{"id":8078,"date":"2020-03-26T21:05:24","date_gmt":"2020-03-26T21:05:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/?p=8078"},"modified":"2020-03-26T21:05:24","modified_gmt":"2020-03-26T21:05:24","slug":"purple-haze","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/purple-haze\/","title":{"rendered":"Purple Haze"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’m stepping back and letting my long-ignored nineteen-year-old Younger Self speak to her experience. Thank you for being here and bearing witness. I know that your life is odd and unusual right now.<\/span><\/h4>\n

Writing this story is an interesting experiment in trust.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I can see more clearly, with our world moving through the Covid-19 crisis, that this young girl\/woman’s story unfolds a dream of possibility. Eventually.<\/span><\/h4>\n

Right now, in our world today, we need to believe that we can be different. We need to think differently and allow a new way of paying attention. What has meaning and true worth? What builds character?<\/span><\/h4>\n

I don’t know what my Younger Self will be sharing here post to post. I simply show up to write, however, I do realize that as difficult as it was in these months for her, and for the world of 1968; each next piece of the puzzle did present itself. <\/span><\/h4>\n

I trust each piece of our current puzzle will do likewise with our collective experience with a virus.<\/span><\/h4>\n

When my right arm shattered in December of 2018 I began to hear my Younger Self reminding me that she had an experience that was available to help me. I learned that she would support me throughout my healing crisis.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I invite you to look at your life. Not just today but the collective lessons that you’ve been given. Lessons that support your strength.\u00a0 Lessons that have taught you humble confidence. Confidence to continue to move forward.<\/span><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \"\"<\/span><\/h4>\n

The days and weeks at the young widow’s tiny bungalow were mostly out-of-body. I was confused and numb. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what was expected. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to help. I simply didn’t know what to do. <\/span><\/h4>\n

I was exhausted.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I had no bearings.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I had steeled myself while working at the special arrangement house. There I was invisible. There I had space to wander room to room, not being seen. There I slept up and away from everything. I had a quiet private respite each night.\u00a0<\/span><\/h4>\n

Now I needed two weeks of bed rest. This was a very small house with 5 others. I was worthless to myself and I had no value for the family. Once again I fail mom. I am unable to be helpful.<\/span><\/h4>\n

At this point, I lose track. <\/span><\/h4>\n

I can look at a calendar and see that I went to hear The Jimi Hendrix Experience concert at Cleveland Public Music Hall<\/a><\/span>: March 26, 1968.<\/span><\/h4>\n

…the exact date that I am writing these words and sharing this story. <\/span><\/h4>\n

Today is March 26, 2020.<\/span><\/h4>\n

Yet. I don’t recall how I got to the concert in that spectacular hall. I don’t know who to thank for the gift of the ticket. I don’t know what I wore under the poncho that mom had given me to hide my condition. <\/span><\/h4>\n

I do remember the music.\u00a0 <\/span><\/h4>\n

I do remember the energy of being in a mass of my peers and I remember the sensation of being bombarded with a live sound like none of us had ever experienced. <\/span><\/h4>\n

I remember the dazzle of watching Hendrix move about the stage. I remember this icon of creative genius and how he helped me. He helped me to forget the world.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I remember a transcendent lifting … a bird on the wing … a feeling like something about being happy to be alive.<\/span><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ten days later on April 4, Martin Luther King Jr. is assassinated and the streets erupt in riots. <\/span><\/h4>\n

My life folds further in upon itself. <\/span><\/h4>\n

I collapse. Nothing makes sense.\u00a0<\/span><\/h4>\n

\"\"<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’m stepping back and letting my long-ignored nineteen-year-old Younger Self speak to her experience. Thank you for being here and bearing witness. I know that your life is odd and unusual right now. Writing this story is an interesting experiment in trust. I can see more clearly, with our world moving through the Covid-19 crisis, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[36],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8078","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-artlife"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6htPT-26i","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8078","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8078"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8078\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8088,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8078\/revisions\/8088"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8078"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8078"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8078"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}