T minus 8 & Counting: “Test 1- 2- 3-? This is Benny on the dispatch. Yo! Attencion, yo! Attention?” [Courtesy @InTheHeightstheMusical]

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Tonight’s homemade, ever-unpolished nightgown nightcap performance is brought to you by Heather Hailian and her Sympathetic Vibrations.

Please, help me welcome to stage the birth of my new, artistic, experimental endeavor: “Where the Frick Have You Been?” (Original song is “Where Have You Been” by Kathy Mattea.)

Ladies and Gentlemen, please give our nervous Shang Hai Li-Heather Lian a calm, quiet but warm welcome?

[All right – please take a tech. momentary break while I try to figure out how to upload my first ever QuickTime music video creation……..]:

*”Star” “Date?” (My husband and I had one of those back around the age of the dinosaurs. Umm, I’m pretty sure the year was: 2001. Hey, it was fun. Maybe he and I should do it again sometime? If I ever get to find out “where has _he_ been all of our SoulMated Lives? ~ 10-23-2014 03:43 Hours. HG Alone. In her Master Bedroom Studio*

….ANNOUNCING: Where the FRICK _Have_ You Been?…… To be seen @HeatherGrohe’s Dropbox JukeBox!

https://www.dropbox.com/s/whkazrce60k2suk/Where%20the%20FRICK%21%20Have%20YOU%20Been%20all%20this%20time%3F.mov?dl=0

“Reverse Engineering Bipolar Disorder” by Artist in Institutional Residence

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A short, bedtime story for lonely or confused women:

I’m not sure how old I was when I first heard my mother whisper that I was Bipolar, although she no doubt believed it pre-conceptually. She feared the child who most took after her side of the family would be crazy. She knew the sins of the father visit children down to the fourth generation. But she forgot to mention, until I was 42, that his blessings also extend to the fourth generation.

She never told me what the blessings from her father were. Maybe he died too young for her to know. She did tell me that her mother, whom I take after, was insane. OCD for all the years I knew her. Clinically, abusively depressed for 3 years when my mom was a child. Lying in bed, day after night after day, sobbing because the Love of Her Life died when barely older than 50 years from a brain tumor.

My mom will tell you she was a fortunate product of benign neglect. She turned out well because her insane mother was dead to her from the time she was 8. Sweet, little Beth raised herself. And Beth was a mortally wounded little girl whose Daddy wasn’t there for the rest of her living days.

It’s funny how we can’t put our anxieties to rest until what we fear most comes to life. Because mothers dread that their children will manifest the family mental chaos, they are ever vigilant. They watch without ceasing, until they see sight of it. Then moms let go of that oppressive pain and worry. They know they were right all along. In that there is comfort. In fact, episodes of mental illness are less upsetting to mothers than never seeing them actualized. Mental illness is an old friend. Moms know what it looks like, what to expect. It’s the absence of mental illness in the family that rubs their nerves raw.

Asylums are meant to be safe havens gifted to the greatest sufferers. Mental institutions are punishments inflicted on these. I’m crying “Sanctuary.” I am seeking asylum, to be set free from the chains of my past. From the cruelty of my home country. I know my country’s worst travesties, but I am old enough to know its greatest blessings, too, in balance. And I love it still. Leaving it tears at my core. No one wants exile. But I need to escape or die.

What I thought for 14 years, though, was that I needed to be punished. Punished for acting psychotically. Punished for becoming my mother and father’s worst nightmare. They may be more at peace seeing their parents’ insanities manifested in me. But once it happens? The realization of why we must be careful what we wish for hits them. Hard.

~ Peace dear Souls. This will be continued…

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Ecosystems, née Egosystems

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If we stop to remember the definition of an organism, we recognize what is meant when people say we are indelibly linked to one another. When we try to grasp the vast concept of Mother Earth as our one, shared ecosystem, we have the vantage point of knowing she provides every possible need for all of her loved ones. That’s what mother earths and father heavens do.

Portrait of Why I Love WSU I

Now, regardless of how much our mother loves us, we are free to choose how we treat her. We can turn to her for comfort and solace. We can draw inspiration – our very breath – from her. We can respect and love her to the moon and back. And, of course, we can rape and pillage her for our living good.

If we’d like to feast and gorge ourselves until she’s been fully gutted, we either will expire – breathe our last – when she expires, or we better have a good exile strategy. For those paving the way to ravage Mars, they’ll be able to leave Earth’s carcass to rot.

Or we can cherish the abundant love and resources Earth freely gives. We can realize she provides for our every need without us ever actually earning even the least of these.

We are free to engage parasitically with Earth without any regard for the toll this takes on our host’s longevity. It does seem rather masochistic, however. You might think sadistic. True. But it’s especially ironic for Life to choose to kill its Living, breathing ecosystem.

Alternately, as sentient flora and fauna on this planet, we can decide to live in mutualistic relationship with our host. Symbiosis has an incomprehensible array of possibilities. Anything from devouring our planetary home for our short-term feasting. To savouring her gifts and taking no more than what we require.

Another choice is ours. As a heather and a hai(3).lian(2), I know my true nature is to be flora of the Earth. Our most immediate past evolution has been as human fauna, and that era is drawing to a close. Animals kill and devour other living things for their own gain. And, for their own loss. If we continue blindly ravaging our abundant Earthly resources, what then? Perhaps we have no need to worry about what our offspring or even further generations will have to live on. That’s very plausible. It’s already that easy to not care what our brothers and sisters in our present global family need now.