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

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.

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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.

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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