The Girl Who Cried Woogie

By Karen A. Linsley M.A.

Everyone has a story, and everyone has a past. And most likely, everyone has something in their past that could be the doorway into joyful living, no matter how horrendous that past is. This is a story of how one person moved beyond a past and into success.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Oct 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781982253592

Karen A. Linsley M.A.

Some describe Karen as strong, some as passionate, some as intense. She may be all three of those, but she is also compassionate and very willing to share her story so that others might benefit from it. She holds a Masters Degree in Consciousness Studies from Holmes Institute and is an ordained minister with Centers for Spiritual Living. She has a podcast titled Fearlessly Feral Living and one previous book: A New Thought Journey through the 12 Steps. She lives in the high desert of Northern Nevada and loves riding her horse, gardening and cooking.

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Copyright © 2020 Karen A. Linsley, M.A.

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-5358-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5359-2 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 10/14/2020

Contents

A word about that title OR the Preface

Introduction

Beginnings

End notes

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A word about that title

OR the Preface

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When I began my life anew at the ripe old age of 32, I discovered that survival no longer needed to be my reason for living. There was so much more! Exciting, new, wonderful, awesome stuff! I was like a little kid, marveling at the appearance of spring and wondering how I had never noticed the new sprouts, how the light changed with the seasons. I began to sing and dance, and say and do fun things, for the first time in my life.

I made up a word. I swear I had never heard this word before I made it up.

This word became my catch all word. It expressed all the excitement and energy and newness and hope and joy of my new life.

WOOGIE! Became my cry. I would do woogie dances, I would gleefully shout woogie out as congratulations to friends. I would say woogie with a nudge when I wanted the drive of the vehicle I was in to turn here.

Soon, woogie became my nickname.

I don’t know if I cried woogie or not, but I can tell you that it is almost impossible to say the word without smiling.

Try it.

Then I started doing a podcast called Fearlessly Feral Living. Originally it was to be called Live Wild and Free, but that name was already taken.

I still cried woogie, but the word has morphed into a process which has resulted in living fearlessly feral.

This book is part autobiography and part self help and part how to. It has been a long time coming.

I wrote the book, and even had it edited, and then I told myself I was going to wait till my dad died to publish. He died in July of 2019. Here is it, July of 2020, and I I just signed the agreement to publish the book, today, on July 16.

It is now October of 2020. Shortly after signing the agreement to publish, my husband entered home hospice. He made his transition on August 30. To say I was a bit preoccupied during the process of getting this book published is an understatement. I have good days and bad days in this thing called grieving, but here I am, back to work on the book.

And I want to say a bit more about the podcast. In March of 2020 this thing called Covid 19 popped up. We are now in the midst of a pandemic. The stars and the planets and my own willingness to move forward lined up just right, my attention was diverted from the book and I published the podcast.

Once the podcast was up and running, I began to turn my attention back to this book, and once again, the stars and the planets and my own willingness to move forward have lined up just right, and, like a flash of a lightning bolt, it occurred to me that the name of this book really needed to tie into the podcast. Cross marketing and all that.

I still woogie. People still call me woogie. But I live Fearlessly Feral. As a result of having to cry woogie in the first place. So this book is both an accounting of why I felt I had to cry woogie in the first place, and the resulting living fearlessly feral because of it. I’ll be honest here: I never would have published an autobiography. I’m not famous. Infamous maybe. But not famous. However, without exception, everyone who has heard even a part of my story has told me I needed to publish an autobiography. And still, some part of me doesn’t feel right just telling the story, which is a bit of a problem, without also narrating the solution. See, I was taught never to come to the table with my story without also being prepared to present a solution. That advice has served me well, so in this book, I’ve presented a problem, and a solution. I hope the solutions work for you. Please don’t get stuck in the problems.

What is fearlessly feral? To explain that, I need to back track a bit. Originally the title of the podcast was going to be Live Wild and Free.

Three things are very obvious to me here. Maybe they are to you as well. One is that I have trouble titling things. I had the same problem when I owned and operated a photography studio and was entering print competitions. I could never come up with a damn title for my images. And titles could make or break a score of 80, which was the goal. And, I freely admit, I’m just as prone to procrastination as the next person, for a variety of reasons. The other obvious thing, at least to me, is that I live in a certain way. Wild. Free. Somewhat undomesticated. It took a while to get here. What, precisely, does wild and free mean? What does fearlessly feral mean?

Let’s take fearless first. I believe that fear and faith cannot live in the same entity at the same time. And yes, I am aware that there are people who disagree with me. That is their right. Their argument usually runs along the line of it being a wise thing that they are afraid to touch a hot stove. That isn’t the kind of fear I am speaking of here. I’m speaking of the kind of fear that is the foundation of how we live. The kind of fear that makes us shut down, lock things up tight both figuratively and literally, build walls, both figuratively and literally. The kind of fear that justifies attacking others who look or live differently than we do. The kind of fear that justifies us arguing for our limitations. The kind of fear that results in beliefs such as:

1. If something can go wrong it will

2. No good deed goes unpunished

3. Situation Normal All Fucked Up, otherwise known as SNAFU

If you suffer from any of these beliefs, it is my hope that this book will serve to allow you to to change some of those beliefs.

Fearless, for me, means living life full out, full on. It means that my actions stem from a foundation of love, not fear. It does not mean I’m not afraid. I’m just as afraid of a hot stove, rattlesnakes and black widows as the next person. I just don’t let those kinds of fears run my life.

Feral? It simply means I consider myself to be undomesticated. And I consider domestication as showing up in life in ways that really aren’t who and what we really are, just to live up to some societal version of what we should be. It’s akin to wearing baggy pants when tight pants are in style. Or wearing white shoes in winter. Only it goes so much deeper than that. For me, it means I knew from the get go that a Monday through Friday 9-5 job would kill me. It means I knew from the get go that earning a living based solely on how much money it would bring me would kill me. So I never got that 9-5 job. Well, I did once, for a few months after I got sober. It nearly killed me. So for me, feral means I know my truth and I walk it. No matter what society says.

I’m living Fearlessly Feral and it is my intention that after you read this book, maybe you can too.

Oh, and if you want to check out the podcast, it is available on Buzzsprout, Itunes, Spotify and a bunch of other podcast platforms.

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Introduction

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Do you believe life is a series of lessons to be learned? I’m not sure I do, but it seems as though we encounter people, places, and issues in life and that there really is a lesson to be learned with each of them. I’m going to go with that, at least for the purposes of this book. I also want to mention here that within every lesson is a call, or an invitation, to step into something greater. I was talking about this with someone recently, and she, like many people I talk to about it, was not getting the concept. So, she clarified: You mean it is like a catalyst? YES, that’s it exactly! Everything happens in our lives as a catalyst of sorts which either propels us into our next greatest way of showing up in the world, or if we resist it, we get stuck.

This book is a journey of my catalysts into the next greatest way of being. I have learned that while talking things over with another human being helps in many ways, I’ve also found great benefit in some wisdom from a mentor in my 30s: never share a problem without also sharing the solution or at least being willing to consider the solution. I say this because I perceived much of my life as a problem, at least in the beginning. It is only in hindsight that I learned some solutions. My hope is that by sharing both the problem and the solution, I can serve at least one other human being in a positive way.

I’ve been told by numerous people over the years that I should write an autobiography. For some unfathomable reason, people seem to think I experienced an – ahem - well – different, yeah, let’s use that word, different childhood, which in turn has led to a different sort of life as an adult. I’ve tried to sit down and write a chronological narrative, and it just doesn’t feel right. Yeah, shit happened. It has happened to others, too, so, what makes my story special? What makes it special is what resulted. I have not only survived but thrived when many think I should be dead or, at the very least, on some sort of disability. My belief is that nothing is wasted. Everything, and I mean everything, happens for a very good reason, and if that is so, then the reasons for the events in my life are so I can maybe help someone else.

What I’ve tried to do here is a sort of combo book: part autobiography and part imparting the lessons I learned along the way. They - that infamous other THEY seem to think my story must be told. Ok, I will tell it.

I just want to point out a few things:

1. This isn’t going to be in chronological order. I take full benefit of hindsight!

2. Please don’t focus on the bad shit. That isn’t what this is about. Forgiveness and setting boundaries are key. As a friend of mine once said, I forgave the shark for biting me, but I’m not going to jump in the water again when that shark is there. My purpose in writing this book is to focus on the good. I only write about the bad so as to lead up to the good. Focus on that.

3. Yes, there are swear words here. And therein lies your first lesson. If you are activated, or bothered, or bewitched, or in any other way uncomfortable with my occasional use of a swear word, may I extend an invitation to view that as an opening into something greater for you? The spiritual lesson here is that anytime we are activated, bothered, bewitched or in any other way uncomfortable with something, it is a signal. The signal is saying, Pay Attention! Here is a place that wants revealing and healing! Check it out!

My vision includes people living happier lives, more productive lives, lives that consist of joy and peace and freedom, not depression and strife and lack and limitation. So, I tell my story, and with it, hopefully, I share some solutions or lessons.

If, by chance, I can say something, or provide a tool, or provoke a thought in you, dear reader, which facilitates a step forward on your own journey, a step to your next greatest incarnation, then I’m a happy camper.

And, I just want to say right here: yes, there are parts of this story that might make you feel sad, or mad, or glad, or whatever. That’s okay, go with it. But consider that whatever feelings you come up with, they are yours. I have done my forgiveness work and my grief work, and emerged, maybe not entirely unscathed, but able to enjoy life, experience abundance and be a contributing member of society. And isn’t that what life is all about?

One last thing. I was married to guy once who believed profound and deep change was impossible. He simply did not agree with me that we could change who and what we are in spite of the fact that I was evidence of such a change, even back then. Change is possible. No matter what you have gone through, it does not have to define who and what you are and how you show up in the world. That man, my loving ex-husband, killed himself with drugs and alcohol because he simply could not or would not believe he could change. I miss him. He was a wonderful presence in this world, but he is a powerful example of exactly how much our beliefs affect our lives. Beliefs can be changed, and when we do that, we change our lives.

So, what we have here is a tale of my journey. I hope you benefit from reading it as much as I have benefitted from writing it.

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Beginnings

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I was born in Las Vegas, Nevada. That right there should tell you lots. I remember much later, in my 40s, I enjoyed an opportunity to work with a wonderful man who was the City Manager of Las Vegas for a while. He saw a much different side of Vegas than I did. Who knew there were happy families and productive lives and healthy lifestyles in Vegas? Not me! My Vegas was a world of Mafia dudes, drugs, alcohol, naked show girls, backstage shenanigans, rehearsals, sugar daddies, more drugs, and more alcohol.

My mom hung out backstage shooting heroin with Billie Holiday’s drummer before I was born. Can you say fetal alcohol syndrome? They didn’t know it existed back then, but I have my suspicions that if they did, it would have been on my diagnosis list. Instead they diagnosed me with PTSD and long term chronic clinical depression. But I digress. More about that later. My dad was off playing trumpet somewhere most of my childhood. Although, on the night I was born, he was playing locally in Las Vegas with Billy Eckstine, who was a famous jazz vocalist of the time. So, I am born, and a stage hand delivers a note to B, as he was called, who stopped the show and said, I’ve just received news that a member of our band just had a baby girl. Will the proud father please stand up? The whole band stood up! It was a joke, I know. But who knows? That was the beginning of my journey. I used to think this story was funny, and sometimes, I still do. There is also a sad element to this story. Why wasn’t my dad there with my mom supporting her when I was born? Why did B and the entire band think it was okay to imply my mom was a slut? Why didn’t my dad counter that with something that would respect my mom? Admittedly, in the middle of a show, it might be difficult to do. But, it is a perfect illustration of a pattern that was to emerge later in my life. This pattern consisted of emotional unavailability, physical unavailability and lack of support from the people I expected would and should be available for me and support me. Today I’ve accepted and learned a few things about that. One is that sometimes things just don’t happen as we expect. The people I wanted to be there for me weren’t. But until I accepted that fact, nothing changed. In the acceptance came a willingness to stop expecting things of others that they could not provide. This changed my mode of being from victim mentality to one of taking responsibility for myself. Today, I recognize that I am responsible. I’m responsible for allowing people in my life who can and will be there for me. I’m responsible for loving my family just because they are family, but I must do that without expectations on their behavior. And I’m responsible for also being there for others, because the Law of Attraction is definitely in play here. What I attract is what I am. This was a good lesson to learn, and an ongoing one.

My mom did things her way and made no secrets about it. She was the black sheep of her family. When my dad blew through Elko, Nevada, on a tour with his band and met my mom, I think she saw him as her ticket out of there. She hated the small-town aspect of Elko, and she hated the snow. Vegas was her town, and she shined there, even if her light was a bit of a different color than most other people’s lights. My dad, who knows? I think he just adapted and went along with events. I don’t think he ever set a boundary in his life. It was part of his charm, and also part of what has created problems for me. Because for many years I idolized him and strove to be like him. So guess who didn’t set boundaries for herself? Me! I had to unlearn that particular limitation. To this day I sometimes have to consciously search for and set the boundaries when someone wants to walk all over me. Anyway, who knows why my parents divorced, and then got married again, only to divorce for good when I was 3? Their relationship lasted long enough to get my mom out of Elko and produce me. Before my mom died, her and my dad talked privately. I don’t know what was said, but I felt it was a good talk, and I think some stuff got resolved for them. I was happy to see that.

The Lesson, or the woogie cry

This one really isn’t a lesson but more of food for thought. Some say, on some deep cellular level, we choose our parents. It’s as if God or the Universe or Goddess or The Force is in our souls, calling us to choose parents who propel us to precisely the lessons we need to learn in this particular incarnation. I don’t know about all that. I don’t even know if I believe in reincarnation, but this concept of choosing our parents bears exploring for sure. If I chose my parents, then it stands to reason I chose, on a deep level, all the rest of my life. And if I didn’t choose it, what then? Did I choose to be a victim? What am I to think of all that shit that went down in my early life? And the honest answer is I don’t really have a clue. If I didn’t choose them, then I’m