Nine Houses: Lowertown Lofts - Living in St Paul and finding my way

Characters of Lowertown, My Neighbor - 2011-2013

One thing that categorized my many years spent living in Lowertown Lofts were all the people I met, characters of one sort or another. In the early years in my apartment facing Mears Park, the building’s leasing assistant put on get-togethers of one variety or another on a regular basis. While some of the residents were transient, only staying a few months to a year, others renewed their leases year after year.

In the first couple of years, the city was in the process of building the Green Line lightrail from Minneapolis to St Paul. The first change which impacted us residents were that cars could no long go both ways on 4th street (behind the apartment). The area now occupied by train tracks become a construction zone. A noisy one at that!

My next-door neighbor at the time was a rather handsome and strapping engineer on the project. Dark hair, brooding composure. Muscles for days.

He had moved into town from some other state or place (I don’t remember) to facilitate his work. My neighbor, when he wasn’t working was often seen in the local watering holes like Bulldog, Barrio and Trattoria. We didn’t have a whole lot of restaurants in this part of town at the time. St. Paul was sleepy and quiet. Most people left on weekends.

My beautiful neighbor was good with the young ladies who’d frequent our night spots. Good enough that several times a week, I’d hear the noises of banging, crashing, moaning and ass-smacking through the paper-thin wall that adjoined our apartments. I learned the hard way that my perfect spot for meditation and tranquility wasn’t going to be so tranquil.

I heard him one day lamenting that he didn’t understand how someone could make noise complaints for doing what came naturally for a young single guy like himself.

There was me trying to keep a job longer than a few months or weeks, do spiritual work and healing. Meditate. Write in my journal. Sleep. I wasn’t always so understanding of my neighbor and created a lot of separation in my mind with him.

When the lightrail was completed and opened in June of 2014, I’d had a few chance encounters with him at the rooftop pool although we didn't do much but nod in each other's direction. He drank a lot and boasted loudly.

He eventually found a steady girlfriend, although their fights and make-ups were epic drama. When he moved out in 2013 -- to take another job, I’d come to miss him. Especially when it came to who moved in next.

My first full-time job

I joined Citizens League as their new Office Manager in November of 2011 after I switched temp agencies. I helped them move to a co-working space that was newly located in the building behind Lowertown Lofts, on 4th street. We were housed in the CoCo space (Now Fueled Collective).

My project management abilities and previous experience fit nicely at the time with what needed to be accomplished.

I’d been working with a BodyTalk professional on and off, along with another friend, Kris who did the same modality. BodyTalk is a modality that works on connecting the energy systems of the body. We focused on my immune system -I was frequently sick – and what might be blocking me from steady employment and were excited when my list of perfect job qualities manifested at Citizen's League. At first, my job was enlightening, exciting and friendly. I really felt at home.

I thought having a steady job would finally solve some of my long-standing issues with being in and out of work and help me to get back on my feet. In a way, it did but I was severely under-earning and I still couldn’t pay all my bills even with a steady job.

I also felt increasing bored with being the office admin as time continued but wasn't ready to choose anything else, yet.

Other healing paths I found at the time which would prove to be helpful on my journey of growth were Access Consciousness and Abraham-Hicks, of which I read all her published books at the time. While I didn’t know how to work myself into something else, I figured I could visualize myself into greater and greater spheres of success. My visions boards of cars, wedding rings and money lined the walls. My friend and I would work together on our wish lists and ideals.

The Watering Holes

Back to Lowertown’s nightlife and neighbors. I frequented the art crawls and outdoor festivals as much as possible. I often took the bus to events in Minneapolis, like the DJ nights at the once thriving Club Jager. Or attended concerts at First Ave. Given my lack of interest in cooking, I’d be found at the few restaurants we had at the time. One of these was Trattoria da Vinci.

It was here that I ate many a homestyle Italian meal while chatting with neighbors. It was “the” spot for many of us to congregate, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. We didn’t even need each other’s numbers – you could find most of the who’s who of Lowertown there on any given night of the week. We may not have been the Minneapolis A-listers but we had our own brand of élan. We told stories, ate meals, drank the copious cocktails of our amazing bartender, Dana and maybe, on several occasions kept each other alive through thick and thin.

I won’t say there wasn’t our fair share of scandals – cheaters and scoundrels, one-night stands talked about liberally in the weeks after, drunken slobbery escapades and more. Some bonds were ephemeral and others long-lasting, and yet my favorite memories of Lowertown can probably be boiled down to nights at Trattoria.

Fear and self-loathing cloaked in metaphysical spirituality and self-help

Still, the theme of that time as I became more familiar with my surroundings and before I owned a car, certainly included a fair amount of grappling with the weather. Slipping on sidewalks, huddling in the cold waiting for a bus that never came. Learning which clothes would keep me warm, and which did not.

Fears of one sort or another were front and center. My parents paid most of my bills and I lived on the remainder of my all too small paychecks throughout that time. I believed it was the micro-ness of my paychecks that was the problem. I didn’t consider moving from my too expensive apartment or that there might be another way to exist -- for all the reasons already mentioned here. To me, right around the corner, was the SOLUTION I just hadn’t gotten to yet.

At the curling club, I improved my skills year-by-year. I also watched a lot of curling because it was there I could socialize and observe people who fascinated me. I forged new friendships. At the same time, I felt I was deficient in some way that required me to spend an inordinate amount of time healing and healing others.

My conversations with psychics (whom I thought of as trusted advisors and friends) was “I don’t know why he doesn’t like me or why he is avoiding me,” and the feeling running through my body was fear, coupled with self-loathing coupled with dread I’d never be enough for anything. The very idea of not being liked triggered days of sadness and a lack of homeostasis.

I didn’t date much, I fell into things that showed up. I hoped every time they would deliver me from this unique path of suffering I was on. A person's potential and overwhelming feelings of spiritual connection generated my insights. These were backed-up by the equally scarred friends whose supportive “readings” confirmed my latest feelings as they desperately wanted to believe in rescue by romance.

The by default quickie romance was both jarring and devastating as it was quick-lived. It was either that or passing judgement on all those who made poor choices, I would never make. That level of superiority, ubiquitous in metaphysical/spiritual circles made it easy to avoid the very real pain of my circumstance. The other thing that showed up were guys I thought of as "just friends." I got pretty good at not being attracted to them. My heart and soul occupied elsewhere. Still, at least I wasn't lonely.

Coaching & Truth-telling

I found myself coaching and telling people what to do – I became familiar with feeling stronger by knowing better what other people should or should not be doing. “Wow, so and so just had an affair right in front of their spouse, maybe if they just loved themselves better, they wouldn’t be such a douchebag.”

Lowertown in those early years was both a salve and a playground for epic tales of self-aggrandizement. The next big thing, the better, more romantic boyfriend, the husband that never showed up, the job that would solve my financial problems. At the end of this period, I was unemployed, and most definitely single. The love of my life unmistakenly out of reach.

This isn't to say that I didn't have fun. I took my personal trainer, Amanda to a day at the racetrack in Wisconsin organized by my curling buddy Rik in August 2013. We ate corn and peaches. We toured 45th Parallel Distillery

Amanda got me into the best shape I've ever been in that summer and I ran her Access Consciousness Bars and we both complained about work. Now she runs a thriving personal training business. I spent days at the rooftop pool with its views of the cityscape of St Paul. I walked the Mississippi River. I danced all over town. Minneapolis-St Paul had this newness to it, in which everything I did was fascinating and surreal; adventurous. I felt I was in Minnesota for a purpose. Even if that purpose was fixing someone else.

In the next blog, I’ll write about the move to the sixth floor, more Lowertown characters and going back to school all of which happened in the latter part of my Lowertown Lofts experience.

#boundaries #BodyTalk #financialhealth #Healing #breakthrough #frustrations #StPaul #Minneapolis #MSP #ancestraltrauma #Curling #innerwork #mind #selfhelp #energy #energyclearing #soul #connectiontoself #wellness #wellbeing #familytrauma #family #health #betterchoices #Transformation #romance #career #learning #patterns #empath #bestself #Writing

Nine Houses: My first studio at Lowertown Lofts

House #1

My first moves in the Twin Cities, happened way before I ended up at Lowertown Lofts in St Paul.

I came all the way across the country in 2010 seeking a life that didn’t involve living at home with my parents as an adult.

The California of 2008/2009, reeling from the multiple econonmic failures of the time, was not a hospitable place in many ways. Hiring freezes and an over-saturated job market going back to the woes of September 11, tech start-up failures, Enron and the financial markets as well as the later mortgage crises were the norm. I felt lucky to get temp jobs and most of them didn't last over six months.

Moving to Minnesota, was both a risk and a challenge to live differently. I left the comfortable, known world in California and ventured east.

My soul called to me and said, “You are going.” This was both frightening and exhilarating. I had plenty of time to deal with the feelings around this yearning to follow my soul’s call and yet, as time passed, it became this daily feeling of uncomfortable staying home in California. I might not ever explain it logically. I just knew that if I didn’t go, I would get more and more uncomfortable.

I realize now just how unusual it is to live beyond one’s comfort zone and follow the call of soul. So many would never do what I did. At the time, I had gone through enough spiritual and personal growth to know that the best aspects of life come when we’re willing to venture (maybe not entirely fearlessly) into the unknown.

I can tell a story about what inspired me to live in Minnesota and the Twin Cities. A collection of facts and figures. I’ve told parts of and versions of it to many people. And yet, the most important part of it all is that I was willing to follow the energy that occurred at the time and go after my best life.

Maybe the only thing I didn’t know, was that it wasn’t going to be a short journey with an easy rise to the top. It turned out to consist of starting over with multiple deaths and rebirths along the way. That was the sacred path I had chosen, I suppose.

By the end of end of 2010 I’d lived in my friend’s parent’s house in Osseo; a room in the house of a local music promoter which I rented for a small weekly fee; a room in the house of a disabled alcoholic who stayed up all night playing computer games and a room in a student pad on the University of Minnesota campus. The student pad was the last straw. Between the loud parties, pot smoking, crazy roommates and washing machine that didn’t work, I was fed up.

The path to Lowertown Lofts

I asked for help from my parents to move into an apartment. At the time, I looked for a place that was the antithesis of the insanity I’d lived in for a year as I began my new life in Minnesota. However, I still didn’t have a steady job or a temp job that paid more than $13/hour. I couldn’t technically afford Lowertown Lofts.

I had a healthy dose of belief that around the corner, something good had to come. It had to get better. What I didn’t realize at the time I signed my first lease at Lowertown Lofts was that my soul and God had a much bigger plan for me than simply getting a nice apartment and cushy job.

This path I was taking would not be linear, normal or even explainable. It was a journey toward a type of self-love that most people never achieve, and I continue to work on. And that type of crucible like experience in which your entire way of being is cleaned out, morphed, remade and spit back out, would take years, not months.

Lowertown Lofts was not my first choice

By first choice, I mean, I almost went after an artist’s loft at one of St Paul’s many buildings (at the time) dedicated to fostering arts in the city. I had already published my collection of short stories and poetry titled “The Journey of the Malevolent Empress” and so I had a portfolio. I’d visited the building for the art crawls St Paul conducts twice a year.

I imagined participating in these crawls and the artist community and thought it would be inspiring and exciting. At the time, a huge 1-bedroom loft was about $150 a month cheaper than Lowertown Lofts. My income which was limited at best, certainly qualified for the Section 42 income restrictions. I still couldn’t technically afford it. I am not sure if it would have been a better choice to end up there. because I didn't choose it.

At the last minute, before I signed the lease, I visited the Lowetown Lofts. It had a coffee maker/espresso machine in the lobby with free coffee, access to a rooftop pool in the summer, a great walk-in wardrobe, and a view of Mear’s Park. Even though (unknown to me) I would shortly be let go from my temp job and be unemployed, I managed to use my meager paystub to get approved.

How faulty were my thoughts?

If all the belief systems I have released in the last few years through Three-Dimensional Therapy are any indication, despite my clear intuition to go after the Lowertown Lofts studio, it is likely that the choice was built on a heavy dose of faulty-thinking. We’ll never know how I may have made different choices as I headed into my second year in Minnesota because that is not how life works. We do our best with the information and limited “intuition” we have.

The reason I remember choosing the Lowertown Lofts studio over any other option – an affordable room in a different location, the Tilsner space or an apartment in a cheaper neighborhood -- was pretty clear at the time and made perfect sense.

When I visited the Tilsner artist space several someone’s were smoking pot in their rooms – the unmistakable smell of burning greenery floated through the halls. Anyone who knows me knows I can’t stand the smell and have had very strong viewpoints about the use of it – specifically for myself, and more largely the energy of being around pot when others are using it. I’d just planned my escape from a house where regular parties included pot. I was already turned off.

The affordable room in a different location was largely not considered because I’d just spent a year couch surfing, in addition to the practical camping in the above-mentioned unsavory locales. The mixed results of these experiences were fresh in my mind. The memories of putting up with insane behavior and various aspects of my housemate’s mental illness as well as subjecting myself to what I saw of as the dregs of humanity were too overwhelming.

Only a year into my living in the Twin Cities, I didn’t know the area or the available rentals well enough. I also didn’t have reliable Internet most of the time to conduct a thorough search. In addition, I didn’t own a car so I was heavily restricted on locations close to bus routes with easy access to the majority of job sites I might be sent to with a temp agency.

My main goals with this move were not living within a means that was unreliable in the first place. It was to have a sanctuary where I could come home and be at peace, free from what I perceived as negative vibes, bad behavior and unsavory practices. I wanted to enjoy my existence and not be fighting turf wars with other people’s demons.

I sought something greater- a beautiful space, an adult life-style, a means to extend myself into this new community. Even though I needed my parent’s help with finances, I considered the apartment a long way and a far cry from living in their house. I felt on my way to a more independent life.

A decision made, peace at last

I signed my first lease at Lowertown Lofts and moved in with the help of two women friends from the St Paul Curling Club. Donations of kitchen supplies came from a recently married couple at the curling club who provided dishes, glassware and more. Some additional kitchenware I purchased with any extra money I could scrape up, adding to my collection of stainless-steel pans with trips to Marshalls in downtown Minneapolis.

Peace and tranquility appeared to be achieved and I was certain that a great job paying twice as much as most of the jobs I was getting through OfficeTeam would be right around the corner. I mean I had a Master’s Degree and fifteen years’ experience as an Executive Assistant. No brainer, right?

Maybe if I truly had faulty-thinking it was in the area of time and in accepting what my true calling really was. And that, was not going to happen overnight or even in the next few years. I just wasn’t willing to accept this and therefore didn’t see it coming.

In the next blog, I’ll go into more detail about my lessons that came as I started my new life as an apartment dweller in Lowertown, St. Paul. This city apartment was the first of two studios I occupied in the building in my time at Lowertown Lofts and living downtown.

Adventures would be had, cooking mishaps and difficult life experiences. It would turn out to be quite the journey of self-exploration.

#2019 #ancestraltrauma #BodyCode #boundaries #mind #financialhealth #betterchoices #selfhelp #connectiontoself #energy #energyclearing #familytrauma #innerwork #wellness #wellbeing #TrueNorth #bestself #soul #Transformation #patterns #empathic #empath #career #threedimensionaltherapy #jobsearching #mindset #learning #process #emotionalsupport #personaljourney #life #Authenticity #selfempowerment #selflove #Writing

The Nine Houses: A beginning

I blogged previously about my journey. You are welcome to comb through my previous iterations.

However, recently I decided I wanted to create a series. I thought, rather than just recount my day-to-day experiences, I could write something about my time in various houses and rooms starting with the end of my seven years living in my own studio apartment. I’d title the series The Nine Houses.

Somehow each of these abodes represented a part of the healing of the internalized trauma. Of course, even after years of healing, it doesn't just magically go away. My relationship to the material changed drastically, however.

Each of The Nine has some specific meaning to me. They were experiences. They were homes. There were both wonderful and full of conflict. Sometimes at the same time. The ninth house, I won’t move into until April 1st. It may not be my last move, but I think it represents well a kind of closure point in the journey so far.

Healing is a process. Our 3D world often reflects the subconscious beliefs and any trauma that is held in our system. The trauma, as I found out as I healed, is not always from this lifetime. In fact, it can be passed down through the energetic and physical systems from ancestors long forgotten.

Very little is understood about that right now. All we see are the symptoms. Choices like drug and alcohol abuse, the repeated patterns of relationship issues or health problems. We call them “genetic” or “familial.” In some cases, we lament why someone is the black sheep or can’t get it together. We think, if only they could make better life choices all would be well.

Only a small percentage of people have tried to change static realities, DNA and belief systems. Even they are experimenting and challenging the status quo. Epigenetics is in its infancy. The understanding we have of internalized trauma’s effects on someone’s life remains, at this stage, mostly a mystery with just a few starting to write about it and conduct research.

Some aren’t sure if it is really true we can change things like this that seem like solid aspects of our personality, our health or experience. Others are inventing modalities as I write.

In the end, the pain body claims countless victims to suicide, physical health issues, substance abuse, mental issues and more each year. What’s worse is that some seek guidance from ungrounded, untested spiritual gurus hoping for a quick fix, or a miracle. Maybe they seek and fail to find western medicine responses that will heal them and only get worse or die. In the end, the pain remains or degrades with abuse, cults, negative spirals, pills and unscrupulous practices.

I don’t have all the answers. This is just my journey. Maybe sharing it will give insights into the path of healing internalized trauma – both the possibilities and the limitations. Also, there is and has been no quick fix. A person has to be willing to enter into the healing, they have to participate, and they have to want to heal. For everyone who could go as deeply as I did, there’d be some whose soul simply would limit the length they will go.

For all those like Anthony Bourdain who fall to the deep despair of the darkness of depression, and never find a way out, there are countless others, many of whom I have known personally, who continue to thrive and persevere. They find a path. Maybe not the same one I have taken. They use their will to live and continue despite the insanity.

What I believe, more than anything is if we don’t change our minds about health, healing and trauma, we won’t survive as a species. The pain body is reflected in the climate change, the political systems, the health or lack thereof of the citizens of the planet. The perpetuation of abuse sexual or otherwise is the pain body. We throw our hands up and wonder how we'll get through the day. We watch as people close to us suffer. We often try to choose differently and can't seem to find our way.

We do not live in free choice most of the time.

How we will get to live in choice…is up to us. How far are we willing to go to change the path of the future? Time will tell. In this series, I hope to take the reader through aspects of my journey and how the Nine Homes represented both internal and external aspects of my healing. You can read more details about the issues in a previous blog here. In my case, abundance, career (1st/2nd Chakra imbalances), Thriving, Self-Esteem were all impacted by my internalized trauma.

In the next part of the series, I’ll recount my time at Lowertown Lofts. My studio apartment in the heart of St Paul. Not all seven years in detail. How LL fit in with my healing, and my journey and what happened when it fell apart.

Namaste!

#2019 #breakthrough #ancestraltrauma #BodyCode #mind #innerwork #financialhealth #personaljourney #betterchoices #selfhelp #connectiontoself #connection #familytrauma #soul #Transformation #bestself #EmotionCode #trust #learning #Writing #coaching #career #patterns #threedimensionaltherapy #process