Spirits

Pictures stare at me like ghosts

Unrecognizable reflections of ourselves,
that we would always understand,
that we would always know.

We couldn't fathom a separation would ever find us at midnight on a random Tuesday

wondering who we had once been and who we have become

Nothing we ever thought we would be-

Not nearly what we thought we could be-

If only to do it again

But we know the choices sit the same

The eyes the same

The strangers the same

Ghosts,

are all we are,

all we were,

all we became,

all we become.

Damp Dreams

This was the moon around the last eclipse...

Faded dreams again.  I know not where I stand with the moon as fall swirls through my being.  My babies - 2 packages of warmth and light - naked and loosely wrapped in towels,  They lay in bed with me.  Two boys - the seeds of humanity and tomorrow.  They sleep like the field mouse that curls into a 'C' for the winter between the barn walls; plump, content, purring.  

There is a hush and a whisper of peace while we lay as one.  There is no room for anyone else, just the easy cadence and waves of soft snoring.  Tiny creatures that have found safe haven from the forest in the half light of dawn.  I begin to weep in my mind.  Now they are grown, young men, where hugs are hard won.  

Have I done my best? Yes.  Would I do it again? Yes.  It's the most perfect imperfection I've known.

It's been steps of a journey, a responsibility, a calling, and then an answer.

The greatest love of my existence has been with these souls entrusted to me since time began, since we were contracted with the stars.

I stir and catch the scent of wood smoke creeping hand in hand with dawn over the bone cold swamp. The swamp is a Curia of sorts, where the geese cast their votes regarding migration this year.  

My window is open but clad with cloth, like we did in our stone hovels long ago save but a hearth of true light and comfort to chase the damp dreams from the shadows in the room of myself.

Namaste

'He went like one that hath been stunned,

And is of sense forlorn.

A sadder and a wiser man

He rose the morrow morn.'

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1797-1798

Cosmic Absorption - Be there

Some days it's as if a million little beliefs, practices, and reasons converge before you in a single moment.  Things just 'feel' correct.

I've thought much about 'feeling' and the way things register with us on a cellular/spiritual level and have come to realize that many times this perception can prove more of an actuality than others.  The universe throws us opportunities to share these gifts, however small, through odd circumstances...

I have known a woman for quite some time.  I was a young girl that got a job in a housekeeping department of a big hotel (they paid the best for my age bracket and (un)skill level).  There were older women that ran the teams of cleaners and some of them were nasty to the younger girls and some of them understood and had a kindness toward us.  We had not yet learned the ways of things and the human conditions.  We were young and untouched as of yet.

One woman had four children.  Two daughters, two sons.  For whatever reason; death, divorce, desertion, she was alone with her children and they had all migrated via two pickup trucks from Arizona to the tri-state area.  They all found work and stayed with family.  Finally they saved up enough working together to get their own place.  At the time I could not even begin to conceive of the stress and victory such bold moves would provide oneself.  I fully understand them now.

So time marched on, I moved to different positions and I would run into her from time to time around the neighboring towns.  I would always ask how her children were, and after I had mine she would do the same.  I became an adult, a full blown woman, then a single woman with children.  Even thought we did not see one another often, we shared a camaraderie as such women do.

I became older, she became old.  Life kicked both of us in the ass at times, but I could tell she was tiring of the fray, her children were grown and went off to their own lives; that is what we raise them to do.

Each time I would run into her I would comment that she looked well (sometimes more well than others - but still standing). She had given up on her beauty but gained a certain steel to her eyes - a sort of been there, done that, got the scars to prove it - not much scares me.  I admired her and would always admire a necklace she wore - It was a simple moon on a simple chain.  It had been with her - her signature piece as long as I could remember.  It was as much her as her own face was.

Time marched.  I had heard through a mutual friend that her oldest daughter wasn't doing so well.  She had gotten in with the wrong crowd, the wrong guy, the wrong everything.  a few more months went by and word had gotten back to my friend that her daughter died tragically.  There was a few week lapse in her receiving this news; she had thought no news was good news but was darkly, horrifically mistaken.  My heart ached for her.  I watched her grow into a strong woman, she watched me grow into a strong woman yet she had sustained a blow that was unrecoverable in ways.  I prayed for her, sent her energy, and shed tears.

I ran into her a few weeks later.  I'm not one to touch people as I feel I take on far too much in an empathic way when I do, but this mother with her remaining children scattered in other states, required touch.  She was alone.  Walking through a parking lot.  I walked toward her.  She began crying.  She knew that I knew.  I said nothing and held her.  She went primal - retching, shaking, moaning that moan of the darkest of nights.  I held her for a long while.  She let me absorb it - and I willingly chose to.  The energy came in waves and her sadness touched my core.  I didn't say much, because honestly what do you even say?  The waves subsided and she straightened herself out.  Though we knew one another, we had never been close enough for something like that...but there it was.

She left me that day, quiet and sad.  We knew that time would do the rest of the work of healing and that time takes time to do it.  Months later I saw her in a restaurant and she walked over to me with something in her hand.

'I want you to have this,' she said.
'I cannot take that!  It is your signature piece!'
'You always admired it.' she said.
'No.'
'You take this Christine, that hug did more good than anything during that time, it helped me more than you could imagine -  I want you to have it.'

I could not refuse this woman, to do so would have been the greatest of insults I believe.  I took it from her hands with reverence - she held my hands for a few moments without words, gave me a small smile, and left quietly. I've yet to see her.  I hope she has found peaceful days to wait out her time before she and her daughter are together again,  I pray for mothers everywhere as our journey can be bittersweet.

What if all the little things you say and do really do matter?  Be kind, be generous of yourself - you may be giving you may be receiving, but we are all on a collective journey together here.

Namaste

Waiting for Envy

Yesterday I got a 'sneak attack' call from my ex-husband.  Many say why do you pick up the phone?  One of my sons had tried to call me prior so I automatically assumed it was regarding one of the boys.  It was regarding a $ related issue.  Part way through the call he inquired as to how I was I replied with 'I am ok, Hey I was thinking..."  I wanted to tell him something about our youngest son but he interrupted me and again asked about the main objective of his call.  I was not surprised as he is really trying his best but is a narcissist in every sense of the word.  Any communication only serves one purpose; feeding his bruised from childhood ego.  That is fine we were together for 15 years and divorced for 10 - I understand.  So I simply hung up the phone.  He called back.  I told him I was at work and was busy.  'So what?' was his reply as we are talking about a man that earns six figures about three times over annually - nothing is as important to him but that.

Later in the very full day I had I came home and sat with my oldest child.  My youngest had been asleep for hours, school and exercise finally catching up to him.  It went like this:

"Hey did dad tell you why he needed that phone number?" My oldest is so direct, so true, so good.

"No honey I really couldn't deal with him, I looked it up and texted it to him."

"Oh, well he's buying a house down the shore."

I broke into a smile.

"I'm sorry Mom."

"Honey what are you sorry about?!  That's great! You and Mike will have a place to go and hang out in summer and in the off season when you like it down there!"

"I thought you would be,..Ya know...jealous or hurt or I don't know...It's where we went, kinda our thing..."

"Oh honey we will always do 'our thing' but this is a new thing and I'm happy for you and Mike!'

"You're not jealous?'

Envy - A reaction to lacking something.  Jealousy - A reaction to the threat of losing something.

It was then that I did a quick internal triage - did I bypass some major emotion?  Had I missed it?  Was I in shock that their father was going to by a house not far from where I cherished taking them as children?  No.  I scanned myself again.  No.  There was only happiness, and it was the most wonderful surprise of all.  

Believe me I've still got work to do and I could embark on a tireless tirade of how his girlfriend is a gold digger, he is a sociopath and any number of character assassinations.  But I just didn't have it in me.  Why?

Soul Evolution is all I could come up with.  

Since the very moment I had conceived these children, it became all about them.  I gave them what I didn't have, hoped for them what I couldn't give, I cheer for them when every leg of their journey becomes better, more luminous.  There wasn't an ounce of negativity.  I was as if God/The Universe/Karma/etc had unburdened me any ill will and I found only happiness for my children regardless of the source.

Of course my son thinks it should be us.  But I told him how full my life is with friends, my interests, my goals etc etc I told him how proud I am of he and his brother and how everything is happening the way it is supposed to.  Then he floored me...

"Yeah Mom, it will be nice but I don't have expectations that it will one day be mine one day- I will enjoy it but not depend on it - I am building my own life."  Bravo my child - YOU are intact.

When I woke up this morning I knew I had to write this.  I woke up and again triaged my emotions...I'm good, unshaken, moral compass intact.  And my son and I were given a lesson that surprised us both - Be happy and solid in your life - it's your biggest job - everything else is just foam on the waves.  And when the ocean is left to it's own, time and the moon-tide will clean it - the same goes for you.

Sacred Moments

Namaste

Familiar?

Many of you know that I have been part of an Anthropology focus group for quite some time.  For whatever reason, Anthropology won't let go of me in the sense that I consistently find its course of studies 'fleshing out' my schedule.  I am a Writing/English major, however I have been told by various professors that writing majors typically bridge between the two.  Anthropology has offered my already eclectic personality even more points of view and an exposure to different beliefs and concepts.

Isis bright and early

A few semesters ago, under the Anthro banner, I had taken a Folklore class as well as a Magic Witches and Shamans class.  The Folklore class was comforting, The Magic Witches and Shamans astounding.  We delved into tribal practices across the globe, Magic as it is understood by different cultures both dark and pure intent and having been in medical for quite some time The Shaman aspect floored me.  I've met so many spiritually diverse human beings throughout my educational journey and we have all symbiotically added to one another.  I embraced certain points and made them my own.  The most basic and recurring is the simple statement "Harm None." This is known as the basis for Wiccans.

Isis in the Garden

Further into our course work we learned peripheral terms and one of them was the term Familiar (noun).

'Familiar' is basically defined (in regards to Magic/Witches) as: A familiar (or familiar spirit or familiar animal) is an animal-shaped spirit or minor demon believed to serve a witch or magician as domestic servant, spy and companion, in addition to helping to bewitch enemies or to divine information. (witchcraftandwitches.com)

Apparently many animals have been cast out or put to death because of a fear in the unknown.  I found this very interesting as I now have friends that embrace Wiccan traditions and easily call their pets their familiars.  I'm sure this still garners them ostracization in certain ways but more than that I love that they are able, in this day and age, to say it out loud.

Why did my brain go to familiars today?  Well about a week ago I noticed a skinny little stray tortoise colored cat with a remarkably raccoon colored/patterned tail hanging around my block.  I live in a townhouse and there are some rental units.  On the1st and the 15th of the month people may be moving in and out.  So last night the sky was gathering for the rain that we so desperately needed to break the awful heat we've had and I heard a cat wailing in the dark some distance down.  Then this cat became visible.  The person I live with coaxed it over and texted me as I was inside.  The text read 'I think I am earning her trust - come outside.'  I grabbed a sample pack of dried cat food.  I had a feral cat once whose main goal was to kill everyone in the house, so I still had some food.  I walked outside and this cat came right up to me and twisted itself around my legs - loudly purring.  Now I have been hungry enough in my life to do the same but this felt different.  This cat was immediately undeniably innately comfortable with me - as if it knew me.  After it choked the food down it came and sat on my lap still loudly purring.  She was skitterish but...well...familiar (adj).  I called her Isis and she lifted her face to mine and tucked it into my neck.


I've heard it said you don't keep a cat - a cat keeps you.

Isis when I came out this AM to write this blog

This morning bright and early I heard her.  She was mewing and purring.  I went outside to walk my dog and they just starred at one another.  When I brought the dog in, Isis also wanted in.  I didn't bring her in as I don't know her history or her health.
But something is happening here...

we don't always pick our family...sometimes they pick us.

She may be staying, or just passing through, it's really up to her I suppose.  

Today her fur is on my keyboard.

Isis as I finished this blog

Harm None

Namaste

Unfortunately in this day I must specify her name Isis is after the Egyptian Goddess - nothing else

-Peace

My liquid meditation

Digging in the Wrong Place

(photo tripadvisor)

It's a little after 5AM and I am on my small deck with the full moon light still visible on the forest.  I was a lovely moon - they always are, and are always welcome.  I went to my brothers house and then became quite tired and came home to celebrate the moon myself.  With fall upon us my body has once again reset and I am rising early - kayaking in the mist - and tiring early afternoon only to resurge again later.

I feel energized to do home improvements.  The other day I ripped out carpeting dug a billion staples out of sub flooring and bleached the wood.  Today's project will entail caulking the shower in my bathroom.  And although I am grateful for the motivation, especially after the spell I seemed to have been under most of the summer, there is a low level of something.  The 'what if' madness is beginning again.  I am trying to counteract it with positive thought, faith in all that is and will be, and trying to sit in the knowledge that we are always exactly where we should be.

I applied at some schools and was offered a few positions.  None of them teaching - but they were close.  Sometimes I feel pigeon holed in because I have to keep the day job.  I don't have the rich hubby to take care of things while I go explore my career goals.  Every time I go there I pull myself out with affirmations that it will all work, I am smart enough, I am resilient enough, and that I have come all of this way.  Believe me it can be an effort to constantly pull yourself up - but there isn't anyone else to do it for me; nor should their be.  Why do these thoughts find us at 3AM like an adult bogey man preying on our minds?  We must be vigilant, We must be strong.

I cannot attend grad school this fall which was a blow to my anticipation for sure.  It was a financial thing - bottom line.  For only one class there wasn't a student loan in the world that would work.  But that's ok because I took it as a sign that there are other things that need tending.  Thursday I have an interview for a second job that will bring in the extra $ needed.   I'm hoping to catch up and bank some of that as I continue to spend less and less.  This is a constant minding and sometimes it gets exhausting - but as the head of this household I must keep my eyes on the bigger goals for everyone involved and that includes keeping the roof overhead, the lights on, and the fridge full.  It also includes being there for my boys in ways that are different than when they were young.  It means encouragement and small bumps here and there to help them realize their life paths and goals.  This is a cosmic commitment that was written before we were here.

That being said, I seem to write my goals as soon as the fresh fall breeze embraces me.  There are always goals, but I am in new territory with this set...

*The mortgage was sold to yet another company so I am readying to work with them to try to get in a better loan overall (one day I will not have a loan but today it comes down to the monthly nut which still proves to big for this little chipmunks jaw)

*The budget it tight and being reworked constantly.  I once had a good friend that gave me excellent advice; 'It's not always what you make sweetheart, but it's always what you spend.'

*Budget booster is in full swing as I am seeking more hours where I work; a possible raise, and a second job that will compliment the first.  The paperwork is in and officially I will be able to substitute teach when school starts.

*A professor in my Anthro focus group has parted with invaluable information regarding scholarships for graduate school - I will be working on those.

*There will be continuance with my physical well being as the shoulder injury is a memory and I am definitely coming into my time of year - I look forward to paying attention to my body and what it needs.

*Home improvements will continue, slowly but surely.

So getting on with the title for this blog...

First.  One of my favorite movies of all time is Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.  I shy from mentioning cinema as I am a book girl HOWEVER there are many films that were simply outstanding, and what is an excellent movie other than something that was written then set to a filmmakers interpretation?  Indiana (God bless Harrison Ford) was sexy and made archeology sexy and reminded us that intelligence is sexy!  Whew! So anyway there is a part in the movie where he is trying to find a lost city in the desert and his nemesis Belloq has a full scale excavation going on miles from this mound that Indiana believes holds the city.  He and his buddy are downtrodden, how can they possibly compete with the full scale dig?  Belloq has much man power, is better equipped, and has the latest machinery at his disposal.  How could one man and a bunch of friends ever overcome their obvious short comings to reach their goal of finding this lost city and saving the world?   They work their plan, and rework it, and just as they are at the lowest - a moment happens. Indiana Jones looks at his good friend Sallah, who is on this journey with him and they spontaneously come to a realization at the same moment.  They look at one another, their eyes brighten, their breathing quickens and they exclaim "They're digging in the wrong place!"

I was reminded of this little scene at about 3AM the other morning as I woke up.  For a few days I had begged my brain to find a solution, or at the very least a direction, as to where to continue from this new territory I find myself in. And that floated in like the mist...I've been digging in the wrong place!  I live in an area where EVERYONE and their brother wants to teach.  Where PHDr's apply for part time work; I needed to expand my original plan...

I applied everywhere for teaching and having garnered the Bachelors Degree there are still steps to take - remember everything about me is so non-traditional it's become my normal.  In order to teach you must have a Certificate of Eligibility. so a test needs to be taken.  But even with that most schools in my area prefer a Certificate of Eligibility with Advanced Standing - meaning you have chosen education in with your degree (read another year of school) which includes student teaching.  Not in the cards for me.  So what I now need to do is obtain the regular Certificate of Eligibility and apply to districts somewhat further down the commute line to get a foot in the door. I had been digging - just in the wrong place.

So the next step in a test prep (EEK!), a test taken, a Certificate Awarded, then I grab my shovel again...

Direction is Purpose. X marks the spot.  Rethink it, Rework it.  You may be digging in the wrong place.  Lovely Brain - Thank God for it every day.

Namaste

The Invitation left at your feet

Outside of herself

Last night my house was a happy one.  It was filled with the chatter and laughter of my two sons friends.  There was a new Zombie show premiering and I told them to have people over for pizza and cake.  So glad I did because when I awoke this morning the room was still harboring subtle vibrations of its visitors.  I could feel the low baritone voice of my youngest son, and the easy laughter of my oldest one, the tinkling giggles of the girls that came by and the cadence of their friend who has become like a third child here.

I stayed up last night happily cleaning , who knew zombies would bring such order to a house that tends toward life chaos?  I sat in a chair, just to take a moment this morning.  The light was filtering through the closed curtains and in that brief space of time, I viewed the room as a stranger would.  In that instant it was no longer mine, and the writer in me wanted to know what an outsider would think of it...

What an witchy space.  Here dwelled a lover of books, of remnants gleaned from throwaways.  Though masculine in colour, a woman certainly called this home.  You could just feel it.  Might she have spotted those candlesticks of three next to an Amvet drop off on a cold morning?  There they sat waiting for her.  The heavy iron lantern was most likely lifted as a throwaway as well, for she saw it not as a broken lantern but first as a garden sentinel wrapped in her beloved ivy, 

and later as a keeper of true light - candle.

A plant that she lovingly would care for, reminding it how lovely and beautiful it was every time she watered it.  She would hold her hands over it just close enough to its energy field to believe it drank not only water, but every word she uttered.  The long stand was chipped but she felt this gave it the character it needed to garner a place in her space.  The wood floors began to fade in spots, adding a silvery shimmer when the sun came up and the moon came out - she held no intention of refinishing them.  Another lantern from a wedding she officiated next to a tragically deep lake in upstate NY.

A bit formal for what her tastes now were was a hutch, a gift from her past life.  It was lovely but was being released soon.  The last epoch of her life had been a slow release of a reality that might have never truly existed.  It was time to let go.  The trunk would be kept as she had an affinity for such wandering things.  The star lantern accompanied her on an all hallows eve with a light inside as if snatched from the skies to help her through the night.  Her niece never took her eyes off of it.

Again, just a moment outside of herself, an early morning of observation, of both she and the things that found their place with her.  She didn't want to go to work - she wanted to soak in the energy her children and their friends had left behind.  She would decide to fill the house again soon.  A cup of Irish breakfast tea, and she set off to work; unnatural for her, yet natural within her heart.

Take a look around sometime.

Namaste

Fragment Download...

What lies within came from somewhere not here...

Synapse (Photo trunews)

Space Nebula (photo pichost)

If God created us in his image, then surely we cannot help but to create things in ours.  Mortals love to play God.

Loosely understood (by me) our computers 'shut down' and 'backup' and 'compress data'  So do we.

Never was this more evident than the other night when I went to bed and dreamed endlessly.  I truly could not call it a dream per say, it was more like splices...images that flashed...tributaries that fed an overall deluge...

Fragment: I was in a maze of a forsaken bombed out city.  A concrete labyrinth.  White washed walls, Dust choking me.  Was it a holy war?  What was pursuing me as I heaved in hot air?  Would I live? Could this be the end of us? and in 100 years it all goes beyond recognition.

Fragment: A lake in a dormant volcano with that cyan blue water one only finds in the deserted coves of far away forgotten islands.  But this was New Jersey, high up in a cork screw mountain.  Then a plateau before a last upheaval.  At the base was a small bait shop to buy ice and supplies for the day,  Thin scrub in a patchy path gave way to an open stretch of water.  You could feel your breath.  Then my fathers voice talking about The Tocks Island project where they were to sink houses, to make a dam, As a child I romanticized this; peoples homes suspended from any further operation underwater and all that energy with them.  The heartbreak when the government told them to leave and then did nothing.  Left it.  An Atlantis that never happened.  Ironically  a few days before, a friend from work described a lake she and her family had gone to and suggested I bring my kayak.  She gave me a round about directional nod.  Tocks Island Dam popped into my mind, followed by a 'nah couldn't be.'  That stayed in a pocket of my mind and downloaded into this dream.  A day later she told me it was in fact called that and that her husbands father was the builder.  I am going early Sunday...

Fragment: Remembering a paper I had written more than 20 years ago at my early attempt in college.  The professor looked like a dieted version of Santa, carried a cane (which he didn't seem to need) and had the most fantastic New England accent I've heard to date.  It was a history class and he hit you from all sides;  Art, Music, Social norms, Religion, Language, Writings.  In my dream my mind scanned parts of the paper.  I smiled wistfully to myself as in my dream I was proofreading an old friend to its readiness.  Michelangelo's Spark of Life.  I took a risk with this paper based on mere observation and tethered it to the artists life and societies perception of him. 

Was Michelangelo making a statement?  As God seemed to be in a robe that unremarkably resembled a brain?  And why couldn't anyone plainly see this?  Was God created by our minds as a bridge to understand our existence?  Or was the mind the only path toward understanding God?  This had been a bitch of a paper to write because I had so much energy and desperately wanted to convey this concept without seeming unhinged myself.  In my slumber I recalled the line that could have unraveled the entire thing - 'If Michelangelo was created in Gods image and then proceeded to create God in his own was the title it garnered him blasphemous? 'Divino II'?  This paper snatched an A and was circulated through the dept.  We did not have the information super highway we have at our disposal today (Internet), but when I googled this picture for this blog I came upon the following...

Collective conscious at its finest.  I can rest easy knowing I wasn't alone

Fragment: A vision of a pack of pre-teen boys that included my son.  They were walking home from a stolen camping trip on the mountain.  They were dirty and tired, not having gotten much sleep because they were not yet men and remained terrified, within themselves, most of the night.  However, they were high on having gotten the deed done and now able to justly boast about it at school on Monday. 

There were about five of them and they were walking with heads down to what would, hopefully, be a breakfast of pancakes and bacon and Mikes house with that Cream O Land chocolate milk.  They were too much involved with their own bravado to notice how empty the two roads were that they had crossed.  The first by the snow melt coming off the mountain and the second past the horse and turkey field on Mountain Road.  They were warriors now and the forest and grounds were theirs for the taking.  

Relief at coming home seemed interrupted as they all simultaneously caught a tune in the air upon seeing the entrance of the development.  It was the eerie jingle of the ice cream truck, but it was only about 7AM.  They looked at one another questioningly.  'Probably Jeb' said Matt. They nodded it was probably Jeb. 

 Jeb had been the star quarterback, the big man at the regional school, who had been the life of too many parties.  Jeb was now a go nowhere 22 year old severe alcoholic that drove, slept, and probably lived in the ice cream truck.  

The parking lot held a few defunct vehicles with past due inspections, and one donned 4 donut spares.  The development had seen it's glory days in the money-flowing 80's but time had taken its toll.  The parking lot badly in need of paving for the last few years sprouted weeds that would take it over once every home had been taken back by the bank.  

They neared the truck and slowed down the last 20 or so feet.  Something innately spooked them. "Hey Jeb!" Nick yelled.  A slight tapping on the back hatch door.  "Jeb you asshole, shut that shit off!"  The music played on and again a slight tapping from the back...

Somewhere in the lucidity of this vision-dream my mind told me

 "You need to write this story one day."

(photo RCschlotter)

Fragment: A tiny one room lodge with my brothers family and I.  We were to wait out a winter storm that was to last an entire year.  The adults where trying to compartmentalize our minds as we played with the children.  One part playing Yahtzee,  the other searching for a solution on how to feed everyone.  There had been a downed tree with frozen acorns.  We would have to go soon.  Any attempt delayed would be met with a complete white out.  We could boil them as we would not lack for water.  But would the tannin in them shut down our kidneys?  A feast we could not chance.

coffeeinthemorningandkissesatnight-photo

Fragment:  I was on the lake looking up at the sky.  I was meditating as I often do.  The clouds began to accelerate in the direction of the sun (which always sits to my left).  Then there was a gathering of darkness quickening in from the right.  I was laying down with my legs up.  Shattered spiders of lightening worked over the webs of angry clouds above.  I could not leave.  My paddle would have served as a lightening rod.  I tossed it aside.  I had to ride this out, as I do with many things in my life.  I shifted down as far as I could and spread my body as evenly as possible.  I could not help but watch.  And wait.

(photo 2ndyellow)

As these tributaries formed the river of a dream, I was conscious all of this was in my head, artesian thoughts, and yet I remained a voyeur to their display.  My mind took fragments and spliced them, dressed them up in some strange macabre ball of thought in my brain that will most likely cease existing when I do. So why on earth did I write this dear reader?  Because it wouldn't let go of me.  It simmered in my being for two days, then last night around 1:30 I awoke, vomited up a dinner I had consumed far too late (another plug for a 9-5 gig) and sat with a steno pad and purged it.

Dreams compressed for storage in a mind that may as well have been a vacuum in the no-where of a universe...empty yet full.

Namaste

Amulet / Talisman

From an early age I have known I was a seeker.  That is, I somehow made the decision (although I believe I was born with it) to embark on a path of self discovery.  Mysticism has always tugged on the ends of my skirts.  Perhaps it was when my mother checked out time and time again to different hospitals.  Hers was an illness no one could readily comprehend.  And when she would check out it was for long blocks of time. Enter Nana.

My grandmother was from a fable like place in Scotland called Ayrshire.  Much went on in this enclave and much energy came from the sea as did her sustenance.  My grandparents were old when I went to stay with them but there was a caring about them that I have never again found in my entire life thus far.  My grandfather had gone down in the coal mines at age 12, scrabbling around in the bowels of the earth, in the dark.  And I remember my grandmother gazing at the hills and the stars - as she must have all of her days since childhood - she was acutely aware.  They both held dreams and nightmares, but somehow were able to manage them.  This they passed on to all of us (52 (and counting) grand, great grand, and great-great-grandchildren)  I catch glimpses of it in my children, my youngest in particular - but that is their journey to discover.  An understanding of the natural realm was coded within us and sometimes this 'modern' existence wreaks havoc on our systems.  I only have one regret in this life and it was in not having more children.

Life has been described as the great humbling and 'letting go' of things until, like a fine reduction sauce, (and if you stay true to yourself) you are left with things that matter.  Eventually those will fall away as well.  The spiritual seeker (as per my observations) is nomadic by nature, tantalized by the experiences, new waters, horizons, and Terra.  My calling came when I realized my spirit was dying and I stood with one foot in a materialistic existence and the other foot ready to step to a shrouded path.  I chose the path.  Although it's been difficult at times, I have never been sorry. So many things from that materialistic life that seemed so tragically important have fallen away.  

Years ago I went out west, through the deserts and was amazed that in the middle of nothing there were junkyards.  Filled with fallen things.  No one with coin to claim them, they sat as the sand blew and smoothed them down.  There were old cars - and I mean Henry Ford old cars.  There were defunct helicopters, train cars, bikes, plumbing ripped from the guts of homes that no longer stood anywhere in sight; reclaimed by the shifting dunes no doubt.  But there they were, things without places, fallen into dusty voids.  And that's how things have gone for me.  Things that were status, that I had to have - all nameless and dusty somewhere.  Covert gifts from my ex-husband that hadn't been pure in their presentation.  Lovely jewelry that was given as apologies of infidelity, furniture that was purchased as a symbol of wealth and power instead of truth and transparency.  It was if Life was readying me for my journey and leaving me with less and less to carry or concern myself with along the way.

Even the home I live in now (which seemed so very small after moving from a sought after huge home) seems far too big and there are perhaps only a handful of things I would cling to should it all go to pot.  I'm sure those will find there way to nothing eventually as well.  

When I began this journey I became friends with a woman named Veronica.  She had invited me to a self-empowerment group.  It quickly became evident that it was empowerment, yes, but it was also a loose group therapy/discussion.  It was there that I met the facilitator, Elise.    (Incidentally Elise by name is a form of Elysian as in the Elysian Fields where the great warriors go to rest.)  She had us discuss different things.  What were the things that held us back? Why did we feel we were either unworthy or undeserving of our true selves?  Then one night she had us draw a picture of ourselves as we would appear in our greatest empowerment; our true self.  Let me start by saying I am no artist.  But I did the best I could and really got into it.  When it was over we were to share these pictures with the group.  I smiled in anticipation because I really loved that picture.  It was so very me.

When I turned it around to the group there were a few audible gasps.  It was an image of my face and neck set against a backdrop of ocean with different blues, greens, and grays swirling about me.  This gave way to a subtle orange-pink sky leading to a sun on the left and a celestial goddess moon on the right.  The water held stars drawn in navy.  My red hair swirled around like a wildfire in the same tidal patterns as the water.  My eyes were blue and clear and I used a burnt sienna crayon for freckles.  Around my neck was a black corded necklace that held a round pendant the same color as the glints in the sea.  It wasn't anything I owned, it was created in that moment for the perfect vision of myself.

Eventually the group disbanded as it's purposes had been achieved.  We all went our separate ways. A year or so later I took my boys to LBI which had become a soul refuge for the three of us quite a few years and counting.  We three and the Sea.  Part of our enjoyment is to soak up the creativity of local artists and furniture makes in little shops that dot the island.  We rarely buy anything but we all seem to come away with ideas and a good feeling.  This particular trip found us in a glass studio.  The name of it is Swell Glass, however it now calls Surf City its home as opposed to my beloved Beach Haven.  

So we went in without expectations to simply 'check it out.'   I sort of second guessed the decision with two young boys in tow.  Two high energy kids in a glass studio?! What kind of a mad woman was I?!  But they sort of got into it.  There were displays they could touch, and little blips about glass being baked, blown, or blasted to the earth as lightning touched the beach.  We were rounding up to leave when my oldest son saw small pendants for sale.  I passively watched him sift through them and then he just stopped.  "Mom, you need to buy this one."  He said it so calmly, so exactly, that I went over to have a look.  I stood there for a long moment staring down at a creation of bluish green glass with sand from the beach baked into it.  It was brilliant.  As I held it I felt overwhelmingly hopeful.  Not wanting to spend the money, I put it down.  But his eyes were fixed on mine.  "No mom, you have to."  And he was correct.  I carried it to the register and the artist said, "Ah, lovely, it's definitely you."  Then she cut a black hemp cord and threaded it through the small metal loop that had been baked into the glass.  I have worn it almost every day since.  

It's my amulet/talisman.  It wards off, and brings energy to and I, in turn, give energy to it.  I have sat under many a full moon on that beach wearing it.  It is a symbol of the sea, of our refuge, of my vision.  It trumps any of the diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires that were gifted to me under covert emotions.  It is true and forged from nature by an artist from the sea.  I truly stand naked without it.   For now.

On the just path I believe we find our way back to ourselves.

Namaste

 

Provision

I knew in the middle of the night last night exactly what I would be doing this AM.  Today is payday and kind of a tongue in cheek situation in this household.  We have just been squeaking by - barely.  And the other day I became sad at a statement I made; "We just have to make it through August and then I will be working more come Sept."  But August is a cosmic celebration and something to embrace not endure.  So yes Sept I will be working more and I have chosen to make these last few weeks of August amazing, and to do it on a dime (at the very least 9 cents).

I didn't food shop last week in an effort to shore up funds as we are a mortgage payment behind.  Some missed work in part due to an injury in other working for a small business that shut down a bit more frequently this year.  I believe adjustments will be made in the next few weeks to rectify the latter and I am grateful to say the injury has been reduced to a soreness and is evaporating nicely!  

I chose not to take a second job in the last two months.  The job that I would've taken is slow in coming and I am taking that as one of those 'perfect timing' things - it will come through when it is supposed to or something else will.  I have irons in the fires and am doing all I can.  I have learned when I do this and remain positive and open things happen as they are meant to.  Does being a payment behind on the mortgage bother me?  Yes and no.  It does in that part of me that wants to be perfect and have life go according to the script but the part of me that understands life knows that sometimes you are ahead and (like right now) sometimes you are behind.  Should I waste precious energy in worry? No.  I am a productive creature and have the ability to roll with these punches.  I am determined not to let it devastate a beautiful day. 

So what did I do to offset this last month?  Well a few months ago when things were rolling along and prosperous I put a bit aside to ensure gas in the car, food on the table (prepper), lights staying on. It was a bit scary as I saw the emergency fund take a hit, and then another, and then another...

Ironically it was a conscious decision NOT to food shop and to exist this past  week on what we had here.  The ironic thing was that our area is starting to harvest, and I work in a doctors office -smack in the middle of farm land.  Farmers by nature are a sharing bunch.  Two shoprite plastic bags of fresh produce made its way to my table.  Things are provided in the most unexpected ways sometimes.  There was an abundance of small pickling cucumbers, in my recipe for pickles you could use grape leaves or oak.  I have only used grape because all of the oak trees around here seem established enough to put their leaves far out of the reach of a hobbit sized girl like me...

Anyway, I took the kayak out at the crack of dawn and stuffed it with water, a fantastic book (The History of the Future by James Howard Kunstler) and hot cup of coffee.  The water seemed in turmoil this morning - a bit rough and undecided in its currents.  I paddled around the perimeter of the lake and ventured all the way to the tip where a house sits 50 feet from very shallow rocky swamp water we walked in as kids and caught turtles and tadpoles - before everyone was afraid of everything natural and pesticides reigned supreme.  Along the shore to my right the trees lit up with light like torches hugging the shoreline.  I lay my paddle in the water and turned the boat in one swoop.  The sun had broken through and the water calmed as though happy to see it.  It seemed a celebratory moment for sure.  

I paddled back toward the huge granite stone we jumped off of as kids - stolen nights and time with lukewarm beer.  Soft memories now.  I noticed the turtles had come out deciding, after all, to sun their shells.  As I rounded the stone I found myself in a partial tunnel of branches, bright with sun and laden with acorns.  Oak leaves.  In easy reach.  There for the picking.

Things are provided in the most unexpected ways sometimes.  Stay open.

Namaste

The Ramifications of Being Whole

There is no damsel in distress.  There is no prince riding in on a horse.  There is only me.

I have been blessed with wonderful friends, the best friends any girl could ask for.  Many of them understand me completely yet there are many that still find themselves perplexed at my independent nature and would like nothing more than seeing me married off...been there...done that...burned the T-shirt.

Don't get me wrong I love seeing a good relationship and admire the camaraderie that ensues with daily things; going to the farmers market, a movie and dinner, cooking together, making love, finishing eachothers sentences etc etc.  And then there is me.

I never would have thought being an independent individual would conjure up such visceral reactions in this day and age.  

"Well of course you must be lonely"  At times, but aren't we all?  I've long had experiences of being surrounded by people, yet feeling alone.  I've also had those times when I walk through the forests solo and feel completely loved and connected.  I usually get a shake of the head, as if this is so untenable it must be a malfunction in the way I'm wired.  No, it's just me.

"Well don't you miss someone to talk with?"  I have any number of people to call, to go see, to have coffee with, yet many times I have found the greatest conversations are with myself; and they require no words.

"Don't you miss lovemaking." At times, yet I can make love to myself in any number of ways; a fresh plate of just picked tomatoes, learning a new skill, deep meditation or prayer, standing in a cold stream naked, walking under the moon humbled and owned.

"Don't you want there to be someone?"  There is someone - there is me.  I've rarely felt lack in my my own company.  And that is not a narcissistic comment.  It is a settling of self.

"Maybe things have happened to you and this just makes you feel safer?"  I am always safe.  Even in the throes of madness, great sadness, abuse, fear, neglect, happiness, I am always safe.  I am self assured, for a woman this is such a hot debate it shocks me.  I have faced great fear, hatred, discrimination but consistently understood who I was and where I sat in its play.

"Maybe you don't like men, maybe you like women?"  I love both.  It isn't that I don't like men, quite the opposite I love them.  Men move the world, men are to bake bread for, to suture wounds, to kiss, to love, to cherish.  But so are ourselves no?

The wonderful thing is that I don't need to consult with anyone, the sad thing (at times) is that I don't need to consult anyone. If I choose to, then so be it.  But I don't need to.  I feel sad for women that feel they need to ask permission for things.  I feel bad for women that feel they need to fade into the background when a male enters the room.  

Every relationship we find ourselves in has a give and take, a plus and minus, and the relationship I have with myself is no different.  I feel blessed every single day to be self aware, to know who I am.  I may not always have a handle on my life - but I always have a handle on me in that respect.  Know thyself.  Self knowledge has been heralded as the highest form of knowledge - and all else stems from there.  To deny that on any level is a crime against the very soul.  Harm none, not even yourself.  Many will try to take that power of you knowing yourself.  They will try to make you believe that they know better.  YOU HAVE COME EQUIPPED.  The great intelligence that created you did so in in such a way that you only have to look inside to navigate the outside.  Remember this.  My youth was a rocky road of people who (when I look back now) feared the power that was in me.  They feared the energy that surrounded me.  I grew up a bit uncertain fed by egoists that desired to keep that feeling going.  Some of them were close to me, some of them were supposed to act as guideposts.  The most wonderful thing that ever happened to me was self realization.  That I am everything, and nothing.  This life is mine.

When I look in the mirror I don't see an accessory, I don't see dessert.  I see a full course meal, and in this life, I am hungry and fed simultaneously.  Be fearless. Be whole

Namaste

Empire of the Senses

Today I awoke early with a vigor that I haven't felt most of this summer.  I usually rise early and today I opened the front door, hair tousled from sleep, hot tea in hand, and sat on my stoop.  The light has turned its corner but the air is sweeping new as well.  I breathed deep.  There was only one place I wanted to be - on the lake.  I finished up my brisk breakfast tea and loaded up the kayak.

The lake looked like glass, save the small random breezes and the bubbling of fish here and there.  I felt an anticipation so strong in knowing the pelvic shift was on its way.  I pushed off glided, suspended, and sighed.  It was a sigh six weeks in the making.  A sigh that wasn't sorry to see the swampy heat go.  A sigh that only my kind can make as our season is creeping over the hills.

I rowed the perimeter of the lake a few times, careful not to go too hard as my muscles have been absent from this work for a while.  

A spell had finally broken, I could feel it cracking for days.  I had felt melancholy, undecided, unmotivated, and sad.  Today I felt new, hopeful, filled with possibility.  Today I was me, the me that matters.

As the early morning turned to day I had nothing but time.  Time to recline in my kayak, wet feet on the 'deck' and eyes to the heavens.  I closed them in ecstasy as the boat gently rocked - buoyed between what mattered and what didn't, a place without a place, a time without time.  I wondered what was below me as the vegetation is swollen with late summer and swaying it's last dance.  I looked at what was above me; a waning crescent moon easily visible in the day blue.  And I was the conduit - the in between - that brought the two together.  Why?  Because I was the one that noticed.

How many times do we busy along in our toil and never even see the sky or feel the sensuous romance of the rocking water.  I pledged to notice - even more than I have been.  That thought was rewarded with a gentle caress of wind on damp skin.  I stayed that way for the longest time.  No one else was on that water for a few hours.  Cosmic Wealth.  

"In the Empire of the Senses, 

You're the Queen of all you survey.

All the cities, All the nations

Everything that falls your way

I say

There is a deeper world than this

that you don't understand

There is a deeper world than this

Tugging at your hand." 

-Sting

Namaste

Wasted Talents

A friend of mine give me a lead on a second job.  It would be an odd marriage of current interests (Anthropology Study Group), old interests (writing, analyzing, projecting), and Cosmic Interests (the betterment of mankind).  Although the latter may sound obtuse, it is a very true mission some people hold in their heart and only hope to achieve one day.  I am one of those people.  

She told me to try to get in on the ground level, just a foot in the door for the interview.  "And they will see how talented you are and that you need to be in the position I see for you, we will intend it! Christine, Don't waste your talents."  That comment sat with me, fermented in my soul all night long. Those four little words were like a call to order:  Don't waste your talents.

Thus far my talents have had little to do with what puts food in my boys bellies.  But could they?  I decided to ruminate on my talents in the dark of the night.  It's a strange looking glass staring into the dark and asking what you see of yourself.  I decided my talents are not being used to their fullest.  

That little comment opened up a floodgate of consideration.  This summer I have felt the squeeze of not nearly enough money, yet I have remained hopeful.  Your ship doesn't come in.  Sometimes you have to build it - but the balmy breezes of a summer nights sail keep you hammering in the sun.  The dreams of the moon glinting on the water when you realize you, YES YOU, are a success from the beginning of time.  What kind of energy are you bringing to this existence?

So I have decided to explore more.  Deepen my commitment to writing.  It may not be what pays the bills but it pays a cosmic karmic compensation again and again.  I have decided that, yes, a class for fall is in order as is new secondary (and fulfilling) employment is in order.  I am gathering like the harvest for the richest bounty yet.   

Maybe your work feels like toil, but what of your cosmic work?  Do you make music? Do you paint? Sculpt? Sing? Build?  We are here to create - it's in the highest order of calling.  Create, Play, put food on your table but don't forget about that you that is intrinsically you.  The you that was forged in the stars in the very beginning.  The you that was patted by God.  The you that you have kept a bit hidden.  

Don't waste your talents.  Embrace them for the true Magick you are to make in this life.

Namaste

Unplugged

This summer has been an odd one for sure.  And a tight one $ wise.  So when my brother and his family graciously invited me to go camping for a couple of days in NY State, for a ridiculously cheap price, my answer was an immediate yes.  Then they told me about it...

NY State.  Barely any cell service.  Next to a Brook with icy cold rushing water.  Tucked into the mountains. Huge story-book like trees.  Campfires.  Nothing to do but hike, contemplate, and read...

Sounded perfect.

I've been on a bit of unsteady footing in many ways since graduating in May.  There are alot of things up in the air right now for me.  So the chance to escape to the forest with some of my favorite people seemed a no-brainer.  No boats.  No lights.  No motor cars; not a single luxury.,,It sounded pretty luxurious to me.  $20 in my Toyota gas tank and I took off.  I drove Route 17 and half way there the highway seems to lift from the ground.  Massive dense forest flanks you and closes off the world of worry you leave behind as you lap up the miles.  I couldn't help but smile.  I drove a steady pace and had a murder mystery on audio in the car.  Solo adventures are necessary people - never underestimate their healing qualities. 

In retrospect I wish I had taken some pics of the highway and the surrounding green - it was astonishing.  Everything up there is 'bigger' than where I live.  A historian friend told me that the forest around the sleepy hamlet of Hamburg (where I live) is actually quite young in comparison to many places that surround us.  The hills were treeless as settlers cleared them for homesteads and farms (yes, even the sides of the mountains).  I heard his words as I drove deeper into NY state.  The forests on my trip were much much older than the ones at home, stronger, seemingly filled with far more mystery, wisdom, and essence.  And there they stood welcoming me in.

I pulled off the road into a town of Nowhere.  Maybe once upon a time it had been a Somewhere, but no one cared to remember anymore.  The buildings that dotted town had long gone unimproved.  I always have the same reaction when arriving "What a gorgeous place to exist."  But that's just it - they are existing.  Very little industry and a few big box stores in outlying areas.  A perfect place for a writer....

I found the campground and my relatives and parked the car.  The GPS and cell seemed to cut out around the entrance off the highway.  It was ok.  It had gotten me exactly where I needed to be.  I let go of  the technology and took it from there.  When I opened my car door I was greeted and told to set up the tent as it was already midday.  What caught me first was the sound of water.  A giant artery of the most miraculously clean looking water rumbled over itself past the camp site.  My campsite.  I took a moment and stared.  I could feel it's damp and hear it's voice.  My body responded with a shift of freedom...  

I understand why people love river rock fireplaces.  They still hold energy.

One day I would love to have one from hand picked smooth rocks.

The river bent in spots as I walked along it and a bridge led to an old pump wheel structure.  

Long left to rust next to this water way.  

There were plugs and water spigots at each site.  I sat by the fire a long while with my brother and his wife talking.  It was hard to slow down but pretty soon were were all yawning and left the embers to themselves. I will admit the first night I had a hard time bedding down.  It was as if my body still craved the distraction that only our modern world can bring. 80's slasher films, and bear attacks made their way to the edge of my mind, then left.  The river finally took my thoughts and I felt 'safe' enough to close my eyes and sleep.  The next thing I knew there was an explosion of bird song and it was morning.  I was S>T>A>R>V>I>N>G>.  I don't know what it is about being outside, taking care of basic needs, and sleeping in the woods that causes the unbelievable hunger, but, well, there you have it - it happens every time.  I also am amazed that I sleep through the night when I camp.  No waking up worrying about bills, no getting up at 2AM to go to the bathroom.  None of it.  Just Sleep.

For someone that doesn't camp all that much, I was comically prepared having to simply heat up pre-cooked food on a cast iron skillet.  My homebrewed iced tea was in tow as well.  

Midway through the trip, we decided to explore the entrance to the camp which included a camp store (ice doesn't last forever), and to take advantage to check in with home via the only cell service we could get - standing almost still by the community pool.  Yes, it wasn't all roughing-it!  There was an old pool on premise that was well kept, a simple laundry facility for the seasonal people, a clubhouse with ping pong, an old jukebox, and a smattering of dated video games.  Nothing fancy, but enough to remind you that you were, in fact, on a vacation.  

Stay open to these things folks and to last minute invites that set you back $70 or more.  They are the best!  I've come to realize there's a wanderlust in me that I have accepted.  I can be ready to go anywhere in an hour or so.  And for a broke girl I'm usually Toyota-jetting off somewhere at least every other month.  It's a charmed life I think.  I don't make alot, but I don't really need alot.  Good friends, Good family, Good books and I'm home anywhere.

Namaste