A Seven Day Thought Detox…

Hey there! Don’t go running away from this blog thinking I am writing about some Orwellian dystopic concept in which my THOUGHTS ARE BEING PURIFIED!

…Or, go ahead and run, because Orwellian or not, I am taking up a 7 day challenge: For seven days, I do not speak negatively about another person, I do not indulge in gossip, no negative self talk, and to check in on general negativity.

Now, I am not talking about pretending certain things aren’t going on for the sake of false “positivity” or some Pollyannistic Presentation of Life, nor am I talking about living in denial. I AM interested in the idea that if I engage in this 7 day challenge, I may not complete it perfectly, but I may discover some new ways I have been limiting my experience of love through negative attitudes, beliefs or thoughts, whether they be about myself or others.

Truth be told, this is my general policy, actually, to live according to this 7 day challenge. I work very hard to NEVER gossip and to replace any negative thought about my “self” (usually it shows up in the form of judgment about my legs) ASAP with a positive and true thought (My legs are so strong and powerful!) (I am love.) (etc.)

Before I accepted this challenge, I had for a few weeks and still now am doing some personal growth work in which I am listing EVERY THING, PERSON and SITUATION over which I have resentments, for the purpose of consciously asking my higher power to take my thoughts and feelings about those situations and change me into a person who learns, has boundaries, and then moves on in love and peace.

HA! Of course! This is just so like the cosmos, producer of such wonders as the stars and the blossoms and Shakespeare and the sonnets…

Why do I say it is SO like the cosmos?

Because for me, it would be easy to be doing my “letting go of resentment work” and just hide certain ones away for future negative rumination just when I least need and expect it. ;-p I like to think I’m soooo enlightened but I’m still in this human body full of secret memory cards tucked away in various cells and systems and let me tell you: those unwanted visitors pop up whether I want them to or not, reminding me of my resentments! They may show up in the form of unawareness and mistakes and accidents, or disease, or unconscious communication in the heat of the moment.

This is such an exciting prospect for me. One thing I have learned about myself is that I LOVE handing my life over to the divine, because it always works out better than I could have imagined and, quite honestly, is incredibly liberating. All I have to do is what is in front of me, with love/ compassion/ boundaries and as much awareness as I am capable of rising up to experience. Yup! That’s it. That’s my whole way of life. And so far, since consciously and consistently practicing that way of life, I have had some amazing growth, moments of grace in times of tribulation, and of course, as an added bonus, I met my hot Italian partner that way as well.

There are some areas of my life where I am aware that I hold myself back, where I am a bit dissatisfied and maybe even dismayed at my actions, and where I want to challenge myself to be more loving. One of these areas is surrounding friendships. I am so very lucky to have some wonderful longtime friends that I feel are like soulmates, and yet I honestly feel that I could be more loving toward the friends I DO have, and more understanding and compassionate about certain friends with whom I have what I will call “strange feelings.”

I know my persona in the world is one that is VERY friendly, and I LOVE people, lots! But I also am, honestly, pretty darn guarded about the inner circle of friends. This isn’t always a bad thing, because I certainly don’t need to be taken advantage of… that wouldn’t be true love, at least not in my book, because true love doesn’t ENABLE others. And yet…

As much as I am loath to admit it, sometimes, when it comes to friendships, I know I put up a lot of barriers. Again, part of this may just be- I mean- I need a lot of alone time. I really rejuvenate by being alone in nature, and I am not a super social animal but have cultivated the social butterfly wings very consciously as part of my desire to experience more life! I have to gear up to go to a party! Not because I don’t love the people there but because it takes a lot of energy for me to be around a whole lot of people at once! Performing is totally different. I am in my milieu on stage, and the audience gives me energy. But being one of the many such as at a party or out in public takes a lot of energy for me! And as an extension of that introversion, it takes a long time for me to create long lasting friendships.

So back to this 7 day thought detox. First day, right out of the gate, I wake up dreaming of an estranged friend from my history and a also another friend from more recent years with whom I have… strange feelings.

LOL I just realized strange feelings could sound so sexual. NOPE not what I meant. Just clarifying that for the purpose of this blog!

STRANGE FEELINGS, meaning, there is not yet a total bridge of complete and utter trust. One or both of us has an agenda that is either not revealed or not of service to us/ the relationship. The person may simply remind me of past hurts, or, in the instance of the dream, both friendships were hurtful to me through means of betrayal IN MY MIND. I could tell you the whole story and convince you that I was betrayed but that’s a waste of time whether or not it is true. I don’t want to sit and convince myself that I am right about terrible things happening to me! I would rather look at the ways that I and/ or we (my friends and I) allowed enough unawareness and miscommunication to get in the way of love.

In this dream, these two friends of mine were living together (something that could never happen in real life if only for the drastic distance between all of us!) and trying to get me to be their third roommate. I was driving everyone crazy because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to live there or not. I worried they would take advantage of me and yet I really wanted to just be in a sorority with them and share in the love. They were rolling their eyes and didn’t understand why I thought they would ever take advantage of me, ever!

And that’s why this detox commitment is so beautiful. I have consciously agreed that I will not say negative things about others (or self) and for me, because I almost NEVER SSSSAAAAAAYYYYY anything- out loud!!!- lol- it is also about feelings of ill will or negative thoughts. That includes, “that b!@#$ screwed me over!”

So here’s what I did instead of thinking “that b!@#$ screwed me over” or the passive aggressive or hidden version of that. I have done PLENTY of journaling about these folks, and of course the sting of what happened has come up a few times (meaning fresh incidents with each of them) since the initial struggle. So rather than continuing to write about my feelings being hurt- because I have acknowledged that- I asked myself:

What am I gaining holding on to my hurt feelings and resentments?

I must be gaining something, right? Or else I wouldn’t hold on so tight any longer.

Like, I try to remind myself about one former boyfriend who WAS abusive- not to perpetuate the anger- but so that if and when he ever calls again I feel confident ignoring his phone calls. He may have changed or grown and that will be great for him, but I don’t need that energy in my life! I set that free, with love and hope for a healthy future!

Why can’t I do the same with these friends? Is this conscious grieving a lost relationship or hurts within that relationship? Or is this a hobby and a habit at this point?

I went for a jog during which I thought, “God, change me. Change me into the woman who no longer harbors these resentments. Change me into a woman who is loving and free, who doesn’t need to prove anything to them or have anything proven to me. Free us all of these shackles and let unconditional love be the only energy present between us.”

Let’s see if it works! I figure, at the end, at least I can let go of a grudge. Some people in my life have told me they think grudges are important or justifiable and I am of an opposing viewpoint: they do nothing for you, the grudge holder. A grudge is a prison of your mind and your heart. You are subject to that prison as long as you hold on to that grudge. I want to walk free, and I want you to walk free, too!

Tonight, in my dreams, maybe we will all just go to Disneyland together, and part ways at the end of the day with smiles.

In the meantime, Have a great day, and good luck!

This video is presented as an affirmation that I love my legs. :) 

The Mabel Way

I have written a lot about my lovely grandmother, Mabel, who manages to seep into my daily life and thoughts despite having passed 20 years ago! She's the gal who taught me to collect 4-leaf clovers and would give me a "penny for your thoughts," so that every time I see a penny, I feel her participating in my life and remember how she would very actively engage me as a young girl. Through that simple act of asking and exchanging, she encouraged me to communicate my ideas to other people and so, these days, I don't let those pennies remain on the ground. I like to pick them up and spread them around, because to me, a penny isn't just a cent. It's a thought, a feeling, an idea, an experience.

So, I have been thinking a lot lately about what she taught my mother and therefore what my mother taught me, which is that you don't have to LIKE every person, but you do get to be KIND to every person. True love doesn't enable bad behavior, but it does love them.

During my last trip home to see my parents, my mother recounted a conversation she had with Grandma during Grandma's last days. Mom said something along the lines of... oh, I don't know exactly of course, but something like, thanks for being such a wonderful grandmother to all the little ones. And Grandma said, "I worked at it."

That was a big surprise to my mother when she heard it, and me when I heard it, because we all thought Grandma was just, well, Grandma!

Now, maybe it was her clever and blithe spirit teaching all of us (me and my mother) a little lesson or maybe it was true, but I see that the more I practice- work at it- the more fun it is to love everyone. Yes! Fun! Even the tough ones.

I remember a story about Grandma and a heavy breathing phone caller back when my mom and her sisters and brother were little kids. My mom and her siblings were kids in the 60s, and so the house had one phone and no caller ID back then, of course. Someone would call.... SOMEONE..... but who? This person would call on the reg, and start breathing heavily into the phone. Of course, this person only did that if one of the girls answered- it was a house of four daughters! They would never do that when it was my grandfather answering the phone. In those moments, the caller simply hung up.

Now, since we don't know, and never did find out, who knows if the caller was a pimply neighbor kid down the street pranking them (I did tons of that as a kid!) or some creepy pervert or somewhere in between or worse. But I do know, those phone calls TERRORIZED my aunts and mom! They would freak out when the call would come.

Finally, one day, the call came, one of the girls answered, the breathing started, her eyes got big and she pointed the phone. "It's him! It's him!" she whispered loud enough for the house to hear.

My grandmother got on the phone.

"Hello?" she answered?

(I can just imagine her sweet voice, instantly engaging the person across those lines....)

Heavy breathing.

"Hello?" she answered again. She paused, then said, "You know, you must be a very sad and lonely person. I feel so bad for you, having to call people this way and behave this way just for some attention. If you're bored, there are libraries just full of books. I really hope you find some way to make some real friends, and not have to bother other people like...."

Click.

I can just see her beaming smile as she replaced the receiver...

So, we've all had some version of the phone prank, or the heavy breather. And it isn't always as relatively... dare I say innocent? At least... NOT dangerous... as this situation.

But what I love about this example is that my grandmother not only refused to be intimidated, she responded lovingly and somewhat passively and sarcastically but without losing her temper and without getting upset. In other words, she owned the phone, baby! She took the power back, and was lovingly forgiving while still letting that heavy breather know he (presumably) was pathetic and should find a better hobby.

That heavy breather never called back.

I think about that because of life in Los Angeles in 2014.

I watch people losing their $%^& (I can't say temper, as my wonderfully couth Grandmother would approve, because here, it is $%^& they are losing!) on the roads simply because someone else doesn't drive as fast as they prefer, or because someone lingers two seconds at a stop light. I watch myself engage in that activity and catch myself. Not only does me getting mad in my car do NOTHING to improve traffic, it worsens my mood (not to mention my blood pressure levels.) It is one of the LAST arenas in which I catch myself being a brat, even if only I notice.

But traffic is an easy example. I think about how temperamental people get in public places, with their spouses, with themselves!

And the temper tantrum occurs and the rage feels justified and it seems like it gets it all out but really, doesn't it just more deeply justify the next instance of unhealthy behavior in your pattern?

And then I think of the Mabel Way. She just owned that heavy breather. She didn't have a temper tantrum on the phone even though she was angry at the caller for terrorizing her children and wasting her time. She didn't give HIM that power, nor HER that level of stress. She just said, "I feel bad for you."

Lovely, loving, and strong.

Maybe worth trying on a grand scale!?

........
      Penny for your thoughts?





XOXOXOOXOX

Erin

Singing, and Writing about Singing

I know only that I felt the impulse this morning. I awoke early with the buzz in my ear. I know that buzz. It's somewhere between an angel's sigh and a low hum. It's quiet, until I remove my attention from any other thought (traffic. the phone is ringing. rent is due soon. Oh, $%^& rent is due soon.). It is so easy NOT to listen to the hum (Oh, rapturous!) and instead let the LOUD hum of the collective human thought take over... but I choose the call of creation because I believe that by tuning into nature, or somewhere out there beyond right and wrong, or, wherever this hum will lead me today... I can at least change MY life for the better and more beautiful, if not someone else's.

Also, because I have, for most of my life, found that if I choose the hum of disconnected, random human thoughts that aren't called forth from my heart, I am very unhappy. So. Heart it is.

I am not one to believe that my thoughts are real. Oh, I can sometimes buy into them but as quickly as I can I pull out. Why? Well, I ask you, why not? Believing that your thoughts are real is dangerous because then when your thoughts change- and they will- just by dint of being alive you will learn something new. Trust me. Even the most religiously faithful to living according to "old ways" canNOT truly live that way because of the mere existence of cell phones and airplanes. Anyway back to this- when your thoughts change- or, rather, the world changes ITS thought but you only partially change YOUR thought, well then, you may just build up anger, resentment, and fear like plaque on your soul.

I don't really believe in plaque on your soul, either, but it's a fun metaphor to loosen up patterns that no longer work for me.

So talking about this and living this are two different things and for me, that is where writing, singing, and songwriting come together. Because through the act of listening, and then writing down what I hear, I get to practice dipping into the {collective} or "source" or UNIVERSE or the muses or whatever we want to call it- and then channel it into "individuality" if only for a moment. i.e. THROUGH this body and all its patterns and habits and growth.

Last night I sang at a beautiful little space off Sunset Boulevard. Charlie Chaplin's old house, in fact. It's now a light-filled wine bar literally three feet from one of the most famous streets in the world. Across the street from the Chateau Marmont and steeped in Hollywood lore. I love Hollywood, similarly to how I love literature. It thrills me, pains me, takes me on journeys and I wanna be a part of it. AND I know that it is not so much "REAL" as much as it shows me who I am at this moment by response to it.

See, this is, I think, the thing about thoughts, and life, and people, and art, and sports and politics and all the rest of it. Really, all any of it/ us is/are ever doing is showing us who we are. I am NOT conservative, I AM a bohemian, I am NOT a bohemian that doesn't use deoderant, Or blah blah blah whatever. That would be the outer personality of an Er-Bear, well, this Er-Bear anyway! I happen to know through the miracle of Google there are lots of other Erin Muirs out there and lots who identify with the nickname Er-Bear. And I know one Erin Muir at least is pretty conservative and definitely NOT a bohemian (she's military- and a very cool chick I might add!) And guess what. I look at her and I see me, parts of me. And I lose a little judgment and enter more understanding and then,

I write a song.

And then I sing that song.

Like last night.

Last night I had the most beautiful band. Great musicians. Great souls. The people who came to hear me sing are among my favorite people in the land- true friends among them- new friends. And there were moments when I just felt we were flying. I have this thing where, when it's good, I have no idea what I will sing next (and the song could be Happy Birthday!) I have no idea what I am writing next- I just let these words tumble out- and it is electrifying and terrifying and beautiful.

So something about last night- the way the late afternoon sun filtered through white curtains and white walls- the way the traffic outside would speed and then slow and people would poke their heads in to hear what was going on- the way I could look at everyone in their beautiful eyes and feel a shared moment- whether or not that was love I - well it was, really. It was all love. It was all love.

Imagine Graduation

There are so many beauties I want to share with the world, with you... I feel so full of love and creation that you might think I was pregnant. (I am not.) Well, one could say I am always pregnant with artistic ideas, songs and poems, and wishes of love for this old world. Today I am especially in love, that orange slice moon low-hanging in the sky, the Angeleno skies crippled for stars but rich with choppers. How can I be so moved in a place so unpoetic as a trash lined Victory Boulevard two blocks from three 7-11s? I don't know, but I can be, and I am, and the world is brilliant with possibility even in the urban quickening of foggy night.

Tonight was a beautiful evening. I had the privilege of performing as a guest singer at the high school graduation party of a young man who has cerebral palsy. While that may be the first thing anyone notices about him, it is certainly one of the least of his defining aspects of life. Throughout the evening, everyone shared in toasts and in conversation about this young man's joy and zest for life. He gave a speech himself (through the use of a computer tablet that he types into and which then "speaks" his words) that was so wonderful. He shared with us all how important he thinks education is, how important it is to read and communicate and share music. He told us never to give up, that you can do anything you want if you put your mind to it, and that to remember that no matter what, "Life is beautiful."

There is another reason that this moment held SO much meaning for me:

Most of you who know me, or have read my blog at all, know that in my teens I struggled with eating disorders, depression, thoughts of suicide and even went through various therapies and rehabilitation to overcome those issues. It was a long road, but I succeeded. I am today a very happy, healthy, positive woman who knows how to live life fully. I want always to be giving back and to help others in need.

And by the way, when I say it was a long road, well, the time may be relative, but it was a lot of work on myself and my attitudes toward life. It wasn't an intellectual decision to "get better" that did the trick, although that was part of it.... it wasn't something that I just one day decided to "get over." It took a lot of work, meditation, spiritual transformation, prayer and miracle (in my case, at least.) But I get it, I do, and I am living proof that, as Shakespeare said through Hamlet, "use can almost change the stamp of nature." Meaning: change your thoughts, change your life. (Thanks, Wayne Dyer!)

So, when I was at my worst point in life, when I thought it was not worth living anymore (but I didn't want to hurt my mother that deeply,) and I had just left college and being a music major and was stuck going to shrinks and group therapy and living at home and trying to come up with any reason why I should go on living, there was a TV show that I watched with my sister. This show made me laugh and laugh and laugh. In fact, it was one of the only things in life that I looked forward to at that time. It sustained me for quite some time, until I could get up enough on my own inner sense of courage to get back to my life. I can't say that it saved my life, because what saved my life is part mystery, part family support, and partly my own inner need to fulfill my life as a singer/ performer/ writer. But I can tell you that this show was one of the ONLY things that made me happy.

So, flash forward to years later. It was around 2012, or 2013, when I met this boy with cerebral palsy. I met him because he was a fan and then friend of a dear musician friend of mine, and soon, he would also listen to my music as well. It was months before I learned that his mother was the star of that TV show I loved.

One day, at a concert my friend was hosting, I ran into her. She said to me, "Just so you know, my son listens to your music on YouTube every time. Sometimes five, six, seven times a day." I didn't have the courage to tell her then- and I still haven't had the courage, but maybe an opportunity will arise and I will be able to say to her- how amazing it is that SHE HERSELF gave ME so much joy at a time when very little made me happy, and now it is an honor that I get to give back to her child. The fact remains that I almost didn't make it in life, I almost didn't go on living, (the stories of how and when I neared death will be saved for another time, or perhaps never, because they are not heroic nor to be glorified, but shared only with the intention of healing other hurt hearts...) and this is perhaps one of the most amazing gifts from the divine; a connect-the-dot from her heart to my heart to her child's heart through time and space... how could I have known while living in Minnesota all those years ago that I would someday be able to give back in 2014 in California? How amazing is this life? How wondrous these unseen events, this blue orb in the heavens spinning with so many delights! Oh, if only we can stay a little bit longer than we think we should, just to see the light dazzle in another's eyes, the song linger in all our ears. For if I had done the deed and had not lived, I would never receive this moment, this "proof" that it was all for some very important reason that each of us was put here on earth.

The young man said it himself. Life is beautiful.

As some of you know, I am currently singing as Cynthia Lennon in a new musical about John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Sometimes I think about John Lennon and all the good that I know and all the less than great (I am loath to say "bad") that I have learned and I think, we are all just trying! We are all so human. And then a moment of purity comes along and I feel that hope I discovered as a young girl, sitting down to play my mother's favorite song at the piano when I was about ten years old; the song with which we closed the evening tonight, that everyone joined in and sang along with, whether they were 6 or 60, in a wheelchair or walking, man or woman, parent or child....

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one


I hope you are so inspired to bloom where you grow. Make your music, bang your drums, cook and sing and write and paint and run and jump for joy. I love you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVg2EJvvlF8

Everyday Miracles

As the ubiquitous "they" say, AH! THE HUMANITY!

Of course, I mean my own humanity. It's been an interesting few weeks- most recently I have been transforming as a person in a quiet way. After last year's bout with walking pneumonia and the resulting exhaustion, I have consciously changed my life to eat cleaner and purer, breathe slower, and not take on so much. It's not that I love stress. I love my artistic passions! And therefore I love to do a lot and get carried away- but- more than that....

Last night in my acting class, my teacher pointed out something about the "way I learn" that, in a circle of thought, I realized was holding me back from not only "career success" but further enjoying my personal life. She pointed out that I don't celebrate my wins, that I don't study regularly, and that I therefore don't have consistency.

I don't. Ever since I was a kid, I just got stuff in school really fast and ended up skipping out on stuff that at first was too easy for me, but later, it became a problem. If I wasn't instantly the best at something it wasn't worth my time. Therefore I ended up rebelling against anything that was either a) too easy or b) I couldn't do right off the bat. And THEREFORE I missed out on a lot of normal life stuff. Like normal high school dating. Never did it. Normal studying and a normal college experience? Oh, no, mine was fraught with brilliant papers and rehabs.

Look. It's hard to talk about yourself objectively, but I am so excited about last night's revelation. I was doing everything in my power just to receive the critique. It was in response to a scene gone WAY OFF THE RAILS and an evaluation of the fact that I'm either HIT or MISS in class. I don't have grey zone. I didn't beat myself up, as I consciously do not do that. But I noticed the next rung on the ladder of emotional and psychological practices that do nothing for me:

Ye Olde Pity Party.

Ah, that old game.

But instead of it being the usual rigamarole, (I'm misunderstood, I never got to fulfill my dreams and go to the college I wanted, blah blah blah) it was: I have worked against myself all those years, not allowing myself to go through the pain of learning day by day, of doing normal things. In a way my life has been magical because of my strange stubborn attitude that everything must be magical and beyond amazing in my life... a life of literary proportions... but... now I see that so much of that was running and hiding and rebelling from a fear of being.... usual... normal... boring.

Oh, how wrong I was, though! First of all, I'm nor sure anyone is actually any of those things.

Second of all, by whose standards?

And thirdly, in my attempt to have an amazing life, I seemed to have forgotten that my life is based on my humanity.

Ah. Oh.

So, in my effort to "change my script," which is what I am doing every time I catch myself being negative, being a disbeliever and misanthrope, being upset by the world... I rewrote my life story thusly:

I am so excited to get to practice love in every moment, whether I am on stage singing or washing the floors or at my day job or having an ice cream. Each moment is precious, I see that now, and I am willing to be of service to Divine Love in whatever form NATURE so brings it. My intention is to use the best of my gifts as an artist to be of service to the Love, and I will simply flow with my passion an allow the river to carry me where I must go. I will ask humbly to remove any blinders that get in my way and I am grateful for the opportunity to have fun doing all of this.

That was last night.

This morning, as usual, my dog Henry and I went for our long walk through the secret passageways of the Valley, a long pathway full of sage and lavender and flowers and sunlight and trees and shadows, butterflies and birds and the occasional passerby. 

As I walked, I realized that my pity party had been hiding another poison, and that was, I was tallying up all these resentments and angers in my head... all the ways people had acted against me... I was building an entire case- not even consciously! Just ruminating on all of it. I stopped short as the smell of Jasmine from last night's bloom wafted mysteriously in the air. And then I asked if please, all of my anger and resentment would please just be taken from me. Please. I didn't want it any more. None of it. I didn't care if I was right or wrong, I just didn't want that anymore. I wanted to be of peace and love, of service to music and acting and writing, a poet of joy and service. I didn't, and don't, want those old stories to have meaning for me. I wanted to let it all go.

I exhaled and

at that exact moment, on my iPod, of thousands and thousands of songs,

what should pop up but Stuart Sharp's Angeli Symphony...

Those of you who don't know the story, please, visit www.angeli.tv and learn of this amazing tale... a man with no musical ability whatsoever dreamed of a symphony written by the angels upon the death of one of his children, and he struggled for years and overcame many obstacles in order to have the London Philharmonic record his beautiful symphont.

Of all songs, that one!

Not just a song, but 30 minutes of divine music, of proof positive of the ability of humans to transform and triumph in love with the help of spirit and, one another....

I smiled all the way home, and as soon as I got here, I sat down to write this. I just couldn't wait to share it with anyone who wanted to read or hear.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6Oy7EQnNAk

With Apologies to Shakespeare

This has been a constant subject of conversation lately, and while I would love to write an astute and pithy article about marriage and motherhood, and the disparity of opinions between my married friends in their 50s (married 20-30 years) and my married friends in their 30s (married 5-10-15 years) in regard to what *I* should do (you will be surprised who tells me not to do it!) (And my parents NEVER enter in an opinion. They respect my freedom to make mistakes and winning choices both on my own)... the case is, at the moment, I can only present this light hearted monologue which I discovered in a little known {haha} play by some obscure Elizabethan scribe...

With apologies to Will, here it is...



SCENE 1. A Room at The DaySpa

Enter Single Gal in long term relationship.



SINGLE GAL 
-->

To Mother, or not to Mother: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The diapers and showers of outrageous fertility,
Or to take arms against a sea of hormones,
And by opposing prevent them? To get pregnant leads to sleep
No more; and in losing sleep, say we also end
The mani pedis, dates, and the thousand nights out with friends
That woman’s flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd-  To avoid impregnation, to sleep-
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of solitude what dreams may come
When we have shuffled through this fertile window,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of still impregnable life…
For who would bear the whimpers and screams of babes,
The spouse's wrong, the in laws’ contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the doctor's delay,
The insolence of school and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When she herself might her quietus make
With a good massage? who would weight gain bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary 40^th week,
But that the dread of something worse than swollen feet,
The undiscover'd nursery from whose bourn
No singleton returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those bad dates we have
Than fly to solid partners and crying babes that we know not of?
Thus family, biology, hormones and men do make mothers of so many;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of morning sickness

And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the little black dress, size 4.

Happy Birthday, Mabel!!!!

March 14th, 2014

It's my Grandma's birthday. Well, it would be, if she hadn't passed away 20 years ago. She was only 67 when she died.

These days in Hollywood, most guys that age think they are the perfect age to date me and my girlfriends. I'm being flip, but boy is this a weird world when you think about it. The year the gov invented the age of retirement was based on the average life span at that time. Now, people are living, working, WOWING well into elder years.... I'm thinking of Elaine Stritch at the moment, the Broadway performer I just saw in a great documentary.... she's still gorgeous, vivacious, hilarious, beautiful.... and sexy! In her late 80s....

Well, back to this blog about Mabel. See, I was prompted to sit down and blog a little about her, but I don't have a specific A, B, C plot point-with-twist ending story line in mind. Usually, when I'm about to blog about something or someone, I have in mind already the vision for its unfurling. We're winging it together here, now.

Some of my family say I am just like my Grandmother. That's a huge compliment. She was a woman of magic and fun. She was the original four leaf clover collector. She would stay up late playing Trivial Pursuit and poker and watching old movies only to go out fishing just before dawn. She always loved to be where the fun was at and I mostly remember her eating Cheetos and drinking Pepsi and coffee.

And she smoked. That's what killed her, in fact. She died of Emphysema at that terribly too young to die age of 67. More about that in a moment.

Because she didn't die before she instilled in me a very few important things. She instilled in me a sense of wonder, and a love of learning. Of course she was the gal behind my passion for the classic films. She was a member of the Greatest Generation and they were HER movies. They became mine, too. :) By the time I was 12, I preferred Clark Gable to any Tiger Beat idol. I was a weird kid, but my Grandmother encouraged me to reach out and share my idiosyncracies with others. Now, as a grown up, I'm still definitely "different" than most people I meet, but I love these differences as well as I love to look for the similarities.

I wonder what it's like to be an older person. My mother is in her young 60s, and she says it's great, because you care less and less what other people think of you. :)

My grandmother lived with us right before she passed away and I spent a lot of time with her. I feel it was a huge gift as a 'tween girl to see illness, dying and death up close and personal. First of all, since she died of emphysema due to 50 PLUS years of smoking, I have never smoked. The death that smoking leads to is not fun and not easy. It is painful and tragic, completely stealing your breath away. It's terrifying and sad.

I also got at a very early age that life can be short- too short. That you only get these few moments and then it's gone. We all "know" that in our minds, but do we LIVE that in our hearts? Is it important?

I don't know. It's a great experiment that I am trying.

My aunt recently said to my mother that "Erin is most like Mom [Grandma], don't you think?" My mom responded, with honesty, "She has twice the risk taking and half the common sense." I laugh, but it's true. But it's also the gift of my generation. I don't have to be married with five kids unless I choose that. That was her life and she loved it. I know she did because she told me story after story about her time during World War II, about working at an ice cream shop, about meeting my Grandfather and getting married and having kids, about making a dime stretch as long as a dollar. About sewing the first bikinis and the surprise about Rock Hudson being gay. And all of this she told me with great respect for her fellow humans.

I am like her, I think, because I have learned (slower than she did, and after a lot of trial and error) that THIS MOMENT IS PRECIOUS. And I live accordingly. And if I forget just a little, the universe seems to conspire to quickly bring me back into alignment to CHOOSE JOY and CHOOSE LOVE. See, I practice these things as a way of life, consciously. And I think she was just, in a way, ahead of her time, and in another way, completely of her time in regards to living each moment with as much love and fun and integrity as possible.

She died over the course of a few days. Really, she died very slowly, over the course of weeks, months, and even years. She tried to quit smoking, I remember, many times. It's a very hard one to quit and I wish you would all quit immediately if you do smoke. My boyfriend recently told me I was very strict and hard core with my attitude about cigarettes, but I will skip, for now, sharing the gory details about cleaning up bloody phlegm from my best friend and favorite person at age 11.

The night she died, a few of my aunts were visiting. Some things are sacred and that feels too sacred to share here and now, except this: I remember praying so hard to God, asking if my Grandmother could just get well, or at least live a little longer. But I knew how much pain she was in. I knew, in my tender child's heart, without understanding on an intellectual level, she was going and it was a saving grace. I only wished I could have told her better how much I loved her and, also, I remember thinking I would not be a brat anymore. (I did have a temper now and then.) It matured me. I wasn't afraid of the fact that people died any more, but I was afraid that I wouldn't truly live, and I felt bad for others who didn't get to fulfill their lives, either.

I think that night she died, without saying it or realizing it fully, I became a true lover of life.

Happy birthday, Grandma. I'd eat some Cheetos on your behalf and find an ice cold Pepsi in a glass bottle, but, I'm a health food freak. (That one I got from my Mother!) So instead, I dedicate the next 100 four leaf clovers and the three songs to you.

I Love You Always,

Erin

Me and Valentine's Day

 

“No, no, your girlfriend is just pretending she doesn’t want anything for Valentine’s Day…”

Guess how many of my boyfriends (not current, I only have ONE boyfriend currently, haha!) (I mean throughout the history of the men I’ve dated!) have reported back to me such comments during discussions with others about February 14^th!??!

All but one.

I am talking here about long term, serious relationships. I am talking about guys that met my parents. I am talking about men I love(d) and who love(d) me.

These are men rich and poor, foreign and local. From Little Falls, MN. From Naples, Italy. From Dusseldorf, Germany.

Only one man ever voluntarily celebrated Valentine’s Day by buying me something, and guess what?

That was and remains PERFECTLY acceptable to me.

Whahaaaaa?

I hope I don’t get banned from Hallmark’s for saying this, but, um,

I don’t really care.

“Wait a second,” you may be asking yourself now, “WHO is writing this? Is this Erin? What have you done with Erin? The one who extols the virtue of romance? The one who wrote a whole goshdurned 90 minute show about love? The one who sings, and not with any shame or hint of sarcasm, Celine Dion’s ‘The Power of Love’ in public?”

Yup. Me. That one. THE ROMANTIC.

Now let me tell you another secret.

I LOVE Valentine’s Day.

As a kid, this was my favorite holiday.

I loved buying Valentine’s and creating a special little “mailbox” made out of a show box, all covered in red construction paper with pink hearts and doilies. I love candy, chocolate, romance, perfume, all things girly and sexy. I love love. I love Valentine’s Day.

But I feel like I, like so many gals and perhaps guys, are sick of the EXPECTATION of spending money on V-Day.

I loved the cards and little notes as a kid, and in retrospect, because in order to take the time to sit down and write “to Gina, from your friend Erin,” something moves from within. Even if I’m doing it because the teacher said so, I am spending a moment to think about Gina. I am taking a moment to honor her in my life. I may even think about the fun times we’ve spent and think about how fun the upcoming birthday party will be. Who knows…

So I love the intention of Valentine’s Day, I do! I truly do.

And I don’t even mind the spending money thing. In fact, I think for certain businesses, it can be a great boon. For example, as a singer of romantic songs, this is one of my busier times for gigs! One of the day jobs I have had includes massage therapy. Another big time for extra work. As a small business owner, I certainly appreciate people wanting to invest in what I have to offer to shower their love on another person.

But I am not pretending when I tell my boyfriends, “I don’t care if you don’t buy me flowers for Valentine’s Day.”

That’s not why I am dating them. I am not dating them so that I get stuff on February 14^th.

I WILL celebrate this day, because I love love love love LOVE. I will wear pink and red and send cards and notes. I will call my niece and nephew. I will also be working, helping other people share their love.

But I won’t encourage anyone to be forced into consumerism as a display of love.

Least of all the man I love!

I can buy my own flowers, if I want them.

I prefer to let people be moved to give me gifts or send me notes or NOT. Whatever is intrinsic to THEM, be it friend, family or beau.

p.s. I have been very lucky in my life to date men who always said “I don’t need a holiday to be romantic” and were honest in saying so… But it’s the EXPECTATION of someone having to turn into something they are not that causes so much frustration in love. Find ways to love the person in front of you without needing them to want the same things you want. Just try it. And if you want flowers, do what I do! Buy them!

I LOVE YOU

HAPPY LOVE DAY

ERIN

Now Open Your Eyes- a new poem, 2-12-14

 

Mariners, wanderers, flyers o’er the fields,

I salute you in secret sorority, for I know, too, the world

Is made of more than endless days and thoughtless says,

Of board rooms, the dow, that Godotian raise.

Oh! I know the tedious glory of sunrise on the sleeping buds,

Shuddering, breaking, yawning then, creaking into blooms;

The melodies a tree can sing if you listen very closely,

The horns, the flute, the tympani, reaching in to shake ye,

And share-  oh? what? Love/? Or life? or messages

Of… nothing. As the most beautiful thought to ravage you!

And your heart, to call you to things beyond dull tribute

As the ideas so reasoned out, so rigid as what men dispute.

Wild Wanderer, That is my name.

But you can never call me by it-

Twice thunder,

            Feral hunger

           

…the calling, you see,

I’ll change my form the minute you see me again.

And I’ll laugh, I’ll howl!

            With you, at you, for you. The choice is yours.

For who am I? Who are you?

            I am the greatest against which you can rage

                        And that which makes you lovelier still

           

            I am your deepest longing,

                        Your spirit, and your self,

            Your wishes and your falling, your wings, your crash, your help,

I am the stars which shriek at night

            Just to see your face

And yet you slumber

            In disquieted repose

Forgetful of your grace

….come to me…. Come to me… and I promise you will see

a magic deeper than all roses, than all tricks, than any and every mountain mist,

than the dust you flick at tremendous skies, calling it sublime,

for I am the birth of all your fears

all your lies

and each and every desire,

and yet all your dreams,

and every prize, and every inspiration alight-

I am never home, and I am always here,

And I will never leave and I will never come

And I will never rest until you are where

I am, my love.

Now open your eyes.

Time To Say Goodbye

 

Hello, all!

You can listen to the final track from my new album, “Songs” on YouTube, featuring the lyrics:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cx1iz74ZHuA&feature=youtu.be

And you can buy it on iTunes:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/dream/id789227885?i=789227888&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Each of the songs on my album was chosen because it was a crowd favorite or specific request, and has special meaning to me as well. The last song is “Time to Say Goodbye,” also known as “Con Te Partiro.”

We know it as "Time To Say Goodbye." But in Italian, the translation is really "With You I will go..." It is a gorgeous promise of sharing a new life of love, embarking upon a new journey with the awareness of the grace of it. I feel this way both in my personal life as well as my musical life.

What I love most about music- wait... There are so many things I love most about music…. But one of my absolute favorites things is that some songs transcend the boundaries of age, life experience, and political point of view…

This song, as I have experienced as both a performer and fan, is one of those musical opportunities. I have sung this song for a lot of different kind of events, and every time, it is a song that grabs people’s attention, makes them wonder and smile.

As a singer, there is something very special that happens while singing this melody. It’s hard to describe the experience but I think it is the closest thing I can imagine to being an eagle soaring across the sky. It’s as if I’m flying, carried along on the wind of the melody, emotionally free and in utter joy. I’m not ignoring any of the physical work of it, nor am I denying any emotions, but I am taking it all with me.

By the way, THAT is why I sing.

With you, I will go. I with you.

What a love song.

Thank you for listening!

Erin   

That's Amore and the Introduction of a Month of MisAdventures

Hey all! January 9th, 2014

I am finally back stateside from my travels to Rome and want to recount the tale of the last month to you all! I will do short little blogs in (mostly) chronological order but maybe (mostly) themed order. LOL.  I don't know. I want to share about my album, the music, the songs; I want to share about my misadventures with travels and family and food and language.... so I am going to start back almost a month ago..... wait..... three weeks ago, which seems like a lifetime!

Let's go!

Picture it. December 18th, 2013. C & O Trattoria, Venice, California.

There I was, waiting with my boyfriend of 1.18 years, ( Age Caveat! That's how long our relationship had lasted at that point.... NOT how old he was! Yikes.) outside a lovely Italian-esque Trattoria a few steps from the ocean. We were about to have a dinner with my mom, pop, sis, and brother in law.

Now, just over a year previous, approximately 1.28 years in fact, most of us had dined at this lovely restaurant for my sister and brother in law's wedding rehearsal dinner. I was not yet dating my handsome partner (and therefore was shamelessly flirting with lotsa OTHER handsome fellahs, not knowing any better, clueless to the sweetness that was soon to arrive in my life) and much to my GREAT JOY, at 8 pm that night in late August, the wait staff came around with laminated copies of the lyrics to the Dean Martin hit, "That's Amore."

It's best if you watch/ listen to the tune while reading this:

]See, this is a nightly occurrence at C&O Trattoria. That's why my sister chose it for the Rehearsal Dinner! Once the lyrics have been passed around THE ENTIRE RESTAURANT, then all the diners and all the staff sing along, clinking glasses and cheersing one another.

I loved it. I love interactive games and singing, of course. Yup, I'm THAT girl.

Anyway, come back to December 18th. Carlo, my boyfriend, is a proper Italian. As in born and raised in Naples, Italy. And so, I was excitedly telling him all about this fun little trick of the restaurant. Just then, my parents, sister and brother in law arrived.

We ordered, we began to eat... and the clock ticked quickly to 8 pm.

And...  clockwork... the staff handed out those little laminated sheets and the music struck!

Carlo looked at me with wide eyes. He laughed. And we sang! And we clinked glasses! And we sang!

And after, he leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "I thought you were kidding when you told me they would do this."

Aw. Would I kid about a thing like THAT!?!?!





I think not!

Now, once more, all together now:

In Napoli where love is king
When boy meets girl here's what they say

When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie
That's amore
When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine
That's amore
Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you'll sing "Vita bella"
Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay
Like a gay tarantella

When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool
That's amore
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet
You're in love
When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not
Dreaming signore
Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli
That's amore