The Healer

Welcome to this blog.  This site focuses on personal writing; the content related to my professional healing practice has its own space.  Click here to enter that space. 

I practice as a multicultural feminist Feldenkrais teacher, shamanic practitioner, and counselor who is trained in EMDR. I teach various forms of shamatha meditation as I learned them under the instruction of my teacher, Thrangu Rinpoche. Essentially, I'm an indigenous American healer, born and raised in Austin, Texas, with many healing threads that weave together into a tapestry as unique and complex as the people I help

I dance with Julie Nathanielsz and Heloise Gold, both recipients of Austin Critics' Table awards for their work. I've also worked with Abel Coelho, Maureen Momo Freehill, and Karen Nelson and Margit Galanter learning Tuning Scores. In addition to dance, I studied Cuban, Brazilian, and Puerto Rican percussion for a number of years.

My nickname/stage name for many, many years has been La Pistola. All I'm going to tell you about that is that you'd better believe it.

I hope that your visit here finds you something to laugh about, something to think about, something to dream about. 

You can subscribe to the blog through the boxes on the right. 

Peace to all, and thanks for visiting.


The last few days have been meh. I went on a date this evening, just a little one hour meet and greet thing. I enjoyed myself and he seemed to, but at the end, I just wasn't sure he was all that into me, so I thought, no worries, let it go. He did send me a text thanking me afterward, which I reciprocated. It's just a funny thing; sometimes you can't tell if someone is really interested in you or not or you get kind of mixed signals. 

This is perfectly OK; he was a lovely, handsome man, I enjoyed my date with him, and if that's all there was, that's fine. I have another little one on Saturday with a different guy. All of this feels pretty light and pretty easy. I'm not stressing out over it like I used to. I think I'm in a pretty realistic place in terms of understanding that there's only so much one can hope for; I have my own restrictions that are coming to the table, between work and dance and life, so it's not as though I'm in a position to be a full time girlfriend to anyone at this point. So, that means, quite simply, that I have to take whatever it is that works, and do my best to be content with whatever that is. 

I think I've made more peace with it this week, after meeting again with Joanna. I definitely feel more relaxed about it all. As long as the experiences of going on a date here and there are not negative, and I'm not being exposed to negative feedback and vibes--she and I are going to talk more extensively about how to handle this when it happens--then no harm done. I enjoyed meeting this man tonight and found him really attractive. I also got the impression that maybe he has too much going on in his career to really find the time to even go on a real date now and then, and I certainly felt sympathetic to that situation, of course, since it's one I often find myself in as well. 

So it is what it is and it isn't what it isn't. If he can and wants to see me again, I'll hear from him, and I can certainly hope that I will without attaching too much to it. Such is life. You can only do what you can do. It is what it is. It ain't what it ain't.

Otherwise, been wasting time and lollygagging, not doing the things I need to do and I don't know exactly why. Summer laziness I guess. However, time to get back on it. 


Okay. Made it to the pool, and of course, once I was there, decided to try for a swim--and pulled the full 800 no problem. Who knew that could happen? Actually, I'm noticing that even though I'm a bit under the weather, I'm recovering better than I ever have. I should have known something was wrong this week when I didn't do any training at all, not usual for me--I just thought it was the heat, but probably not so much, as it turns out.

So that felt tons better--I found a reach and power in the pool that was brand new--because of that previous bodywork to free up my left shoulder, I think, and it made everything easier. My stroke isn't nearly as lopsided and I suspect I wasn't able to reach like that before because of restrictions from scar tissue. What a difference today--something completely new. 

I left early, though, because Stephanie needed some things and sent me some stuff and there's just work I need to do for the meeting later with her, plus I wanted to start marinating yet another carne and be a bit domestic. One of the great things about the proposed plan is that I will be working here, so things like cooking and domestic tasks will be a lot easier overall and I can put more care into this house and into myself. It would give me the time to practice music, cook, and write in addition to working. It's a setup that would allow the things I really want back in my life back in, in terms of structure. Yeah. So many good things could come out of this for both Housemate and me. It's exciting to think about. 

Other exciting things--to think about dancing in Indonesia and, later, Cuba. I talked to Maya about this during our first private lesson and she agrees that the Arcata program would be a good next step. There are a handful of things that would have to happen for going to Cuba to be a good idea. Namely: knowing enough Spanish to be able to make a stab at understanding Cuban Spanish, and more training with teachers here who can explain things and give me a basis. 

When you show up in native environments, they don't really explain things, they just say "do it" and you won't get much out of it if you don't have the language skills or the basic grounding in the forms. So that would be some years off.

But isn't that cool to think about?

I just want a simple life. Teaching, healing, cooking, dancing, writing, music, art. Simple and rich. 

It can be done, even right smack in the middle of trendy hipster Austin.
I'm gonna prove it.


Not sure I should go to the pool today. Lungs still not that great and the cold water might not be a good idea. But it would be nice to study by the pool, which I also need to do. We'll see in a bit here. Think I knocked out the worst of it, but it's going to take a day or two to clear the lungs.

More talks with Housemate yesterday. I'm slowly getting used to the idea that he's obtaining a chunk of money in excess of a quarter million dollars to make this happen. It completely frightened me at first, especially since it's my idea that won the day, but every single person he and I have talked to about it (separately) have unanimously concurred that it is brilliant and absolutely the right thing to do. Not one single dissenter. He's talked to other people in the hood who did something similar and it's working out great for them. So. He's in the final stages with the money to see if that can happen the way he needs it to. I found a few builders. He talked to some people, I talked to some people. I thought it would take maybe two years to go from start to finish but some people have told him it's more like a year. We'll see. Phew.

Yeah. I think I'm going to the pool even if I don't swim laps. I need it for my soul. I also need to read a lot of stuff. Mentorship with Stephanie later today has materials attached to it that I'm only partially through. This afternoon is all about brain food.

I had a great conversation with one of the moto guys. An unexpectedly real connection. I hope to meet him sometime, but you never know. I've learned not to attach to such things, it's Austin and people are flaky. But the conversation was really really nice, and he was gorgeous, a tall redhead, something I've always had a weakness for. 

Life goes on.
I go on.


I did not go to the studio tonight. I wanted to. But I am not well. The lungs are not in great shape. I suspect that the reason I have been so off all week is that I actually may have a little bug of some sort. I realized earlier that I was feeling very panicky and that it was related to not being able to breathe well. So I lay down and invoked long deep easy breathing in order to relax my lungs and nervous system and get a grip. It became clear after a bit that it was all coming from not feeling good, a little bug perhaps, tiny summer cold, something like that. Subtle but definitely there. Something just not quite right, something a bit off.

So maybe tomorrow to go easy, stretch or something. It happens. There was a lot of texting and work stuff flying in different directions today and it was hard to keep on top of all of it. Plus I was driving a bunch of different places. Probably just too much, too overloaded on top of not feeling great. In the past, I would have ignored this and pushed through. Now I stop and pay attention and take some time to be good to my body, because pushing does not help. Especially when it comes to the lungs. Alas the lungs, the poor lungs. Always the vulnerable spot.

As usual, not being well gives one the chance to simply slow down or stop and reflect upon life and vulnerability and all of that. I think the changes proposed over the last week have also really been stressing me out, though they are all positive. There is a lot to process there. A lot to be glad about. And it's stressful. It's stressful to think about Housemate borrowing what seems to me to be an insane chunk of money to do the phase 2. It's stressful to think about what it means to give up on finding a partner I would live with, which in some ways is essentially what I'm doing by going into this. It's stressful to worry about finding the right person to do the work.

But at the core, it feels right. I can't live my life based on the hope that I might meet someone to share a life with. I've been looking for a while, but honestly, not that hard. I don't date that much and there are long stretches of time when I don't do it at all and only go out with friends. I simply don't have the stamina to do what my friends in relationships have done, go out with 3 to 5 people a week for months on end til they found the right person and then push the whole arrangement forward like a giant cart of apples toward cohabitation and marriage. 

Even the thought of dating that much appalls me due to the energy required as an introvert. No way. If I date three people in a year, it feels like a lot to me. Hell, it feels like a lot to go on more than three dates or longer than one month. I keep giving it a try, but it's not like I'm on a mission. Just doesn't seem like I'm wired for it, not that level of intensity anyway. 

Ya know?

So, this decision affects all of that in so many ways. I'm agreeing to make a long term home here. I feel it's the right thing to do. It frees me of the stress of thinking about finding the "right person" in that other way. Now the "right person" would have to fit in with this. That's okay. I haven't dated a man in many years I thought could or would necessarily watch out for me if the shit hit the fan, so I have to ensure I can watch out for myself, which is what this about. And it's about Housemate too, and my parents, it's not just me.

And well, there's a lot of cool factor that might emerge out of it too.  After all, it's a hip, turning-into-million-dollar neighborhood. I'm going into having a piece of that scene as permanent home. There is nothing bad about this. 

But yea, it's stressful. 


Housemate came in with a bunch of corporate-y type photos that he had to have taken for work, some kind of corporate directory thing. He and I laughed and laughed because some of them were so posed and filtered that it was ridiculous. You know, the business suit guy with the slight halo around him and that kind of thing. But, a couple of them were very handsome too, so he went with one of those. One of them made him look positively sad, it was this overly posed shot with a giant white coffee mug and a laptop. We couldn't stop laughing at that one. Pretty awesome. True "corporate drag."

I think I might have found him a builder to talk about the new plan. It's actually the guy who offered to teach me motorcycle, who's also a builder, as it turns out. I imagine the chances of him building something have got to be higher than those of going on a motorcycle ride; I can't imagine that anyone working in contracting has much free time in this town, nor the energy to do anything much outside of work, not in this heat. But, that was a nice conversation and I passed his info on to Housemate so that will be what it will be. 

I had a couple other moto guys offer help too. I said yes to all of them because so far it's never worked out. Why not? It's all in the airwebs anyway. Virtual world. I have learned not to take anything a guy offers seriously at this point, not after this last experience. Guys talk a lot of shit and follow through on very little of it, which is fine, it shows me who they are and that's all I need to know. Strangely, now that I know I will not be moving away from here and that a plan to make this more of a permanent residence and workspace is starting to form, I find that I don't care that much about how a guy presents himself. I'm no longer looking for someone to marry or move in with, I'm going to make my home here, so it's fine just to date casually or not date at all or whatever. I have plenty of offers. No need to deal with flakes. I can do or not do whatever I want to do.

So no worries about any of it. It's all good.

TheOffer. LeGear.

Today was a long day, and a rather brilliant one. One of those days where the healing energy is hot, hot, hot, and I just know what to do. I have a lot of those days, but it's been a minute since the last one, and it feels so good for both myself and my clients.

Moto guy from Tinder wrote back and said maybe he could help me with riding. I asked if this is really OK with him, as thus far I've only encountered impatience and condescension from supposedly experienced riders who offered help (none of whom actually currently owned bikes, as it turned out, so I never got to find out how good they were as riders. The Sicilian said he would teach me by taking me as a passenger on my own bike and I said, "Hell no! I own this bike, and I'm the rider, not the passenger!")

But, as it happens, I know this guy owns not one but a handful of bikes; I've seen photos and we've had a conversation about the types he owns and rides. So he is a real rider. If it doesn't bother him to deal with a beginner, I'm totally going to take him up on it, because it might be the only sincere offer I've ever gotten on this deal. I don't know what it is with guys who don't even own a bike anymore saying they'll help me out and then they don't even have a machine to ride with me to teach me. How the hell am I supposed to learn if I'm not riding? It makes no sense to think I'd learn jack shit as a passenger or with them as a passenger. Everything I need to learn is the stuff that happens when my hands are on the handlebars. And I purposefully installed luggage where a passenger would sit for a reason. 

Just so dumb. I think they were just trying to show off, not help me out at all.

Ya know?

But it would be cool to, just once, meet up with a real rider who has real bikes and learn some real riding. My hopes are limited, but, it's worth an inquiry, to see if he's serious. He's quite cute too, as real motorcycle riders often tend to be, so there's that. I've already right-swiped all cute guys on motorcycles on Tinder, with the result that I have something like 48 matches. Of course I'll never talk to or meet most of them, but hey, I have lots of pictures of cute guys on motorcycles to look at. 

There are a lot of cute guys on motorcycles in Austin. Believe me I know. I'm always looking. It is my eye candy and magnet. It's a thing. I like. I like a lot. I am not so into the hipster dudes on scooters. That is not really my thing, the homme avec scooter or the homme avec electric bike. Nope, I like the dude with the leather or the mesh, the real helmet, the gloves, the gear. I'll pass on the idiot in a T shirt and flip flops. 

Speaking of which. The box arrived from Italy and I had to go get it at the FedEx office that I did not know was close by. And oh man. This jacket. It is classic. Understated. Just as good as I had thought it would be. It's all in the details--the pale double stripe on the upper arm, the perforated leather through underside of sleeves, the pockets, the tailoring on the shoulders, the beautifully placed armor and functional cut. It is beautiful. Just like I thought it would be. Spidi did it again. Those damned Italians. 

And the Stella SP Air gloves--perfect. Just like my others but with perforated leather and vented portions instead of solid. These are going to make a huge difference. Now it's only the pants that are left. It may be that Spidi and Dainese are my only viable fits...but how can I truly be sad that the only things that fit me are high end Italian gear that sartorially kills it? 

I should be glad that this is the case, not sad that I'm too tall and lanky for short, boxy, wide American gear. A girl doesn't need much. Now I have almost everything. Just gotta find that moto mechanic to install the stuff, maybe the Tinder guy knows someone good. 

I had a long conversation about a yellow vintage 1978 Yamaha scrambler that a client rode to his session yesterday. One of the old precursors of bikes like the Ducati I keep meaning to go take a look at. He loves it. It was a very sweet, stylish bike. 

Fun times.


Up again early this morning, remembering about something one of my Young Men said yesterday, about dating in this town. He said he and his friends call the flakiness "Aus-tism." And that when people cancel, flake, all that stuff, they say to each other, "Yup, Aus-tistic." I guess this refers to lacking the social skills to be able to make and follow through on a date without canceling, rescheduling or flaking a million times, that is particular to dating in Austin, Texas.

So it's not just my experience obviously. It's just part of this town. Well, I guess it feels good not to be alone, I'm in good company there. I suppose it is a lack of social skills as well as a lack of self awareness overall. In thinking about what Joanna said, yeah, the repair on the situations that happened to me would have been so easy and would have taken about five minutes of taking responsibility and self reflection. The fact that that wasn't in the room is exactly why I walked away. 

At this age, if you don't have the capacity to do that, you're emotionally underdeveloped and simply not going to be a good partner or friend. I know that if any of my male friends were to screw up like that, they'd take responsibility and apologize immediately and not think twice about it. But then again, they wouldn't be a flake or rude like that in the first place, not intentionally. My friends respect my time and I respect theirs. Mistakes happen, but the Flaky Old Men were not making mistakes; they were simply acting out of the belief that their time is somehow a lot more valuable than mine and that I would be willing to wait around for them and conform to their schedules.

Not so much. It's sort of boggling, the lack of self awareness about how rude it feels to another person when you don't come through on things. Add to that the lack of self awareness about how it feels to another person when you complain and complain and complain on what's supposed to be a fun, light date. ESPECIALLY about your ex. My last ex was a horrible person who tried to ruin my life and stalked me for two years after I left him, but I don't ever talk about him at all because it's done and I've healed and moved on and don't care about it any more. The Sicilian was fun at the beginning, but most of what I heard the last two weeks of knowing him was complaints, a lot of them focused on his ex wife, and it was severely grating on me. The thing about the shelving was the last straw on top of all that complaining. It was just too much for something that wasn't going anywhere. I can't see a future with a man who complains that much about anything, period.

Oh well. It was what it was. I guess I'm going to have to be a lot more upfront about calling that kind of stuff out in the future, though what I would really prefer would be to simply meet happy men who don't do that in the first place. As Evan Marc Katz said, everyone should marry a happy person. There aren't a lot of happy middle aged men out there. I've been through a lot of shit in the last couple of months, but I got back on track. And I sure as hell didn't dump all that on anyone else. Not even my friends. I went back to therapy. I dealt with it. There's just something about a man who endlessly whines and isn't self aware about it that comes across as both entitlement and the expectation of emotional care taking. I'm just not into it, ya know? I'd rather go on dates with someone happy who I can talk to about things that interest and stimulate both of us.

I told a person or two yesterday that there may be a plan in the works for me to be back in the hood within a year or two. Lots of excitement about that. People REALLY want me back in the hood and working in the hood, they miss me. And I miss being here. My hood has changed a lot and I don't even know about most of the changes because I'm north so much. It would be good to rediscover it again in so many ways. On a motorcycle, too.

A lot to look forward to.


What a day at the office today. Punk rockers! Pizza makers! Motorcyclists! It was a day for Young Men And Their Stuff. 

Man. May I say RIGHT NOW how incredibly happy it makes me to hear 24 year old men talking about wanting to be a man but not misogynist or negatively hyper masculine (their words)? It makes me want to jump up and down, people. To them this is normal stuff to think about--wanting to be a good man, not a macho jerk. It is good. Just so good. It makes me wistful that I am not younger, at times. I wish I could have had men around like this when I was that age. But. It is the way it is and I am here to help, the tragedy of the lack of such men in my own generation not being something I can do much about, them either, for that matter.

So good. So good to listen, to laugh, to help. I like the young uns, the up and comers, the shiny stars of music, food and style in this town. It be good. It be funny and freeing and poignant and oh so thought provoking. Makes me happy.

Then I came home and did not-much--have been oddly and stupidly tired again--what is it, the heat, the Zika, the Chikungunya, the existential malaise, or just a lack of sexual activity? Can't believe I spent a month on a guy who turned out to be a dud and waited all that time to barely have sex. Oh well, seems par for the course, for guys my age. All talk and promises and very little real action. The upside is, it means there's very little to regret or get sad about, because the bond never formed. Really, no idea what was up with that, or what was going on with him that he demanded to wait so long and then screwed everything up almost immediately afterward. 

Sometimes you wonder if people are self sabotaging or doing some other thing like that. I'm disappointed that he turned out to be such a complainer. But, I also should have done something to put a stop to it, which I was fixing to do before things fell flat but didn't know quite how to do. That part is my fault. I wish him well and have no hard feelings--I just don't think we were on the same page, that's all. 

I played a little Tinder. Already got invited on one motorcycle ride. I'd like to go but he's very experienced. I'd drive him nuts. I told him I'm going to save his number till I get better, and I will, too. Got tired of it and shut it down, then heard my housemate guffawing loudly. I wandered in to see what had happened, and by gum, if someone he works with had not accidentally sent him a very pornographic picture of herself. He couldn't stop laughing, especially once she realized what she had done and sent two more horrified texts. He asked my professional opinion on what he should do. 

I said, "If there's any way in which you can make like that did not happen, you will probably prolong her lifespan by five years." I think he figured out something deft. He's gracious like that. 

Ah, technology.

Now the lazy one goes to bed, like a total unmotivated princessa. 


I thought the whole "home improvement project" was going to be a bit-down-the-road thing, but Housemate informed me that he's got someone working on the bankroll part THIS WEEK. When I walked into the kitchen early this morning, there were three floor plans laid out for me to choose from. We looked them over and talked about it before he left for work. I can tell we're both secretly super excited about this idea, and trying to contain it, since we're both people who prefer to see something done before we start jumping up and down. And it's a lot of cash. But it could also be so cool. 

Having this happen is rapidly shifting things around for me. I'm going to invest in this, in helping him, because this is my future too as well as something that could help one of my parents if the other one passes away. It could be the answer to a whole lot of things. I might be able to move home for work and oversee the entire property and manage things, which would also allow me to do things like start working on my books. This is ambitious, long-range stuff. 

I am very into it. At this point, after the end of my last long term relationship, the disappointments of dating men my age and not finding a single person I'd want to be with for even six months in the last 2.5 years, I'm going to change my focus to investing in and building on my future here. There's no reason for me not to do it, and every reason TO do it. It's a symbiotic situation that has every possibility for success. There is no one in my life who I would marry or move in with; dating has taught me that most men my age are in some kind of situation that would only make my life worse and more complicated if I were to move in with them and deal with their families, exes, mental and emotional health issues, and finances; I might as well go ahead and do this. If I meet someone someday, and that man is the right person, he'll not only understand why I did this, he'll admire the financial sense and creative foresight that made me do it, and it'll get worked out somehow. 

That's a big thing--how many men have given me shit for living in a housemate situation? But every single one of those men was struggling with money because they just HAD to live in their own house or apartment in a certain kind of neighborhood in a really expensive city. It's not actually a smart decision in a city as expensive and heavily occupied as this one unless you are wealthy enough to openly afford it with no issue. They were all bleeding money on that decision along with the decision to have things like payments for new cars. So they were being really cheap with me as a date, bitching about money, all the while I was looking at their choices and thinking to myself that they weren't being financially smart in the least. Yeah--bye.

I might live very humbly, but it's one of the big reasons I'm both financially on my way and also emotionally healthy. Personally, I admire smart financial choices, not choices that are based on keeping up an image or conforming with what your segment of society thinks. If you think you need to live alone in an expensive hipster neighborhood in an overpriced apartment, go for it, but don't expect me to move in with you and pay for half of your life when I can invest in an unusual but far more financially smart situation where I live now. (This is what the Crazy Ex wanted--for me to move in with him even though he had terrible credit, huge debts and a low paying job. I said no. It ended our relationship.) And don't bitch to me about your bills. It's a choice you made. Deal with it. I deal with my choices and I don't complain about it. I have several vehicles, but I have very few clothes and very few possessions. I don't live my life based on what other people think I should have or how I look to others or whether my life would be perceived as cool or prestigious by the world.

Ya know?

So yea. Something I want help from Joanna with is how to talk to guys about this stuff. I have never found a way to do that without them getting butthurt, which I guess is why I bail out of situations once the complaining starts. I don't know if there are better ways to say to someone, "I really don't want to listen to complaints about self-created problems or things that are the results of your previous choices that have nothing to do with me. Can you please stop talking about it?" 

Guys get very very offended when I ask them to stop talking about their exes, kids, or money. But I've finally realized that I just can't take it any more. It's a huge turnoff and leaves me in the position of listening to a bunch of venting related to people and issues that have nothing to do with me. I didn't marry or date or move in with those people or have kids with them. I didn't choose a career that would bottom out or to stop working; I chose to make a plan and go back to school, bust my ass, and hit the restart button.

There has to be a better way to have those conversations. But I don't know what that way is. Hence, I avoid them and the people associated with them, which I recognize is not that great. Hence, I'm back in therapy to learn and find out how to stop avoiding them. I also do note, however, that my two friends from online dating, Metaphysicalis and 007, are guys I've never heard bitch or complain in any of these areas. Guess that's why they're the ones I still want to hang out with. I'll see both of them next week--yay! 

I think I'm going to put Tinder back up at the end of the week, too. I might have only ever met four people from Tinder in my whole life,  due to my inability to keep up with all the texting, but two of them were pretty cool, so why not. There's gotta be someone out there who likes to swim at Deep Eddy once in a while or could go for a motorcycle ride or something.

Being happy is free. Ain't no reason not to go for building a happy home!