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  • Gina Micek
    • Jul 12, 2020
    • 5 min read

Reflections on power and powerlessness in the shifting paradigm


Difficult spiritual journeys are like exercise

I am taking a class by the Intuitive Astrologer and holographic intuitive, Robert Ohotto. It is part of the membership he runs which I joined last month. The class is on Power and Powerlessness.

I reflected today, as I listened to the teaching, about the times I feel powerless and what my typical reactionary behaviors are.

I admit that when I am subconsciously triggered by outside events, it definitely shows up in my finances a lot of the time. It also shows up in wanting to control things which are out of my control.


Yesterday, I recognized too late that some part of me was triggered about summer being cancelled. It had been building for a while and I guess I just didn't pay close enough attention. Summer the season, is most definitely not cancelled, it has been 90 degrees most of the week.


What I am referring to are the get-togethers, events and festivals that keep me entertained.

Cancellations

Actually, a lot of things are cancelled or postponed. We were just sent a survey for the St Paul Curling Club last week to submit to them about our plans for the upcoming curling season.

Honestly, it doesn't look particularly good. Now this is a sport that I get a lot of joy from, exercise and camaraderie with people most of whom I have known for over ten years. Last year, I took over a team and became a skip for the first time. It was challenging and we only had one win for the season, which may or may not have been a fluke.

Anyway, I have had many wins in curling, even going all the way to the 1st event finals of a tournament. As a first year skip, I was not expecting to pull off a miracle.

Nevertheless, I looked forward to the respite from the long Minnesota winters, drinking beers, going to weekend long bonspiels and tons of laughter.

It became clear as I completed the survey that business as usual was already not possible. It is not a socially distant sport. Even if the club does 50% capacity and we trade-off weeks and sit far away from each other, it seems so much will be lost. It is also not clear if masks will be required, what might happen if someone tests positive and if we can even stomach the epidemic breaking out in the club.

My team

I reached out to my teammates to gauge how they were feeling. These ladies were willing to play under an untrained skip for an entire season with lots of free beer involved (the winning team in curling purchases beer for the loser). However, the thought of coming to the club with no vaccine for a virus that may ramp up again during flu season was just too much.

One of my ladies, a retired nurse had a loss in her extended circle and another relation on life-support. A different teammate had a grandkid on the way. We also weren't clear we could all afford to financially sustain the club by paying dues for a season we don't have - a suggestion made in the survey.

The grief for me over the entire sordid mess just crept up on me slowly. I thought I was handling it all. I wasn't.

Covid knocks the wind out of just about everything

I had lost so quickly all the outlets for what I considered my rejuvenation, my friendship circles, my events such as music or festivals that I attended. My world suddenly felt small and constricted. The virus, if you catch it affects your breathing.


Existentially we all can't really breathe. That has been the summer theme, I suppose. The theme for all of 2020, let's get real. George Floyd, was stopped from breathing by a cop. People we know got Covid and passed away, their lungs unable to sustain their lives.


Here I am worried I'll be alone in my apartment for a year or more, and hardly see anyone. No hugs or touch. No smiling faces. Laughing at my own jokes because no one is around to share them with me.

Collective powerlessness

Robert was talking about how mask wearing, for some people is the small token they use to express their general sense of powerlessness in their lives. It is easier to throw a hissy fit at a clerk in the store who won't let you in, or go on social media and brag about not wearing a mask than it is to sit in our feelings and admit the truth.


Our society has spent way too long finding ways of escaping feelings -drugs, alcohol, sex, food, endless vacations and politics. Maybe wearing a mask is like a door to feelings we simply aren't willing to touch.

Personal powerlessness

My budget was tight this week, I knew I shouldn't go out. But I went out anyway - several days in a row. My inner dialogue involved something like - it is warm out, the patios are open, I just want to breath some fresh air. I deserve to have a break after work.

I immediately became over-extended and unfortunately debted again. A thing I hadn't done since February.

The cosmic forces - internally and externally - force us to look at our shit. If you act from powerlessness it will have an immediate karmic effect. We don't get a break just because we're nice.

No one is perfect

Perfection isn't the game here. One day at a time.


I feel sad. If I do curl, it won't be with the same team. I may not curl at all. The club may not sustain itself without regular corporate gigs, tournaments and 100% capacity. I may have to take up ice skating or go back to my scrapbook projects.

I guess I will become real friendly with my budget and my finances. I will try to look at summer in a different light - it isn't all about me or a patio, I suppose. We're all not breathing the way we'd like. We're going to have to find new ways to heal and sustain each other. Drinking beers in a crowd probably isn't where power is best manifested.


Winter will be really quiet. We may have to enjoy walking alone in the snow instead of sitting around a table talking about our curling shots.

Power

I suppose in the days ahead, as I continue with the material presented in Robert's class, I will need to consider in my heart where my true power really lies. Is it posting on social about Covid and racism? Is it scrubbing my life for places I have acted unintentionally and sustained white supremacy? Is it writing?

I am not sure yet what 2020 is asking of me. I know it is exacting and difficult. Projects start and stop. People I'd hoped to resolve issues with have disappeared. Others are busy social distancing or doing their own thing.


The fall is unlikely to bring the fun events we all look forward to like the start of the curling season. We may lose more than we gain this year. It could be anything from our health, to our family members to the elections. We're going to be asked to face power and powerlessness over and over again.

What will you choose to do with your own journey with this material? I can speak from personal experience and say, it sure isn't letting me off the hook!

If you need someone to talk to as a coach or you want to try an Akashic reading on your situation, or to find a way to formulate a life that feels more authentic and real, look up some of my services. Any one of them may be something that helps you move through the material towards this new world, now forming.


#personaljourney #Akashic #Covid19 #Covid #power #powerlessness #astrology #robertohotto #intuitive #holographic #transformation #personalpower #healing #shadowwork #trauma #feelings #authenticity #journey #challenges #curling #curlingseason #StPaulCurlingClub

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  • Gina Micek
    • Jul 4, 2020
    • 4 min read

Old-timey hobbies are new again with Covid lockdown


Letters from Home 1992-1993

I took up scrapbooking as a creative means to tell the stories around my plethora of photos – back when cameras had real actual film in them as a matter of course.


I’d take my film reel to the local drugstore and wait what seemed like an extra-long time (like an hour or a week) to get the shots developed. Then they would end up in a pile in a drawer.


At some point in the late 90s, I discovered what was then a growing company called Creative Memories, based out of Minnesota. They distributed their wares through a network of consultants who made money selling products. I soon joined their ranks and my collection of scrapbook materials got out of hand quite quickly.


So did the number of projects I had going at any given time!


Some of the albums turned out to be nice works of art, others were more for show at the parties thrown to hawk products. I wasn’t particularly good at selling products and my business as it were, did not really turn a profit.


At some point, life and time got in the way of my scrapbooking and I canceled the business subscription. I’d move all the supplies with me from California to Minnesota in 2010. I never even had the time to look in the bags or pull-out the supplies (the ones I didn’t give away when trying to pare down my belongings for the move).


Creative Memories went through a bankruptcy and practically disappeared as the changing landscape of digital cameras, cellphones and social media hit their bottom-line.


Fast forward to 2020 and a pandemic changed the world forever. We were all stuck inside and my distractions like events, curling, festivals, get-togethers, and bars were all shut down or canceled.


I moved into my own apartment again in October 2019 after several years in a practically homeless state. It was nice to start organizing and decorating, really making a home. As a result, I unearthed my scrapbooks and supplies from a toppled over pile in the corner and put everything away in cabinets. I took the time to go through my old albums and laugh at some of the stories I wrote to go with the photos. You really should read about that scary encounter with hikers in the Grand Canyon!


My only regret from making fancy albums from my photo collection was that I couldn’t easily scan the photos to share on TBT (Throwback Thursday) on social media. Still, I was looking for creative outlets now that I was home all the time. Could I get back into this old hobby?


That is exactly what I did. I started with one of my unfinished, 10-year-old projects. Another blast from the past was the collection of handwritten letters I received while on my Junior Year Abroad program at Lancaster University in the United Kingdom. Other than physical photos, we also used to write on paper as the main form of communication, especially long-distance. We used stamps.


One night, I grabbed the album pieces, letters, and cards and just started adding them to blank pages with the occasional colorful decoration or sticker.


I found it relaxing and entertaining to read through the letters. I remembered the rather singular focus I had on making friends with recalcitrant Brits and all the boys I liked from afar because I was too intimidated to do anything about them. The usual immaturity of a 19-year old who was not as sophisticated as her peers.


Not all the letters were happy ones though. I got into a vociferous argument with my cousin in Canada. And my folks were often preachy about my drinking at pubs or plans I had for the future. Sometimes my friends at school in Santa Cruz, California would use the opportunity of the long-distance letter to give me a detailed, TMI account of their boyfriends and family spats. My mother was in nursing school at the time, so I learned a lot about anatomy and bodily fluids.


Nevertheless, letters from my now deceased grandparents and the almost forgotten art of letter writing – including but not limited to drawings on envelopes and enclosed glitter -- are a part of my story and my history. The format is perhaps sadly gone the way of the Dodo bird and I’ll never relive my teens or college years, so it will be nice to page through the albums as I grow older.


I am still working on the last few months of that year. Next up, completing the (also 10-year plus old) album of my time as a grad student at the University of Miami. Now THAT is a story! One bonus, I discovered during this process -- Creative Memories was in fact not dead, just reformatted. I can get supplies and carry on the tradition of scrapbooking.


If curling at the Saint Paul Curling Club does get canceled due to Covid in the fall, I can see I will be keeping myself busy on my projects.


#scrapobooking #personalhistory #photos #photoalbums #stories #journey #memories #creativememories #cameras #storytelling #authenticity #fun #hobbies #Covid19 #lockdown #stufftodo

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  • Gina Micek
    • Feb 25, 2020
    • 9 min read

Nine Houses: Lowertown SantaCons through the years 2012-2016

Updated: Jun 30, 2020

I attended my first SantaCon in December of 2012. SantaCons are held all over the United States with similar themes. A group of revelers dressed as Santa, reindeer and the like celebrating all things Christmas. Lowertown SantaCon became a tradition very quickly in St Paul. By the time I attended my first, it had been going strong for five years with no signs of demise.


2012 SantaCon V


Author at SantaCon 2012 with Penguin Facepaint

The first year I attended, we crawled to bars and restaurants all over the Lowertown area, accompanied by an MC and a brass band called The Brass Messengers. From Gopher Bar with its surly bartenders and cash-only policy to Black Dog Café and the upscale Chinese/ Asian-Fusion bar Senor Wong’s. There we went traipsing through the snow. Snowflakes falling quickly, landing on noses and eyelashes. We shivered and sung carols between stops, warming up in one of the sponsoring establishments with friends.


Lowertown Loft’s Leasing Assistant, Allison invited us to begin our tour in the main room downstairs with a pre-party. I didn’t have an outfit planned so I wore my red penguin knitted sweater and tan cords. We got our face painted at Black Dog on our stop there. My new neighbors Doris and Dan joined us as well as a few other familiar faces from the building.

We’d had our first snow by the time Lowertown SantaCon arrived.


The nights were chilly but not unbearable. The glittery icicles and pristine snow glistened under the lamps. Christmas markets, work parties, decorations and twinkle lights covering the now bare trees all signified the start of the holiday season. Just a few blocks away at Rice Park, an outdoor skating rink was crowded daily with hockey players and figure skaters, family gatherings and people like me who could only skate in circles.


Unlike California, the weather reminded me of the Christmas movies I loved to watch. The snow gingerly falling on eyelashes and leaving wispy marks on coats. Yuletide felt so much more real in St Paul than anywhere I’d been other than perhaps my childhood home. Maybe that is what it invoked in me – a child-like wonder and inspiration to move beyond my everyday drudgery – work, money, work, getting to work by bus, standing in the cold for hours for a bus. Doing obligatory healing work and dealing with all the metaphysical and physical realities of my existence.


As luck would have it, at Bulldog I ran into the man I’d written the go away letter to. I was hopping around the joint to the brass band, singing carols and in control. I was having a great time at that moment. After all, if I knew anything, I knew I was right. I read situations correctly, I had it all down. I may have been enlightened or psychic and definitely clever. I ignored him on purpose to prove my point. I made sure to emphasize that by talking to his buddy sitting next to him.


Yea, I was right, he was wrong and there was no question. In the hours and days after this encounter, a gnawing dissatisfaction with my approach would develop. In the moment, my sensitivity to the pain I was suffering from being victimized or whatever it was I thought was going on was heightened. I was also pretty tipsy. It was easier to not care than care too much.


Neighbors and revelers at Lowertown SantaCon 2012


2013 SantaCon VI


Author at Lowertown SantaCon 2013

The second-year I went to SantaCon the organizers switched up some of the venues – as the landscape of downtown morphed, so did the available venues large enough to house a growing group of Christmas enthusiasts. Snow, snowflakes, carols, fire dancers and at least one Krampus. Golden’s Deli on 4th and Wall, would turn out to be a multi-year spot for us red-cheeked revelers.


Mr. Golden and his troupe of children, family members and friends-of-friends owned and ran this quirky deli with its bagel sandwiches, Peace Coffee and brunch on weekends. There was a stage, art on the walls and a relaxed atmosphere invoking the nearby artist’s lofts.

Krampus is fairly popular in the Twin Cities due to the eastern European influence. A horned beast with a furry body and menacing visage, who punishes children for misbehaving A far cry and more sinister, perhaps than a lump of coal.


I planned to go on one or two stops of the SantaCon and head into Minneapolis for a DJ night at The First Avenue Record Room. The powers that be had different plans for me that night, I would soon find out.


I dressed as an elf and used some boots that looked good but weren’t really made for ice and snow. I’d had some issues a few times on the crawl with slipping around. When I left the party at one of the venues, I headed up the darkened 6th St to the bus stop on Minnesota Street.


Lost in reverie, excited about dancing in Minneapolis and seeing the DJs, I felt a gust of wind blow out of nowhere. A dark shadow fell. A foreboding thought crept through my mind about having to deal with someone I disliked, who would probably be there too. I huddled against the chill air as I walked quickly so I wouldn’t miss the bus.


On an uneven piece of the pavement by US Bank, a phantom spirit swooped through my body like a slap to my back. Suddenly, I tripped and fell hard on my face, jarring my neck, my bones. People walked by me, as I lay prostrate, flat on the ground, dazed and shaken up. They didn’t stop or ask if I was OK. As I got back my senses and sat up, I felt heat rising and spilling from my chin. I wiped at my face, and away came blood – fast and furious. My hands were cut-up too.


I knew I had to make it back to the apartment, each step excruciatingly painful. Blood dripping from multiple places all over my white coat and onto the snow below my feet. I tried to hold my chin to coagulate the blood, and yet it kept dripping. By the next morning as I assessed the damage – the gash on my chin was at least an inch long -raw and deep. My body could barely move – bruised and battered as it was. I didn’t have health insurance so I did my best to cover it all with Band-Aids.


Doris brought me food from a feast she had hosted. I was supposed to attend. I never did make it out dancing. I wondered if the DJs even missed my presence. Significance, showing up, being there seemed the only way to make an impact. I didn’t think about what I might need. Forging ahead to catch the bus, in the dark, on the ice, with the wrong boots. Was I a friend or a fan? A champion or a nuisance. I never really knew.


The scar on my chin is hard and knotty, dark hairs like to grow there. A constant reminder of the moment the pavement and my body shared a hard and unfortunate bonding. A good thing I didn’t die on impact. I never will know how the night at the Record Room went or who attended. Something or someone didn’t want me to show up though.


Lowertown Lofts neighbors at Bulldog.

2014-SantaCon VII


Author Gina Micek as a "Naughty" elf, Lowertown Santacon 2014

My third consecutive SantaCon, would mark a huge shift in my thinking – whether from the consistent BodyTalk and healing work Kris and I were conducting or other mindset changes, I had moved away from much of the rigid viewpoints I’d previously held.


For SantaCon, I reworked the elf costume with better boots and didn’t plan to go elsewhere. I was knee-deep in my MBA by this point anyway. Too much studying. Never enough funds. I’d just started my full-time job as an Administrative Assistant with a start-up finance firm. I was a contractor. I loved the job but working full-time and school full-time became a consistently stressful event. I was waiting for them to make me permanent and the leadership was waiting for the New Year.


Dan & Doris and the other neighbors who stuck around joined each other for the crawl. The building didn’t really sponsor an event that year. Allison was either on her way out or going and not that into us anymore.


We ended up at the new Bedlam Theater – an event center with a hippie feel that had used a Million Dollar restoration fund to redo the structure and get it up to code. We were hopeful and excited.


The Bedlam was housed in a building with a long-vacant first floor, where a jazz club once stood. I was familiar with the building from my time at Citizen’s League – then housed in the CoCo space on the 4th floor-- it was nice to see the revamped theater. It had been a rough year – for the first half, I was jobless and looking. I started my MBA in February, almost out of desperation. Dived right into my back-to-back eight-week classes.


Our most difficult classes had begun to form my cohort into future business leaders, we were often depleted and running on empty or sick. I let go of my strong desire to move out of my admin career and took the job at Springleaf in order to have a stable job through my time at school.


My curling season had been short, I’d let go of regular teams to make classes and couldn’t do many of the events. The crawl for me was a respite in the sea of intensity.


2015 SantaCon VIII


Author Gina Micek dressed as a woodland fairy, Lowertown Santacon 2015

By 2015 SantaCon went through some major shifts in the route. Lowertown was changing. Big River Pizza had opened on the corner of Wall and 6th Street to take advantage of the revamped landscape of Lowertown with the opening of CHS Field – the Saint’s baseball stadium --and a growing number of new restaurants lined 6th street.


We dropped into Kelly’s Depot Bar – a legacy venue with the greasy kitchen, a connection to the now restored train depot and a dive bar feel. The place was crowded with Santas and Krampus and we stuffed ourselves into the venue for loud brass brand music, cheap cocktails and barely heard conversations.


Senor Wong’s continued to attempt to compete by renaming itself SW Craft Bar and Bedlam Theater remained on the list for a fun conclusion. I was preparing to finish out my MBA in the new year with a J-term abroad in Japan. I’d already taken the month of January off from curling because we were in class several times a week, plus the two weeks we’d be in Japan.


The semester concluded with a stressful event for me in which classmates on a group project had accused me of not working to deadline – a situation I contested due to illness. When I defended myself to their accusations on the basis of self-care, the teacher assumed I needed a mental health break, and removed me from the group project, and class. I had to make it up late and never did recover the grade.


I decided to go all out for the first time and create an entirely new costume for 2015. I reused a Halloween costume I’d made years before, added a crown and glitter, as well as fairy wings. I was now a Winter Fairy. I spent way more money than I had on dust, wings and the like but really wanted to show up with something fantastic.


By this point, Dan and Doris and others I was used to going with on the crawl – were now not going or had moved from Lowertown. I just went on my own but it wasn’t quite as fun or exciting as previous years with a large group from the building. Allison had moved on to run her own event’s business.


2016 SantaCon IX


The author dressed as a woodland fairy, Lowertown Santacon, St Paul, MN

The neighborhood just kept changing. Trattoria Da Vinci was gone. Bin Wine Bar was gone. Public and Green Lantern had opened in the space next to Barrio and Bulldog. The JAX building -one of the major contributors to the artist’s community, had been sold and the artists held a Wake.


While it would be years yet before the building was developed into anything – the artists moved out, the garbage containers in the back alley were filled with the remnants of once vibrant studios. One wondered whether Lowertown could still be called and “art’s district.”


Time waits for no person or city, and in the end, our sleepy little town was quickly becoming a bustling metropolis centered on redevelopment and high-priced luxury apartments. A new era of St Paul had begun whether we liked it or not. Bedlam didn’t last either. Turns out the quirky hippie theater just couldn’t afford the costs of the upgrades they’d incurred to open.


I attended in 2016, my MBA now complete. The wind had, however, gone out of the sails for me. My friends had moved. I was focused on other things and issues. It would be the last year for SW Craft Bar and Golden’s. They just couldn’t keep up with the changing landscape and increased offerings. The artistic, hippy joints and the older bars just simply didn’t have the élan of breweries, new hip eateries like Handsome Hog, the BBQ joint now occupying the Bin space.


In fact, it was the last year for me too. By 2017, I was burned out and struggling with my own issues. 2018, SantaCon almost canceled and went to a one- bar non-crawl event held in the Green Lantern. I didn’t attend either year. 2019, I'd just moved again and wasn't up for going out. What was once an amazing and fun-filled event that I couldn’t miss, had spiraled into decay from the gentrification of Lowertown and the changing landscape of my spiritual and physical existence.


Lowertown SantaCon had seen its time for me and the call of the wild spirit took me elsewhere. A sad effect of the story I have yet to tell about the final years of my living in Lowertown.


Santacon 2016 Santas and other revelers at Big River Pizza

#lowertown #stpaul #lowertownsantacon #NineHouses #LivingStPaul #lifejourney #journey #healing #personalmemoir #memoir #MSP #Minnesota #writing #journal #history #neighborhood #spiritualjourney #experiences #Santacon #Christmas #holiday #celebrations #barcrawls #downtownliving #neighbors

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  • Gina Micek
    • Apr 6, 2019
    • 7 min read

Nine Houses: Lowertown Lofts – An Era of Change 2012-2014

Updated: Jun 30, 2020



2012

On the world stage, in spiritual circles, 2012 held a lot of weight. Leading up to the “big year”, were reports the world would end, a big polar ice-cap shift would occur, the day would turn dark and all non-enlightened souls would disappear to some other dimension...

I'd heard it all and watched the YouTubes. In my life, on the third floor, we prepared for the next big thing. My temp job at Citizens League turned permanent. I finally had benefits. I commuted to work across the alley from LL. A feeling of "have arrived" permeated my existence. I got to network with a lot of influential folks in the Twin Cities. I belonged somewhere and had community.

I felt close to some major breakthroughs and read a lot of Abraham-Hicks. My friend and I attempted to save money by getting more into cooking for ourselves. I bought a few cookbooks and we had grand plans to cook meals together and make lunches in advance as well as freezer meals. I bought a bunch of stuff to do it. In reality, I still didn’t care enough about food or cooking to make it last. Buying groceries without a car was a chore. Or I’d run out of money, get tired or just want to go out and have fun.

I bought some business cards and thought I’d make money running Access Consciousness Bars or doing Akashic Record readings. I’d get a few clients or do trades, but nothing really came of it. I’d imagine spending money on advertising or a website, if I could just get my head above water long enough.

Community

Lowertown’s summer festivals and Thursday night music became a staple that year. The music was amazing and the community even better. Live (and free) Jazz, Blues, Bluegrass...Mears Park burst forth with cacophony of delectable sounds and diverse talents from all over the world. An eclectic framework upon which to heal and co-create a better future.

I made the decision to finally bring my stuff from California during the summer. I ventured home in August, packed up the things I felt I needed. Boxed the rest for charity. No doubt a sense of euphoria invaded my space. I had Paid Time-Off and I could prove that I could make it work in the Twin Cities.


Things may have been shaky financially, and I couldn’t pay all my bills. I loved someone who was dating someone else. I had a lot of opinions about it. In the meantime, I got revenge by making my own quasi-sacred connections. Biding my time until everything fell into place and magically resolved. Mostly,it was a chore and a calling to heal others. I didn't feel I had a choice.

Outside of my best friend with whom I continued to do healing work, I got into the bicycle community that is so vibrant in the Twin Cities. 30-Days of Biking and the Freedom from Pants ride hallmarked a new wave of social acquaintances, festivals and crazy antics. I found intoxicating liberation in taking off my pants and wearing a bikini or bra and panties with a gang bike contingent in even fewer clothes.

Dancing at Club Jager and other venues like First Ave’s Record Room. Dealing with the darkness that I felt pervaded the cities. Darkness that was outside of myself – entities, forces outside my control, negative people. Internally, I desperately wanted approval and love. This constant feeling of “not good enough” pervaded my existence. Why was I in this place – the Twin Cities – if the right guy didn’t notice or care; the people didn’t get advanced spirituality; I had to hide my true nature or not have friends; my money situation never took off; I continued to ask for money each month from my parents and no one would hire me for more than what I saw as minimum pay.

The spiritual community that did exist in the Twin Cities suffered from an extreme case of poverty consciousness. Most of them couldn’t stand corporations and eked out a living with businesses or odd jobs. Facebook posts about bad employers and people who took advantage, or some calamity or other which befell them, were not uncommon. Myself included.



Personal Life

By the conclusion of 2012, the big move over, the job’s honeymoon phase well past, a growing dissatisfaction with waiting for the guy to “figure himself out.” I decided to make this big all-encompassing announcement of singularity. In a letter. “You just don’t deserve me or get me!,” may have been the theme. Not sure what I expected to have come of that. Perhaps undying devotion or a revelation. I didn’t need men! Except I was lonely and sad and doing it felt strong for only about 2 minutes. The shaky ground I was on, soon to reveal itself as the New Year dawned.

2013

If 2012 had this context of euphoria and arrival, 2013 was categorized for me as a year of major upheaval. First off, the healing we were doing and the questions I was asking the Universe were leading to something unexpected. Change. We think we want change, we ask for it, we beg for it when things are hard and then when it happens we are like, “No I didn’t mean like that.”

This is the one thing I have been made aware of and experienced directly, change does not happen in the way we imagine it will and often it is not the comfortable version we created on a vision board or wrote down. We don’t always understand with the mind a cause and effect. We fight it because it doesn’t seem to overtly solve our problem in a nice tidy way.

Change is by definition, nonlinear. Except, I maintained a belief in control and perfection during this time. That was the hard part. I feel now that I was blinded by this to the opportunities. My internalized shame and trauma, had me justifying, finding fault, and turning it in on myself.

In February, things started breaking down at the Citizen’s League for me. I couldn’t explain it. A job I once loved was both boring to me and upsetting. Changes made to administrative aspects that probably were in the best interest of the non-profit, only added to my issues. My job functions were unceremoniously taken away and others added. I later learned that was normal for non-profits – the budgets are small, and people are required to be adaptable. I wasn’t quite interested in the direction we were taking and most definitely not adaptable. I took things personally.


Before I could even think of looking for something else, the situation blew up and I was out the door. The job paid $18 an hour minus the cost of benefits. The benefits I hardly ever used because I couldn’t afford the deductible. My unemployment was $9/ hour. I was already living beyond my means most of the time.

I took this hard at first. I may have had to cut back on going to Trattoria when I had to pay my phone or cable bill, but I also didn’t really cook. I didn’t enjoy cooking. It felt like a chore. I was tired. I preferred the noise and bustle. I felt alone and afraid and being out helped me avoid these feelings and assuage them simultaneously.

I also liked creating situations where someone else would pay for some or all of my drinks and food.

The banging and the closet

I remember one particular week in which they were installing what I assume were pylons for the electrical cables into the ground around the lightrail construction. It involved banging and drilling. My job hunt was stalled. I hadn’t had an interview. I didn’t have money. The constant loud banging of the machines was repetitive and loud. There was nowhere to go. This was all day long for days in a row.

I was on the phone with my friend crying in my walk-in closet at the apartment. Snot and tears coming down my face. I wanted to die. The walk-in closet was the only place you couldn’t hear the jarring noise quite as badly. My bones shook.

St Paul reflecting change

The old Gillette building, long an eyesore, was torn down to make way for what would by 2015 be CHS Field, a local baseball park and event facility. West 7th was going through its own transformations near the Xcel Center, home of The Wild Hockey and a concert venue. Buildings that once housed government offices or art studios were quietly (or not so quietly) being bought up by land developers and turned into luxury apartments.

While this transformation process happened slowly over many years, we knew our sleepy little town was becoming something else. At one point a Northern Lights art installation showcased street performers lamenting gentrification. Protesters attempted to stop the sale of the JAX building where artists had long-time studios. These voices were interesting and perhaps provocative, and yet nothing we did slowed the pace of creation.

Internal Transformation

Anger about the job loss and long period of unemployment, with even more restricted finances gave way to a drive in me to find solutions. I can’t always say they came from an altruistic place. I donated to Citizens League but only because I wanted to be annoying. Despite the fact I hadn’t really wanted to be there anymore I was still angry that I didn’t choose the ending date on my own. I was angry I couldn’t do much and that I didn’t feel normal.

I was using chiropractic care and acupuncture to assist with my immune system. I spent money on that instead of food some days, or instead of rent.

Work and self

As the changes proliferated through downtown, my friendship’s deepened both at the curling club and with residents in Lowertown. New faces moved into the building and surrounding buildings. Our Trattoria hang-outs got bigger and more boisterous. By the end of 2013, as summer turned to winter, we were socializing together frequently. I changed temp agencies and picked up what was supposed to be a long-term assignment at Catholic Charities in Minneapolis. It lasted less than a month. According to the over-controlling and domineering CAO, I wasn't Executive Assistant material. Later, I got a short term medical relief position at Minnesota State Colleges and Universities in downtown. It paid $15 an hour.

Financially I was tanking and fast. My parents were increasingly upset that I "couldn't keep it together and couldn't keep a job. Why had they spent money moving me if it was going to be like this..."

The pressure was mounting. I decided to do something about it. I was going to go back to school...the folks at Trattoria may have been the first to hear of my plans. One day, while researching business schools all over the country, I saw an ad on a bus in front of the apartment. St Catherine University was starting their new MBA. Within a few short weeks, I'd obtained my transcripts, written an essay and applied. Would I get in? That was the answer I didn't know quite yet. I just knew something had to change and it had to be BIG.

#wellbeing #wellness #MSP #StPaul #familytrauma #innerwork #energy #energyclearing #selfempowerment #connectiontoself #threedimensionaltherapy #Transformation #change #mind #mindbodyconnection #ancestraltrauma #soul #emotionalsupport #story #Journey #process #Spirituality #intuition #SacredJourney #creative #selflove #NineHouses

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  • Gina Micek
    • Aug 15, 2018
    • 3 min read

Day 8: New vistas, old habits, journey of the soul and other Truths as summer winds down

Updated: Feb 12, 2020



I took a shift unexpectedly at the restaurant downtown today. Biked home and realized half-way that it was Tuesday night work crew at the Saint Paul Curling Club.

Stopped in to see what the summer projects were all about. Loni mentioned that while the roster wasn’t large, they’d managed to wait until the last minute, once again to complete things.

The ice set-up projects will start next week!

Hard to imagine that in just a month, fall activities will begin and temps will start to drop. The State Fair – our big Minnesota get together will be completed and Halloween on its way.

I’ve never known any place to have summer last less than three months. Why did I have a soul contract for this place again? If you’d asked me in 2001 if I’d ever leave California and venture to the mid-west, and a city, I’d have cringed. I always saw myself settling in the country like up in Napa or Petaluma with a large tract of land, maybe working for a vineyard.

The first time I got confronted with the idea of living in a city was when I took my first CTI coaching courses back in 2005. We did a guided “future self” meditation where we went to visit ourselves 20 years in the future. My future self was wearing a suit and hanging out in an office space in a city I didn’t recognize. The only ones I thought remotely close in size and scope were San Francisco or Los Angeles and I hated those places. I ran out of the room crying.

When much later, around 2008/2009 I was introduced to Minneapolis-St Paul I freaked out because it looked just like the “future self” meditation, and I felt like I’d been there before. It took several more coaching classes and sessions to consider that maybe my soul had been speaking for a long time. So, while it may have seemed like a sudden, or even insane decision by some who didn’t know the whole story – I’d been working with the idea for quite some time.

I tried to avoid it for about another year. Increasingly though I had this strange internal nudging going on. The temp jobs I took were more and more temporary – often working for companies that were about to go under or were in merger-acquisition. In the end, I stopped getting jobs altogether. The only thing that kept rearing its “ugly” head was this idea of re-location.

Our souls know exactly what we should be doing. Maybe, I knew better than to avoid the call too long. No need to get hit over the head with a two-by-four to wake up to my future.

Back at the curling club, we talked summer projects, curling, boats, an open bartender spot. We ate pizza and drank beer (and no I didn't do any work - I was told to come back next week) I was reminded just how fast the summer had gone. Perhaps the constant stream of interviews, job hunting and MIMA work kept me busy. Here I thought I’d have a job and move from my sub-let to my own apartment or something. No such luck.

Dreams don’t always land the way you think they will. We can have all the pre-conceived notions we want of life, or even the people in our lives and many times they’ll simply not add up. I had no idea what I was getting into when I first moved to the Twin Cities in March of 2010 with two suitcases and a dream.

The path and the journey has both been more amazing than I could have imagined and more daunting. I didn’t know when I moved that starting over would mean literally from scratch. Or that I would meet so many amazing folks from all walks of life, who’ve turned into friends. Or that I’d be confronted with the most difficult people and situations I’d ever experience, having to dig deep to find my True North, gain personal efficacy and know the potency of my determination and strength.

More changes are coming. The summer is winding down. Decisions need to be made. New choices, new vistas and grappling with our winter weather, once again. What magic will the holidays hold for 2018? A year of deep spiritual awakening.

What new horizons will show themselves and what will continue to stay the same, not quite going as planned or changing direction altogether. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

#2018 #frustrations #selfhelp #intimacy #connectiontoself #connection #TrueNorth #Curling #betterchoices #innerwork #energy #energyclearing #Relating #patterns #seasons #heart #knowing #personaljourney #Journey #soul #SoulJourney #Soulmates #Innerlandscapes #life #Relationship #Writing #coaching

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  • Gina Micek
    • Aug 13, 2018
    • 4 min read

Day 6: Templates, Healing, Change, Choice and the Circumstances that Bind Us

Updated: Feb 12, 2020



I met a woman talking to her dog at the coffee shop today. She was also talking to her phone. She was telling the dog it was hot outside, which it was. I was sweating and trying to enjoy my outdoor time but really it was too hot. The phone was a source of frustration because, as it turned out she kept getting emails from Kohl’s.

I mentioned the heat to her and she got into a long story about wanting to lose weight. Walking the dog, swimming and sometimes eating sweet rolls had lost her a few pounds (she didn’t understand how the sweet rolls hadn’t caused her to gain). So, had visiting her grandchildren in San Francisco (because they kept her running). I didn’t know her story, but it seemed she was one of those people who was probably always losing a couple pounds. Somewhere along the line her life became about getting to that long-lost weight she wished would change her life.

I think that template is an easy one to grab a hold of. Women seem to find themselves there frequently – never quite being all that happy with their bodies. Someone else mentioned recently she couldn’t show her body because she had had babies…Meanwhile, at the same gathering, the guys all had their shirts off and none of them were ripped or cared.

I wondered, briefly if the coffee shop lady was hoping if she just lost weight she’d be beautiful enough to be loved. Had some guy left her for a more attractive model? Anyway, she thought she had an app that sent her messages. She liked the Target app but hated Kohls. After some research on my part, it was her emails sending notices rather than an app. I helped her unsubscribe from the marketing email. She asked me if I was a student at Macalester because I knew how to use an iPhone. I hated to tell her that I knew my way around technology, apps, emails and more.

The baby shower

Later, I attended a baby shower. A surreal experience of baby advice and cute frilly clothes. I realized this was a rather blank page for me. I’m not sure I’ve ever attended one before or knew what to expect. Somehow, I just escaped the baby shower / wedding lifestyle experiences. Maybe I was too busy attending healing classes, healing, or hanging out with adults who didn’t want children, or whose children were already grown. Not necessarily by conscious choice. It just happened.

A small world, after all

After the baby shower, I drove to downtown Saint Paul. There was a Saints game on at CHS field. There I walked around for a bit and bumped into someone I knew from the curling club. I’m surprised he was alone, so I assume he was meeting others I probably know in the compound. I just can’t quite bring myself to go to a baseball game by myself.

Walking around downtown during the day – since I am there mostly at night these days – was odd. A year ago, I packed up my apartment I had downtown for seven years. It was a tough summer. I had no idea where my life was going to take me. My family and I were fighting. The trauma work influenced my existence in a way I didn’t expect. Rather than things simply improving, they fell apart. They keep falling apart, over and over. Meanwhile, new things entered just not in a straight line.

I ran into Bernie there while wandering around Mears Park – my old friend. We ended up conversing on his rooftop about relationships and healing and therapy and the insanity that is this job search of mine.

Good night. Although, I can’t help but think that as much as had changed since I left Lowertown, that some things hadn’t changed at all. Not even one bit. Either that or it was a slight modification based on experience and the totality of it just couldn’t be expressed.

On the writing journey

Writing daily has been both hard and exhilarating. Hard because I could find all kinds of excuses not to write. Exhilarating because it is bringing up a lot of things that are deeply embedded I can’t get to without the ritual of this work.

One thing I know for certain – I am looking to see this shift into what I came here to be and do. Bernie said he thought I’d never be happy in a place where I didn’t believe in the work I was doing, If I was involved in marketing it would need to be a product or service that I trusted. He wondered if I’d not be good in the corporate social responsibility sector. Quite possibly if it weren’t just lip service?

Intriguing quandary.

What's next?

What are all these avenues and paths we choose? I can only hope that I can stay healthy rather than obsessed with weight and those “couple pounds” I need to lose. I heard recently that someone’s mother – who I had seen as a client for her nutritional services – now had Alzheimer’s. So even the supplements and chiropractic didn’t absolve her of a disease that robs one of their memories. I have metaphysical theories on that disease. Still, we can try everything and, in the end, maybe not change enough for our future to be a pristine drive to 120.

Or maybe changing and healing is an obsession of mine that is net zero. Not sure I’d quite go that far, but I can see how we should enjoy every minute we have since we honestly have no idea what the future holds or does not hold. Given the climate change issues, the future may be short. It sure was hot today...

#financialhealth #selfhelp #ancestraltrauma #breakthrough #frustrations #mind #innerwork #wellness #health #connectiontoself #betterchoices #energy #Transformation #bestself #Relating #family #movement #creative #change #writing #finances #heart #connection #personaljourney #Journey #soul #SoulJourney

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  • Gina Micek
    • Aug 10, 2018
    • 7 min read

Day 4: How Frustrations and Pitfalls Lead to Important Ah-Ha Moments on the Journey

Updated: Feb 12, 2020



Frustration is a common negative emotion I’ve experienced on this journey so far.

Two years before I applied for and got into an MBA program in the Twin Cities, I was frustrated because I already knew that to improve my financial situation, I needed to find a better career path for myself. The MBA may have been my attempt to rectify this issue. The process since has been both a journey and often times frustrating. Before I got to that point, though, I came down a path of twists, turns and dead-ends.

Early career

I’d gotten into admin work as a default, I think. I used to pick-up temp gigs in the San Francisco Bay Area on breaks from school at UC Santa Cruz Started off working as a receptionist answering phones at companies for $10 an hour.

Later, after some experience with that, I moved up to Administrative Assistant or did a bunch of filing jobs and learned applicable skills, whatever I could pick up. I did well at them and easily built rapport with hiring managers.

I was young, and probably more immature than my contemporaries. I didn’t really understand what it would take to build a career at that point. I felt as though I had time on my hands and the world was my oyster.

My family background

My father barely graduated high school, went to the Army and worked his way up in his company. He began as a technician repairing radio equipment and eventually, through a series of job titles and travel opportunities, made it to the Program Manager level, running satellite communication projects for Ford Aerospace.

My mother was a stay-at-home home until I was in middle school. She tried a short stint as a real estate agent (which she hated) before going back to college full-time when I started UCSC. She had spoken about a broken dream of being a nurse. I encouraged her to go back to school and she did. She retired earlier this year (2018). She loved her job as an occupational health nurse, a career she stated in her forties.

My career planning (or lack thereof)

I can’t say I got the best advice from my parents about career-building. Whether it was naiveté about my potential or simply that having risen to a middle-class lifestyle, they were ill-prepared for shepherding modern career development, I don’t know. My father was more worried about nepotism then skill-building. He expressly told me he wouldn’t get me an internship at Ford because he didn’t want to be perceived as favoring me.

Sadly, other students were getting internships at their parent’s companies and building a network or gaining the career understanding leading to further opportunities down the road. I did a bunch of odd jobs instead. Maybe in the end, that was my path. I’ll never know. If I wasn’t temping, I worked as a food delivery driver, as a ride operator later guest services at Great America and a bookstore sales clerk. One of my early temp jobs was a long-term assignment at a company called Network General. We had to enter faxed sales orders into their new database system.

When I returned from film school in Miami in 1998, my state of mind, as previously mentioned was broken. I could barely get up in the morning or function so trying for a high-powered career or moving to LA was not an option. I settled for my default of temping and soon got a contract at a pharmaceutical company called ALZA as an administrative assistant in the animal research department.

I performed well there for a time and won several awards. Unfortunately, my manager whom I had a great rapport retired. A reorganization took place as a result and suddenly, I was the subject to scrutiny about my performance.

The shift kind of threw me off. I was ill-prepared to handle the jockeying politics. I went after what I think would have been a great role in the marketing department, writing and working on technical manuals and marketing collateral. I was offered the job, but they rescinded the offer when the Director of my department provided a poor performance review (despite the two years of positive feedback by my previous manager). I didn’t take this well and started performing badly to match their perceptions, talking ill of management to other employees and not caring about my job. When they started performance improvement processes, I just handed in a resignation and quit.

I moved up north of San Francisco for a dubious reason at the time, I won’t go into here. Nevertheless, soon got an Executive Assistant position at Autodesk (also temporary) due to my previous skills as an admin. For some reason, I didn’t think to go after a marketing role. Disappointment collapsed my desire to try too hard. Or maybe I did and got too many rejections, can't remember.

Total Collapse

The Autodesk role didn’t last too long. I started in February of 2001. By September 11, 2001, the fractured economic state of the California blew up in a several fire-y balls when terrorists attacked the World Trade Center. A week later, they let me go. No one was hiring. Companies all over the state either went out of business from a failure to handle catastrophic change to their model or a failure to be ethical in their practices.

The story that took place between 2001 and 2005 deserves its own blog. By 2006 I was living back home with my parents and restarting my admin career from scratch. While someone suggested an MBA, I didn’t feel equipped to go back to school. I let the idea go. Instead I focused on rebuilding my experience and reference list by doubling down as an excellent performer.

By 2008 I was about to be hired at a small start-up called Tidal Software, for my excellent performance as a receptionist/sales administrator. I loved that job. I thought I might have a chance of moving into a marketing role, if I just played my cards right. The Universe had a different plan. The company was sold to Cisco and I was out of a job (again).

Moving

In late 2009, I knew I needed something BIG to shift and decided (after a series of weird events) to move to Minnesota. The weird events also deserve their own novel series. Some of it involved a spiritual push or awakening to the idea that there was more out there for me than living with my parents the rest of my life. That maybe living with them and creating a default career may not have been my best choice.

I completed the first stage of my move east in March of 2010. Little did I know that I would be starting over from scratch (again) as I knew no one and had no network. Social and financial forces would be at play in my growth and development for the next several years. So, would the growing frustration that while I was an excellent office manager, project coordinator and executive assistant, I was bored and unable to move past the entry-level salary that those positions typically offer.

The MBA

I got booted from a job at a non-profit in 2013. I was a job seeker – unsuccessfully from February through December, attempting to go after project manager roles or something else that didn’t involve executive calendars. My attempts were fruitless. That is when I saw an ad for the St Kate’s MBA program on the side of a bus. I had exhausted my unemployment and my give a damn was busted. While I’d put off the MBA at another time in my life, now I was ready. I applied, got accepted and started school in February of 2014. Still unemployed.

I did a series of odd temp jobs through the summer and finally got sent to Springleaf Financial in August of 2014. I returned to my roots as an Executive Assistant, working full-time for this growing company while studying for my MBA full-time. Finished my coursework in February of 2016 with a final four-week marathon studying Japanese culture and business which included a two-week trip to Japan.

Career Dev

Now I had all the skills and awareness of how one goes about building a career. Maybe it was 20 years later than everyone else, I don’t know. The frustrations are cyclical these days.

I have a list of volunteer assignments and an internship under my belt. A growing portfolio of professional published pieces. A series of informational interviews, a network that grew to the point of personal referrals, and a pretty steady slew of actual interviews for both contracts and permanent roles.

I decided after much consideration to leave my full-time job as an administrative assistant to pursue a contract role in December 2017. It was not an easy choice. I did love the company I worked for, but I needed professional experience on my resume in my field. The contract ended after two months, shorter than originally anticipated.

I’ve been job searching ever since. I work at two restaurants part-time and live on unemployment. Frustrating on days when there is not enough money to pay the bills. Frustrating that even when I get to a third round, in person, as a top candidate, it isn’t quite the right fit. Or, outside circumstances like the department reorganizations play a factor in my not getting hired.

In the end, I have been through these ups and downs many times. As I write, what seems like a long litany of career issues, I can’t help but realize how they all built who I am today. Even when I failed or turned down something, I learned and grew as a person. I became better, more grounded and centered.

My interviews for a career position in marketing are what they are, because my experience contains wisdom that can’t be found in an MBA textbook. I know myself. I am confident in a way that I was never. I understand the cost of missed opportunities.

I began Day 4 writing about my frustrations. Perhaps I just needed to get that out on paper long enough so that the real point could come through. Loving yourself is a journey. My career was a journey. I’m finally present, to win.

#2018 #mind #financialhealth #innerwork #energy #selfhelp #career #betterchoices #bestself #finances #health #connectiontoself #Transformation #patterns #newoutlook #business #story #trust #selfempowerment #Authenticity #jobsearching #jobs #Spirituality #Journey #personaljourney #soul #breakthrough #frustrations

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  • Gina Micek
    • Apr 4, 2018
    • 3 min read

Competitive Mindset and the Art of Winning - Attitude Adjustment



Last weekend, I had the opportunity to join a team of curlers comprised of high performance team members. These young curlers normally compete at the national level with their competitive teams.

What an exciting event in which our team ended up winning the First Event Championship of the Saint Paul Curling Club’s Mixed Wind-Up. We played one game on Friday night and three, six-end games and one eight-end game on Saturday. Our last three were back to back!

Competitive mindset

I found myself witnessing what it takes to be in the winning mindset. In my time spent on curling teams of all shapes and sizes during the last eight seasons, my exposure to competitive play was limited to my season as an official. Even then, I did not actually join the teams on the ice or really have a sense for the dynamics of play.

My curling friends on this competitive team were consistently supportive of each other. There weren’t any aggressive glances because someone “messed up.” They may have collectively acknowledged adjustments they wished to make next time, but they kept up-beat. Furthermore, there was constant communication both at the time the shot was being called and while the rock was in play and being swept.

I also noticed that even though I was not at the competitive level generally, I wanted to and often did, play a high caliber game. We collectively pulled each other up. The teammates kept each other’s spirits high even when our shots didn’t make the mark and we joked around with each other. If we were down in one end, the strategy was simply adjusted to win, rather than sink down into the bad shots we had just played. Ultimately, my teammates did not consider losing a possibility.

Applying the techniques to other areas of life

Going into the week, I realized I could apply these techniques to other areas of my life. I realize that I learned the bad habit of a type of pessimism about the outcome of things. This is not the mindset my young teammates went into competition with at all. Instead, they believed almost like it was inevitable, they would win.

I recently decided to switch from hosting to serving at the restaurant where I have worked since October. I do not find this type of work easy or a slam dunk. I am more of a leader than a servant archetype. Nevertheless, I saw many advantages in pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

While I work on my marketing career and do what it takes to develop my applicable skillset, there is something to be said for the challenge of serving others, joyfully and providing an exceptional experience. Plus, the money is better. Part of my financial health plan for 2018 includes paying down some debts, saving money (finally) and putting myself into the realm of possibly moving back into my own apartment sometime this fall.

What it might look like to apply these techniques

First off, it may not go smoothly my first few times serving. Maybe someone will get angry, my timing will be inconsistent, or I’ll have to ask questions I forgot to ask the first time. Rather than get down, I will brush it off, use it to adjust my serving strategy and keep improving.

In my marketing work, I am applying to and interviewing for jobs. I have had a plethora of different feedback so far. When job hunting, you are in a constant adjustment – one thing you forgot to mention in one interview, is front and center on your mind the next one. Additionally, you can’t really let other people’s limited thinking or points of view get you down.

Yes, that hiring manager may not see past his or her nose and feel out my potential. But I won’t take it personally and will keep going. At some point, the right fit for myself and the company I apply to will fall into place. One of my bartender friends said, “it is statistically impossible to be turned down every time.” OK then!

Eight years ago, I didn’t even know how to throw a curling rock without falling over. This last weekend, I won a First Event Championship with elite curlers. My shots were just as important in the lead position as the rest of the team’s.

If I had given-up on my first few attempts at curling, I would never have experienced the fun, joy and thrill of this competition. I would not have met some wonderful new friends. I would not be a first event winner.

#mindset #Winning #health #healthy2018 #mind #2018 #innerwork #financialhealth #betterchoices #Transformation #bestself #coach #newoutlook #career #learning #process #personaljourney #Curling #competition #competative #Journey

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