Rewind: Alignment
Share this:
Rewind: Prelude to a Love Letter
Share this:
Therapy of the Mind
It’s been since January- I got the diagnosis.
In February I started therapy.
The winter was cold, but not that cold- and like most winters was windy.
The heat didn’t really ease itself in, it just showed up one day with the wind, and it’s still here, giving the illusion it may fade away in the next month- but who can tell, these days?
Sometimes I wonder if my telehealth therapist is an AI. She seems real enough- but the digital space is questionable at best, and always has been a bit suspicious.
I do the homework the best I can, but I’m not really sure what the point is to a mind that made itself so long ago, and has a hard time taking steps back into a “normal” that never existed for me. I don’t know how to be a capitalist.
I think people want to watch others jump through hoops as to prove they are worthy of existing in an existential nightmare.
They say depression is a bad thing- something to try and ascend- which is laughable when I could compile quite the list of reasons one might feel “deeply pressed upon.”
With humility some of the burden was released, if only temporarily- but the minds around me can’t wait until I “get back to normal” that never really existed to begin with. Most of it was imagined by distance and rarely communicating.
I was that “free spirit” that would return occasionally with gifts and stories of my adventures- but actually I was just struggling to survive, lying to myself by redefining struggle into adventure.
I learned along the way, that I couldn’t really make it on my own- and I would do smart grunt work for a roof, as long as it wasn’t too much of a compromise. I looked for where I fit, like a missing puzzle piece- all the while squeezing myself into puzzles I didn’t match- but if it was able to hold me within it for a time, things were fine- until the misfit caused abrasion.
My mind keeps saying “a little is a lot, a little is a lot.” What?
Then I think of a seed, how one little seed could feed many- and I wonder why we live in a land of plenty that seems to deplete unnaturally anytime need is addressed to some more than others- and that consiquence.
I was thinking about how people are but seeds in their own beginning and how they grew was a representation of the reality sewn around them- about the things brought into the scene when the brain was just formulating balance-
Balance. Our ideas of balanced are so…imbalanced. It was never offered any equity, it is a construct- an idea. But why?
It has something to do with love. That too is a concept- a multidimensional concept. Love and Justice serve like the concept of separation of Church and State- the language, and definitions try to keep them separate but at the end of the day they become enmeshed for one could not exist without the other.
When you step away from all of it, and observe it, and disseminate it- you see something everyone else is too busy jumping through hoops to actually take into deep account. It is that which your beingness truly says without outside influence. It is most in tune thing you could listen to, because you are the amalgamation of all of it-
I talk to ancestors about how we were all rushed into the boxes of definition- I ask what they would see if they could only know what they knew in this reality- would they stick to their ideas or let their secret dreams out?
This is the work of people like me- whose history has some threads but also had closed lips- and I feel all of it through my veins- so duty calls to untangle webs, search for this illusive balance and what love actually means.
Share this:
Every day is Labor Day
It’s evident I get upset at the use of language in this English sect- my grammar may be incomplete, but I know how to speak in respectable phraseology, more oft than not.
Pardon my language when I ask in all sincerity “What the fuck is Labor day?” And I mean this in a deep, vast and dissection way.
It’s to honor workers/laborers, yes?
But the only people who get the day off of work are Government, HR and higher ups, and the postal service? Oh, and schools- because train them now that the future gives days off, just not to everyone all at once? That’s life.
What else is labor day?
Everyday is Labor Day- and this is simply a 3 day weekend. And I am all for long weekends- but if you are a woman going into labor, it’s Labor Day. If you are anyone who has to do anything at all, that means people who use machines to help them live, it’s still a Labor day. But not everyone gets to “do nothing” or have fun on that day.
Most people don’t think about it beyond being a day off of work, if they are so “lucky”- given the climate of things, I’m sure people are jumping to work if it means time and a half, plus holiday pay- if companies are even that generous anymore.
And Labor day only exists in a way like Valentine’s day with less marketing- because if everyone demanded the day off, the loss would be pretty intense. “Don’t let the slaves knows that it’s a day we take off for golf and frolick!”
It’s gross, and as a woman, it’s a slap in the face in so many ways.
But it should equally feel like a slap in the face to anyone cognizant of what working class is, regardless of location in the world. And honestly, here- it’s mostly about capitalism under the disguise of pride.
If we go back to the original labor of love- the giving of life, it is simultaneously beautiful and messy. It is raw and unveiled- it may or may not come in with pomp and circumstance, or any observation at all in the normal convention.
Many of the most laborious situations come with little observation or congratulations- they are simply seen as “life happening” or what “life is.”
Secrataries, Nurses, Librarians and Teachers have specific days of appreciation- they still go to work, and maybe get a few treats or surprises. That’s sweet.
The origins of the dedicated day come from support for Labor Unions by the Knights of Laborers. Okay- well, do with that what you will. Labor Unions are an interesting and long standing topic- I had no idea that a Knights group had association with getting the day dedicated.
Here we are learning something new everyday.
The crazy thing about Unions is- they knowingly exist in the labor economy of a hierarchal system. People love or hate unions depending on what side of the union they are on- if you or a loved one are associated, you support it. If you don’t support it, it’s probably because you see the scam in the sham.
In the hierarchy of Labor Unions- the union workers want the best paid jobs with the most benefits, which means they have to keep their political views out of the picture (put on a hard hat) and get to work, knowing the work is temporary, but a great check while it lasts.
The contracts within a union allow a bidding process of sorts, “if you want to hire us, this is what we require”- a large project from out of state can build an allegiance by hiring local unions for work, endearing them to the community. (It’s like playing RISK.)
The company uses their pull on the union to help spread the idea of allegiance, and if your family member is bringing in a great check, and things are looking up in dark times, you also put on the hard hat, and the dust mask, and nod your head and get to work….planning the future, or buying a new toy, or paying off a debt.
It feels too good to refuse. Opinions you might once have had about such and such and their environmental impact are like dust in the wind. This is a NEW WORLD! ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE in a new tax bracket.
But, what happens when it all dries up? Because those at the top could care less if you starve as they send pretty faces with smooth voices to chirp benefits in your ears…
Places like this live Boom to Bust- just like a Lady goes through monthly cycles- living eternity in 30 days. Or like a Mother holds and extended amount of energy for a duration of 10 months and new life of reward is given? Or the imbalance of wonder that happens as those last remaining eggs sporadically release until they’ve all found exit in one way or another?
What is sustainable? Labor. Who benefits from it? All of us.
Who benefits most? Those who take it without honor or appreciation- those who expect what it looks like, how it should “properly operate, all the time, ad nauseum”.
I think it is time we start paying more attention to the labors of love. We all have at least one. Labor of Love isn’t flashy- it’s not really braggadocios- it’s personal and special- it is the work that feels like you aren’t working at all.
It’s soft and kind- it’s warm and sweet. It’s a priceless bit that rounds things out. The labor becomes laughter.
Share this:
compromise
The clinch, the knit, the stitch- the “if we don’t fight anymore I can agree to it”
The next new rehash of an old word, that may look absurd if you look at it’s path- it’s always rebranded and weaponized
SURPRISE!
It’s Compromise!
Just a little word meant to weaponize those with less power of will, less heavy in the pocket. The lesser of the mores.
Early 15th century etymology defines “compromise” (via etymonoline)
early 15c., “a joint promise to abide by an arbiter’s decision,” from Old French compromis (13c.), from Late Latin compromissus, past participle of compromittere “to make a mutual promise” (to abide by the arbiter’s decision), from com “with, together” (see com-) + promittere “to send forth; let go; foretell; assure beforehand, promise,” from pro “before” (from PIE root *per- (1) “forward,” hence “in front of, before”) + mittere “to release, let go; send, throw” (see mission).
The sense of “a coming to terms, a settlement of differences by mutual concessions” (mid-15c.) is from extension to the settlement itself. The meaning “that which results from such an agreement” is from 1510s.
Now let’s look at that dirty path of arbiter-
late 14c., “person who has power of judging absolutely according to his own pleasure in a dispute or issue,” from Old French arbitre “arbiter, judge” (13c.) and directly from Latin arbiter “one who goes somewhere (as witness or judge),” in classical Latin used of spectators and eye-witnesses; specifically in law, “he who hears and decides a case, a judge, umpire, mediator;” from ad “to” (see ad-) + baetere “to come, go,” a word of unknown etymology.
Who decides a compromise? Is it your friend, or is it mine? Is it a mutual friend in deed, with neutral standing and steadfast eyes? Or perhaps a third party paid on the side?
Stop asking us to compromise to these stupid things that obviously bring nothing we call for, to walk down the common corridor while acting like there is some elite retreat to happen here, attempting to ignore that you are only calling for more servitude
A compromise never actually settles the balance, it happens when one party gets tired the fastest- that’s the ledger you look to push
And we will be there waiting to step out of the way as you come rushing and the winds will show you the way to fly in those wide open skies
And I assure you there is no soft landing when even the land doesn’t want to compromise.
Share this:
Share this:
It’s At A Strong Simmer
I don’t enjoy getting political or critical, it just seems to be an epigenetic trigger or some sort of left over of times past that last through bloodlines
I see the State governor have a bit of anger about Federal observance when they are the same one who opens the door
I see people grasping as the basic straws of long laid plans because; we were the “every day man” and what happens on our land in benefit of those already wealthy, is the only thing that matters
I want to scream ” They have been putting this shit on paper for over a century, and the only oversight they ever see, is those in the brethren- pull different sides but still friends in this awkward circle jerk that screws us all in the end- unless something changes, and it’s not just by switching hands in the same cesspool from which it began”
There is never equality in the Equality State- nor equitability or equilibrium because it chimes old rhymes from long lost times held strong only by namesakes and nepotisms, Good Ole boy’s carrying on some sort of nostalgic requim
Bread and circus! Call to the TOURIST- if you live here, you are accused of abusing the privilege to call it home- even born on and in this land I’m told to go elsewhere if I don’t like it- but I have my sights set and this is systematic and systemic- everywhere.
Go along, to get along, lil doggies. Be happy with the scraps in your bowl, if you want better, get a letter of recommendation and apply for the City, State or Federal and let them keep feeding you the rhetoric that there is some sort of separation of church and state
It’s intense to try to articulate that the whole thing is rigged against the everyday human- we see it in false inflation; the degradation of our food, education, and economic systems
I beg the question why we continue to work so hard for organizations that are quite openly showing us their true intentions-
The system and their minions don’t care for more than themselves and accruing wealth- for their weird little groups that seek to keep you busy building things you nor your kin will truly will benefit from, in the long run
I am at a brink, yet again, of not giving a fuck. I am sick of this task and having to daily face the fact that I can’t force anyone to think any way or another- it’s a bother, but I do it
Who knows when some of my words spent may be a bright light or a creative insight that helps someone justifying survival versus the alternatives that seem to want to push us to the edge and give up
I will say it again- I have had enough- and now they throw words back into our face about transparency, accountability and responcibility-
It’s a psychodrama unfolding for years beyond mention, and the only reason I can see it of benefit, is because we are meant to see it so that we can combat it as needed
It’s going to take creative thinking, you can not do things the same way as history- if you do, you actively participate in some sort of insanity that is looking for a better way of expression and acknowledgement
First step- get upset and seriously mad at it, but commit to your better sense- get psychic with this shit- stop playing small, wounded- collectively use your wisdom to ruffle feathers- show up no matter the weather
Second step- collect each other like precious stones that glow with their own knowing- work together- but don’t be afraid to call the BS when it is evident
Third step- be transparent, yourself. You don’t always have to be an open book- giving the TLDR in the first five minutes- take a breath and leave the book slightly ajar, open to answering honest questions with honest answers
Those truly seeking will see what they need to, because they have free will to do so
Share this:
Share this:
Fertilizer
I talked with my father the other day and he made comment of question to why his children act in such a display to take the “hard way”
And I rambled a bit in a way of a feminist- but the deeper truth existist in the fact that this world is radically different than it was in 1976; 1986, 1996, 2006, 2016
Do we really comprehend the leaps and bounds things have made while staying the same over such a long time frame?
Shortened always by the claim “nothing ever changes”-
Meanwhile your children grow older, the weather changes, technology begs us to capture every moment for a cloud we will never ride upon
Can you see that it is very hard to change things that change in slight motion under the tangible range? They say, “get involved with the politics” but those same dicks are the ones that complicate process we have the ability to deal with by our own well knowing- and they beat us down vs encouraging some growing that says “Yes, I comprehend personal responcibility”
What, are we actually doing? It appears the discard ability of humanity and life in general has some hip political stance, like we have rebranded genocide, but the poor people meant to have no pride are the first to go.
Why is poverty demonized? Why are jobs that matter with no big coorporate boss put to pasture? Why do the people who say they love us have laughter when we try to beat a system that wants to drown us all?
It feels emergent, emergency- like you, like me, want to be more than these left over dregs of Flotsam and Jetsam – the reality we wish to see is no longer a joking matter
There are people preparing to literally dig their own graves because the wonder of something better has been drained from their hemoglobin and they’d rather leave their legacy to fertilizing trees and flowers
Share this:
Unfuckable by Cancer and her Contemplations
(A creator I’ve enjoyed for years is struggling- if you can donate to her- I’d appreciate it. https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-mias-fight-against-cancer-eb6x8/cl/o?attribution_id=sl:a3087cbb-3f64-4d41-9d3e-f14349070f48&lang=en_US&ts=1786054519&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_dash&utm_content=amp30-treatment-3&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link )
At the crossroads of “My way or the highway” ;
That place that calls for contemplation of direction
Perhaps we call in a definition
An acknowledgement of that Your Way, IS My Way- the one you set that others have yet to accept and respect
The highway is just a road you haven’t yet fully explored, going down unfamiliar corridors that brings you to the corner wherein exists a locked door-back to yourself
It’s time to leave the behind dance, the hyper fixation of romance
The one that defined your delicate steps
Always walking on egg shells to avoid the disturbance- for the sake of those who take full advantage of stomping around on everyone’s ground- demanding authority, undeservedly
The gem of your soul glows!
Angel incarnate, pain spent from the past, need not last at the Cross road
Upon further inspection within this proverbial map, it leads you back to yourself
Back to the door for which you are the only key holder
It’s hard to see how much power you yield as you exist in an exhausted field of vision-
But you are the reason and the cure-
The ground calls for your stomps and jumps- it’s ready to take your pain
Cry, laugh, pretend to kick ass and throw some stones at those predatory cellular invaders
Beat the ground, it can take it
Breathe, you can take it and release it full for back to sender
You are not the woman you were just moments ago, without this great courage to let the pain go back to the mother
Today “My Way or the Highway” are one- transmuted by you alone, full and growing- the road will lead you back to you, where only you hold the key
Madge Midgely 