Monday, October 6, 2008

Throat chakra issues

It's been a while since I've been able to say that I truly felt like I was having "throat chakra issues". I had them often while working at DoveStar -- always feeling like I was processing through something. With all of the classes I took and taught it's really no wonder, and my insecurities as an instructor when I first began certainly played tricks on my energetic throat, although it did, eventually, catch up with me in the physical realm, manifesting as coughing and mumbling of words, stuttering, soar throats, etc. When it appeared we all just looked and smirked and someone would inevitably mutter "throat chakra issues" and sure enough, as though admitting to a cold, it would emerge full fledge, like a small child finally receiving recognition.

I worked hard to heal the throat area, much of it consisting of past life issues that needed to be healed in this lifetime, lessons to learn, but tools to reinforce into the present and emerge anew. During those times it wasn't rare to see me wearing blue and knowing I was having some throat issues. We could often tell the "mood" or "energy" of those who worked there (or even students) by the mere color of their clothes or the stones they wore. It was nice being understood in this way, not really having to explain but having the safety and space to do so if necessary. I miss that about the school. I miss feeling like if I spoke about an energetic surge or the reality of illusions or webs that someone understood, without explanation, they just got it. That was the upside of the place -- just getting the other person, and even if you didn't, there was no judgment. Just accept and listen, and be present, hold space, that's what it was about at the time.

I'm not sure what made me think of that, except for the throat issues that feel as though they have returned... fine, they have. Old insecurities have popped up, and in some odd way, I'm glad. While the throat issue is hitting me hard this time around, as though it's making up for lost time when I felt fully in my power, I did sort of miss it, like there was this quirky side to me that I feared losing somehow, so with the vocal issues, the strain of my throat, the constant cough with no relief, I have yet to officially ask myself what it is I have to say.

And yet I know... to some degree.

I spent 2 days driving to Portland with little excitement to my actual destination but pure enjoyment for the ride itself. Being sick all these weeks I haven't been able to get out of the house, not wanting to either, and I felt almost cheated out of my favorite time of year as I sat with this cold. The drive was nice, especially Tuesday night, it was awakening -- and the core of the throat chakra activated in blockage, and we played tug-o-war, and while there were essentially no "winners" or "losers", my throat begs to differ.

I was given what I thought was an invisible puzzle for me to fill in the blanks later. I see now that I am meant to fill in the blanks along the way, but accepting that the overall image can shift to whatever it needs to. So as I examine each piece I see past, I see present, and while I've never been a planner of the future, I am allowing my spirit some glimpses here and there. The puzzle is revealing itself faster now, as I acknowledge that my throat needs clearing, and speaking my truth, to myself, is so essential here.

The mantra "this is the year" rings a bell, over and over, louder and softer, the pitch changes each time, and I see that too many visions have been put on hold, out of fear. I have a karmic contract with fear, though that's not to say that in this lifetime it won't be cleared, because I do believe it will, however I choose to not put a time frame on it. My sense of linear time has always been, well, not "off", I have simply chosen to not focus on the linear aspects of my existence. Perhaps because of my younger years, the anniversary of what this month brings...

It's no coincidence that my throat is acting up this month... my deepest and greatest fears in life live in a bubble of terror that is held together by dust particles stretching back 13 years. Every year I step back into the memory, into the terror, feeling lost in the pain, but always finding my way out, stronger, put together... it reminds me of this Heart song that I have been obsessively listening to the past week. This one line "nobody knows what's inside my head or down this road" haunts me, but with simple understanding and comfort. It's hard to explain.

"Forgive me I can't stay here anymore
I'm leaving with the tide
This evening another breeze blew round my door and stirred me up inside
I'm breaking out of this tired old spell
I braved it out long and so well
And the phoenix flies straight and high back to Avalon
Now I'm on my way back where I belong, gonna go down with the sun
Back to Avalon

Where I'm going all my demons disappear
I'm leaving them behind
I'm traveling way up on the atmosphere cause I made up my mind.
Gonna find my love
Gonna find my life, gonna look them so deep in the eye
And the phoenix flies straight and high back to Avalon
Now I'm on my way back where I belong
Gonna go down with the sun
Back to Avalon

Nobody knows what's inside my head or down this road
Oh I know I'm going home
And the phoenix flies straight and high back to Avalon
Now I'm on my way back where I belong
Gonna go down with the sun
And the phoenix flies straight and high back to Avalon
Now I'm on my way back where I belong
Gonna go down with the sun, back to Avalon."

It's also hard to believe that this month marks 4 years where a great shift occurred. I completely forgot about it, but as I looked through old entries I was amazed... has it really been 4 years since my great confusion over "S"? Amazing. Amazing how you think you won't ever get through something, that it will always pain you, that memories will always hurt, and yet one day it simply doesn't. With time, and love, it does eventually heal.

Like the phoenix, I want to fly "straight and high back to Avalon". The question is, do I go with throat chakra issues healed, or will they spontaneously heal there? )0(

Monday, September 22, 2008

The sicker the "better"

Mabon truly marks the beginning of my favorite time of year -- entering into the fall season with wonderful changing leaves, this is why I love New England, it has true joyous mystery surrounding the area, and I love to bathe myself in that energy.

I am recovering from a cold. It feels like it's lasting forever, but my sense of time always seems to be a bit skewed. I often say I'm the world's whiniest person when sick, but I understand it's a cry from the inner child for comfort, for her "mommy" to come and take care of her, sit in bed with her and rub her hair while she's sick, sing her songs and make her soup. I did what I could to nurture my inner child's desires, and much of that was sitting up in bed and having a good cry, virtually about "nothing", but the act itself was more healing than any medicine could offer.

I find humor (and much annoyance I must admit) to others giving me advice when I am sick... "you know what ya gotta do..." It annoys me almost more than the cold itself, as though I have never been sick before, as though I get sick much too often, as though they have the one defining remedy to my illness. Still, with kindness I listen, while the inner brat rolls her eyes and grows increasingly annoyed with phone calls/emails and the like sharing unwanted advice. I know others mean well, but when you're sick, you just want someone to say "I hope you get better"... that's it, the end.

Let me clarify by saying that all the advice wasn't some master home remedy that has worked for them, it was clear western advice of "take some zinc... make sure you get some Dayquil... are you taking any vitamin C?" And my favorite: "you should get some sleep"... oh, should I?

It's no secret I have issues with insomnia. When I am sick it's actually harder for me to sleep. I slept 1 day out of the 4 I had a cold. Perhaps why I was overly emotional and snippy... I actually sat up in bed one night just saying over and over between sobs "I JUST WANT TO SLEEEEEP". It's the little things, such as a good night's sleep, that I appreciate greatly when I get it. I consider myself lucky that I am mostly a decent human being on lack of sleep... mostly ;)

The funny thing that most don't understand is that this cold right now, this is part of my process. Every March/April and September I get sick, quite sick. In the spring I am known to rush to the ER with a diagnosis that always is beyond absurd to me (such as the year I got the "Cruise ship virus" when I hadn't been on a cruise before... or really near anyone who had been), but I am a believer in mixing eastern and western medicine, doing what I can from an energetic perspective and calling upon my healing team to help while still accepting help from the western world of healing.

Is it no coincidence that we are looking at the Ostara and Mabon when I am sick? Every year, like clockwork. It's my spiritual cleanse. My body wishes to move out the old, and sometimes the only way it can (or sometimes, oddly enough, the only way I will *allow* it to) move out is through a cold, one that stops me in my tracks to have no choice but evaluate my life, my choices, my thoughts, my everything.

Some years are better than others. This year is a good year, despite my whining, as this time last year I had a fever of over 100 for 2 weeks that nothing in medicine could shake. I was in deep processing, and a great deal was purged from me, allowing for deeper access to subconscious issues needing healing that I didn't know I would ever be able to access.

This year is better, although gross and tiresome, I understand it's purpose, so in those sleepless nights of tears I opened my ears to the voice of the Goddess, to hear beyond Her whispers, but rather hear the whispers within Her whispers... as I understand Her messages, bits and pieces of the cold chip away. Every moment has been a new inner discovery, but I can understand how those skeptical of a spiritual cleanse choose to see instead someone who is sick because of a thousand different reasons.

It's true that when someone gets sick they have already been sick days before in their auric system -- it penetrates levels of ourselves, giving opportunity for healing before it hits the physical body, but sometimes we either don't see (or want to see/pay attention) to those signs and it becomes necessary to go through the physical ailment.

So as my cold starts to move out of my body and the gathering of gems has been collected, I am quite excited for this time of year. Although it does remind me that this feeling of contentment and utter joy during this time would be appreciated if shared with myself throughout the entire year, I am focusing on the moment here.

Mabon is a time of thanksgiving -- peeling away the layers covering our eyesight and appreciating the true gifts in life. I am grateful for a great many things -- but today especially I am grateful for my "luck", in a way that only will be understood by me, it's something I never saw truly as clearly as I did last night, and I am thankful. Truly thankful. )0(

Friday, September 5, 2008

Prospects

Entering September, this is my favorite time of year. I adore everything about the fall season, and living in New England is something I truly appreciate this time of year. I tend to awaken in the darker half of the year, more creative, more introspection that feels like tending to my inner garden, even if the "timing" of the year is traditionally for rest, the introspection for me fuels movement.

I love how things that you put out into the Universe, with true pure intention, fosters itself into opportunities.

I've been craving change, although content with where I am in life, still I seem to crave change now and again, from subtle things in life to things on a larger scale.

There is a possibility that we could put into movement the prospects of moving... out of state. I have been wanting to move for quite some time, although timing (and economy) haven't been right. As Nimue gets older I want her to grow up in a home, free from some of the imperfections we are experiencing with our neighbors (trying to think in Spirit and not say something dreadful about them), plus we just want a house, somewhere she can play in a backyard, a little larger than this, but I'm not picky, I don't want a gigantic home where we need intercoms to contact another member of the family in a different room. Cozy is more like it.

Where to go?

That has been the debate. The man would prefer something warm, down south, specifically Florida. I would sooner move back to California before ever moving to Florida, which means it will never happen! Plus, with the global issues, Florida seems like a poor choice to live, the chances of actually *keeping* a home with Mother Nature's rage seems unlikely. Then again, I don't like the heat. I need a place with seasons... truly, New England, as much as it can be, is my home.

This discussion has been going on for years, we've pulled out maps, pointed to destinations we wouldn't mind, and neither one of us could agree on anything... ever. It's hilarious really, because we actually both want to move to Ireland... oh but the costs and everything else to consider, it may just be a dream.

So the reality? We have decided upon Maine. I know... Maine. The man is originally from Maine, and he abhors winter and wants to live in warmer (snow-free) climates, and yet we're going a step backwards, for him, to Maine... or at least considering it. However, I don't mind Maine. I seem to frequent the southern part often when my alter ego becomes a groupie. I love the peace of it, and all those trees, so beautiful.

This is all dependent upon a future (possible) transfer in the man's job... something we're actually both hoping for, because we're both ready to leave this place, leave NH, and just move forward. Maine is calling us. As with anything, I trust the Universe will let us know if this is what is best for us... but I'm hoping it really is, even if it means that we will move hours away from my family, I think as I get older I'm actually more content with that.

In other news, I have the opportunity to possibly do a one-year apprenticeship with Christopher Penczak. I have been debating on whether this was the year to start DU or not, and then I got word that Christopher was doing an apprenticeship for the Inner Temple series. I adore Christopher and we have similar views and beliefs in the way we practice, both within the craft but also in our healing modalities.

He once mentioned that he felt I didn't need to do such a series, as has been the majority of what others have shared with me, but after BFC I felt like I needed to strip back to basics. While I would love the opportunity to do Z's DU, or even Bendis' Apple Branch, I have never been one who prefers online teaching when you have the opportunity to do "in person" teaching. Plus, as I've said, I do adore Christopher, he is a wonderful teacher, and even better person. It's an opportunity I would hate to pass up on. It's an experience.

I haven't decided anything yet, although I am leaning to yes and plan to send in my application next week. I enjoyed the 2-year apprenticeship I did with the Shamanic training, and I've been wanting to take more classes with Christopher.

What I like about him is that his work is truly beyond the typical "Wicca 101". He touches upon varies techniques, and I feel privileged that in the years I have known him that he has shared some of his techniques and works with me outside of the classroom.

I admit, I still put him on a bit of a pedestal, and I blush a bit when he looks at me as his equal, but I want to do this apprenticeship outside of ego.

I can hear Kailash say to me, still, that what he suspects I need is more practice/devotion vs learning/studying more. I know, I know. I have heard this argument before. I am forever the perpetual student, fearful of stepping to the plate to teach, once more.

We have been discussing this a lot at ADC, each of us progressing towards our own willingness and desire to teach. I do miss it. I don't regret leaving DoveStar, because I wanted to be home with Nimue full time, but also the direction of the school wasn't where my spirit and heart were any more, but I still miss it.

I will mediate on this, and trust that whatever happens is the direction the Goddess wishes me to face. )0(

Friday, August 15, 2008

Water and death

I have frequent nightmares. As far back as I can remember I had nightmares. There was a short time frame where I could actually control the dream to switch from something bad to something more comforting, I have since stopped that practice, thinking, at the time, that it was a mere fluke. I'm one of those people who can remember at least 90% of their dreams, and the percentage would be greater if I was diligent about writing them down upon first waking, but my bladder always dictates other priorities.

As a result of bad dreams, I tend to suffer from insomnia. This started after I had my first real bout with depression. I was medicated for that as well as my insomnia, which left me feeling like less of a person and completely numb in the mind, something later I could see was much of the point in psychological therapy when one doesn't truly wish to listen to their patients or delve into the shadow work it takes to get to the point of change. But that is another story...

The one year I had no nightmares? When I was pregnant. I cleansed out many demons prior and during that time, sleep was peaceful, despite uncomfortable as any womyn would be during pregnancy trying to find that "right" spot. Pft, pointless.

After the pregnancy I went back to being an insomniac, and not because of my daughter... she slept through the night before she hit 2 months old! Most parents would give their left arm for that kind of bliss, but my body had its own adjustments to make, and part of that was a busy mind that refused to cooperate and be still.

The past 2 weeks have been filled with horrific nightmares. Horrific. I'm used to bad dreams, I may not like them, but I am used to them. I listen to them, I work with their messages, but I seem to always have a lot on my mind, which a teacher of mine tells me often to work in the heart realm, still the mind... yeah, I'm trying... ooh ugly word, "trying"... don't get me started on the energy of that!

The dreams have been surrounding themselves in water -- always with the theme of me drowning, being killed, trying to be killed, etc. I do recall a past life with water playing a very pivotal role, however, as far as my memory can tell, it wasn't a bad life, so clearly there are some other water issues needing to be revealed.

Night after night it would get worse, the killings more severe than the next, suffocation being key, waking up in the morning in near panic, always some form of torture would arise.

Last night? Last night there was no water. Last night I was with a group of people, I don't know the details of why, but someone needed to die. No murders, no tortures, this needed to be a voluntary decision. I volunteered myself, knowing, in some capacity, that it was quite important. I don't know the why's, and even then I don't think I truly grasped the "why's" of it either, but in my heart I knew it was important.

The beginning process was painless, a shot, would be over in a few seconds. However, it took much longer that, much to the surprise of all of us. We waited and waited, no changes, nothing. Then, after much time, I died. My heart stopped, I closed my eyes and passed. They confirmed this. A minute later I open my eyes, confusing and scaring the others, telling them that I could still feel a pulse, despite the fact that my heart was no longer pumping. My heart was the first to die. My body became cold, turning blue, but I was able to walk and talk. This was something the others never encountered, so needless to say they didn't know what to do with this information, except to say we must wait to see what would happen.

Time passed some more, and my body began to go numb, legs, arms, bit by bit I was slowly going numb, and I knew this was really it. My lungs hurt, my mind was begging for air and I couldn't breathe it in anymore, and then the panic set in... I was really going to die. I think there was a moment of hope that even if I was this blue, "heartless" person that I was still alive, I didn't think much of what would come next.

I was desperate to leave something behind, a memory, something to say I was here, last words, anything that was more than my fear.

I woke up gasping for air, shaking, panicked.

I must explain that while some may not remember their dreams or see them as movies being played while they are merely the observer, sometimes the participant, I am generally always the participant. It's rarely in movie form, so I am always emotionally connected to it. If I become the observer, it's usually my subconscious' way of telling me that, in this moment, I must watch, unable to handle the actual emotion of 'experiencing' it fully.

Our subconscious are great protectors.

I walked around in a daze this morning, feeling like I didn't have enough air, and feeling like I truly did die. There has only ever been one other dream where I felt this rattled -- I split into 2 selves, and one killed the other, without malice, but it was a horrific murder, and I woke up screaming, my husband running to see what's wrong as he watches in confusion me grabbing my chest and telling him that I am dead.

I did die that day. It was a spiritual death I won't ever forget, and it opened a road of much growth and change.

Dream interpretations will say that most deaths are signs of spiritual rebirths, which I have been feeling coming on, but to experience it in the dreamland, where some consider to "just be a dream", it's more than that to me. I feel fortunate to be able to experience these different realms as more than imagination or fantasy, even if it can sound crazy or silly at times, but the experiences sometimes leave me feeling naked, unsure of what's to come next, and my skin doesn't always feel like my own. Such as today.

I used to consider myself as one who never truly feared death. No one close has ever died, thankfully. Sure I've had some relatives pass away, but they're in another country, I see them every 10 years, so when I return I simply think they are on vacation, I'll see them "next time". Perhaps a child-like way of coping, I don't know, I'm not impervious to death. It saddens me to think of what gets left behind, the "unfinished business" aspect...

A lot of my Buddhist studies teach about coming to terms with your mortality, Lama Surya speaks of this often, I read it often, I know it's important, but putting that into practice is sometimes a challenge.

This dream made me realize something important, something I haven't been able to admit out loud, so the fact that I'm even blogging about it is a huge step, as I tend to keep the deeper fears to myself.

I am afraid of death -- of course I don't want to leave behind those that I love... but this dream made me see and actual admit the thing that I have carried since childhood, from previous lives: I am afraid of death, because I am afraid of being forgotten. That is the true suffocation I am seeing... )0(

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Great days

I think in general I don't tend to necessarily blog about great days. I sometimes feel, in a strange way, that it cheapens it by sharing it. Granted if I had certain great moments/achievements in my life I do love to share it with friends, but in general those really nice days I like to keep with those that experienced it, especially if it's family time. It's not very often we get family time out, just go out, free of errands, and just have a nice night out without having extended family with us. Tonight was the first time in a long time we went out to dinner, mostly because it's cost effective to stay in and eat, but also I fancy myself a much better cook these days than I was when we first got together, so I enjoy the concept of creating something for those that I love, all without waste.

Today was one of those days that made me look at my daughter and wonder how I got so lucky... she chose us in what seems like equal measure (at times) of teacher and student, and she shares this charismatic energy with everyone she comes in contact with -- I have never met a person who has met my daughter and not smiled from the inside out, talk about a gift! I'd like to think I don't take it for granted, that even despite my own sleep deprivation (which has, gladly, never been attributed to her sleep schedule at all, but only to my own issues of insomnia), I'd like to think that I carry that memory with me, every moment, every day. Of course it's easy to get frustrated by the little things -- asking for a particular meal one minute and the moment it's finished cooking saying "no, yucky" and begging for something else instead... or the moments where diaper changes seem like a torture chamber, despite the fact that once upon the table it's all good.

Of course there are moments, the good moments and the challenging moments are all gifts, lessons from the divine sent by little angelic messengers that sometimes seem more like tricksters than angels, but I'm fortunate that the trickster stage is mostly in fun... mostly.

In short, without details, today was a great family day, and I feel especially loved. )0(

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

"Would you love to be ordinary..."

There's something almost magickal about having a thought process that is clouded by darkness to only swiftly spiral into a new direction, creating new thoughts that step out of the realms of torture. Our thoughts, in some ways, are much like the weather, not necessarily the same from day to day, but can go through it's own periods of rain and shine.

I spent last month in a mental storm. A necessary mental storm? Well, that's debatable by some, but it was necessary for me, in that moment, to experience the other side of my shadow self.

I'm a believer in having pyramids in life -- that each extension of ourselves has another layer, another pyramid, which represents ourselves, and the many facets of our personalities. It goes beyond realms of consciousness, it's energy, it's existence on another level.

I seem to bounce between versions of these pyramids, diving head first into whatever I have created a contract with, whatever the Universe feels I am ready to tackle, but, for the most part, I am doing it with a blindfold on at first. I test the waters and get a feel for the place, for the energy, then my consciousness kicks into gear and I bring out the post-its of labels I will attach to this place: anger, sadness, happiness, love, loneliness. Whatever it is, it receives my human judgments, and then I set up home, sometimes not understanding that I can leave whenever I so choose.

Perhaps that is part of the reality... my choice is usually to stay, because I always feel like I have something to gain from every situation, every experience. Is it an optimistic point of view? Hardly, it's just my reality -- in some odd way I'd hate to think that I'm here, universally speaking, to just be here, and yet in my recognition of that statement, it hardly seems enlightened, does it? My sense of awareness is often sabotaged by my sense of fantasy. I love my illusionary/fantasy world, but as my spiritual mother once said, my contract is here, not there, no matter how enticing it may be.

And so I have taken a swim in another pyramid, one that brings me back to the center of light, a balance from the previous month of self-doubt and inner child woes, this place centers me in self power, without ego.

Very timely I think, as Lammas approaches I always notice that I come back to the light when the earth begins to taste its last bits of it. I find it chaotic in the first half of the year. I become overwhelmed by natural light that I don't know how to balance out my own inner light. In the darkness, in the quiet, I find it, I breathe it, and it's natural. )0(

Friday, July 4, 2008

Satisfaction is a breath away

I read that earlier today, that "satisfaction is just a breath away"...

In my attempts today to think more spiritually and reinforce the nature of simplicity, I find myself easily annoyed and crabby -- funny how the best of intentions are often tested against the reality of what your mind is trying to create.

My mind is cluttered, perhaps because the home is finally uncluttered. I'd rather a cluttered mind than a cluttered home, which isn't very zen-like of me, but there you have it. There's something about a cluttered home that drives me completely insane, and everything is off-balance. Granted *I* am unbalanced when my mind is cluttered, but I sometimes find comfort in that reality.

I've taken the past couple of weeks to be with myself, making no social plans, just being home and taking some time to do some much needed reading. I miss those days, of just endless reading for hours and hours, only breaking to use the bathroom and perhaps fixing something to eat suitable as "reading food". It's making me look at my time management and seeing where things don't work and what I want to return to my reality... such as knitting.

Yes, I knit. Not very well, but I knit. I think I could forever make scarves and never get bored, and while I have advanced myself to actually knitting two very wearable socks, I haven't attempted knitting a new one since last year, and even then I only used the simple pattern I had versus actually advancing beyond that. But directions scare me.

They do.

I don't have a great history with anything relative to actually reading (and following) directions. I've cleaned a kitchen floor with car wax once... I've used a cleaning solution that called for a capful of solution and 2 cups of water... I used 2 cups of solution and a capful of water, completely confused as to why the capful of water was even necessary... the list goes on and on, thus my general disposition against patterns out of fear that a well meaning sock would turn into an afghan for a troll.

But knitting brings me to a simplistic place, so even if I only ever make scarves or afghan socks for trolls, it does bring me relaxation.

I don't feel relaxed today, there seems to be much to do and the clutter in my mind would rather I lay in bed reading a good book than concerning myself with anything else. Funny how sometimes the clutter isn't always such a bad thing. )0(

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Curtains & Stevie Nicks

I'm thinking about curtains in the metaphorical and literal sense. We've taken down the closet doors that used to be in the office (which is now our bedroom) and replaced them with long curtains. Every day I stare at them. They're this rich, deep red almost maroonish color, and I love them. It reminds me of being in love with the color red as a child. Every red crayon was pretty much destroyed so I could use red on anything and everything. Today I sat on the floor by these curtains. They're not made of gold or any kind of fancy fiber, they're just curtains, but in some odd sense they bring me comfort. I feel like it neatly contains the world behind it. The world, for once not clutter. That feels good. Not much clutter these days, that is huge, that is a relief, as I tend to be all discombobulated about clutter.

So in terms of metaphorical curtains, I feel like the ones I've had draped over, well, essentially "everything" has been lifted to reveal a lighter, almost sheer curtain. I don't necessarily trust it at the moment, I've come to see that sometimes I trust too easily in the scheme of being shown something I think I want, but I am open to trusting it. Still, it's an odd energetic time for me. Just a few days have changed "everything" -- there's that word again. Still, things feel different, but in a spiraled sort of way.

I try to view my existence in more than just circular patterns. I see, instead, that life spirals, and I may revisit a certain issue in my life again, but the way the spiral moves, in or further out, creates the basis for how I will face this issue.

So I am seeing this spiral again, but it doesn't feel as creepy, as hard, as... disgustingly manipulative, and while that may seem "good", it feels creepy in and of itself. That makes me slightly nervous. I want to trust that it's not creepy, that time has circled around and my position in that circle is to keep dancing, because I've stood in the middle long enough.

Sunday night was Stevie Nicks, and as I was getting ready for the show I made sure to hop online to get directions despite being at the venue before. I do this all the time, I like to triple check when I'm going somewhere I feel will produce a magnificent event. They posted that the opening act was Mandy Moore, who I adore and it made the evening that much more exciting... if that's possible when it comes to Stevie Nicks!

My seats were simply amazing, 9th row center stage... I think I may continue to go to concerts solo as that will ensure I get the odd seats closer to the stage! Mandy Moore was amazing, incredibly beautiful and her voice was like golden butter. I was blown away by her energy, her beauty and her just "girl next door" sense of being. She was nervous and sweet, and she played my favorite song which I got lost in the melody of. Hard to believe I was viewing someone I adore not only musically, but theatrically as well. It was a brilliant way to start the evening.

Stevie's set started off with the wonderful "Stand Back" -- a great 80s classic to get the crowd pumping, and as the musicians were playing the beginning chords we all anxiously looked around for Stevie to appear. When she did... wow, even the memory... I admit, I cried. I did, I'm not too proud to admit it. Her "Trouble In Shangri-La" CD feels like the autobiography of my soul. To see someone who inspires you, to be that close to their work, to their being, it's beyond what words can express.

I have a dear love for Claude Monet, beyond the popular Waterlilies series (although it is one of my favorites no doubt). In 1998 the MFA had a showcase of his work, and tickets were quite expensive at the time. We got a set and went with friends, and I remember how nervous I was, knowing I would be standing in the same room as his works that I have spent so much time viewing in books and dreaming about. I felt like I was personally being led into a room of secret techniques, to see first hand the genius of his strokes, the brilliancy of his color palette, as he was one who preferred to not use black or white as they aren't "true colors" -- something I adapted in my high school painting years.

Walking into that room, I wasn't prepared to feel so overwhelmed by the energy of his work. It was more than a painting, it was more than his story, it's hard to explain the magnitude of what standing in those rooms meant to me, and indeed, I was moved to tears.

Stevie coming onto the stage was much a similar experience. She has this energetic field that exudes beauty and mystery, and the crowd ate it up, as it was a never-ending resource.

She still puts on an amazing show. I saw her nearly 10 years ago with Fleetwood Mac and she amazed me even then. My only disappointment was that I hadn't attended more shows in the past years. Even the memory, as "silly" as it can sound, moves me still. Her funny stories, her beautiful messages, her true gratitude for the audience to be there sharing this evening with her. I've been to enough concerts to know when it's just a statement that is as repetitive as a set list, but to see her go up to the front row, shaking everyone's hands, saying thank you to each of them, making it a point to smile and make eye contact, it was mind blowing.

It will be an evening I won't soon forget. And I felt something return to being that I had forgotten about that night. It was beautiful, and it reminded me of the day's lesson of listening for the voice of the Goddess, to be still and listen.

I've been channeling stillness a lot today.

This is what makes me think that the spiral that has returned, that the curtains that have been lifted and changed... that it's new... or perhaps how it was always supposed to manifest? I honestly don't know, but I know the game of speculation takes me to a stand still, and the stand still leads me deeper into the darkness, afraid. Today I would prefer to swim in the light, and share that light with the darkness.

But I will probably always have questions. )0(

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Goddess guide me...

Back when I taught at the Dove I was given a class by the owner of the school, Synergy of Prosperity, that I had been wanting to teach for a while. I wanted it to go beyond the notion of monetary prosperity, but really looking at the energy of prosperity in general life. It was a class I was quite excited for, but sadly most students were no longer interested in taking it because of the lack of information and how classes were shortened to a day while still having to pay for 2 days.

Word got around that I would be taking over the class and to my surprise many students who had already taken it signed up again, apparently loving my easy approach to teaching and loving my previous classes, something many students only get to experience when they are ready to take their electives, as I am not a massage teacher.

One of the things that the original instructor taught was her concept of a God consciousness towards prosperity as a 30 day affirmation program. I adapted it slightly, trying to make it more deity friendly, as I don't really relate to a God in general. However, I do hold a special place in my heart for Cernunnos, my leanings are towards the Dianic tradition with focus on the Goddess, still, many don't relate to that either, so my attempts to make things well rounded for all was interesting.

I have revisited this program last month, revamping it once more and sharing it with my systers at ADC and we've been doing the daily affirmations.

Last night an incident occurred with me and the neighbors. The details are boring and tedious as to what's been occurring the past 2 years with much headache, but last night drew the line, and last night, for the first time since my own trauma, I felt unsafe to be home. I was terrified in ways that made me 16 years old again, things that I thought had been healed were coming right back up to the surface, and the terror that seeped through my pores left me feeling lost.

I don't know what will happen next, and my instincts when in trauma aren't on the greatest reaction time, but when in trauma, I'm sorry, linear time is non existent. I wish others could appreciate that.

A terror that I had thought I was coming to peace with is surrounding me, an energetic bubble of fear, more than fear really, as that trauma last time brought me to a place of ultimate hopelessness. I felt hopeless.

Today's Goddess consciousness said:
"Today's lesson is about realizing that all of my experiences happen for a reason. I choose to see each one as a part of my personal growth. Because of this, I can give up control and let my Goddess consciousness lead the way. My higher self knows what is best for me, far better than I do. Today, I know that the Goddess loves me, therefore, I am free to love myself. Listen for your Goddess voice to guide you. It will be most noticeable when you are making a decision. Be still and listen. The Goddess's voice brings peace; ego's voice can bring turmoil when out of alignment with your higher purpose."

I've always been a believer that everything happens for a reason, even the trauma I experienced as a teen that has changed my life happened for a reason. Still, I would rather that my "choice" relative to how I learn my lessons be done with more grace and less... fear.

My plans for the day is to breath. Breath in that connection to life and the Goddess... reminding myself that there is beauty around me, and that in the end trust is my ultimate tool, something I ignore too often.

Tonight I am off to see Stevie Nicks, something I have wanted to do for a very long time. I saw her once when I went to see Fleetwood Mac, and my seats were incredible at the time, and I remember getting choked up seeing her walk on the stage. The energy she generates is amazing. I was blown away and have wanted to see her solo for many years, but timing was never right. Tonight I am venturing solo myself... something tells me that she may be the channel to which I hear the Goddess' voice tonight. )0(

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Since you...

Last night I went to Chad's CD release show that I have been looking forward to for months now. It's funny how the day a show comes everyone around you seems to be pissy, but it was a moment I really couldn't wait for, and being someone who tries to take into account any planetary movements, I usually let everyone else's drama roll off my back and enjoy what it is I'm trying to enjoy. Although the full moon certainly brought out that sense of "lunatic" energy that was easily felt by many.

I sit here, in a very quiet space, almost too quiet. I woke up this morning feeling quite low... beyond a sense of sadness. It was strange to wake up to these emotions, seeing as how last night was such fun, but I did notice the shift occur in the late morning hours, wanting my solitude, wanting to just have a view of the ocean and the taste of the salty air, knowing I wouldn't get to.

The Solstice came and went faster than I thought it would. I felt love in the air, but as the day faded, the love turned to loss, to remembrance, and in the moonlight, the warm air, things you once thought were either buried or released end up resurfacing, and while I didn't get to go to the ocean, I felt like I was drowning slowly... yet it wasn't tragic, just... strange.

Memories flood occasionally, sometimes stronger than the others, but I imagine that as the memories continue to flow in and out of my life they will always change, because my perception of what they once were, what they once meant in that moment, have ultimately changed as well, as have I. Still, there seems to be an emotional contract of sorts attached to the memories held dear.

In my attempts to "let go" and to just put the past behind me, it stood in front of my face, it briefly touched me, ever so slightly, easily forgettable, but the contact wasn't the stirring... it was the lack thereof. But the look... that familiar image, it may always be ingrained in my memory, even still, it perhaps has always been ingrained in my soul, something one can't easily (if at all) erase.

"I haven't felt the same, not since you... I've been running... I've been down... I've been trying to turn myself around... I've been sinking... I've been drowning... I've been down and out and crying out darling... Look what this clarity has taken away from me I knew now what you always knew..."

I want to say those lyrics have new meaning for me, but in all honesty they don't, which is perhaps why they keep playing themselves over and over in my head after last night. I keep saying that others just simply don't understand, can't see, can't feel what has been felt. I've often wondered about illusions, about what makes an illusion an actual illusion if it feels like reality to you? It's but one of my many fascinations in this world, and my world so often feels like a giant globe of illusions, sometimes so beautifully intricate it feels outside of this realm, and sometimes so painful that it feels like the deep sea dragging me under. But it's still my reality, it's my creation, it's my neglected work... is it ever illusionary?

I'm stuck in an old spiral. A dumb old spiral, as judgmental as it sounds to create a title to go along with the energy, it feels dumb, sometimes laughable, but mostly painful. And so a theme emerges: painful.

It is though, it's painful. My heart breaks, it renews, it tears, it pumps again, over and over, much like the natural cycle of life, with its unpredictable ups and downs. My ups are fantastic, almost higher than I remember ups being in general... my downs are awful, and I find myself stuck in a perpetual game of schizophrenia with my soul. Balance is beautiful, but my balance confuses me.

This morning I woke up with dread. I didn't want to feel that kind of pain again. It was just... pain, a familiar pain, but not a pain that I can actually describe in words as to what it truly pertained to, just a general scheme, but it feels ridiculous. It's an energetic connection, I can hear my spirit guides tell me.

I refer back to old notes from a retreat I attended by Lama John on "Loving Compassion" and he said that when you receive love and you don't know what to do with it, just give it back to the person who brought it out in you, share the love, don't judge it.

I judge love. I want to understand its complexities, I want to attach deeper and even cheaper labels to it because of living in a world that needs to define every fucking thing imaginable. And yet, that is so beyond the scope of who I really am -- I hate definition. I hate conformity. I hate the urge to dissect everything, but the dissection is more familiar than the definition or conformity.

The dissection has made me ill. The dissection has exposed toxins into my soul, and my heart burns because of the disease. However, I willingly picked up the scalpel. I knew what I was doing, even when I didn't know. Karmic contracts it would seem. Not a blame, just a mere observation, a fact even.

I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself... something I frequently venture through when I am in my own dissection of self. It makes me panic, it makes me feel out of control and frightened like a small child. There is no ultimate pain, but I think I enjoy the fear to the extent that it makes me withdraw to the safety of my cave. I don't want to to be in that cave, but I don't *not* want to be in it... and that perplexes my mind. )0(

Friday, May 23, 2008

The manifestation of fear

A couple of years ago, when I was pregnant, my life started to change, as it does when you are preparing to birth new life. This change caused me to look at the self I had been prior to this moment and come to terms with the things I didn't completely love about myself. With that came an abundance of fear, which lead to healing that aspect of myself so I could be prepared, as one can be, for this new life.

I didn't realize how much fear I really carried around, or how much I still continue to carry with me. In looking back at old journals and old blog entries I am amazed by what I have found that lurks in the center of my being -- clearly not hidden at all, and yet somehow I have been looking right through it, as though it's invisible. So how does fear manifest? A great number of ways, but the simplest *physical* reaction I receive?

I vomit.

Let me clarify that I never throw up. If I throw up then you know I am extremely sick. Even in my pregnancy I threw up only twice due to 2 different attempts to eat veal, something I used to love and now can't even fathom digesting again.

I never throw up. When I do? I know it's a sign that I haven't been paying attention to the hundreds of other signs that have been flaunting themselves in front of me, yet I have chosen to either ignore them, or simply am dumbfounded by their existence. Thus when the Universe wants me to understand the importance of letting go and embracing the notion of fear and turning it into a power source of love, I throw up.

It's not a good time. I hate it. And while granted I've never met anyone who actually enjoys throwing up, but I really really really hate it. It brings out this inner child that just wants to be cradled by her mother and told that everything will be OK.

I've been obsessively reading about the No Impact Man and have been inspired by the choices he's made for his family to create a greener lifestyle as well as his attempts to create no negative impact on the planet. From his blog I have read about another man, Michael, who chronicled the last 3 years of his life after being diagnosed with some extremely rare form of cancer. His blog was honest, and his fears and realizations were real. The No Impact Man had all these questions upon reading Michael's blog. I had questions after I read the blog.

We live life every day. We die a little every day. The glass is half full. The glass is half empty. It's meaningless to help save the planet when we're going to die anyway. It's important to save the planet for our children's children and the generations to follow.

The arguments are so black and white. There doesn't seem to be an in-between. Where do I stand? I stand in fear. It's the reality in which I have carried lifetimes worth of pain and confusion to this moment that been spiraling into a vortex of an energy that sometimes hardly seems worth it, but other times is a true gift, I know, if only I were to just peel back the layers gently to reveal their gems.

I don't openly admit this, not out of shame per se, it's just my own business, but I suffer from depression. Ugh, even writing that statement out feels like a bunch of shit -- I "suffer"... I'm such a believer in the notion that we create our realities based on our thinking process as well as our actions. If I think I suffer, therefore I do. I'll sometimes catch myself and say "I choose to live a life with depression sometimes" and I laugh at how ridiculous that statement really is. But I do believe it -- I do believe in this sense that everything happens for a reason. That if I sprain my ankle or throw up there is a bigger meaning to it, despite the fact that some would say it's just a sprained ankle or simply bad food you've eaten to cause your body to throw up. No, I don't believe that things happen for the sake of happening. It doesn't vibrate in my being that way.

I love the show "Dharma & Greg", I think that Jenna Elfman is a genius in that role. I came to find out later that she's a Scientologist, and while I virtually know nothing of their religion except that it was started by a sci-fi author and Tom Cruise is nutty about it, I know very little about it. I read once that Jenna Elfman wouldn't give her autograph to pictures to benefit an AIDS charity auction or something because she felt that AIDS was a state of mind and didn't want to contribute to that mentality. I was shocked... but I realized that in some ways I can see how others would think that my own belief system is rather odd.

I do believe in contracts -- karma -- whatever you want to call it, I do believe in a sense of destiny. I do believe that I have chosen to live the life I lead with both its good and challenging moments. I refuse to see it as "bad", such a pathetic use for a word.

So as I tie this all together about fear, I do believe it's a manifestation of my karmic past. How do I get rid of it? I don't. I don't "get rid of" things. I manifested it for a reason, I carried it from lifetimes ago for a reason. Do I need to know that reason? Nah. I once believed I did. I used to think it was so important for me to find out why things happened, what it meant, what it was going to mean. I think once you stop asking the questions and take the time to simply breathe and be still it's true that the answers come in a way you simply don't expect.

I feel and see my fear rising to the surface once more. Bit by bit I release and reintegrate old fears into new functional emotions and energy for me -- thus the reason why I don't believe in "getting rid of" something that I created. I have this image that someday from all the "bullshit" I choose to throw away that I will realize it's importance, I will see the pearl inside the shell and want it back to reclaim as my own, but the journey to find these pieces either lost in the ocean or stuck in a pile of its own murky shit or given to someone else because I felt powerless, will be time wasted instead of understanding the reality that if I work on the healing now, I can save myself a lot of time and perhaps even pain along the way.

Then again, that other side of my brain, always so chattery, says that perhaps that is the journey and the contract that some make anyways.

Maybe.

It's an odd perspective, being in my mind. Loving life and seemingly fearing death. Feeling like every day I'm living to the fullest and then finding that other days I am wasting it away. I think about this a lot. I share it rarely. I don't know anyone else who can understand the bizarre notion of voices that circulate in your mind to create all these questions and doubts, but also who can be your best mate helping to piece the puzzles together.

The fear that has been surfacing has manifested itself into physical discomfort. Last night I was awakened at 3am to find myself in excruciating pain, followed by throwing up. I knew, throughout the evening I felt the signs, but I ignored them, because I am like a child who hates to be sick. It's awful. I was once told that to wake up consistently at 3am was a sign from the spirits/gods/universe/archangels that they had a message for you. My 3am calls started a couple of weeks ago. I'm not sure I felt ready to listen to the messages of the spirits. I'm not sure I'm even ready now. Fear is a strange thing.

)0(

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Motivationally slow

In the midst of all the chaos that is surrounding me right now, I just feel like this week is in slow motion, completely sure it's Sunday when it's really Monday, behind on the daily to-do's and yet finding humor and slight rebellion by letting it build up and mock me later. Still, I'm feeling motivated in an oddly bizarre state.

I'm working on manifesting powerful change. I like change. I used to think I was one of those types of people who despised it, like so many in our society do. But in truth I crave change. I do. I feel stagnant if things stay still, if things remain the same without the slightest notion of directional movement.

It's odd. It doesn't make for successful completion of any project. It's borderline ADD and yet it's simply the trait of the mighty Capricorn to be a wonderfully innovative starter but our finishing techniques are always quite mucky, always leaving something to be desired. I am hoping to break that trend a bit.

I think in some ways I'm looking to busy myself with projects and general things in life to take myself out of the game of thinking for a while. I tend to withdraw in the summer time, taking it as my moment to hibernate as I reevaluate... well, everything. Summer time is my hiding time, and yet I find that it's almost the complete opposite of what I originally intend.

Ah yes, intentions. Usually the subconscious has it's own mind (haha) than what my conscious mind cares to dictate. As it should be.

My manifestation for the evening?

Glorious sleep with pleasant dreams. I'm afraid my nights are filled with unsettling visions and it's so rare to be lost in a nighttime "daydream".

)0(

Friday, May 16, 2008

Who giggles?

I do.

I'm such a giggler, but I only giggle when it's relative to my crushes.
I crush on everyone, pretty much, this is no secret. I think it connects me to a time where the only thing you had to be concerned over was whether said crush was crushing on you in return and to make sure you didn't make a complete arse out of yourself in the process of crushing.

I wasn't one of those eloquent girls. When I crushed it meant that I would wind up making a complete fool out of myself...

I would walk into walls... doors... trip over myself... I've been known to stutter or mutter something completely incomprehensible leaving the person being crushed on to wonder if my IQ were equivalent of a muddy puddle. I'm a dork, with emerging googly eyes and, dare I say, I think I have actually fluttered my eyelashes... that's incredibly pathetic, which would make sense that it would be something I would perform, because in this state I am uber pathetic.

Do I have issues with this odd self?

Nah. Not at all. It amazes me that despite 'growing up' and leading the life of a seeming "adult" that I can still find humor and silliness in something that is a crush.

A crush. It's hilarious. I have several friends who refuse to even use the word "crush" for it denotes some moronic adolescent who hasn't even discovered the proper use of her 'parts'. No, adults don't have "crushes". Tsk tsk, that is not for the 'mature' at heart.

I have crushes. I'm forever 12, forever the girl who wore braces against her will and forever the girl who makes the best gal-friend a guy could ever have.

It's a youthful process. What's wrong with having crushes? What's wrong with blowing bubbles because there's something magickal about the land that exists inside of it? What's wrong with giggling when your crush walks up to you, out of their own accord, and chats it up, even personalizing the 'connection' you have by giving you a nickname... ::giggle::

I would hate to be an adult that has no fun, that only exists to complain about the world around her and not enjoy the simple pleasures that bring a sense of amusement to her busy world.

With all of that being said, I was delightfully/childishly surprised when my crush contacted me the other day. Nothing spectacular occurred, there were no declarations of love for my fabulous self, but still, there was contact. I feel like I'm in 7th grade all over again...

I had a crush on this boy named Michael. He was in the Honor Society... in the 8th grade which of course added it's own appeal as the "older man"... and he was on the basketball team... my friends and I referred to him as #22, as that was his jersey number. Granted not a very clever way of trying to disguise who your crush is, but at the time we thought it was. We had a variety of nicknames for our crushes: Goofy, #22, Max, Elmer Fudd... and typing that out I see clearly why we were such dorks growing up.

But I digress, #22 was, in my memory of a 7th grader, simply yummy. I had a monster crush on him, and like any young girl at that awkward age, I'm pretty sure he didn't know I existed.

I walked into closed doors when seeing him... walls... my friends... tripped and dropped my books. I know no subtleties when having a crush. It's obvious from outer space -- even my husband has remarked that I can't hide it. I'm fortunate to have a spouse who doesn't get hung up over me drooling over someone aside from him.

I used to work in the office at school with my best friend at the time. Basically instead of going to homeroom, which we hated and had separate homerooms so this gave us both the option of not having to go as well as spend some extra time together because, let's face it, as kids that's all you want is more time with your friends.

Part of our duties was to deliver the absentee list to each of the 7th and 8th grade classes. My friend and I would split up the duty, not based on "you take the left corridor, I'll take the right"... no, it was based on which class held our current crush (or crushes) at the moment.

Mr. Palermo's history class was mine every day to deliver. That's where #22 had history. It was the last class down the left corridor from the office. It might as well have been Mars for as far as it seemed. I would feel confident up until I reached the classroom before his . That was also the "upperclass" corridor... which meant that I was having to deliver to the 8th graders who looked at me wondering if they ever looked that young.

It became fast knowledge that I had a crush on #22. The teacher took delight in batting his eyes to his student as I came in to deliver the absentee list, pretending to not notice my crush sitting in the front, and acting as though I were cool. Did this ever work out?

Nay.

I walked into the door once. I dropped the teacher's pencils onto the floor. I couldn't find the teacher once who was standing behind me and said "boo" and I actually yelled and dropped the rest of the absentee lists that had yet to be delivered. He once actually locked the door to see if I would wait or simply leave it under the door (which I did). With time this became embarrassing, and in remembering it I wonder why I didn't just stop delivering to his classroom sooner. I did eventually do that, out of sheer horror that everyone knew. Although my friend once remarked that the teacher asked where the other girl who delivered the sheet was, asked what my name was and told her to tell me that he'd prefer if I delivered the list every morning. Sure... I was instant amusement, no need to add water.

No no, I'm not bitter... oddly it hasn't jaded me in continuing random crushes.

Tomorrow is another seemingly unplanned evening to go see my current crush. Will I be retarded when I see him? Probably. I've known him for a few years now... it took me at least 2 years to muster up the courage to say "hello" to him, and even then it was at least another year before it would come out sounding like an actual 'hello' and not like a toss between a frog and a deranged monkey on acid.

Ah, to be 12 again, hopelessly crushing on a cute boy. Although this time... he knows my name ;)

)0(

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Smells like teen spirit

I don't like drama.

Well, I don't like drama outside of a really good television program. I like things simple, happy, contagious of only the fabulous... I like peaceful. It gives me time to think.

I like thinking.

I've been taking time to revisit things I once loved, and in the midst of that loving remembrance I am finding myself so easily on edge with annoyance of the things that don't seem to fit. Or what has become even more annoying is that the things I once thought were a match are no longer, and I am revisiting, as I always do, the prospect of where fear fits into it.

I've been listening to music from my teen angst years. It's been terribly amusing and mildly disturbing, but quite enjoyable none the less. I can see now, as a ::gulp:: adult how our parents used to criticize the music we used to listen to, the suggestive nature of the lyrics we were singing along to without ever really paying attention to the actual meaning of the words. Why would we?

So the other day I was listening to the 90s station, something I do quite often when I'm taking a break from the 80s and feel like taking a walk down memory lane. Here I was listening to it with my daughter, just singing along and enjoying the memories... and then, despite "knowing" these lyrics all these years, I actually *listened* to them. I was shocked. Shocked.

Shocked.

The dirty words coming out of my mouth... no wonder my parents were horrified! Lyrics like... "somebody rockin' knockin' da boots" (which I admit I just figured hearing the word 'boots' meant it was about shoes...).... I have a myriad of lyrics floating through my head relative to things that I am shocked I sang in front of my parents. It's hilarious, and almost dating, to think that I will probably find shock in the music my daughter will be listening to, especially where I think the music today is a sad comparison to that of my time. Then again, don't we always think that?

It reminds me of one of the characters of "Clueless" where he says to the teacher that he was thinking how the way he feels about the Rolling Stones is how his mom feels about Nine Inch Nails so he should really stop torturing his mom. Hilarious... but now that actually means something to me, as an adult. Granted my daughter loves my taste in music... she has no real choice, she hasn't be exposed to anything else but the 80s and 90s, with the exception of local musicians who I am friends with and want to expose her to some incredible songwriting. But what happens when the day comes and she discovers, possibly, that... that... Culture Club isn't cool?

My husband would be tapping me at this moment to whisper, "Honey, they were never cool." Then I would have to take time to stop typing to club him over the head, repeatedly, and then ask him if he'd be willing to cross dress and let me put makeup on him like Boy George, and then he'd probably divorce me, or tie me up in a non sexual way and I would be left to listen to Elvis or something of his preference. I may have lost sight of my point along the way...

On the flip side of amusement with music of my past, it also has this amazing ability to connect me to a time that brings both sorrow and joy. It's amazing to be in the middle of this music and feel yourself instantly transport to a time when you were younger, perceivably safer (or not as the case may be sometimes), thinking you were brilliant when really you were a little naive shit who knew nothing of true pain and sorrow... still, that connection, that instant transportation through time has always fascinated me, and there are still days where certain CDs stare me in the face wondering if they'll ever get their play time, knowing full well I reserve them for only the lowest points in life. Somehow that is therapeutic.

So while I never thought I would one of those people who stepped into the realm of new technology (after all, my "boom box" works perfectly fine!)... I'm going to sit here, rocking out to the 90s... on my savvy iPod, that I might have finally figured out how to use. Maybe.

)0(

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Dancing with myself

Last night I played the role of "party girl" for a night out to a local show. It's my fun "social" past time, going to shows. I venture outside of my cave to rock out to music, which is the equivalent of going to the movies with someone, in that there really can't be much talking without the risk of damaging your vocal cords from the constant screaming every time someone yells back "WHAT?" after your failed attempt to say something in passing. I think in this case it's important that perhaps the entire world learn sign language. It would certainly save my throat, as well as my focus, because then I could fully save my vocal chords for the usual "woos" that one must shout every so often at concerts.

Music is a nice escape. I got introduced to the music scene from someone who I feel that, despite our past, left me a great gift in meeting some of the people that I have met. It's been a great outlet, and as a creative being I am fascinated by the dance of the songwriter. As a writer I couldn't ever see myself putting my words to music, and then having others love it (or hate it) and relating to it in a way that makes you feel like you're reliving a moment within those few minutes. It's fascinating, and brilliant, and cathartic.

Last night I was just in a realm of enjoying the moment and having fun. My taste seems to greatly differ from that of the mates I surround myself with, and oddly enough music truly seems to be the only thing we have in "common", and yet my sense of taste relative to music is just different. Maybe I search for too much meaning in what I surround myself in, or with, or both.

While the evening was musically enjoyable, overall the atmosphere was odd. While being a married womyn has never been an issue for me, I'm seeing how that, and the combination of being a mother, is very different, socially, than that of my single girlfriends. I would say that the people I hang out with at our local music place are *all* single. Every single one of them. That's not a horrible thing, well, depending on which one you ask, but it's clear that our choices relative to what's "important" is quite different. Rightfully so, I was in a similar boat before I became a parent.

Now it's just... different. I suppose in the past 3 months my views on just the world in general have shifted more and my sense of awareness of the things I spend my time on, or waste in some cases, have intensified. I hate to waste, I do, and yet I feel like I don't think 'hard enough' or with enough awareness of the things I 'could' be doing in my life. I'm more of a "could" vs "should" kind of gal... society passes enough judgments for us, I don't need to pressure myself anymore.

Yet the reality is that I seem to prefer a more hermit lifestyle of internal exploration than the general "chillin' at the bar" with friends. Is that weird? Maybe, I've never really been an extrovert, even when I tried it felt so outside of my comfort zone and unusual. It returns me back to the energy of feeling like an alien on this planet. I'm not sure that feeling will ever cease to exist in this lifetime. The reality is I probably don't want it to.

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Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Eco-guilt

I admit that lately I've become a bit of a freak when it comes to the environment -- or perhaps a "freak" to my own level of standards, after all you won't see worms in my place for composting, I was born and raised in the city after all, worms don't belong in the home, unless they were on the bottom of your shoes upon entering, then you'd be force to go back outside and wipe them off. No, no composting, at least not yet, I think there could be a possibility somewhere in my future, just not immediate future.

I don't do some of the things that I could be doing to help the environment, but I am starting slowly, and eco-consciousness is very important to me, and global warming is frightening, and the fact that they're saying that polar bears may be extinct in my daughter's lifetime is simply horrific to even imagine -- I adore the polar bear, he is my totem animal, and the fact that they are dying off brings a spiritual death to my soul in its own way.

I have this odd sense of "eco-guilt" on a daily basis. It's odd, I don't normally experience "guilt" per se, but if I let the water run just a tad more than I know I should... eco-guilt... when my husband buys a bottle of water while at work and comes home with it I literally drop everything that I am doing to give him the equal eco-guilt look. Although it doesn't phase him, if anything he tries to mentally program common sense to not let me see the bottle.

I'm one of those "bring your own bag" people. I try not to use plastic if I can help it, I try to reduce my water waste, take less or quicker showers, not leave on unnecessary electronics, unplug things that aren't in use, switch to soy candles vs paraffin... so while those are small steps compared to most, they're still steps.

There is a sense that honoring the Earth as a Pagan makes us more eco-friendly and conscientious, and yet I know plenty of Pagans that hardly ever consider their eco footprint and their effect on the Earth that we are honoring as Mother. My Buddhist leanings also have me wanting to live in simplicity, and everywhere I look I feel suffocated by clutter. Goddess love my husband, he's been a sport as I virtually release us of clutter... so long as he can continue his D&D and computer games I'm pretty sure I could get rid of everything and he would be fine.

I've been fascinated by this man that calls himself the "No Impact Man". I came across his blog last month and have been reading from the beginning and have about 5 months left to get to the present time. The brief synopsis is that he lives in Manhattan with his wife and 2-3 year old daughter and he decided to go on an experiment in which he and his family create "no impact" on the environment. The process is done in stages -- no buying new things, buying food made locally (I believe it's within 250 miles of where they live), recycle, compost, no electricity, no carbon emissions (no car, no bus, nothing but walking or riding a bike), no excessive use of water... it's been simply fascinating to read and to think that for a year they committed to this experiment, while living in a large city no less. I'm inspired, although I'm pretty sure my husband is close to selling my laptop so as not to allow me to read anymore articles that will dramatically change our lifestyle.

I think about the simplicity of being a child. Even tonight as I was watching a "George Lopez" stand up special he spoke about how children nowadays couldn't last a day with the lifestyle we lived as children. I nearly peed my pants with laughter at the truth and hilarity of it all, but honestly, it's true. I don't know at what age we enter into where we begin to say "when I was a kid they didn't have..." It's naturally embedded into our DNA when we reach a certain age, I'm certain of it. But in thinking about the simplicity of our lives as children it saddens me to think that my daughter is growing up in a world of cell phones and iPods and technology that her mother will never understand.

It's nice to see the call to help the planet, and while some are only willing to answer it to relieve some of the financial stress, I suppose some help, whatever your reasons may be, is better than no help at all.

Still, I thought it was quite funny when I went to the store yesterday and picked up some toilet paper and saw the recycled "Seventh Generation" brand and was ready to pick it up as my next step forward until I saw the price. Hey... I'm on a budget, so sue me if I buy the cheaper one, that is still soft on my tushie. One step forward at a time... I'll get there.

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Sunday, May 4, 2008

Creating movement in a stale environment

In an attempt to start fresh and not allow myself to suffocate in a past that daily becomes more and more like an illusion that has been lived from an outsiders perspective, I have decided a new blog is in order. Of course that's not to say that I'm not going to revisit or even feel like I'm in the mindset of the person I was once was, or could be, or never was... I think if nothing else, this gives me movement, it gives me opportunity for change and growth in an environment that for a while has felt stale in my mind because of the death grip I hold onto in my past, or maybe not even my past. It feels confusing, yet dangerously delicious, because the enjoyment of reliving an existence that hardly feels like my own is the pure adrenaline of the rebel behind the wheels of a car it never had license to drive. My inner rebel is quite manipulative, and I can feel her thirst and taste her desires to be reckless, yet that only exists in my own head, it's not necessarily relative of the actual physical existence I create. Or so I believe.

This is the first time I've blogged in months. The idea that others read my words, or essentially read my thoughts is simply a bizarre notion to me. I suppose in reading other's I find enjoyment in knowing what the other person is up to. It's the conversations on a daily basis we aren't necessarily able to have, and yet I hardly write about my day-to-day activities, it's more of a swarm of radical, or sometimes not-so radical, thoughts that have been built piece by piece, like a deluded set of Lego's. I find little comfort in others viewing a blog about my life, and yet there's something intriguing about the entire process of a blog in general.

I think a lot. Sometimes I'm told "too much" or that I'm "too analytical", that I need to let things "just be". I spent my childhood in a mental coma, feeling as though I was never truly capable of having an original thought, I was too young to understand that a sense of internal power was something of a gift, and it felt stripped.

Thinking as an adult feels luxurious. To be able to contemplate anything has surpassed any sense of limitations I once felt were set upon a mind that I didn't truly know could be my own.

I've been "suffering" a sense of writer's block for months. I fully understand and identify that suffering as fear. I've always been fascinated by the concept of the 2 true emotions in life being love and fear, and how everything else is a byproduct of that. I can see, in my own life, how true that is. Fear has been creeping up inch by inch, no longer satisfied by living in tight quarters in the cage I created for it. Ungrateful, it's decided to place a more permanent home in my cells, and in the past week of self exploration I have found some of its hiding spots.

I don't know it's purpose, I don't know the meaning of "fear" in its 'greatest' form, I just know that it's a damn good excuse to use to keep myself in the past.

I have found great comfort in the works and teachings of Lama Surya Das. I feel honored that I've been able to attend his workshops and be given an opportunity to be surrounded by an energy of questions that feel safely answered in a context I haven't explored before.

He said something that really struck a cord for me when I attend his day-long retreat: "Thinking about the past is actual present mind remembering. Thinking about the future is actual present mind planning." Such great emphasis on being present and yet the reality of my presence being in the present moment all of the time seems nearly surprising to me, but in a good way.

So what is this blog about? I used to joke that if I ever opened my own bakery I would call it "Unoriginal Imperfections", because I feel that fits my sense perfectly. I know that this is an opportunity to face the fears that I have carried some lifetimes ago, and my journey exists to liberate and face those fears, with love.

Still, there is fear there, fear in facing the fear, fear in facing myself, fear in an unnatural and very natural sense. It's confusing and enlightening all at once.

Lama Surya says "Liberate one thought and one feeling at a time." I like small steps. I'm a Capricorn after all, anything bigger and I will simply get bored.

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