"UM, LIKE, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN?"

When I signed up for a degree in Cosmetology, the curriculum did not include conflict resolution or psychotherapy. I had no idea that personality management would play a major role in my career. My professional goals were; use god-given talents, create and enhance beauty, and support thyself financially. According to Beauty School statistics, two percent of the students who complete a degree in Cosmetology actually go on to work in the industry. The profession is more complicated and difficult than people realize, and the old adage, “she wasn’t very bright, so we sent her to beauty school” should be put to rest because it’s a uniformed cliché. The following experience made me question whether or not I would make it in the beauty business...

I can’t remember her name, but she was a retired Grade School teacher, nagging control freak, and world-class sour puss. She received fifty-nine of the sixty manicures required to complete my Beauty School Program. Her nasty trick was smug silence, leaving me the responsibility to initiate and maintain all conversation. Only when I tossed the ball, would she whack it across the net. Strategy and defense were not even in my tool kit yet, I was a socially inept teenager and her intimidating manner made me very nervous. Old what’s-her-name had an hour and a half to fire at my flawed vocabulary, and repeatedly pummel my poor word choices. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pull off a twenty minute manicure, and rushing could have set me up for a do-over. Sometimes you must stand up for yourself, but this bully knew I was trapped, not working for money, as I would in the future, but for a passing grade. My simple plan was to be kind and considerate, cheer her up, make her laugh, and pray for a break.

Grammar was the main source of her irritation. If my sentence ended with, “ya know what I mean?” she would say “NO, I don’t know what you mean!” If I mumbled, she would pretend not to hear me, and scream, “WHAT?! WHAT?!!” Every time I slipped on a “like” or an “um” she exploded. She sifted through my words like a heat seeking missile, attentive for errors, or incorrect usage of a verb, relishing every mistake. Meanwhile, I chirped along, searching for anecdotes to lighten her mood, hiding my anguish. You‘ve got to know what you can control, and unfortunately it’s only ever yourself.

Had I been a strategist, I might have taken note that, despite the weekly manicures and blow dry styles, she was hopelessly unattractive. Like a bow on a turd, it was useless. She knew nothing about hairstyles or fashion. But I did. I was raised on it. My Mother was a fashion model turned Mary Kay consultant nicknamed, “Eyeshadow.” She emphasized poise and style to her daughter, there was no other way to be. I was wearing makeup by the sixth grade, cutting and coloring my own hair long before entering beauty school. We were a fashion forward family. I could have jabbed at this woman’s soft spot and brought her down to size. But I never did.

At her final appointment, I announced with glee this was to be my last required manicure. I told stories and shared current events as always, but now I knew my every flaw, and there were no more grammatical errors. Carefully choosing my words, there was nothing to feast on. She scattered to find a new approach, threatening to request me again because she liked the way I did her nails, and the school would have to comply with the wishes of a client. But my lessons were over, and she was finished.

I sprayed her nails with the quick dry and pulled the table away. While cleaning my manicure table and implements, she stormed to the front desk to secure another dim student who needed grammatical training. One of the student receptionists, learning to make announcements over the PA, failed to turn the system off before what’s-her name stepped up. With nails beautifully polished, hair perfectly styled, and displeasure strewn across her face, she clearly broadcasted, "Put me down next week, same time,
I want a manicure and a blow job.”

Students and staff froze in shock. Jaws dropped and eyes popped open. Seconds of silence passed before everyone realized, a daft old lady just made a silly mistake, and then the howls of laughter ensued.

She never returned to the Beauty School for service.

And counted among that two percent who survive and thrive in the beauty industry,
I continue to use my god-given talents to create and enhance beauty.

CONSCIOUS PERFECTION

Barbie is celebrating her 50th birthday, and consciously or unconsciously, women still consider her “charms” a standard. Long blonde hair, skinny body, perky globes, etc.
Although imitation is a never-ending stimulus package for the economy of "beautification" services, what are the rewards of this billion dollar investment?

Sadly, the physical ideals of sexual attractiveness; the formula for “optimal luring capacity” has not been abandoned despite lack of attainability, objectification, or proof of a better life.

In exchange for being noticed, and the expected reward of endless enduring love, women withstand starvation, Spankx, plastic surgery, Botox, breast enhancement, and hours of spinal contortion from high heels. If these tactics guaranteed unconditional love, I might be interested, but I am a pragmatic girl, and would not jeopardize my health or comfort for mere attention. However, it is a well known fact that you can attract more bees with honey - the sweet nectar of contentment – because discontent is not attractive, inviting or beautiful.

Consider the great beauties of the world: Elizabeth Taylor, Tina Turner, Marilyn Monroe, Halle Berry. Then ponder all the stars that have turned themselves in to puff-lipped alien lizards, attempting to preserve the beauty of youth: Priscilla Presley, Dolly Parton, Cher.
They all may have fame and fortune, but what about their personal lives? Is finding true love any easier for them? Does god-given beauty or surgically-preserved youth really deliver?

How would your life change if you had the body you wanted, would physical perfection secure happiness? What actually stands in the way of a satisfying life? I always tell nervous brides, “yes, everyone will be looking at you…
for a second…but they will quickly return to themselves and their own appearance. Trust me; paparazzi are not lurking outside your house. Whether or not you can pull off a bikini or a sleeveless shirt is irrelevant in the real world. (Hollywood is a different story – not yours!) A few varicose veins should not keep you from wearing a skirt, because no one will probably even notice or care. Losing five, ten, or twenty pounds before a class reunion may give you confidence, but a warm smile and open heart is what people will remember. In the throes of great sex are you really thinking about your abs? And, after the initial shock of your cellulite on the beach, will anyone think less of you; after all, it’s not a felony, is it? Instead of judging yourself and competing with others, try looking people directly in the eye; show them you are present and available. It’s intoxicating to be seen and heard …

A health insurance chart would label me overweight. I’ve been pleasantly plump my whole life, but I have never, and would never, have a relationship with a man who criticized my figure. Actually, the men I attract are quite enthusiastic about my zaftig charms. I dated a body builder several years ago, who was 14 years younger than me. He told me he respected women who pumped iron at the gym, but he preferred women with soft curves and thick legs, and the emotional stability of older women. Trust me; men are turned on by women who like themselves. A guest on Oprah claimed that you should be able to stand in front of a mirror naked, and be turned on by yourself. I fervently agree.

Furthermore, consider the practicality of aging. When we are at our most fertile, we are most appealing to the opposite sex. This is the biological path we take. We grow older and things change for a reason. We are not designed to chase boys and make babies in our later years. It’s a gift to push us into thinking about other things, like, why we’re here, what we’ve learned, and how we’re going to serve the world, insuring our lives were meaningful.

“In life our task is to go from unconscious perfection to conscious imperfection and then to conscious perfection” -unknown proverb

Please bask in your own individual beauty. Be aware of sleepwalking, unconsciously playing the same destructive tapes over and over. Seek new thoughts about yourself. Wake up and experience your fingers and toes and everything in between. Embrace the conscious truth, and love who you are.

THE KEYS TO HAPPINESS

photo by Cherrie Hanson

By cultivating attitudes of friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the unhappy, delight in the virtuous, and disregard toward the wicked, the mind-stuff retains its undisturbed calmness.
–Book One, #33 of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

This “sutra” is one of almost 200 from the primary text of Yoga, or Raja Yoga. Sutras are verses, or threads of wisdom, guiding and enlightening, similar to scriptures of the Bible, Koran, or Torah. The sutras are expanded upon by the teacher or student, contemplated, and practiced.

It’s important to understand that the principles of the sutras are not religious or philosophical, rather they are universal human truths. In Peter Hayes book, “The Supreme Adventure” he clarifies this idea. “Reading the works of such masters as Patanjali, one is struck by their modern-or more precisely, timeless-point of view.
Their outlook is scientific, not ‘religious.’ Their words are not a catechism of what they believe, but a report of what they’ve seen and heard, like the log of an expedition. The only difference is that these spiritual explorers traveled within: their laboratory was the human body; their microscope, meditation; their object of study their own inner Self.”

On my expedition of life, there have been situations with people who make me feel good and those who have hurt me terribly. I was raised Catholic, told to forgive, turn the other cheek, and show compassion for the weak and sick. But the 33rd sutra adds a pivotal element that gives me peace and releases me from continual harm.
It states, have “compassion for the unhappy”, and “disregard toward the wicked.” In other words, there are those in this world who have turned away from the light, their energy is contrary to the good, or positive, and being near these people is not healthy.
It’s not that you would wish them any harm, or shouldn’t pray for their souls, but it’s OK to choose not to be involved in a relationship with them.

But what if this person were a family member, close friend, or spouse? This can become difficult and complicated. If you choose to distance yourself from a family member or divorce a spouse there can be outside pressures to forgive, forget, and work it out. Yet, to retain undisturbed calmness of your mind, it’s important to surround yourself with love and light. The evolution of your soul is guided and managed by the choices you make alone. This may not always be favorable to others, but if they love you, and that love is real, they will respect your decision. To maintain a state of peace, indifference toward those who you cannot help, and those who do not want help, is the best position to take. We are not meant to be each other’s saviors, instead we are responsible for our own journeys. What a relief.

Patanjali calls these attitudes “keys”: friendliness, compassion, delight, and disregard. And the four locks are: happy people, unhappy people, the virtuous, and the wicked. When you encounter any of these locks in your life, these keys will help you handle each properly, and the serenity of your mind will be continuous.

When you meet someone who is happy do not become jealous or critical. Your negative feelings will only harm you. When you find someone who is unhappy, realize they have their own path or karma to work out in this life. Be merciful and compassionate, lend a helping hand, and foster your own goodness helping another. When you find virtuous people, delight in crossing their path and cultivate their great qualities. And lastly when you come across the wicked, realize they will not be open to advice or council, let them go until they can find their way back to the light.

“These four keys should always be with you in your pocket. If you use the right key with the right person you will retain your peace. Nothing in the world can upset you then. Remember, our goal is to keep a serene mind.” -Patanjali

KIRTAN

Several years ago a friend invited me to a Kirtan chant. She didn’t tell me much about it, only that it was cool. The event was held in the basement of a local church. People sat cross-legged on the floor around the band, others in chairs behind, but we all removed our shoes at the door. Hundreds gathered, the lights were dimmed, and a warm energy filled the room.

The singer, Ragani, gave a brief introduction, and found the “new-bees” with a show of hands. She was a comedian, dry, monotone, witty, translating the potent meaning of each chant with maternal care. The chants, on a screen behind the band, written in Sanskrit, looked scary and intimidating. At that fragile moment,
I decided to watch and listen. But when the “OM” sound reached every corner of the room, my head buzzed from the vibration. During the third repeat, I jumped in.
It was cool.

Quickly acclimating to the call and response pattern, I caught myself swaying with the music and relaxing into the experience. I got happy, and troubles were forgotten. The joy around me was multiplying exponentially, carrying me with it. The chants were loooong and somewhere in the middle I grew unconscious, hypnotized by the beauty of the music, the voices, the swell of bliss. Everyone was on a magic carpet ride, sharing the same perfect sky.

The event called Kirtan is a gate to somewhere beyond your imagination.
I felt lucky that night to have found it. I am sharing this story to pass the favor along.

On Friday nights, when the glog and weight of the week sits heavy on your soul, come to a sacred, quiet, loving place. Slowly strip off the layers of fear, unravel the energy-sucking anger, frustration, and disappointments, and just chant your bright and shiny Self to a pure happy place…
Welcome to Kirtan,
"OM NAMAH SHIVAYA"

Ragani’s Kirtan is held the Unitarian Universalist Church West at 13001 W. North Ave, in Brookfield, WI. Ragani performs the first Friday of the month at 7:30pm. Cost: $10. Check her website for calendar, as some months are not scheduled:
www.raganiworld.com

For more information on Kirtan go to: www.sangitadevi.com

Check out Jai Uttal: www.jaiuttal.com His amazing work includes “Kirtan: The Art and Practice of Ecstatic Chant”, “Loveland”, and “Mondo Rama”.

THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE

If you haven’t fallen in love by age 40, then you are seriously behind schedule
and missing out on the love of your life.
Here comes the dreaded Valentine’s Day reminding us to “love the one you’re with”
because we often forget…
But what if you don’t have anyone?
Cheer up baby, the love of your life has just been located!

I am a hairstylist and high priestess in the confessional of insecurities. Put most women in front of a mirror an hour or two and there’s gonna be some self deprecation – others experience delusions of grandeur, constantly playing with their hair, making fish lips in the mirror – still, it isn’t the real deal. I rarely experience a client beaming with self love or gratitude for their physical gifts.

We beat ourselves with measuring sticks, and gorge on images of perfection.
It’s like having low grade depression, or an infection you can’t shake.
But, by the time you are 40, you should know better – you should have fallen in love with yourself by now. At half-life it’s time to start fussing about what you have instead of what you have not. If you deny what you have, then you are not in the moment, which is the recipe for misery and non-existence. Feeling beautiful, sexy, jaw dropping, hot, whatever you call it, is of great importance, you just have to get there with what you GOT! Get it?

Once upon a time acceptable fashion was limited. Remember when straight men wouldn’t wear pink? There was safety in being current and conforming. Busting out of the mold was not validating. However, at this point in fashion history, it’s ALL IN, and you pull it off by being confident. We are free to express ourselves without judgment or ridicule.

Now, let’s compare fashion trends to the cornucopia of shapes, sizes, colors, and composition of our bodies. Why is there still such a narrow target of what looks good? When are we going to believe that all manifestations are cool and acceptable? How about, the bigger the schnoz the better? Let’s get steamy for some thick, chubby thighs - they can be so charming and sexy. Or go crazy for big hips that form a cushy cradle for the one they love? Sometimes my acne scars look like extra dimples – who doesn’t love a face full of dimples? A little split between the front teeth drives me wild.

Adore your parts and participles, and others will too: (sing this song to yourself)

"Listen to me baby, hear every word I say, no one can love you the way I do, because they don't know how to love you my way....you give me feeeee-ver"

A few years ago I opened a fortune cookie that simply stated,
“The Greatest Love of All – Self Love.”

So this Valentine’s Day, let me remind you emphatically to love the one you’re with…..

YOU!

WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

ANTA MIN AYNA?
WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

What prompts us to ask this question? An accent? Unusual features? A manner of dress?
Maybe we ask because we hope to have things in common…it’s a small world after all.

Personal biographies are of great interest to me, but I don’t always ask. Why?
What is the dark side of the question, “Where are you from?” The possible humiliation of not recognizing subtle features of larger groups such as the Hispanics, Pacific Islanders, and South Asians can intimidate us into silence. Or worse, innocent inquiry might cause the “stranger” to feel judged or unwelcome. I once asked a gorgeous man where he was from – I needed to know exactly where his kind of beauty came from. His response was, “I am Palestinian, not Pakistani.” Obviously, he’d been judged and misjudged before.

Another man, one of my dearest friends, initially claimed he was an Italian Jew named Zachariah. The first time we went out to eat, the restaurant was full of people he knew. The language was Arabic, the clothing was Middle Eastern. Hmmm….probably not Jewish? His fib was embarrassing and funny, but it pointed to his need to hide who he was. Afraid I would see him in a bad way, fear conditioned him to avoid the truth thus avoiding the pain of rejection. If you have ever witnessed the cruelty of prejudice, multiply that by a few times every day, and you would know the agony of its victims, although you wouldn’t have to overcome its crushing spirit. Maybe you have already experienced being a “stranger in a strange land” then you know what I’m talking about.

Our trusting connection eventually allowed me to ask, “What’s the deal with Middle Eastern men collecting wives?” and if that’s true, “How many wives do you have or intend to have?” He told me, “The Koran does allow a man to marry up to four women, but this option can be vetoed by the current wife.” There has to be a good reason to add another mate to the mix, for example, a woman who is better at cooking, child-bearing, or has some benefit to add to the family. If there are multiple wives, the Koran also states each wife must be treated equally at all levels. Zachariah insists that would be very difficult. Currently, multiple-wife-setups are infrequent and rare. Who can afford children AND wives these days? He knows two men, about 70 years of age, with multiple spouses who are living in the old country, and fading into history….

In time, my extraordinary friend and I swapped personal philosophies and spiritual beliefs, discovering we were more alike than different. We compared our holidays, gift giving rituals, and relatives - same bullshit. He had Mohammed and The Koran, and I grew up with Jesus and The Bible. We lost our fathers to cancer. We loved sharing food with good friends. We agreed the perfect cure for most anything was a hug from someone who cares. My friendship with "Zachariah", a Muslim from Palestine, is a joyous, fulfilling, educational gift I gave myself when I embraced the opportunity to have friends of any race, creed or culture.

Ma’a as-salaama!