Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Silly Christmas Poem

My gift to Christmas
A little white cat
A little peace on ea
rth
Tossing snow in the air

My gift to Christmas
New worlds in my hand
A little bit of a year
To put behind me

My gift to Christmas
Cold toes and noses
And a pair of socks
To keep me warm

Old wagon wheel
Covered in snow
The dry brown grass
A barrel of new oranges

My gift to Christmas
Peace in my heart
My gift to Christmas

A gift to you

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Little Sleep

Little sleep finds it very dark where she is; she has handed her light over to the universe and is expecting rainbows and sunbeams in return.  But it is very dark. And as she walks forward she knocks things over and makes people mad, she asks for help and is put in an upsetting direction. She has to depend on her awareness to get out. “I’m doing everything myself” she says to the sky, to the ground, to the words on the paper.

She asks for a therapist and she doesn’t like what this therapist has to say, the therapist says it’s time to stop writing. Little sleep doesn’t want to stop writing; so she runs away and blames the universe for not showing her the light.

Little sleep keeps writing, and finds the answers that she’s looking for in her own words. The one thing that she was told to stop, when looking for the magic of the universe, was one of the things that saved her.

As she is running far away there is a street light. For a moment the world is bright and there is a table selling wine and cucumber sandwiches. She buys one and stays under the light for a while happy to see some light in her life.

But the light turns off automatically and the sandwiches sell out. She is sick. And she keeps running and she looks for a Dr but the Dr just wants to give her pills, he doesn’t want to find out why she is sick, it is little sleep who finds out on her own that you can’t live on cucumber sandwiches and artificial light.

So little sleep, upset at the universe again for sending her a bad Dr and making her do all the work to find out why she is sick, keeps running, and gets more and more tired. But still little sleep believes the universe will protect her and not put her through needless suffering. All the answers she has been given doesn’t make her feel better and magic, instead, it makes her feel more angry and less loved by the people around her. But still she loves the universe and herself and works even harder to prove that love to the universe so it will shower her with gifts.

“Universe” said little sleep one night “I gave you my light and I have always argued with what you have done with my searches, you have given me so much darkness and coldness and forced me to love you and love those around me though all of it. And I never seemed to get anything in return.”

“What have you learned?” asked the universe.

“I learned patience and love of self from that experience.”

Then it all seems to come back in droves and she understands what the universe has been trying to teach her these past 15 years.

Through all this the universe was teaching her about patience and love and that all was as it should be that it was telling her she could solve these problems, she could heal the hurt inside her better than any Dr. The universe was teaching her to depend on the love of the earth and self love not the love of others.

“So” asked little sleep “You weren’t punishing me by giving me crap dr’s and jobs I never dreamed of as a child? You were teaching me to find the love inside myself no matter where I was or what I was doing. You were telling me I didn’t need a Dr to heal myself that day. I don’t need to have a PHD to work out my shit, I don’t need an MFA to be a writer. I don’t need to be in a relationship to feel love.

Those are the lessons the universe wanted to teach little sleep.


Saturday, December 21, 2013

Cold Heart Warms

Love for me is not whether or not I have a boy friend. I had a teacher in High School say that you didn’t feel real love unless you were in a relationship with someone else: Married, partnered etc.

It’s something that has made me sad, made me feel unloved, made me feel like I’ve failed. That I can’t tell people about my love when they ask me because
I’m not successful in relationships with a man (I’m straight so that’s the preference.)

When people talk about the sacrifices they make to be in a relationship, time, personality clashes, insults, they cant make a decision alone. I know I couldn’t be part of that type of relationship. But I still feel immense love for those around me and fall in love with many people,  And take time out from being me to -see- them.

I was curled up on the couch having a Saturday nap and thinking I needed someone to cuddle with to take this cold feeling out of my heart. It’s something I’ve healed for the past 37 years on my own it’s something I can heal today. This cold heart was met by two kitties, one on each leg and we cuddled.

Then I picked up Marianne Williamson and began to read about love. Nowhere does she say your love is defined by that of your love with your partner. It’s your love of god (I’m and atheist, so it’s my love of the energy around me, of the universe.)

My love is defined by what I give to my friends, myself, my family, my babies (the cats).I’ve found the love that works for me and I have permission to have that love grow strong, I should not feel weak and a failure because I’ve learned to love myself and others in the process.

Isn’t that pretty amazing I’ve been searching for love and all this time it’s been inside of me. I was just believing that everyone else was right and I was wrong. I’m different maybe yes, I may not fit into every group of people who are defined by a different love, and heck some people may be haters and not like that I live alone, or feel this way, but really I’ve found a love of myself that I didn’t have when I was young, and that’s got to be a step in the right direction.

Is there room to learn more
Yes
Does ego and fear get the best of me at times
Yes
But can I start with the foundation that the way I love is natural and Ok for me
Yes


Friday, December 20, 2013

Timbits

I was thinking last night about the stupid history professor who told me that “I” as a writer was like a hockey player who couldn’t skate. I guess, and would like to think, that I was still scoring goals and making it from one side of the rink to the other; I just wrote more like a Timbit than a Sidney Crosby.


That’s been a sore spot for way too many years. Do you know how much better it would have been to get constructive criticism of my work? What if he had given me one thing that I could change or work on? Well last night I think I got. I posted the last post in great haste, not a lot of proof reading or making sure it made sense until I was trying to get to sleep and making corrections in my head. I got it, I knew how to be a better writer, a more confident person and a little better at my job. Just take that extra moment and make my writing matter, make my work matter, make my breaths in life matter.
Also, I had a great talk with myself, plus hanging out with my friends, and being honest about how I felt, made me feel better.

So now I can take a moment an feel better because I understand that statement, because it’s not haunting me, because I’ve grown from it, because it’s made me stronger.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Grateful Light Grateful Darkness

Today I am grateful for my apartment and my cats, who with their companionship have peeled back some of the darkness. With their cost and the extra cost of rent have made me see life living paycheck to paycheck,  I can’t buy myself out of a moment I have to think my way out of the moment. I’m coming in closer contact to the core of being me. Writing an hour every night has me peeling back truths while still focusing on fiction a whole new reality and strength. And slowly I look into the mirror and see who I am.

I did something the other day, I was walking up the hill and thought about how much I hate my life. I felt exhilarated to know this bit of information and know that if I could feel this, I could handle everything that was thrown at me; I could heal. This was going to be a great turning point in my life. It was scary for a moment and then I thought “it’s ok to heal from here.”

Now, almost two weeks later there is a darkness; the honesty keeps coming: I’m not 21 anymore, I’m glad I’m not still working at the museum because I wasn’t happy. I haven’t done anything I wanted to as a child except not get married. And that is wrapped in an unhappy memory of hating my childhood and not wanting to put any other child through that again. That is the darkness that I have come upon this Christmas. We dance every day to get rid of the darkness. I write everyday to see the light.

So while everyone is wearing Christmas hats and exchanging  pot lucks I can’t eat and gifts I can’t afford this year, I’m stripping back the layers to find the light. There’s light, but there’s a lot of dark.

I can’t work fast enough to please myself at work, I can’t write fast enough to please myself at home, I can’t keep the house clean enough I sleep too much. I still
accidently eat food that makes me sick and  sets me back a few days on the emotional train.

I think I’m on the verge of a spiritual transformation, not just on the surface, but on another layer down, a deeper level and there’s a lot to struggle with along with daily life. The past 30 years I’ve just been a child, I’ve just been playing saying “everything is wonderful because it’s as it’s supposed to be.” Today it’s not as it’s suppose to be. Today there is a new reality: I want, I need, I dream.

Today I am raw, there’s no wrapping paper that shimmers and shines, do duct tape covering the mouth tying the hands, I’ve broken free and it is both light and darkness.


Today I am grateful for my apartment and my cats, who with their companionship have peeled back some of the darkness. With their cost and the extra cost of rent have made me see life living paycheck to paycheck,  I can’t buy myself out of a moment I have to think my way out of the moment. I’m coming in closer contact to the core of being me. Writing an hour every night has me peeling back truths while still focusing on fiction a whole new reality and strength. And slowly I look into the mirror and see who I am.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Tree

There’s a tree in my house and I will fill it with great ideas and love and dreams.

Inside my jacket pocket is sand I scooped up from the last walk on the beach. 

I pick up a few grains and blow on them slowly, carefully, with patience; with my breath until it turns into a little glass ball, the first one is red and it just floats on the palm of my hands turning while I give it all the love from the last year. I hold it up to the light, in the reflection of the red glass, are hugs and kisses and laughter and dancing.

I pick up a few more grains of sand and rub them in my hands, my hands are cold but I still want to make a white one for my dreams. A glass ball begins to take shape and inside is me and the dreams that came true this year dance like a music box. The crinkle of the glass is like music.

Then I feel a darkness take over me, there is a lot of it and I have to refrain from making a huge black glass ball with all the anger I ve experienced  throughout the year. I keep the glass ball small but the sand whorls like a tornado, the reflection, ghosts of things that have hurt me over the last year. Events I thought Id forgotten come back and shake for me, pull from my heart.

I put them on the tree and remember the balance of the year the good the bad and the dreams.


And I have three more decorations for the tree.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Free Fallin

We were talking today about writing. My friend has been taught strict rules on writing. I was taught free fall and I write whatever comes into my head. I have gone on many searches in the past for good formulas on writing and archetypes; shaking off the inspiration books and going for the technical. Today we both said “we had trouble writing because we weren’t taught to write the other way.” Our egos had used the other form of writing as an excuse not to write. SO what does one do with this information? write an hour of free fall, of course.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Money

I’m not poor.                            And I’m not rich.

I was walking through the mall two weeks ago and I overheard two ladies say “it’s so easy to spend 1000 dollars Christmas shopping.”
I wanted to look at them and say “I didn’t know that was an option.”
This is the first year I will not be buying presents. With two cats a one bedroom apartment I pay for on my own with a wage a little more than minimum and a scope of an idea of what my power bill is going to be like the next couple months, I couldn’t do it. Some of us are going to dinner or going for adventures and I made the rest of the gifts... sadly I’m not the crafty, but I do write.
I’ve just had to change the way I look at money and the world. I judged it as a success and a necessity to buy gifts for people at Christmas and for myself all year long. And today I had a thought. I’m rich in the heart and if I can’t afford a whole bunch of little things along the way that’s ok. I walk into friends houses and they don’t have stuff all over the place like I do (I like my stuff)

It’s making me think about consumerism about how much we spend on dinners out and on friends and that we give away and on toys for children and toys for ourselves. There was a lot of money being spent in the past and I don’t know where it all went. I’m not going to be rich tomorrow and buy whatever I want, so I have to learn to live within my means. This knowledge grounds me and scares me at the same time.http://youtu.be/iwDDswGsJ60