Sunday, October 4, 2015

Blue Soup

The witch stood by the fire and stirred the contents of her pot. She was a witch because of what she could see in that pot as she stirred. The pot of full of visions happening sights sounds feelings. Today she stirred a pot of blue soup. You don't eat blue soup you just stir it and hum songs you learned as a child. Inside the blue soup, was a man struggling to lift heavy objects on his own. The neighbour went out and asked if he needed help. He laughed.

The witch stood by her fire and stirred the contents of her pot. Tonight she was hungry and was making split pea soup. It smelled delicious. Just the right amount of herbs and the broth was just salty enough to balance out the vegetables. Do you need help with that asked the man? And the sound of his own laughter came through the soup.

That laughter sounds mean, he said
That's how you laughed at me when I asked you for help.
But this is different.

Is it?

Thursday, October 1, 2015

differenting the person with a pill

I haven't written much over the last couple weeks. I haven't posted anything much either. You see the person I got my prescriptions from decided I needed a review of my medication, upping the prozac and slimming down the abilify.
Like any changing of medication like this, it has it moments of complete exhaustion and complete confusion.
I sat down to write last night and used the whole hour to look at facebook. That was all my brain could do. Today I can write little things at work, and tonight I'm just taking stock of where I am, and tryng not be frustrated. This stuff changes the way I am, makes me a different person, for better or for worse.

I hope it works out for the best.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Gravel Rash

I heard the river sing my song
I heard the water echo my words
I heard the rain wash away the
Rocks and stones in my soul

Here the dreams of night
Cross over in to the breath of light
Here the tarot cards
Become journal pages

I woke up to the host
Moving the wine closer
To the man who never drinks
Tempting the dreamers with elixir

I had a dream of snow
As the night went cold
I could feel the frost
Break the fourth wall

I throw the rusty soul
An old blanket to keep it warm
The organ whistles a rock tune
As I walk past the church

Dear God take the gravel
Rash off my skin
As if I had never fallen

Down the road.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

I see it...

We have some some angels here in Canada this week, a little girl whose father was shot and she was on a nation wide Amber Alert, And a police officer. There are of course many other angels that have left earth, not in a natural way, but these two, the media is feeding us. They're high profile, tiny and blond. We had the news on at work (I don't watch tv or have a tv at home) so I've heard the breaking news on both ladies.

I guess as a woman I should be thankful to be alive.

I too frequented the Halifax bars and was not a police officer. I too had a mans jobs and in that city and was not always supported.

I guess it's difficult for me because we're always told to learn to defend ourselves. And if a police officer can't defend herself against a monster. And a monster doesn't respect a female police officer. Then who is safe?

I know what halifax was like on women 20 years ago. The attitude was not good. The universities were in the news for their cheers and treatment of woman. And now.

We have many angels in Canada many woman and children who haven't made it in this world. Many who haven't been publicized.

There are a lot of living angels in Europe right now, trying to survive on train tracks. And the wrong side of fences.

There's a lot to think about, as who we are, as humans, as Canadians and if we want to keep picking woman and children from under bridges, out of lakes and garbage cans and oceans and pig feed.

Maybe we need to reach out to one woman in our lives, maybe it's even ourselves and say “I love you.”

Usually I do animals rights, human rights is not my forte but lets start somewhere.

Let's start by identifying and seeing what is happening say “I see it. I'm aware of it. What's next?”


Last night I knew what I wanted. In my dreams I had a new job, and there were new cloths and make up (cruelty free of course) I thought is was an interesting dream because I asked myself what makes me sad and cloths make me sad right now. I loved cloths when I was tiny but now they're not so much fun.

I love shopping for cloths which I don't have money for right now. I spent a lot on cloths last year and can't do it again this year, but my dreams yearn to have a whole bunch of time and money for pretty cloths and colourful eyes and fingernails.

SO there I have one of my answers; I'm sad because I don't get to play dress up all the time. Like the ladies on TV. Like I grew up watching on TV when I was a kidlet obsessed with entertainment tonight and the Oscars and Oprah and her endless closet of shoes.

I tell myself now that I have made a decision to have music and cats; and new cloths lost out on the deal. So I need to treat myself to some special cloths time knowing how important it is to my dreams. Just not as much as last year.

I should also clean up the cloths I have now, treat the closet with some r e s p e c t so I realize what I have to dress up in 'cause I get a lot of cool cloths for “free” too.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

I Am Try

I'm opal
a bubble in the sky
a stone in the heart
a little friend curled on my chest
when I wake up in the morning

I'm hope
a dream in the sky
a wish in the heart
Another moment when I
won't let see how lucky I am

I'm sadness
a face in the mirror
a stone in the sidewalk
a little darkness curled up in my mind
when I wake up in the morning

And while many fall
I keep going
I am hope
I write my soul another story
And many rise above me...

I am opal on the beach
And i stop writing for moment
Stop inviting the imaginary for tea

I am hope
I am and will be

It's a sad time in my heart, like realizing for a moment that I won't be having kids I realize that I am alone and it doesn't matter how many imaginary friends I have, how many cats I have, how many dreams I have, when I wake up in the morning, when I come home at night, it's just me, and that's a lot of work, that's a lot of love I have for myself and that affects every relationship I have with real people.

There are a lot of people that don't make it and a lot of people that do and I seem to be trapped in the middle of do and do not. I am try.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Green Grass

Note: this comes from a day of meditation, reading and being in a very safe place. I lit candles, mowed the grass and did my tarot cards to get to a place where I could look this memory in the eye. It's a tough one. But I think I can finally grow from it. It will probably be explored again and written less cryptically in the future but this is the best I can do for now.

I pick out a memory I had from 11-12 years ago.
I was fired twice from a job I wanted to stay in, until I could beat depression, and work in theatre and film again. Just one more day was all I needed; just one more sleep.

I hold those two moments in my hand and they become one moment of fear and shame and misunderstanding and hate. A hate storm. I start by remembering it as a twenty year old and then turn it around and look at it like a 40 year old. 

I did something right because they never did fire me.

I learned that maybe, although  loved the job, the time and the place was not for me, so I put in my two weeks notice, very shortly after.

At forty I would like to say that I could handle it better. I can look at the situation and know I'm not her anymore that moment that I'm holding in my hands now, does not have to be as big and dramatic as it was back then. I can turn that memory into a bubble and let it float away. It does not have to affect my every decision now a days.

Left behind is the green grass and an empty spot that once housed this fear and shame, that needs to be replaced from the heart of this 40 year old, cleaning up.

come on and take me down to
where the grass grows green
on my heart where I
rest without pain
Where I choose my time
and place like a wedding
I chose where and how I leave darkness
like sleeping in the afternoon
I chose how to let that part of me live
that darkness in your soul
that peel that had gone black
I let it go
and now the grass grows on my heart
The spider and crickets play hopscotch
tickle my nose with their tiny feet
and my toes are met by caterpillars
turning into butterflies
but I had to let the grass grow first