Captain Mark and Captain Joe, I can handle ( yes I do love him, but several weeks at sea with him...not so sure... and god forbid I say front and back instead of bow and stern, if you get my drift) I may get off  after a week in Panama, or I may carry on to Costa Rica-- ( oh, who am I kidding? Of course I'm going to go to Costa Rica no matter what!) heck, the boat has three staterooms..I'll have plenty of space ( she says hopefully) So I may just carry on with the journey, if all is going well, through many ports of Mexico until time runs out and I have to get back to Eli. Then I'll find the closest port with an International airport and fly home.

I AM EXCITED! From as far back as I can remember, I have loved adventures. Travel adventures being the very best kind of all. Put Patrice in a place as far removed from anything she remotely recognizes and the happier she is ( not sure why I keep referring to "her" in third person today--weird). This wanderlust has taken her through Europe, India, Malaysia, Taiwan, Mexico, Belize, Guatemala and now she gets to add on Panama and Costa Rica to the list...weeeeeee!!!!

No doubt, I will be blogging from the water to let you all know first hand what is happening...in all it's nitty gritty details. As soon as the trip begins, Mark says that I will then be his crew ( whatever the hell that means to him) 

Wish us luck, Captain Mark ( he just loves being called that- so to keep him happy, I will-- smart woman- me) though a great sailor, has never made a passage of this magnitude before So it is a right of passage for him in the truest sense of the word. His claim to fame prior to this has been Catalina 30 miles away... Panama is 3,0000...so I am kind of taking a big risk here, but what the hey, it's only a bunch of zeros, you only live once and Panama and Costa Rica! on a plush fully loaded ( think plasma screen and leather lazy boy recliners in the salon etc..) 61 foot yacht is good enough for me. He is supremely confident in his ability to not kill us so....I'll go with that. 

So on on this day before Happy Turkey and heaps of Thanks, I wish you all farewell , I'll  be back at you very soon.

 Oh, and my thanks go out to you for letting me share all these little pieces of the Patrice pie with  you ... It's fun to share.

As always....

Just Love!

Patrice

The Complainer That Lives Within

It was occurring to me as I got ready to write this blog- that my ass was hurting from the hard wooden seat underneath me...As you know from a prior post, I have been on the search to find my perfect cafe to set up shop in. An escape from the monotony of being a work at home writer...

So I am sitting here at Novel Cafe take Two--( after my miserable failure a couple of days ago!) Today however is a new day and  I finally have the perfect spot-- wonderfully coolish, by the window, extension chord long enough, signed up for a full day wireless access so no more annoying interruptions every hour to log in all my credit card information. I have already eaten a mediocre but not altogether horrible chocolate croissant, the music is nice and mellow, the crowd the same and.... My Butt Hurts.

 This latest distraction, I have been trying my best to work through as I answered emails, checked out some blog discussion forums ( by the way-- How I ask myself, does anyone have time to blog when they are so busy trying to get followers to theirs and reading all the other people's and I have not come up with that answer yet)

 I am dancing as fast as I can trying to get up to speed in the Blogosphere that I have entered and I still feel light years behind...and speaking of behinds -Mine Hurts!

I decided when I first began to blog a few months ago that rather than sitting around trying to figure out just what exactly to blog about each time, that I would simply write what was on my mind in the moment- go where the energy was so to speak and right now the energy is that what I am sitting on  is a totally uncomfortable wooden chair. What? No cushions?? How, I ask you, is a perfectly lovely blogger supposed to plant themselves down and let the muse take over, when said blogger's ass is on fire???

Didn't they even consider this-  I mean come on--couldn't the owners of the cafe have put a little thought into MY comfort level?

Then I look around.  There are a good twenty other writers here this morning all happily plugged in and pounding blissfully away on their keyboards ...No one brought their own cushion and no one else seems to be as miserably aware of  their bodily discomfort as I am. Then again if someone was looking a me right now, I probably seem to be pretty happy myself. Oh the things that go on behind the scenes of one's thoughts..if we only knew-- actually isn't that what blogging is about!

 Ahhh yes. And so  I decide, actually my gift, my truth, my honesty is EXACTLY what I have promised you in my initial plug to "keep it real" This promise is infact even in the subtitle for  my entire blog. I consider it my duty and my honor to tell it to you ( nothing held back) as it is - at the time- in all it's full glory ( or horror as the case often seems to be)

But why, I begin to obsess about , "Why am I such a complainer??? What is it in me that can just never roll with the punches that life inevitably throws out, with having a big commentary on each and every injustice," ( today's being, the lack of comfortable seating!)

My husband, (who was obviously raised in a non- complaining family--you know the type, they could get served worms on rice at a restaurant and still would quietly munch away--not wanting to make waves!) thinks that I am hell on wheels.

Not only do I make waves, I am a full on Sunami ! And I tell you  this , not because I am proud of it ( ok, may be just a tad-- I do tend to get things happening where others have no luck) but because it fascinates me. Am I simply making up for all the "meekies" that never raise hell or complain, or speak their mind? 

My family was known to try on three resteraunts in the course of one evening until one was okay. I am not kidding, humiliating as it was, my dad would up and drag us out, if the seating was not up to par, or the waitress took a few minutes too long getting over to us, or if there was a draft.... is it any wonder that I'm a mess?

It sure isn't the most attractive characteristic that I posses, this bitchy whiner that lives within. But in the spirit of acceptance , I will try not to judge "her" for the moment.

Here is my truth: I have absolutely no tolerance for stupidity, I wouldn't know patience if it slapped me upside the head, slow service, hard seats, automated voice mail systems "press 22 if you have ever had a cuticle removed in the third week of June"  are only the tip of the iceburg of my list of gripes on this frustrating Planet Earth.

And now I realize that I have spent my entire allotted blog writing time today once again , complaining. Not at all what I had imagined I would be creating when I plopped down this morning.

I am sure that this continuous stream of irritations that goes on within me  needs some prompt attention and I will have to get to that one of these days- until then I am off to find another cafe with a softer place to land.

Now, in my last defense, I must say this-- as much as I bitch and moan, when all is said and done-- I do have a really good heart, really!...I have met a lot of people who on the outside were full of smiles and soft kisses but dig just a bit deeper and you would find a stone cold person, that would leave you lying in the gutter without a thought, while other seeming "gruffies" on the outside, when I searched a little further had marshmallow hearts and the warmest of souls-

What lives inside truly does, in the end, matter.

That said, it is time for me to quiet the complainer that lives within me just a bit. If not for any other reason than because there just might be something grand to learn from it...not to mention having a  kinder more gentle spirit in the world...

Till then-- I will...

Just Love,

Patrice

My Utter Failure at the Novel Cafe

So here I am, tropical iced tea in hand, at a darling little french cafe- The Panini in Venice Beach, California. I have moved my base of operation here after my absolute disaster at the Novel Cafe down the street yesterday.

Here's what happened (not that I really want to relive it but maybe I'll feel better afterwards -- at least that is my big hope)

First of all let me back up a bit. One of the reasons that I moved to this neighborhood was for the creative stimulation. Venice Beach is a place like no other...think-- being dressed up in pajamas with a Mohawk while wearing leopard skin stilettos, smoking a fat doobie, walking down the street with a drum and screaming to yourself while no one sees anything out of the ordinary . Nothing whatsoever is unacceptable here, whoever-whatever you are... you are welcome.

Think-- cosmopolitan. At any given time you will hear snippets of passionate conversations in Greek, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Yiddish, French, Hindi oh and throw in some Cockney English..and yes plenty of good 'ole American sounds too. This is the home of artists, writers, filmmakers, spoken word performers, drummers and dreamers, dancers, jugglers and wandering sadhus all living, working, performing together in what has to be one of the most eclectic, bohemian, avante guarde beach communities anywhere.

And the cafes! At last count there were sixteen of them all within walking distance of my new home. A writers paradise indeed.

So of course when I moved here, I had visions of doing my writing no longer trapped in the confines of my stir -crazy making four walls, but in a groovy cafe with all the stimulation that good cafe writing offers...

That said, I began a search to find Patrice's perfect cafe. Each one, you know, having their own flavor, scene ( kind of peeps I will be chit chatting with over a latte when taking a break), level of comfort ( stiff benches vs. floppy couches) genre of music being played , temperature control and ease of plopping down to write. There was free wireless, paid wireless, minimum orders and maximum stays. Plus truth be told, the closer to my house the better for my lazy ass way of thinking ( one block is sure better than three).

The fact is that it took me six months to actually leave the comfort of home to venture out, lap top in tow for my new writing adventure. Don't ask me why, I seem to have issues, okay?

After one try I gave up on Starbucks-- really chilly and way too generic, and so yesterday I headed to the creme de la creme of cafes--The most eclectic cafe in the most eclectic neighborhood in perhaps the world-- The Novel Cafe. A famous writing hole for all manner of writers and for many a year now. More than a few novels have indeed been penned at the Novel Cafe. Open from 7 in the morning till 1am the next morning, every day of the week, 24/7.

I was giddy with the eager visions of a fantastic blog being debuted from the "Novel". I had finally arrived.

And arrive I did, at 3pm, ready for a good couple of hour writing immersion in my much anticipated funky old wood and used book decorated cafe of all cafes-- The Novel.

However, as always, the Universe has ways of humbling us and showing us what It thinks of our "plans." Things went very wrong from the get- go, in fact, the minute I walked in the door.

Reeking of Novel newbieness, I realized almost every table was taken with the other creatives. First lesson-- you have to come early to scope out your spot at the Novel. I've heard that many writers consider this their office and quite literally eat breakfast, lunch and dinner in between creating, studying, researching, reading whatever project they are working on, here.

Finally, I found a small table in what I will now always refer to as the sauna room. Upstairs from the kitchen , swelteringly hot and without a doubt not the room of choice in the Novel's four different rooms. None of the regulars would be caught dead up here. But heck, it had taken me 6 months to drag my butt here, I certainly wasn't going to leave without knocking out some damn good writing come hell or high water so I sat myself right on down to begin.

Now came the power chord issue- mine didn't reach and a lovely boy half my age came to my rescue and lent me his extension. He and I became fast friends in the sauna, the way people trapped in a lifeboat become friends, every so often commiserating about the heat and the now nauseating stench of bacon grease rising from the kitchen below. I don't care how tasty a BLT can be, trust me when I tell you that burned bacon infused steam swirling around you does not a very pleasant writing experience make!

But being the perfect little suffering in the name of art blogger that I am, I persevered. I persevered despite, really bad Reggae blasting, and the annoyance of continuing each hour to have to re-enter all of my credit card billing information into the computer to keep the $2.99 an hour wireless gods happy. At least from the sauna I did have a nice view of the interesting cast of characters coming in and ordering their beverages of choice and apparently a few BLT's.

So there I was blogging happily along and feeling quite smug and contented that I had finally gotten my Novel feet wet so to speak, when... It happened.

Don't ask me how, because I have no clue. What I do know is that to my horror, after writing what I quite frankly think was one of my funniest blogs ever, I tried to save it and .....Nothing! I got a blank white posting area. My blog and soon after my happy little writing serenity was GONE.

I felt sick, and the bacon heat ( which by the way, I had to shower, shampoo and launder away) only added to my misery.

I was indeed a Novel Cafe Failure.

It didn't help that my attempted bid for sympathy later from my non artist husband Mark, was met with the kind of look and statement that only one who just so does not understand can possibly give, " It's not like it's the end of the world or anything!"

God I have never wanted a divorce more-- actually, that's not exactly true-- that very thought often flows through me-- I think that allowing myself to go there is what makes marriage even possible for me!

 So, I gave "young boy"back his chord, never letting on any of my trial and tribulation( way too embarrassed) and walked the two blocks home, hanging head in some kind of Whoa what was the message in that! shame.

I may try again at the Novel, but not for a while. I need time to get over my sheer disappointment after such a build up. In the meantime, Panini has served me today quite well.

Then again, I haven't pushed SAVE yet...

Wish me luck.

If you are reading this--all went well.

 And so, until next time my sweet ones,

Just Love!

Patrice

What If We Were Taught That We Were Perfect Even When We Were Miserable?

"Maybe the whole problem, I think to myself tonight, is not so much that I am sort of sad a lot, kind of melancholy and often achy inside. NO maybe the real problem ( and bear with me, I am just trying this on here) is that lifelong, somewhat futile exercise of chasing my own tail round in circles in the never ending effort to be living at all times in the societally preferred,in fact, almost demanded state of "happiness?" Come on- is that even possible- all the time- really?? I mean wouldn't it be a relief of sorts if it was actually okay, allowed, understood, even honored, to be somewhat miserable? Not a crazy, raging, angry, suicidal, take no prisoners, keep every one else down there with you miserable, just a nice, I'm sad again today, mellow kind of blues?"

I have noticed that a prevailing theme in my life is the incessant obsession that the"party" is somewhere else, that the damn grass is most certainly way more green over there, that if only (fill-in-the-blank) then everything would be just perfect, and of course my own personal favorite, when such and such happens, then I'll be good. I think that this silly madness was born out of ongoing endless pursuit and through the seemingly so hard to find drummed in message that " I must be Happy!" This demand of sorts, I have heard as far back as I can remember. The goal of life is to be "Happy!" That elusive, exalted, blissful state of ecstatic warm fuzzies day in and day out.

It has been this search that has been my theme- my quest. To discover the magic trick to it all. And since I still have no answers, I pose this question to you, to anyone who will answer truthfully from their heart...

Is it really possible to just be in your own skin, in your own life, in your own mind, in the sometimes maddeningly boring silence, in the middle of a stressful life, on a crazy planet and truly live in a state of happiness for any length of time? Of course I know that your answer will be yes,( I've been asking this question for a long long while) and YES seems to always be the answer-- it's just that ( and this sums it all up for me right now) I simply never been that girl. And don't even try guilt tripping me into making feel worse like I am a selfish bitch to be feeling sad when there are limbless children in gutters in Calcutta- that only makes me feel sadder--certainly not "happy!".

God knows I have tried to improve my mental/emotional states and I have the books, gurus, medications and meditations, support groups, gratitude lists, journaling exercises, 12 step meetings, crystals, vitamins, workouts, CD's, DVD's, and so forth to prove it. (By way the meds did help but I walked around in a weird state of half numbness that was too disconcerting to deal with for long, that and the constant feeling that even though I wasn't miserable, I was "cheating"somehow). Just my issue, believe me I have no judgement. Oh heck, truth be told if I hadn't had horrific night sweats on them, maybe I would have "cheated" a long while longer too! Crutch- Smutch!

Still, even with all of those tools at my disposal, the long dreamed of and supposedly extremely possible  state of free floating joy, happiness and well being that I keep hearing about, seems to have eluded me.

I question often whether my seeming pre- disposition to a low grade functional and not exactly hellish depression is a result of karma, a bad childhood, an initiation/spiritual test of sorts, nutritional, "oh so suffering creative artist disease", bio chemical, hormonal (and this buried treasure hunt to test and find the perfect hormonal cocktail resulted in thousands of dollars spent! ) geographical (if I was living on the beach in Bali- then I just know I'd be happy!) financial,  after all who can be nice and chilled when they are sweating it out week by week? or a host of other possible reasons why I haven't ever quite managed for any substantial amount of time anyway, to be HAPPY. I am so getting sick of that word right now.

Now don't get me wrong. I have my moments ( thank God). There are times when I am the laughing, bright light and life of the party. Yes, in fact, I will have you know that Patrice has been known to have spontaneously experienced, cup wildly overflowing with good stuff times in my life. I have had extremely profound epiphanies that convinced me that this time- I had found the secret elixir, the potion of joy that will stick, only to wake up again some short time later with the same overall malaise once again taking me over.

Then tonight this funny, far out thought came to me-- maybe I ( we) have never been told that it is ok, that we are ok, in fact we are adorable even if we are kind of sad a lot. And as I mulled it over and sat with this far out idea a bit tonight. I suddenly are you ready?, felt much much much ( did I say MUCH) better? Not giddy, just not miserable, a kind of a lovely warm neutral...Which is a far cry from where I was when I started this conversation.

I think I just may be on to something. I will let myself be with this radical concept for a while longer and no doubt will report back to you on my findings. But I shall leave you with this thought...

How can we sadish types feel truly " happy" when we are being bombarded ( media, "well meaning" friends/family/strangers, books, teachings) throughout our lives with the very consistent message that we are flawed, not okay, in some kind of serious need of fixing, broken damaged goods-- for being who we are fully in the moment, including all those sad, lonely, lost moments too?

After all, we are ever changing, moving, growing beings and no matter what, this too shall pass. So let's all cut ourselves (and each other) some slack. OK? Instead of judging, hows about, we just keep hugging?

Something to think about anyway...

In the meantime,

Just Love!

Patrice

What If They Gave You A Funeral And No One Came?

"Is it so wrong to want a great turnout at your final bon voyage?"

I'm wondering about this while sitting on the sand at Venice Beach, California this morning. Mark and I had taken a nice Sunday morning stroll down the beach from where we live and happened upon a large seated crowd right on the sand. There was maybe two hundred people or so, mostly dressed in white, everyone had flowers in their hands and gorgeous flute music was being played as we approached.

So thinking that this was some kind of groovy spiritual happening (they occur all the time around here) we plopped ourselves right on down. It was a mellow group and there seemed to be a lovely vibe in the air. I was really letting myself get into it- not really knowing what it was exactly. Then I saw that someone had a program. Good, I thought to myself, as I asked the guy if I could look at it. Now I can find out who this gangs guru is and get a handle on what's happening.

Well it turns out that we had just crashed some wonderful (well she sure sounded wonderful) woman named Rosie's memorial service. This gal had passed away from some awful disease way before her time at age 44.

Now, as the waves crashed and the flute played and people weeped and others looked at me and smiled that kind of "wasn't she wonderful smile?" to which I beamed back-- "Oh God yes, what a woman that Rosie", a bombardment of thoughts began to take over...

Should we stay? What exactly is the protocol after you realize that you have crashed a funeral? Should we remain out of respect- or is more proper to pick up and high tail it out of there? And If we did choose this option, just how do we do it gracefully without drawing attention to ourselves? I mean who up and leaves a perfectly nice funeral just as it has begun?

(and now this next go round of thoughts really gave me pause) would I get a nice sized crowd at my funeral? Who would come exactly, how many, what would they say? Could I get a nice beach scene and flute player too? Who would organize the whole thing? Certainly not Mark, ( who, bless him, is just sooo not a detail oriented guy!)

The questions kept on rolling in as I looked around the grieving crowd. I mean jeez, two hundred close friends and family all dressed in white at the beach. Now this was one impressive turnout indeed. Not only that but they genuinely all seemed to just love this Rosie.

Then the eulogies began--

Now I know that at memorial services even the nastiest people ( while alive) seem to gain a saint-like stature. The biggest creeps seem to get glowing references when dead.

But Rosie, wow they really seemed to all love her so deeply and they spoke with such seemingly heartfelt earnestness, that the next go- round of thoughts began.

(Meanwhile, Mark had somehow figured out what was going on and escaped un-noticed from the crowd. I had no idea where he now was. ) So I stayed for a bit, as I was quite fascinated watching person after person awaiting their turn to sing Rosie's praises.

Now, not only was I spinning out on who would get me a happening funeral and run it properly. (I like the beach, flute, all dressed in white theme...)
but I was actually also:
A) bothered that I never met Rosie- seemed like a hell of a gal. What a bummer to discover someone terrific when it's too late.
B) (and this is really indicitive of my mental health- or lack thereof) I found myself actually getting jealous of Rosie's service!

I mean who does that? Who but me could actualy get jealous of a deceased woman???

It was obviously time for me to go- and so, as inconspicuously as I could, ( luckily we were sitting towards the back) I slinked quietly away.

Mark did promise me (after much discussion) that my funeral would be terrific too- assuming I go first and that he would definately get someone to handle the details. And I told him that it better be good because I would without a doubt be watching from the wings( who knows, maybe I'd even have some!) and if it wasn't up to par, he could expect a good haunting for a long time to come!

I guess the moral of this story for me is that - if you really want a rocking funeral with everyone simply raving about your live self- you best go about earning it while still living. I don't want no posers at my service.

And to Rosie who I never met but really wish I had: Well done girl! I hope that you got the chance to see how very loved you were and still are! I pray you are playing happily in the waves at heavens #1 beach spot. May I touch as many souls as you obviously did in your way too short sojourn here on Earth. And lastly, I ask your forgiveness for coveting your funeral-It sure was a great one though.

Whoa, what a day...

Till next time my beautiful blogger/blogees,

just love,

Patrice

Just Love!

Love, Love, Love…all you need is Love, Love. Love is all you need!

I believe that the planet is now at a critical time in it's evolution. We will either transcend this oh so tired reality and glide into the fourth dimension where the fun really begins--OR we say bye- bye and give it another try in another time and place. I think that the time is Now to tell as many as possible that Love is really the only thing will save us...

Maybe the Divine-- God -- the Light-- the Source just needs to see that we want it badly enough, that enough of us have had our fill of these dark ages and the greed that creates chasms where many all over the world are so hungry that they don’t live through the night while others live in mansions with organic Whole Foods abundantly crammed in their fridges!

Come on, haven’t we all just really had enough???

So this is it gang-- the chance to change the whole course of action here-- let’s bring “ Heaven to Earth” Cause quite frankly, Hell is where we’ve been... all together now let’s just accept that yes, we are different religions, races, walks of life and we won’t always agree-- But we can still come together and rapture out/transcend (what ever you want to call your own private escape from the darkness)... Just what if enough of us one by one or two by two got out into the world and did our daily lives but with a deep awareness of keeping our hearts stretched wide open all day –every day?

We are the gatekeepers--- of the guests that arrive at our doors.... The negative voices, anger, jealousy, greed and pain are unwelcome guests and we need to realize that we cannot let them in at all ...They are cunning and baffling little rascals, them.

To indulge in the negative is to be disloyal to the Light--- If we have been given the gift of awakening, then we are spitting at that gift if we let ourselves go unconscious, back to sleep again...

The way out of the negative is not to fight or to even be neutral, the way out is to stay in a state of devotion and bliss as much as possible...When ever we are not in that state—we need to get there because that is our protection our essence ...in other words...Stay Awake! We cannot afford the price tag of constant pain. Trust me on this one- I have the battle scars to prove it.

That said, all we have to do is to Just Love! The rest my dear Earth family, just might be the happy ending... I mean Beginning for human kind... I for one am just so, so, so ready for a change, Are You???

Let’s just do it together. It will be fun, it is simple - easy to do and FREE. And Oh Man, when we see what starts to happen it is going to rock our world......We have all heard for oh so long about the power of love-- Time to take it up a notch and see what we can really do!

Just Love!

patrice

Not the Most Stellar of Days...

Empty nest, full moon, stopped prozac, menopause, winter, work frustrations, a bit bored, bathtub still not working, lonely and lost.
And how are you doing today?

Honestly, it has been a rough one . Tried unsucessfully to keep my spirits up and vibration high. I give myself an "F". Highlights of the day- major face licking/healing from Coco the weiner dog and husband Mark forced me to go take a walk to "get me out of the house". The sunset was truly georgous and I did allow the beauty of it to enter me for a minute or so.

Then Mark went Googling to find out just what the heck is wrong with his wife and he found a bunch of empty nest support group websites which he called me over to look at. There was some relief in the realization that I am not alone with this sadness. But it was bittersweet as I read the posts and kept comparing my story to theirs...Well at least she has four other kids at home, at least her kid is happy in college and not miserable and doing nothing at horrible ex- husbands house, at least her kid calls and emails her-- you get the idea. So the empty nest website started to make me feel worse and I moved on to making dinner.

Stepdaughter Marisa came home and bless her, Mark told her to give "stepmommy" a hug-- she did and I didn't let her go for quite a while. She is used to her very over- emotional stepmom having a meltdown of one sort or another so she hung in there giving me some extra special love back.

Cooked a great veggie tofu kashi dish that seemed to please everyone including the dogs. Then again, they never complain.

Going just one minute at a time these days. I know the deep spiritual breakthrough and healing are just around the corner. But which corner, where?

Sometimes I just want a big hug from the Universe. Sometimes I want to be a little crying baby that gets picked up and rocked till I fall asleep. Sometimes I want things that just don't happen.

I am tired of being big and strong and holding it all together. I like the idea of falling apart and getting put all back together but better. Tonight though, I feel more like Humpty Dumpty and all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put Humpty together again. I'm a mess.

If any of you right now are feeling a bit down-- I wish I could be that big warm hug for you--
So instead I am sending you all my love this way.

We'll get through it all....Together!

Just Love,
Patrice

Do Get Your Hopes Up!

Sitting on the deck this morning and listening to the chorus of birds, and mind chatter ( the birds by the way sounding so much better)  yet another Patrice pondering occurred and a question popped up. Ah, and then the beauty of a really good revelation. 

First the question-- Why were we always told " Don't get your hopes up.?"-Or one of it's many variations there-of, " don't get too excited, only time will tell, don't get too ahead of yourself!"

The logical answer is that whoever was telling us this ultimately really messed up message didn't want us to be disappointed and upset if said desire did not occur. 

But how ever well meaning this was meant to be, it was and is very bad advise. Following this directive-- you don't get any fun at all! 

Not only now did your dream not happen, but you didn't even get the joy of fantasizing about it happening. That sucks. Hey at the very least, when you have your hopes up-- YOU FEEL GOOD and that is a damn nice place to be.  And please don't even get me started on the fact that by "not getting your hopes up," you send out all kinds of icky universal emanations ( vibrations ) that certainly don't help and actually even hurt your chances of wondrous things happening! All has to do with energy frequencies and magnetizing. Trust me on this one. Feeling good = better chance of good things happening. 

It just works maybe not 100 % but I do know for sure that Keeping dreams DOWN certainly never helped anybody.

This moment of clarity came to me after I had just left a voice mail message for my girlfriend with some potentially very exciting news about my career. I noticed that as I was speaking, I kept defaulting back to the most minimal joy/excitement possible. "Now I don't know for sure- I could be wrong, it may not happen, I might be setting myself up... ." 

 So, as I hung up the phone, I heard that ancient rascal Voice, blasting his same old tune, "Don't get your hopes up!" and I think I had finally had just about enough, so I spoke up to Voice and asked, "Why the f--k not?

There was not one answer Voice could give me that wasn't tired- old school- negative- nasty- same ole' same oles'. Once more, for a short but blissful while, I was able to see through the illusion of the shadow and a glorious peek at possibility...

So in the spirit of this holy moment of clarity, I wonder this....

Brothers and Sisters,

If we could live most of the days of our lives with our hopes way up high--- all day, everyday as much as we possibly could-- well, just imagine how good we would feel and what might actually happen. You know, the hundredth monkey thing...

So during this amazing and historic week when there is that pulsation of maybe--just maybe...anything is possible--

I hereby give us all an invitation, blessing, permission. I call for a revolution! Let us all 

 Get Our Hopes Up! About anything and everything. Our dreams, wishes, deepest desires. Make our hope list and fill them in.  Then, (and enjoying every delicious moment of this next part)

 We get 'em up,  we get all them hopes up. Hope filled helium balloons that lift us higher and higher. Taking  us with them, taking us soaring....

Just Love,

Patrice

My "Vibration" and my Country- Ready for Change!

A very quick post ( for me!) on a very big subject.

 "written on election day - USA- early afternoon- no results yet soooooo....fingers crossed and then some!"

How's this for a lesson? Yet another!

I noticed that after my last few posts. Google's ads on my blog page were now for anti-depressant medications. You think that didn't get my attention?

 My vibration has been in dire need of an overhaul-- a serious makeover. The intense, always- in -some- kind -of -serious- angst- artist that is me has decided once and for all that happiness just might be worth exploring.

.

It finally hit me--  all my life, I have been a thrashing salmon swimming upstream--It's a wonder that ever got anywhere. I just need to start flowing downstream, be happy, go with the flow, stop fighting and "allow" all the treasures of the Universe to be mine!

This revelation comes on the heels of yet another "prosperity/abundance" book that I have been diving into lately.  The wonderful Abraham teachings as channeled through Esther Hicks!

And I'll be darned if it doesn't suddenly all make sense! Maybe the teacher came because the student was finally ready!

That said, I pledge happier, shiny posts showing you all my new energy vibration. Because I am going to give it a go-- by God!

 

Just because I have always had my "default switch" permanently set to worst case scenario. Does not mean that same switch can't also be flicked up to ain't life grand! And I think I am just the gal to do it!

This amazing shift in vibration can apparantly can all be done without me even having to dig through the muck of the past, or my bio chemical composition, my karmic debts, my current financial situation, or any of the other crap that I have ever let myself keep me from soaring into the Patrice kingdom of riches. In other words, no more excuses-- it is now or never.

 This stuff either is true or it is not. And since all the masters agree-- and for God's sake I know this- Why have I been such a difficult case???

Maybe I needed to do it this way, so that I could report back that yes it can be done. We really can-( even the toughest nuts to crack!) find our way back to Heaven. Even while still on Earth.

Since suicide has never been an option and there is whole lot of wondrous stuff to still explore, give, have, see, do and love... 

Patrice has decided that it is time to tell the negative voices to shut the f--k up! Read my own books, take my own deepest truths,  go where I know I need to go and that is-- to the same place where  the answers have always been.  I just need to remember to go hang out with Source/God /The Light. All day- every day. Period! The End. 

It is way overdue and I have finally suffered enough. Just like the USA.  Wow all this on Election day -- a historic day when collectively all over the world- we are seeing the beginning of because we were so ready for CHANGE!

 Hey, If the country can rally and  change in such a spectacular way- after the nightmare of the past few years---- well, so can I!

I will be continuing to keep you abreast of my new sparkly being and how that's working out for me. Wish me luck. 

 A toast now, with a goblet overflowing with loveliness, joy, peace and inlaid with gemstones of every color. To us one and all finding our way back HOME.

Post blog- Obama has it!  Tis' a good day for change! Oh yes we can...

Well Done America!

Just Love!

Patrice 

The Irony and the Om Ring That Came Back to Me.

 

I have a  little miracle story to share with you all-- that once more showed me that the Universe is Alive and Well and quite the rascal messenger!

 Okay so here's the set up for the story...

For many  years I was  the "spirituality" group leader at a number of the "celebrity rehabs" in Malibu, ( drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, mental disorders- you name it) An important part of my groups and individual sessions was guiding the clients on meditation voyages deep into their own sacred space within, soaring through the cosmos and everywhere in between.

I worked with Top athletes, Celebrities, CEO's of huge companies, Royalty, Trust Fund Babies and Trophy Wives. People spending upwards of 50k a month to be in treatment. Though abundant in material wealth, these folks were in  many cases utterly spiritually bankrupt. ( I on the other hand spiritually wealthy and financially broke!) Oh the irony of life sometimes is just too much!!

Any way these were temporarily broken spirits in need of healing. Their experiences in my meditations was stunning. They were having amazing visions, waves of bliss, many for the first time in their lives were understanding what a connection to Source/Spirit/God was really all about. I'm telling you that even some of the ones with the most cynical, empty, hurting, unwilling personalities were going on journeys with me that all their money and substances of choice never could. Let's put it this way --private jets can take you around the world- on of my meditations--the Universe!

So over the years many of the clients had asked me for CD's so that they could "take me with them" so to speak. That they could have some of the same wondrous experiences when they returned to their homes. In the hopes that one day I might get it together and actually record a line of meditation CD's ( which by the way,  I am finally doing!) Anyway,  I would sometimes remember to get some of their emails. Not many just a a few dozen or so.

Alright now--

I bring this all  up so that you understand that when I sent out a little one page email blast to these few emails asking for some financial support for my newly launched non-profit organization the Just Love Project and so that I could go into the studio and record these Cd's and keep this whole thing afloat-- that maybe someone might actually cough up some dough. 

So many times I was told by these clients," Patrice, you have changed my life!" So I really didn't think that it was inappropriate and it was for a good cause -after all to ask them if they would like to change someone else's. Starting with mine!

I sat there eagerly staring at the computer for the next week or so waiting to see what might unfold, sadly all I seemed to get back were automated responses saying that the email addresses I had sent to were no longer valid, one slap on the wrist from one of the old rehabs therapists saying it was wrong to be soliciting old clients-  oops-whatever! 

Let's put it this way. The response was underwhelming. 

UNTIL, I got my first ever email from the exalted web Fairy God Mother of the Universe PAY PAL  telling me that a payment had been made to my account.

Now this is where it all gets very curious indeed.

Along with this donation came a personal email. It was from a wonderful woman who shall remain  nameless , telling me that she had no idea how she had ended up on my email list of rehab clients ( I had started the letter explaining that I used to run the spirituality groups at the treatment centers in Malibu that "you" went to) but that she had received one of these emails. To this day, I have absolutely  no idea how she possibly ever ended up on the list either-- but get this!!!

 Nameless lady tells me that the reason she had donated to my cause was because of a ring I had given her years before. What? And then I remembered. Trust me, when I tell you that I got chills and goosebumps over every inch of my body and the angels sang.

Here is what had happened.

 One day, many many years before,   I had gone into a little herbal/ holistic product store to buy some sage. The gal that worked their seemed enthralled with my silver OM ring. We chatted about it, I said thanks and drove off. For days, God kept telling me to go back to the store and give her the ring.

I usually try to listen to what God tells me ( when I can shut up enough to hear Him/Her) so I did as told. I went back to the store, found the gal and told her that the ring was now hers and dropped it in her palm. Needless to say she was quite taken with this gesture. It really was no big deal to me- I liked the ring,  but I wasn't that attached to it and anyway it was  fun to see her so happy being given this unexpected gift. I had forgotten all about it, had never given it another thought until this night, now so many years later, reading her email.

She said that she had never forgotten what happened that day and that I had literally taken the ring off of my own hand to give to her.

So anyway she suddenly out of the blue gets this email from me ( she recognized my name) and sent me my one and only donation. The Universe brought her this unusual opportunity to thank me. She was able to give back.

As an aside, her response was the only one that I received. Hmmmnnnn.

 To me, It was a sweet and powerful reminder that we are all linked in ways so amazing and that acts of kindness ( even cheap little silver OM rings) come back to us to let us know once again that the wonders of the Universe are well, Wonderful!!

Oh, and do feel free to send donations! www.justloveproject.com

Just Love!

Patrice

Lions and Tigers and Blogs. Oh My!

So it all started out simple enough. I was tired of waiting for my new books to be published. After launching my first website finally ( I know, I know) I realized that I could have a link to a Blog. A what? I had read a few over the years here and there. The idea seemed so perfect. A way to keep my writing chops up and my creative juices busy. To create, share, journal and who knows maybe one day-- I would have enough good blogs that I would not have to 'write another book" but just string a bunch of my best blogs together and Voila! Book deal! Cha Ching!!! The cheating authors way of writing a book.

So it all sounded really fun and immediately gratifying and a little dangerous too. Being freely out there with my day to day confusions and revelations. This was going to be a wonderful creative and cathartic outlet. A simple way for me to be me, for you.

 But I had NO idea what a dizzying world I was entering. Like everything I embark on -- the all or nothing monster in me has once again come to life-- and suddenly it hasn't been about the writing anymore.  It suddenly has become INSANITY. And I am willingly entering the madness. Once more simplicity has gone by the way side as I have become consumed by Blogmania.

Between the templates and widgets, and gadgets and googets, fidgets , fadgets and moveits. And Adsense and no sense, "traffic obsessions", site feeds, pings and pongs, comments and followers, labels, keywords, font changes, color schemes, business schemes, blog fame( or how to get there),  search engine submissions, real time and flavicons and well Christ, that's just the beginning as I travel down the rabbit hole of  this new blogging world--

 Could it be any more overwhelming? Can you, can I, are there bloggers who keep it nice and simple and still have "sucessful blogs"?

Never mind,  I just answered my own question. It is up to me and if I don't want to be caught up in all this never ending, faster moving than I can handle medium, I can do it my way. Focus on the writing and my people will find me. Right? Make sense to you?

 Although at this point, a pen and a pad are sounding real good .

 Now I have to cut this blog short because I have some more and very vital blog info online to study.  Need I say more? 

For the love of God, all I wanted to do was write. 

Just Love,

Patrice