This is just fucking silly. Happiness is not in the wings
waiting for you to feel nothing so it can fill in. We feel a great many things both nice and not so nice. These feelings are not killing our happiness, we
simply are NOT happy in the moment.
We find our way to happiness, it is not a given. Most of the
time, for most of us, this takes concerted effort. To me memes like
this one, though intended to be uplifting, can be the polar opposite for those
of us still struggling with balance in our enlightenment. There are also the ones just
touching a toe in the pool, still feeling afraid and angry, happen upon
a sweet tidbit like this and think "fuck! I just killed an
angel!" See to some in the fragile state (the gooey cocoon stage) of enlightenment, a message like this can seem fatalistic as one braves their inner dark terrain finding feelings to match.
We need more voices voicing realities rather than ridiculous ideologies
that no one can live up to. And why oh why do more not see that this
is just a side way step to the right away from Christianity. Stick an eagle feather in your cap and call yourself a
white-lighter.
Which by and by…is okee dokee by me, just please refrain
from wrinkling your nose in distaste at the knowledge that some of us are in
the muck and glory of this gorgeous planet called Earth and finding our way through the dark... naturally.
The mind is the birthplace of the imagination, it is here where
our feelings are processed making truth that it’s the ones that “act” upon the imaginable,
that change the world. Waltz intent right into the world of form and you are
making shit BE.
If it were that simple for everyone, humankind on a whole
would know there are no differences between us as a race AND all that we survey.
In turn the human race would come to the natural conclusion that we all are indeed….deity.
There can be no doubt at all, that I am mad as a hatter at
present. I’m way deep in it and all I can do is silently scream into the quiet
room as I blast music into my brain via ear buds. Winter is fast approaching and
I feel that if I am still here when He starts his frosty march…I will just lay
down and let him take me into the slumberlands.
I need movement. I am statue-ing into what I'm sure will
not be a pretty forever face. My pain will be for all to see and not just the
bits I allow access to. As it is my body swells with raging discontent observable to any watching the downward spiral I presently ride since my return to the states.
I need an intervention, but since I make it impossible to
dominate me long enough for that sort of thing to be utilized, I shall do so
for myself by sending me on retreat. I go to write and to be alone and to chisel
off the icy marble attempting to stiffen me into the above mentioned, forever face.
Waiting is not my strong suit. Patience is not in my vernacular.
Even with a knowing that I would indeed wait with no patience for it at all, I
still fell into a puddle in the basement, in my bed, with my iPod firmly linked
to my brain. It’s my new coping tool…do nothing but listen to music and figure out
the mysteries of the Universe. One day I just know this will be of consequence,
for now it feels like limbo on steroids.
Oh and have I figured some big shit out! But it’s as per the
usual, hard to put into words readable by other, you know, humans. But I will
tell Jana all about it and she will figure out the little tidbits that sound
insane to me and make a sense of it. I do so love her for that. I need a
decoder ring sometimes and she can be that for me and for this gift I want to
kidnap her and take her with me…plots have plotted.
The one thing that is clear and easy to communicate is the
release of more control that I insist on attempting even when I know there is
nothing for it. I watched me fall into the puddle from an outside place and
wondered why I was bothering. It seemed out of date and rather redundant. Still
I did it for I had no other avenue at the moment to flow my inertia upon. I
mean what do you do with suspension other than get comfy cause its fucking
happening.
So this time I paid painful attention to every infliction
and regret I set upon myself. I have it all stored up looking to never go into
repeat mode again. I know I can alter how I react to these moments. I mean I
did! Never did I go into the suicidal ideology moment, well not authentically.
I heard the words and they fell flat. It might actually now be boring to want to
die knowing I will never fucking actually do it. I live because I fucking
cannot allow me to die. That is a FACT, so why fight it. See…I am letting go.
Epiphanies are such lovely moments that if realized and materialized can indeed be life changing. Today I finished what was started on Monday when I
went to a therapist who specializes in eating disorders. I asked the Universe
and even declared on Facebook my intent of gaining tools and not long term talk
therapy I have always found of little use at all. Well it’s exactly what I received
and yet has taken nearly a week to work out the kinks.
So me being me and not at all conventional took the advice
of the therapist literally and if that is not what she meant, well she told the
wrong girl to think of her eating disorder not as a part of her (this is
dangerous), but as an entity separate and whole from her. Give it a face, a
body, a name...and so I did.
I had just a few days before Monday watched the cartoon movie Rise of
the Guardians. Which is odd in and of itself since I only watch such films with
kids about and have never done so alone, in my basement, and in a not so good mind
space. I asked myself often, “what the fuck are you watching this for?” but
ignored the question as I laid there like the sloth beast I can be, not caring enough to change the channel. However late
Monday night after pondering what the therapist had said, it came clear to me
why the fuck I did indeed watch that movie. Her name is Cupcake.
She is a large boyish girl in a tutu who is for a minute or
so in the film, a rather unhappy girl. But Jack Frost sends her a magical
snowball to the face and is transformed into a happy girl who plays with the
other children rather than beating them to a bloody pulp. Or that is how I saw the way
her character could have gone, but this is a kid film, not a Michelle film, so
no blood. As you can see Cupcake from the movie and Michelle in the 5th grade, well there is some resemblance.
Now I was not a fat girl, I was a big girl. Being half Swedish I looked more football player than dancer, even though I was never good at sports, and actually a good dancer. Which in my twisted mind, makes the tutu fit. And so Cupcake becomes the imagery for my eating
disorder...a disgruntled girl who looks like a boy and because of her size, intimidating, but really is kind hearted and innocent.
The rest of my week I start to converse with Cupcake when I wanted more
food than was necessary, for which she would pout, and I admit to caving more often than not. This yesterday led to a rather large binge leaving me
discouraged and witless as to how this was going to work. Today being what it
is, a new beginning. Me not being one to not seize opportunity, communed
with cigs, the sun, a very green smoothie and Tori Amos when above mentioned epiphany
hit me straight to the…heart.
Earlier this morning I reposted on Facebook a bit about the heart chakra in various forms of dysfunction and was impressed how accurate it was and that I indeed had freed me from a good deal of said symptoms of a closed and or out of balance heart. So when I’m sitting there having a convo with the Sun and listening to Tori, I realize suddenly that the problem with Cupcake is that she is not ‘dark’ enough to be MY eating disorder and yet she fits so well at the same time! I’m running a conversation in my head that leads me right to the perfect imagery. She is not nasty enough to say “FEED ME” carnivorously, Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors is!
Seymour is the dark aspect of my eating disorder and Cupcake
is the softer cuter side of it. She is me as a little girl wanting to fit in
and Seymour is the end result of wanting to feed the big fucking gaping hole
where mother should be. Then Tori starts
to sing Upside Down.
My head swims and my heart opens up (like the Queen Anne
Lace flowers I’m starting at) even more because I know I once again found
my answers with a tool from a third party and of course…its fucking polarized.
Cue Tori with Crucify. Yes indeed “… my heart is sick of being in chains”.
I adhere to a standard of Love, Respect, and Honor. But this
Love everything on Earth is...bullshit. It is simply not possible. In our
striving to do so, we do far more damage to our budding psyches by attempting
something so many teach in our New Age. Sweetness in Light has a place, but
only if it is upon equal footing with Love in Darkness. Because when we fail at this balance,
we believe ourselves to be "bad" people. I mean I must be, because I
still want to punch a cunt every time I go to the fucking grocery store.
So to that end, I say fuck that and here, an example:
I love my mother, but she is not a part of me, she is a part
of this wonderful/horrible world so I respect her as a human. But she is NOT a
part of me and never has been. She did not give me life; she tainted it with
her narcissistic ideas of mothering.
So am I expected to continue wishing a different result
because she adopted me and called me daughter? I think fucking not. I set
that idea free so I can be in this world as intended, so I can indeed LOVE
freely in my own expressions. And my own expressions include knowing when to
walk the fuck away. To honor what has been so I can embrace something new,
warm, and supporting rather than stagnant and suffocating.
So no, sometimes we let go and Love another day, another
way, and by doing so, we WILL be reciprocated with the Love, Respect, and Honor
I spoke of above. Read the card meaning
that I pulled this morning and feel free to express YOUR opinions on my
unpopular standard.
This marker reminds you to show
kindness and compassion to all whom you meet on your path—be it a beggar on a
street corner, a co-worker, a family member, an animal, or a plant whose leaves
need pruning.
This marker asks you to shift
perception from yourself as a solitary person on the earth to one who’s part of
a living system. Love is what made you, so keep it flowing. Remember to receive
love as well. Ask yourself, “Am I blocking love?”
This marker reminds you that
you’re as connected to all of life as it is to you, and that you’re responsible
to be the steward of the love of the God/Goddess. Love is without conditions—it
is respectful, mindful, sees all life as sacred, and acts in accordance. Love
reminds you that this very planet is a living being.
Love is the very essence of the
Divine in you, and it sees the Divine in others. This is the time to see
through the eyes of Love and always ask before you act, “What would Love do?”
The answer will always bring you extraordinary power.
This marker is a very fortunate
and transformative omen.
Basically for four days my daughter and I have been watching
movies with action flicks the highest concentration thereof. My brain is fuzzy
and my belly overly full of steak and cheese. I feel geeked out to a level I
need a good cleansing and here we are at the badass New Moon Monday to help me
move into new and brighter energy! But I enjoyed my time with my kid watching
dumb movies like Hansel and Gretel Witch Hunters, the last Twilight (thank the
gods), and last night…Battleship.
I have a girly hard-on for action films, if they were once a
comic book, better still. I did not read comics when I was a kid but I did
adore the art. My impatience was clear even then for I would rather make up my
own story than read what I never could understand because reading a comic is
like reading a soap opera, it’s take several ‘episodes’ before you actually get
what’s happening. So like most things in life, I made the shit up as I looked about
the pages. Perhaps here lies the origins of my writing, the inner stories I
made up from comics, movies, and TV shows. It was never enough these dull
stories, I had to ‘flourish’ my ideas all over their asses.
Woah did I get off track. I love action flicks and this is
my long winding segue into how I enjoyed watching the film Battleship. Yes I
watched a movie based on a game. But let us not forget that a few successful
films were created from a Disneyland ride (POTC) and a few off a set of toys
(Transformers).
So with the bar setting on low Kassandra and I sat down to
watch Battleship and was surprisingly surprised. It had character and wit and
though the aliens made no sense what so ever, I forgive them this because the
writers pushed the nostalgia button with the well deployed plot twist of having
REAL vets from Pearl Harbor man the battleship into war with it having just
moments earlier been resting in the Harbor as a museum.
There were clearly many real vets and active duty in this
film and I would sound chock full of patriotism if it were not for the fact
that I’m not dumb enough to not notice this is a coordinated effort to make the
Navy look badass. I mean Hollywood is clearly making a go at the recruitment film
business of late with this effort really being Act of Valor with aliens and a
sense of humor.
As I sit here the music from Conan the Barbarian has come to
play on my iPod to remind me how much I love that movie, that it is one of my favorite
films of all time. Does this make me a major geekazoid? Yes it does, and it may
even mean I lost some cool points in the writing of this, let alone the publishing
of it. But I think it important if you are to read my blog and then my book
that you understand the whole of me, and well action flicks with plenty of
amped up gratuitous violence and special effects are definitely a ‘thing’ of
mine and one I hope is found endearing.
