Houston’s Homecoming Ball – 2010 – Reflections

Sometimes, it takes me awhile for the enormity of an event to be assimilated mentally/physically/emotionally/spiritually – especially if it is outside my normal range of experience, or counter to my normal belief matrix. When Brad Brown yelled to a room full of people, "I want this woman to be a trainer!", it took me three weeks to break out of shock mode. My belief system had, as concrete, that men don't want me to have what *I* want – they want me to want what they want me to want. When Sharon Parish died at 49 years of age, it took me about 6 months to be able to say that she died without whispering those words – it just didn't seem real to use her name in the same sentence with "died."

The Homecoming Ball is such an event in my life. I felt present at the time, and in retrospect, it was like it happened to someone else, or it was a dream, not a full-bodied/visceral experience. Currently, I am in process – having flashes of moments – integrating all that happened that night – feeling touched and grateful for the privilege of living a life that was tailor-made for me.

I had such a fortuitous beginning – growing up in a family that was fundamentally loving (we had our dark side, but fundamentally – love reigned, and still does), finding my calling step by step, being surrounded by human beings devoted to spiritual warriorhood, having good health, blessed by deep familial and friend connections. It occurred to me that I know a lot of people world-wide; many of whom have shared their most sacred dreams, their most heart-breaking hurts, and their most dreaded fears. And I probably won't know what they do for a living or what their sign is or any of the usual social chatter.

I care. And I am cared about, grateful for those who have listened to my sacred dreams, been with me as I cried out my heart-breaking hurts, and whispered my most dreaded fears and shameful thoughts and deeds – and then been held with love, without judgment. How extraordinary is that?

How easy it is, in that space, to behold each other as human beings, worthy of honor, love and respect. And how grateful I am for the skills taught in the More To Life Program that make it simple to access that space of love and acceptance and connection – over and over again.

Truly, I am blessed.

Picture July, 2008:  Back row – Tom, Mike, (missing my brother Jack); front row – Schatzi, me, Patsy, Margaret, all of whom have done the MTL Weekend, except Schatzi. I owe them all for the blessings they've been in my life. I'm the eldest, Mike's the youngest – 18 years difference between us.