Friday, February 15, 2008

Morning Memories of Transition

Feelings of elation and euphoria emanated through my being as I was driving to work today. I surmise it was for a number of reasons......
............for the sunshine, for the late night sharing in the Vortex, for the stories of Africa, for my life, for my amazing friends...for the moment of complete bliss...

And it was my own doing...the self-sabotage or destruction...or de-construction and dissection of the subconscious...my fears manifested into old memories and the whispers became louder...

It's difficult to lose someone you love. It's traumatic and you're never prepared for it. I used to want to challenge Death to a duel but it's really not her fault. It's no one's fault really. It's part of the impermanence of this Life...

I loved Bill. He was and is still a part of my Light. What's so challenging is the letting go...the acceptance of Fate and to carry on as best as you can...

All these years, I built and broke down my walls. Love became an unattainable thing because I was too scared to let it in. I was scared that if I loved someone so much, I would have to deal with the inevitable of losing them to tragedy, death, disease or a bidding farewell.

And in the midst of my morning drive with the miniscule moments of divinity, my projected fear wanted to take center stage and I lovingly took it by the hand...gently guiding it away...allowing
the light of the Grace to step forth and bask in the adulation of the applause.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Joie De Vivre

I recently had a very disturbing dream consisting of me consuming meat (ham, in fact) and then regurgitating it in the bathroom sink. The next thing I remember is traveling with an unknown Asian man to speak with a psychic/seer (also Asian). She appeared to be around her late 30's early 40's but I sensed she was centuries old. She went into a trance and began to describe my companion's death. In great detail. His demise was far from pretty. She described his eye being punctured with a sharp metal object. The poor man did not take it well. His shoulders slumped and his face began to withdraw with fear. It was hard for me to watch and I sympathized with him. So, I took action. I grabbed the woman by her shoulders and shook her rather violently. I yelled and screamed at her through her trance asking her why she was doing this. Her face was somewhat slack and she had a slight smirk. When she finally came to and registered who I was, her face went white and she appeared dead. It was the most disturbing thing I've ever seen (Spiritworld-wise) and I awoke completely distraught, confused and slightly terrified.

The remnants of the dream stayed with me throughout the next morning and midday. I was on the phone with several people trying to calm myself because my emotions were overflowing and the isolation I felt (because everyone I spoke with tried to console me but were at a loss for words..understandably so). I forced myself to go to Aikido and after class I spoke with my teacher about my dream. He shared that the dream indicated an opportunity to look deep within myself...that it could be my subconscious communicating a suppression of something. He encouraged me to ask questions and to embrace my 'dark side'.

I have found that some of my greatest adversaries in the 'Waking World' and the 'SpiritWorld' have been the source of extraordinary knowledge and growth. Albeit with many challenges and obstacles. :0)

And we come full circle...to, yet again, a symmetrical stance and I know I'm full of even more questions...but at least I feel less crazy and don't think I need to be committed (to an asylum)....

Sometimes I think my biggest fear is not being able to face myself. To accept myself fully. Ahh, well.....garder la promenade.

Bon Chance, mon cher.
Sur ce chemin, je marche seul.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Tearing Down To Re-build

I found a resonance with this and thought I would share. They're from this website: DailyOm. Google it. Check it out. Reach for enlightenment... ;0)

Tearing Down To Rebuild
Rethinking Complaining

We all know someone who has elevated the process of complaining to a high art. Sometimes funny, sometimes exhausting, these people have the ability to find a problem just about anywhere. In its more evolved form, complaining is simply the ability to see what’s not working, in one’s own life or in the external world, and it can be quite useful if followed to its natural conclusion—finding a solution and applying it. However, many of us don’t get that far, and we find that complaining has become an end in itself. In small doses, this is not a big problem, but if complaining has become a huge part of our identities, it may be time to take a good look at how we are spending our energy.
Complaining is a person’s way of acknowledging that they are not happy with the way things are. In a metaphorical way, when we complain or criticize, we are tearing down an undesirable structure in order to make room for something new. But if all we do is tear down, never bothering to summon the creative energy required to create something new, we are not fulfilling the process. In fact, we are at risk for becoming a stagnant and destructive force in our own lives and in the lives of the people we love. Another issue with complaining is that we sometimes tend to focus on other people, whom we can’t change, as a way of deflecting attention from the one person we can change—ourselves. So transforming complaining into something useful is a twofold process that begins with turning our critical eye to look at things we can actually do something about, and then taking positive action.
When we find ourselves complaining, the last thing we need to do is get down on ourselves. Instead, we can begin by noticing that we are in the mode of wanting to make some changes. But rather than lashing out at somebody or an organization, we can look for an appropriate place to channel this energy—not our neighbor’s house, but possibly parts of our own. Finally, we can ask ourselves the positive question of what we would like to create in the place of whatever it is we want to tear down. When we do this, we channel a negative habit into a creative process, thus using our energy to change the world around us in a positive way.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

The Vagina Club

This humorous post originated on my 'My Space' blog. I feel it's worth re-posting here for new eyes and smirks...

The Vagina Club

#1. First rule of The Vagina Club is, you should talk about The Vagina Club. That is thoroughly encouraged. So is talking about Vagina or with your Vagina.

#2. Second rule of The Vagina Club is, the first rule should not have to be repeated. However, for those of you who are not members of The Vagina Club we understand that the first rule may have to be repeated. More than once. Or twice.

#3. Third rule of The Vagina Club is, you become an automatic member if you:
(a) have a Vagina and live by the Vow of The Vagina Club (see below)
(b) love your Vagina
(c) write poems, songs or have conversations about/with your Vagina
(d) dress up your Vagina
(e) have even more criteria to add to this list
(f) all of the above

#4. Fourth rule of The Vagina Club is, members of The Vagina Club can nominate individuals to join The Vagina Club even if they do not fulfill the criteria mentioned in Rule #3 as long as they repeat and live by the Vow of The Vagina Club:

I, (insert potential member's name here), do solemnly swear to respect, love, honor and cherish any and all members of The Vagina Club. I promise to be honest and forthright. I promise to act with integrity and compassion. I hereby pledge on this day (enter today's date) to protect any and all members of The Vagina Club until my demise. If I should ever break this sacred vow or decide to become a non-member of The Vagina Club, I will walk the Earth alone and devoid of the pleasurable company of any and all members of The Vagina Club..and live a sad, lonely life 'til the end of my days (may they be short lived).

#5. Fifth rule of The Vagina Club is, it is common knowledge any and all members share thoughts and stories with each other. If a member of The Vagina Club requests privacy, take your secrets to the grave.

#6. Sixth rule of The Vagina Club is, if you are brave enough to attempt to date a member of The Vagina Club keep this in mind: it's wise not to date multiple members of The Vagina Club at the same time or even in succession unless you're aware of Rule #5, you've discussed it with all parties involved and feelings are mutual (i.e. you have the proper anatomy required), you've received permission and you're alive to talk about it.

#7. Seventh rule of The Vagina Club is, dancing, laughing, positive reinforcement, venting, expressing compassion and understanding, hugging, kissing, sharing, regular Hot Bitches Nites Out and approved additions to this list are all encouraged on a regular basis.
Put downs, cattiness, and dishonesty are not.

#8. Eighth rule of The Vagina Club is, if this is your first time reading this you must read it again and share it with others.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

The Mucus is Here

I enrolled in a creative writing course (alongside all my martial arts and yoga classes) to see if I could 'hone' my craft. My teacher was your typical enigmatic Gemini. I swear she's got enough stories and brass to surprise anyone (she's somewhat elderly and plump). I honestly didn't know what to make of her. Then, she assigns homework the first night...
..........................wait for it...............................

write a paragraph about cottage cheese.

Are you fuckin' kidding me?

I bitched and whined to all my friends. They laughed at my misery! (They're also extremely lucky I love them unconditionally)

I procrastinated. I refused to do it and then curiosity got the best of me. There were certain restrictions (oh, yes....in a creative writing class). No descriptions of the container, no details about nutrition or origin and no 'how it tastes' monologues. Great. I don't even like the stuff.
I'm VEGAN for crying out loud!

So, alright. I did it. With oodles of sarcasm. There. You're forewarned.


Cottage cheese is my kryptonite.
It bubbles and gurgles like white lava, hitchhiking it’s way
from store to store taunting me with a mocking vulgarity.

It’s clever alright.

From a glance, an unknowing individual might take it for rice
pudding. For example, the starving insomniac

in a sleep deprived state, would spoon it up thinking it
a bowl of oatmeal only to be surprised by the albino-colored
dour monstrosity of the mistake. The small white humps
resembling tiny smurf-like hills utterly baffles me.
The silver of my spoon contrasts with its lack of color
and it now appears to be curdling even more as I continue
to stare in disbelief. Gas and mucus sustain it's place
in the back of my throat as I get a whiff of it’s sour smell.
In an almost fatal experiment, I dip my finger in the cold,
clumpy mass recalling vivid descriptions of grandiose thighs
and stretch-marked stomachs.

I chuck the remaining amount of white terror at a poster of Chairman Mao and search for another form of sustenance.

Enjoy, all you cottage cheese lovers! :0P

Historical Burns

I come from a broken family. The adjective: dysfunctional is apropos in describing my childhood experience. I don't think my parents meant for our future to be painted as such. In retrospect, our integrated exchange was far better than theirs EVER was...

HOWEVER..................

It still doesn't alleviate the pain, anguish, loneliness and emptiness I've carried with me into my now colorful adulthood.

Outside appearances...I smile and laugh. Put on my brave face. Only the really observant can see that my jaw is tense..and no one knows that I secretly grind my teeth...

On the inside...are burns and sores stemmed from trauma, fear...nights of the lonesome dark where it's not easy to hold the tears at bay and the most cheesiest of romantic comedies has me sobbing like a two year old.

That's where humor and sarcasm come in. They're my best weapons, my greatest armor. It has fooled many people into thinking they've been let inside. Little do they know it's just the waiting room. The real entrance way is locked and hidden...

Tall, structured, steel grey doors command an intimidating roadblock. Spikes and flowers decorate the sides of the opening. And lest we forget my favorite encumbrance: the large, red, fire-breathing dragon standing guard as an additional (and symbolic) precaution.

Dali makes it look so easy....and dreadfully beautiful...

Monday, February 4, 2008

Mes ami, ma famille...

I've been doing alot of thinking these past few weeks about friendship...defining it and asking questions regarding what friendship means to me...who are my friends...and if I'm a good friend to others...

My friends are my family. They are the individuals I turn to for emotional support, communication and love. They do not define who I am but these important people have helped sculpt the person I am today. It would be pure selfishness and ego if I thought it was a solo effort.

Early in life (as a young girl), I was taught the value of a good friend. The kind of person who doesn't judge you or put you down, the kind of person who laughs and cries with you in joyous AND somber occasions...and the kind of person who's by your side when you're in need of it the most...

I admit that I've been so wrapped up in my need for 'balance' in my life that I forget the more important things. It's not the amount of things or gifts that surmise what a 'true' friend is...nor is it the number of times you receive or make phone calls...and it's certainly not about the increments of time spent or how long you have known one another...

These examples are not the core of what establishes a friendship. They are the pieces to the intricate puzzle that create (what one would hope) a lasting friendship that can withstand bumps and obstacles that life can manifest. For me, it's the realization that what makes a good friendship is whether I'm a good friend first and foremost. It's the desire and honesty to communicate my feelings...with love and compassion. It's the awareness of my own actions and doing the challenging thing of looking myself in the mirror before passing judgement on others (and not being self righteous). It is also in the midst of these reflections that perhaps others are doing these introspective mental exercises as well...in the hopes of better understanding not only themselves but others as well.

There is no price nor gesture nor summation of a word that can really define a true friend. The best way that I can put it is the presence of love and connection that comes from the purity of acceptance...that YOU truly love yourself...knowing that YOU have the power to spread joy and love from within YOURSELF...and that to really begin that process is to look inward, to ask questions and to realize that to have true friends in your life is to start with being a true friend to yourself.