All this for a bowl of mac and cheese?

I am a pretty independent woman. There isn't too much that frightens me. But we all have our breaking point, that one surprising thing that pushes us over the edge and fills our bodies with a fear so strong that we are rendered immobile.

Recently, I was forced to stare down the source of my ultimate trepidation.

It was after 7pm and I realized I hadn't begun to think about dinner. I was already cranky from the pain in my ankle from jacking it up the night before in Krav. So I hobbled into my kitchen hoping to miraculously find a cooked three course gourmet meal waiting for me. Reality hit quick as I stared into an empty fridge and bare cupboards. I pulled from the depths of my echoing pantry my emergency box of 50 cent macaroni and cheese. I knew there was a reason I had kept that thing around.

Just as I poured my macaroni into the pot, I swiveled around on my one good foot to grab the milk and that's when I saw it.

A bee.....in my kitchen.

It was hovering above me intent on stinging through the plastic covering of the fluorescent lights. At first I thought the worst - I figured it was trying to lay eggs and I imagined waking up to a swarm of baby bees buzzing at my head. I just stared at it. It was so focussed on this one particular square that I was almost mesmerized by it relentless efforts to penetrate the plastic. Over and over again it tried to jam its stinger into the cover and flailed its wings - getting more and more angry. I watched and I watched.

And then I freaked out.

Over the years I've tackled spiders, roof rats, maggots, flour beetles (don't leave open flour in your pantry for five years) and countless lizards. I'm sure the bile crept up into my throat on some of these occasions, but I never felt this powerless, debilitating fear before. Instead of tapping into that strong independent spirit I pride myself on, I ran to the phone to call my daddy. I begged him to come over and rescue me from this fierce predator.

He wasn't having any of that. He told me I was being ridiculous and to just kill it. His thought was to swat at it and as it torpedoed towards me, I could squash out its life with my bare hands. Right, and have the stinger penetrate my hand? Not working for me.

My fear was that I would miss and anger it even more and it would go straight for my eyes since I was looking up at it. After much childlike whining, I heeded my father's advice and grabbed a can of hairspray.

So there I am in my kitchen wielding a huge can of hairspray, my dad is on speakerphone and I am shrieking so loudly I am annoying myself. At this point, I wouldn't have been surprised if my neighbors called the cops in fear I was actually being attacked.

The bee is still compulsively grinding away at the plastic. I aim the can and recoil about 19 times. All the while my dad is on the phone coaching me through this. Now, to his credit, he isn't yelling at me yet, but his annoyance is becoming more and more apparent. I am oblivious to his sarcasm as I am truly gripped by this tension filled apprehension I am feeling toward this bee.

By now I have convinced myself that it is actually a wasp and it is about to turn and sting me between the eyes and I am going to have a massive allergic reaction and need to be rushed to the hospital. I saw all those Tom and Jerry cartoons. I know the power of bees.

And then I remember a lesson I learned in Krav. A strike can't hurt you much if you don't have any air in your lungs. You can recover much quicker because the wind doesn't get knocked out of you. So, I figure this could work with a bee sting, right? I gather this huge breath and let out this massive gut wrenching primal scream as I take aim with the hairspray bottle.

All chaos breaks loose. My dad starts flipping out on the phone because I am screaming so much he thinks a band of wild boar must have found their way into my house and attacked me. He's yelling to find out what's happening, I'm yelling because the bee is flying about in frantic spasms and I am spraying everywhere in my kitchen.

The bee lands on top of my refrigerator and I can't see it. I grab a chair and hop onto it - realizing that my injured ankle is taking a brutal beating as it begins to swell again. The bee has found its way to the rubber seal on the top portion of my refrigerator door. But it won't die. It is still flapping around. Since I don't seem to keep much food in there, I figure hairspray can't do too much damage to the fridge. I close my eyes and unleash the rest of the can all over the door seal. The bee finally turns to its back, legs gripping the air as it makes its final peace with Mother Earth.

I grab about 50 paper towels and scoop it up - taking one final look at my nemesis. And as it is inches away from my face, the wings begin to flutter. The roar of terror that escapes my lips probably deafened all the dogs in the neighborhood.

Still on speakerphone, my dad has lost all patience with his inept, cowardly daughter. "Smash it. Smash it already and be done with it," he bellows into the phone. With my heart racing, I squash it up in the paper towels.

The silence is so profound that I can hear the swoosh as my lungs fill with air and the repetitive thud as my heartbeat struggles to slow down.

I looked up at my fridge to see the sticky, dripping mess this episode had left behind.

My ankle is throbbing. I am sweating. My father is laughing and my mac and cheese has boiled over.

Is Krav Maga turning me into a redneck?

I don't know much about guns. I've never really been a fan or felt the urge to even learn about them. Coming from a pretty liberal and wonderfully naive family, we tended to avoid any discussion that involved artillery. It didn't seem to be a necessity to expose ourselves to such a violent and hostile reality. I viewed guns as weapons that killed. They were dangerous and often mishandled and gun owners were reckless to leave them around where children could access them so easily.

My ignorance of guns caused me to fear them.

I immediately shunned the idea that people could shoot for sport. I threw out the notion that proper education and training could lead to safe gun usage. I shut my mind to any possibility of a positive relationship with a gun.

And then I began taking Krav Maga and I was exposed to gun defenses. I hated it. I was uncomfortable handling the rubber guns and it was awkward. The idea of being threatened with a gun had never even entered my realm of possibilities. I didn't take the gun training seriously as I had no situational knowledge to relate it to. This was so foreign to me and I could not figure out how to apply it to my own life.

I soon discovered that I was in the minority by not being a gun owner. Guns and Krav Maga seem to go hand in hand. It was a constant shock only to me when discussions turned to bragging rights about the contents of their own private arsenals. I had never known people who owned a gun or talked about it so openly.

Slowly, I could feel a shift in me taking place. I wanted to be exposed to this world I had always feared. I watched a few friends handle their guns in front of me and I was surprised as I began to feel a tingle of excitement course through my body. I knew I wanted more.

Turns out there is a gun called a Kimber. How fitting! I decided to find out for myself what all the excitement was about. I faced my fears and went down to the shooting range with some friends. My friend has a Kimber so I was super excited to have that as my first shooting experience. After an hour of gun protocol, proper handling and training, I was itching to get out there.

I had no idea what to expect and I let my body completely relax. As I squeezed that trigger and got the first shot off, I was stunned by the recoil. But I was instantly addicted. The power gripped my body and consumed me with an adrenaline force I had never experienced before. I couldn't get enough. I ripped of an entire magazine in seconds. I didn't have to think. I could just obliterate without thought. How strangely empowering.

My hands were pretty steady and I was focussed. I spent some time working on my aim and visualizing my target. It is amazing how the mind can drum up such specific imagery and then in a millisecond, you can destroy it.

I loved the smell of the gun powder and I relished in the sting in my eyes. My whole body was rigid with anticipation yet totally relaxed in execution. I can't wait to go back for more.

So I guess all these Krav Maga rednecks aren't as reckless with their guns as I had once thought! Seems like there is a method to their gun toting madness after all!

What is an apology?

a·pol·o·gy (saying you're sorry)

noun

1. An acknowledgment intended as an atonement for some improper or injurious remark or act.

2. A voluntary admission to another of a wrong or discourtesy behavior done to her, produced by a desire to regain lost respect.

3. Expression of regret for hurting someone you once bared your soul to.


Because it seems some of us have forgotten our manners.

What is a coward?

cow⋅ard

noun

1. a person who lacks courage in facing confrontation, danger, difficulty, opposition or pain, etc.; a timid or easily intimidated person.

2. a person who chooses selfish comfort or ignorance over actions and deeds that are good, true, and right, even when those deeds are difficult or frightening.

3. a person who is concerned more about preserving his ego than preserving the relationships he's built.

Just to be clear.

The Michael Franti Experience

There is life in this love
There is love in this life

I went to the House of Blues the other night to enjoy a Michael Franti and Spearhead concert. What I came away with was an experience that provoked a sense of responsibility, a fearlessness, a new insight that we are limitless in our opportunities.

The passion, the energy, the love for music and people and a better world just spilled over from this phenomenal icon of spirituality. It wasn't just a concert. It was an odyssey into the possible. The surge of true belief for a better world electrified the audience and we all became a part of this journey.

You could feel the music soar through your soul as your body responded with every beat. Standing still and silent was not an option. The sounds ignited every cell in your being and propelled you to express your acceptance of the unknown through movement.

It is so difficult to explain through words the transcendence of emotions I went through that night. It wasn't a moment or a word or a song. It was a collection of the remarkable energy that burst back and forth from stage to audience. We all became part of the solution. We all became one unit of power and belief. We all wanted to love life.

So many time people turn their backs to you
Cause they don't wanna see what's inside of you
Cause lookin' inside of you they might realize
There's somethin' in side of them they might not wanna find

He is so connected to his fans. He is so genuine and sincere and makes you feel that just by being there, you've strengthened his musical output.

Every musician played and sang to the limits of human capacity.

God is too big for just one religion

Up next: the ganja, the gyrating sex, the concert Krav moves

Broken & dented - he was never really mine to lose

“If you love something set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.“

But what if that something decides to leave on his own, before love is actualized?

I’m not certain you can lose something that was never really yours to begin with.

---------

I’m not sure anyone has ever told you before

I’d like you to know that you’re not the man you think you are

Outside you exhibit near perfection

All the while inside you are a wreckage of abused and neglected debris

I understand what it is like to be broken

As I’ve had to put my own pieces back together

That feels like ages ago

And now I am close to whole

Your own pilgrimage has finally begun

Casting truths to those well guarded and deeply tucked away secrets

“Why are you always so happy?”

Just asking me that shows me how shattered your soul really is

I look into your empty searching eyes

And know that the fault is not mine

Holding a gun and standing post, doesn’t give you strength

Character is born from the choices that are made in everyday life

You invited me into your past, forcing me to question

my own moral compass

As you dumped the evilness into my lap

Your past is a place I don’t belong

A place I never planned on trudging through with you

You explained away your uncertain future

Hiding behind systems and policies that were suddenly out of your control

I never pressured you to be part of this unpredictable journey

It was too soon to know if I even wanted to join you out in the unknown

All I wanted was your present; your today; this moment

But you’re too busy running from demons and chasing down simulated ambition

To realize that today is all I’ve ever asked for

Your busted up perception forces you to keep one eye staring

in the rearview mirror

While the other anxiously searches out a better tomorrow

Left blinded to what stands right in front of you

Shielding yourself from present day emotions

Choosing numbness over sensation

I married the military mindset once before

I know that I just don’t have it in me to do again

If that makes me weak or unkind or selfish

I’ll own it all.

This same self-indulgent narcissistic methodology came close to destroying me once

Who would I be if I allowed history to repeat itself, having learned nothing?

Could you wipe your conscience clean if you found the courage to answer why

You feel the urgency to volunteer to return to war once more?

Are you running to help a nation in crisis?

Or running away from a fear far greater than war?

…the dread of the unknown

…the horror of what comes next when war is no more

The answers you’ve been struggling to find

Don’t lie in the sands of Afghanistan

But you’ll soon discover

That those very questions you’re trying to escape from

will still be here to slap you in the face upon your return

Why did he get off the train?

At the last minute I decided not to drive. I was burnt out and just needed to clear my mind. I walked into the train station with my morning coffee, ready for a little adventure. Since I had never taken the train, I wasn’t really certain of what to expect. But my mind was wide open with possibilities and I was just thrilled not to be burdened with the stress of driving through traffic. I walked towards the platform, climbed the stairs and began looking for a suitable place to make myself comfortable for the next three hours until I got to Los Angeles.

I noticed him the moment I turned the corner and silently cursed myself for choosing the comfort of jeans and a sweatshirt over something a little more fashionable for the trip. I could feel his energy drawing me into his personal space. My first thought, “Scrumptious!” My eyes danced over his lion’s mane of blond hair.

I chose the empty row of seats in front of him and as I lifted my bags up to the storage bin I slowly turned and gave him a very deliberate glance. I smiled, lingering a fraction of a moment longer than socially acceptable.

I flashed my dimples and cast my gaze downward until I locked onto his. I managed an almost inaudible, “Hi.”

He grinned back and said hello. It was in that unscripted exchange that I knew instantly of our mutual desire for one another. With a warm glow burning inside, I slid into my seat and waited.

It had only been a moment’s glance, but already etched in my mind’s eye were those inviting green eyes sprinkled with flecks of gold. I dozed off with images of his sun drenched long hair flying recklessly in the wind, surfboard tucked under his arm running down the beach in search of the next perfect wave.

After two hours of daydreaming, I was yearning to experience more of the reality. As I got up to stretch in the back of the train car I turned to him and smiled. I could feel our eyes burning into each other’s soul, searching, wanting, and silently asking all those things strangers never ask each other.

When I walked out of the lavatory, there he was, his eyes teasing me and daring me to make a play. I could feel the lust rising in my throat as I was silently begging him to push me back into the small compartment, thrust me on the counter and quench this unspoken desire we had burning between us.

Instead I returned to my seat. Moments later he leaned over the seat and the quiet lusting took on a voice as we began to explore one another through seductive banter. The chemistry was palpable and our growing connection was deepening each time his eyes bore into mine. We both felt the synergy. We were acutely aware that this went way beyond a chance encounter. The meaning would be far greater than either of us would comprehend at that exact time.

He leaned in and with an urgent huskiness in his voice he told me how sexy I was. My insides danced and my pulse quickened. My body was throbbing with such an intense yearning that I could barely utter a word for fear that my erratic breathing would leave my raw hunger exposed. That same necessity to quench a developing craving was reflected in his eyes.

Our time was limited. His stop was coming up, his departure from my life imminent. He didn’t want to get off the train. I desperately wanted him to stay on with me, but uttered not a word. I wanted his lust to boil over from within him, forcing him to make the decision to stay. He was unsure of himself and I understood. The force of our sexual energy was making my head spin and our judgment was being marred by the fog of our sheer physical needs waiting to be fulfilled.

We felt the magnitude of importance to not let this gift of fate from the universe slip away. We just stared at each other, hoping the other would understand all the things we were too uncertain to put into words. The urgency of desire and the pressure of time were engulfing us. We needed longer to explore the realm of possibilities that were staring us in the face. Yet our own hunger was making it impossible to live beyond the present moment.

As the minutes ticked by we knew we were being tested. There were too many needs left unmet, too many questions not yet asked. And we were lost in a magnetic attraction where time and space held no boundaries. We pushed away the outer world and breathed in each other’s intoxicating essence until the final call for his departure was heard.

With momentary defeat and unfulfilled desire thundering in his chest, he reluctantly stumbled off the train with my number in his front pocket and the glimmer of hope that one day soon we would capitalize on this once in a lifetime chance meeting.

Discovering reality in all those erotic visions wasn’t to be this time around. And yet with every fiber of my being, I know that there will be another encounter where we will fully explore the depths of these fantasies.

So for now, I am content in the knowledge that every time he mounts his surf board and rides a wave, he’ll be imagining, contemplating, romanticizing and he’ll absolutely be smiling in wonderment.

Boundaries? What boundaries?

While my dad was busy succumbing to one of his greatest passions - laboring in the earth's soil planting flowers and gardening in his backyard, I was chatting with my mom on the telephone.

So goes the conversation:

Mom: "Your father just walked in from the yard. He is totally black from head to toe."

Me: "Oh that could be fun. You can go live out your fantasy of being with a black man."

Mom: .....silence

Me: (Laughing hysterically) "Believe me, it's pretty amazing."

Mom: "I think I'm gonna hang up now."