Mommy Dearest Sans the Wire Hangers and Scary Eyebrows

I thought this would be for the book but it started to get a wee bit preachy, therefore a perfect blog post! And yes, a reminder that I do have a blog. A blog that may be as scattered as its proprietress, but still a home for writing about the book or whatevs. One I shall make greater effort to muse all over.

Mother

Her reasons for adopting me were not from her heart but rather from a need of replacement. The son she gave birth to left her womb visibly empty and wounded in an imperceptible way. Much to her surprise and likely humiliation, the Sapiano clan took to her son as though he were the second coming, (clearly ignoring the meaning of the name Michael in the bible, “Like the Lord?”) claiming him as ‘theirs’ and setting out to destroy any connection my mother may have had with her son.

This is where I come in. I have no idea how the conversation went but I do know that my mother told me she wanted a child that was hers, a child that was NOT a Sapiano. So off they go to Catholic Community Services in San Francisco. It is here that an evil (adding the word evil in hindsight of my life) Catholic social worker cons my parents into adopting me instead of the older non-Sapiano child that they set out to. Patricia was interested in a toddler, wishing to bypass diapers, bottles, rashes and such. What she got was an infant undeserving of what was about to happen to her. What she did was adopt a human being to fill in gaps within her that to this day leak toxic energy all over anyone who lingers too long.

I must have seemed an alien to her and therefore a failure first felt within her only later to be transferred to me as I continued to demonstrate how very different from her I was. It was not just my freckles and extreme musical talent, it was that humans are not meant to be the caulk plunged into gaping wounds in other humans, and when this is discovered, a small child can find herself…the villain.

I am not certain that I’m the mistake the haunts her, but I know her mistake haunted me. It’s not a leap of faith to believe this is the foundation for much that went wrong between us. Our history is littered with fallout from our railing, our tears, and our disappointments. Oh there’s that the word…disappointment. This one concept pushed upon me deep into my flesh is likely the foundation for the wrongs I would commit, all my missteps, and the self-ignited hell that I brought to the rest of the world as well. The end result of my mother’s dissatisfaction with me was a life wasted on a deep need for acceptance via rebellion. Here lies my precious oxymoron, I sought acceptance and yet never yielded to what she wanted me to be in order to receive such.  Oh how I am of polarities.

So my origin story goes a little like this: I was adopted, unloved, unwanted, and condemned to abuse and misfortune. But now in my prime I am loved, wanted, and willing to share what I’ve learned from all that I have done, seen, tasted, felt…endured. It’s vital that I remember this book  is not just for my material gain, it’s for all those that sting with the pain of even one of my stories,  that they too can transform. If one person is changed by what I write, I will have done what I lived this life for.

 We are all mutable, we are all magic…deity even.  

Belizean Lotharios, it can happen

I’m cold, like its early fall when the dew leads to fogs and frogs speaking of frosts to come. Only this fog will not lead to frosts, not ever, and I am reminded of this as a large group of yellow and green parrots squawk at each other in the tall palms surrounding my little house. Believe me when I tell you at 6 am, the novelty of those parrots runs dry.

Loving this place is not such a hard thing to manage with it being like a butterfly house, but there is so much to protect oneself from, and it’s not just the BIG ass spiders even if they hop away from you in fear like furry crabs. Oh and as I side note: I killed my first massive roach! I was not scared other than it would get away, which I could not allow that so I smashed it with my plastic container of sugar. Now that’s ironic, roach killed by sugar.

I digressed, where were we? Ah yes, I was talking about love and caution in Belize. Bugs aside, there is an unfortunate plague that has hit the once sweet and laid back Belize. At the core there is simple greed rippling an effect of consequence birthing The Belizean Lothario. With the highest concentration from the Rastafarian community, they are  best known as hustlers but if one is honest, they are most certainly prostitutes. The women (likely white) who participate in these arrangements glide into a false sense of romanticism to make-believe this a give and take relationship. The scales will tip away from her when its realized that the sex is rather nice but not worth the mess a man leaves in his wake of just getting ready to go sell his bamboo wares with you left behind to pay the bill.

There is always a pitch after painfully obvious public displays of interest. The pickup lines are all so sweet and so very Rasta. I know little of the Rastafarian way but intend to learn more as this little entry here is the foundation for an article I am writing as an in depth look at this practice that I see so well practiced on the streets of San Ignacio and Caye Caulker.

Back to the cool beauty of this morning and my doing something novel and not to be done often, but I am to wear a scarf to downtown. I’m sure the Sun will come out to mock me and I will stick  my tongue out and show him I know how to  wear layers... fuck you mo-fo!

Holiday Sadness/Gladness

So yesterday was difficult just as it was certainly always going to be. Kassy got along fine both alone and with her brother Andrew and their family in Seattle. I assume Terri did the same in Colorado and so I wasn't even needed, but I am sure I was missed.

Being missed is far better thing than being needed. When it comes to love are we not in a far better position to love another if need doesn’t have a part in the play? This Christmas marks a moment in time for Terri, Kassy and I as the small family unit we once were, one that was necessary and in the end the healthiest separation I personally have ever witnessed, let alone participated in.

Today I feel the power of that moment and as I write this I am moved to flowing tears, not ones of sadness, but tears of gratefulness to these two wonderful people who I shared much with and were able to say respectful goodbye to a life of positivity and not one wrought with the pain of dysfunction. Ok, we had our moments (many), but that is not how I view our history from this pinpoint in the map.

As I make this decision to leave San Ignacio and move on to the sea, I do so knowing I passed the test of fear and doubt so that I can give love and respect to a life once lived and a new one unfolding before me with no regrets. I do of course possess an ache in my heart for missing those I love but knowing they are doing well…even without my magnificent micromanagement skills! 

The ocean is calling me

My love affair with San Ignacio is waning. The sites, the sounds, the smells, the food, the people…all have I taken in and now I feel done. It’s not just that the place is small and to be honest I have certainly not been upon all her streets, but I have come to realize this last night when I couldn’t sleep, that this is not my place to be. I came here because research revealed diversity and a jumping point for all the caves , temples and jungle. The thing is, these hold little interest for me…I want the ocean.

I also came because a friend talked it up but good and he was right, but for me its time to go. I do love me a catalyst and see how this all fell into place and why. It is not at all as planned or loosely imagined. But this is a good time to respect and honor the art of loving detachment. So I let go.

I have till the 1^st of January to figure this all out and I have no doubt I will. Seriously, I would like to sell most of the bullshit I brought and live as small as possible and just move about and stay in hostels. Maybe I am not quite ready for that health wise, but I can see it. I just need fucking wifi and I will feel safe. If I can touch the world I know I will be ok.

Though admittedly, I want to be a little unsafe, otherwise why fucking bother to come here!? What kind of explorer would I be if I didn’t catch a ride from people I don’t know but ‘feel’ I can take a chance on. Oh how I wish I had brought the big fucking backpack. But I was working from the mindset of needing things I find I have no need of. I only need a few changes of clothes and a bar of soap to wash them. I do need my lotions and potions, but otherwise I am good.

Maybe I should go back at 3 months just to rid me of all this shit brought. See my daughter and come back with realistic packing skills based upon my discovery that I am ready to be wild and free like I fantasied about, the sun kissed freckled faced writer explorer. 

Truth, Clarity, Love and Compassion

LETTING GO

Letting go does not mean to stop caring.

It means I cant do it for someone else.

Letting go is not cutting myself off.

It the realization I can’t control another.

Letting go is not to enable.

But to allow natural learning from natural consequences.

Letting go means admitting powerlessness.

Which means the outcome is not in my hands.

Letting go is not to try to change or blame another 

Its to make the most of myself. .

Letting go is not to fix, but to care about.

Letting go is not to fix, but be supportive.

Its not to judge, but allow another to be a human being.

Letting go is not being in the middle arranging the outcome.

But to allow others to effect their own destinies.

Letting go is not to be protective.

Its to permit another to face reality.

Letting go is not to deny, but to accept.

Letting go is not to nag, scold, or argue.

But to instead search out my own shortcomings and correct them.

Letting go is not to adjust everything to my own desires.

But to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.

Letting go is not to criticize or regulate anybody.

But to try to become what I can dream can be.

Letting go is not to regret the past.

But to grow and live for the future.

Letting go is to be fearless and live more.

Author Unknown

In the season of death and decay...I say goodbye

Lilith

Child of Light, Daughter of Darkness

According to ancient Sumerian history, Lilith is a wind spirit of the great Goddess Ninlil, Queen of Heaven, Lady of the Air, and Mother of the Moon. Ninlil bestowed the divine right of ruler ship in ancient Sumeria.

Lilith's flower was the Lily and the magical Lotus. In the beginning she represented the virgin (belonging to no man) aspect of the Triple Goddess. She stood upon the protection of lions and was Lady of the Beasts. The wisdom of the night Screech Owl was her companion. She is the instinctive soul of the living world.

As patriarchy took over the vast power of the Goddess, Lilith became legend in a dark fashion, reviled as a destroyer and seducer of men. Even as Inanna gave up the power of the Bird and Snake Goddess, so too did the symbol of a woman's power become the bed and the throne. Throughout history Lilith was the one who would not submit. Passed down from Sumeria, the Hittite Empire, Babylon to the Semitic peoples, she became the archetype of the dangerous woman who refused submission. She was vilified as Harlot, Serpent, Blood Sucker, Impure Female, Hag, Witch and Enchantress. Yet, in the beginning her epitaph was that of 'Beautiful Maiden'.

The Talmud, Zohar, and other Hebrew texts have centered upon Lilith as the mother of demons, beginning with her rejection of Adam in the Garden of Eden. Genesis holds 2 tales of creation, the first in Genesis 1 tell that male and female were created simultaneously out from the older view of Mother Earth and Father Sky. This first woman in Hebrew tradition is held as Lilith. She demanded equality, and to co-rule. She refused submission sexually, went to the center of the Garden and spoke the 'Ineffable Name of God', protecting her and allowing her to depart Eden. Adam complained.

God sent 3 angels; Senoy, Sansenoy, and Semangelof with an ultimatum that she return or 100 of her children would die each day. She accepted this rather than be subjugated. Thus the first woman created equal as a free spirit was condemned to survive in legend as the harlot, mating with demons and devils, birthing monsters. Rage and grief were hers. (This brought home the threat to any woman who might think of defying male authority.) After a time of grief Lilith made love to the Water Elementals bringing forth the 'sea of the unconsciousness which arises from the depths of feminine wisdom in our psyche'.

By the 19th Century Lilith became the archetype of the femme fatale, who men feared and loved. She, who had the power to destroy her lovers or prompt him to a new awareness of Life.

 

I found this in my files as I am attempting to do a cleanup of sorts. I wish I could tell you who wrote it or how accurate the research is, but I enjoy the simplicity of it and feel akin to its wisdom. I in many ways feel I am a Lilith and think it time to revisit this idea very closely. I am dabbling with the idea of going to La Push one more time before I leave for Belize, I need to say goodbye and do an epic death rite. This death rite is a long time in the coming and I cannot imagine a better place to say good-bye to the PNW. I really am going folks. One day soon this blog will be written from white sand beaches and the perspective of a new kind of crazy, Belizean Crazy. This should prove interesting!

This journey may be taken alone. I thought I would have friends at my side but more and more it seems this was the way it was always going to be. It may be why of recent that I have been left on my precipice alone to cope with loneliness, my refreshed pain in regards to my failed marriage to Terri, and of course my glorious Fae going to live in Seattle and learn about love, life, and all the in-betweens. So many goodbyes, so much inspiration, so very bi-polarized.

Going back to Lilith, I will NOT submit and never have to anything other than this one simple concept. I am indeed the Universes Bitch. So Universe, please open closed doors, part the waters, send out the invitations, because I’m on my way and I bring with me a dark love to share that spreads out like the night blooming honeysuckle.

Self Promotion via Ranting at it's Best

There is this guy, he is one of those last named Blair guys who make billions off their rags to riches stories proclaiming they possess the magic formula for success and if you follow this formula, you too will succeed! Fuck you, you fucking prat! Anyone offering you the keys to life’s success, is full of fucking bullshit. You possess the keys, you just have to find them and it's really fucking hard to do so.

As I write my memoir it has occured to me that I actually don't offer get riches or attainments, only a tangible prospect of surviving a horrible moment anyone reading my book might be stuck in. My book is about enduring this world, not making money off of it. I offer a way out of the depths of hellish experience into an understanding that we are all capable of redeeming any act we may have committed or heal the horrors inflicted upon us. Everyone can be a Queen or King of Transformation, you just have to make it through this moment.

My book is a cautionary tale of wisdom via doing things all the wrong way. No uplifting tale of success in the acquisition of funds that have no fucking meaning when you are a puddle in the corner rocking yourself in and out of this world just trying to find a tether to hold onto because you want nothing more than to slip into the depths that rest just behind you. I don’t have an app for that. I have a story that perhaps someone will read, find that it mirrors their experience, and will use the tale to find their own tether.

Also, my book is not for everyone. I wrote Killer Pregnancy #3 the other day and was actually taken aback at my own words, at how I used them, and the realization that not everyone will find those words as well placed as I do. But for those that do, I think they will find a comfort in them.

Ok enough with the grr, the soapbox, and the redundancy.


But look, even kitten Kali Ma is like "really?"