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.


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.


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".


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?


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 ;)


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.


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.


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.


Tuesday, May 6, 2008


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.


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.