BLOG:REKNOWING
The Body Really Does Keep the Score
It’s early 2020. A medical medium hones in on some things and I make a prophetic healing trip to Sedona, Arizona in an effort to expunge whatever it is that is possessing me.
Pissed Off. Literally.
We are now entering the realm of Molly-fueled personal dance parties, catheters and flow. Work is picking up, along with a lot of travel. My halting healing journey lurches on - one step forward, two steps back. Such is the dance with Life.
Aya Yi Yi…
It’s mid 2019 and I continue struggling to integrate my powerful experiences. The pain is still acute much of the time.
The Purge Continues…
Things are a little rocky after my first night of adventures with Ayahuasca in Ecuador. Read on to learn more about what happened during six more journeys over the course of 12 days.
Grandmother Gets Involved
After a powerful journey with magic mushrooms and a life-altering experience with MDMA, I was still in pain. Ayahuasca had knocked eight years earlier; I wasn’t ready then. Desperation is the mother of experimentation, I guess!
Meeting Molly
Read on as the pelvic pain saga continues. After an amazing fungus experience I wasn’t magically transformed into a model of health and fitness. The Universe was dropping breadcrumbs at an ever-increasing rate, however….
Commence Deconstruction
Join me as I leap into the abyss of expanded consciousness in an effort to heal myself of some serious physical and emotional pain.
Sex, Moves and Videotape
Writer's block is real, I tell ya! Wow. After weeks of being completely unmotivated to write, I churned out this post about a month ago. I typically write in Apple's Notes app, ostensibly for the instant backup to the cloud and availability on my phone and computer. When I went to put the finishing touches on the post and put it on the blog - POOF! - it was gone. WTF?!?!
Dazed and Confused
After breaking up with Q in the fall of 2014 and having M, (ostensibly my “soul mate”) also dump me after a long weekend of incredibly intimate connection, I was in pretty low spirits, to say the least. “Why did the Universe hate me so much?” I wondered. “What did I do to deserve all this sadness and loneliness? Why aren’t I worthy of a relationship? Why won’t anybody love me? Why was everything so fucking HARD? I was nice to people and treated them well. I was honest. What was I doing WRONG?” I honestly could not see the problem. Yet, I knew something had to change.
Welcome 2014…
And so in comes 2014 with a kiss with a woman whom I’d had eyes on for quite awhile at the local health/tennis club. I didn’t have the guts to ask her out, fearing if she rejected me I’d have the repeated humiliation of seeing her any time I went to the club! I know, YOLO, right? Even better, we ended up making out on the dance floor at Fitzgerald’s. I’ve definitely had worse New Year’s Eves. We began dating shortly thereafter.
Flailing About…
A few words on the delay since the last post (my mother’s eulogy, notwithstanding). My post where I outed myself for engaging a “Facebook Affair” did not go over very well with my children, which shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, but it was because in my haste to get it off my chest and move the story along, I did not give sufficient thought to what the effects would be closer to home. I should have handled things differently. I am very sorry I did not.
Mom | December 2, 1946 – June 29, 2020
My mother, Lynne Carol Kosterman (neé Johnson) passed away at the end of last June, in South Carolina. She and my father had moved there less than a year earlier into the first newly constructed house they inhabited in their 50+ years of marriage.
Lost and Searching
And those of you who went to UW-Madison thought it was one of the colleges. It’s 2010, I’m in a pretty good depression. My photo lab business is going south fast, I’m living in a two bedroom house with a leaky porch that has likely been classified a “fixer upper since at least the mid-90s. There was definitely relief at being out of the marriage (which was also a fixer upper since at least the late-90s).
Separation Anxiety
Wherein we read about the fate of the best laid plans of a man…
Alright, let’s get back to it, shall we? I’ve been suffering from a bit of writer’s block. When I last left you, it was September 2009. I had moved out of my house, separating from my wife of fourteen years. It was done without any planning at all and yet it was the right thing. Sometimes it takes the passage of time to see things this clearly, however.
We Interrupt This Broadcast…
Many thanks once again to all who have taken the time to read and especially to comment on my posts. This whole big ball of yarn has been percolating for quite a long time (to mix metaphors). The manifestation has been more rewarding than I imagined. If you had told me a couple years ago that I would be putting all my “secrets” out on a public blog, I’d have given you my therapist’s contact info, because you would have been crazy. And yet, here we are.
Into the Abyss
2007 wasn’t all bad. It was that year that Karen, a dear friend, suggested I begin charging for my photography. Since before my kids were born I was fascinated with photography. Both my grandfathers were enthusiasts, but it was actually the late 80’s wave of black & white posters by Ansel Adams, Henry Cartier Bresson and others that really lit a match for me. Interestingly, in retrospect, it is clear to me that the camera was an ideal device to allow me to participate in life but also to keep me hidden so I didn’t have to fully engage, especially with my family of origin.
On Therapy… Part V
The Lab gets moved. Cracks are appearing in many places. Fitness addiction to the rescue!
When we last left things, I was cruising along at 35,000 feet, metaphorically speaking, and I lost an engine. This happened in the form of a profound realization, around 2005-06, that no matter what I did, no matter how much money I made, how many gorgeous kids I had, how perfect of a house I lived in, my father wasn’t going to love me. Or, more accurately, was highly unlikely to express any love he did have for me in a way I could recognize and appreciate.
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