Category Archives: insight

My Best Friend: Dear, Future Dog Friend

Dear Future Dog Friend;

The seed of you has been planted in my heart and I felt it a good time to compose this letter of acknowledgement, for you have some perfect, medium size paws to fill.

I know you won’t be Claddagh.  I know you won’t have her smell or swagger, you may even ignore my whistle because it is too close to hers.  Please forgive me, I am going to be learning with you.  I want you to feel confident that you are you, and you are mine in love and journey.

I need you to know that Claddagh set up a state of being in me, that will make our companionship possible.  She wore the ruts of my heart, where only a dog can roam.

My desire for a dog led me to Claddagh, and her sincere companionship is what makes it bearable for me to consider a new companion.  She may not have been perfect, but she was perfect for me.  Lucky for you, I believe in that perfection and that souls find their connection in each other.  Claddagh helped me love deeper, and you get the benefit of that depth.

I know you are out there.  I know you are waiting on me and that I am waiting on you.

I will be here at these cross roads when you show up; and when you do  we will both turn a new page.  I can’t wait to love on you and share the journey.  I can’t wait until I see you, eye to eye.  Until then, I will be watching and waiting.

Be patient, Sweet Pea.  I believe in perfect timing.  I believe in you.

Game On

Dear Source of Creation,

Cheers SirMadame!  It’s sparked my mortal mind to write you a bit about my position.  You see, I am so far from perfect  despite my desire to attain such lofty spots of divinity. I know it shouldn’t, but it does bother me at times that I could sink into this mortal realm.

Admittedly I struggle with “oneupmanship” and a sincere desire to be “right” or “correct.”   I mean, who am I kidding, who doesn’t want to be in “good favor” at some juncture in their life.

Given the fact that we are all an extension of You, I suppose you know this about me and it’s possible that you may have placed this specific code into the construct of my DNA when you were slipping in on the sly while my parents were getting busy that one blizzardy winter night, in front of the fire place in late 1979.

It’s weird, ya know?  You know everything about me,  I mean even stuff I don’t know about me, yet… and you… well, you are Everything, and it’s really hard for a human to know or even understand EVERYTHING.

At this point I don’t think I can or have surprised you, much less disappointed you.  That is a nice place to be because I now understand that you know and understand me because we can not be separated.  Funny how we all feel so disconnected at times, while you are there, just cultivating what we are as parts of you in your infinite expansion of IS-ness and Beingness. Oh, Creation, you are to be adored.

I wanted you to know that I have started playing your game in a new way.  I have to hand it to you, the game is brilliant and confusing.  No wonder it has taken so long to get to this next level.  Bravo.  Certainly a job well done.   I know you are aware that there is a worldwide team of us trying to win the match with the tools we have acquired, and I get the sense that this pleases you because you can up the ante’ infinitely.

The consensus of my team, is that we are ready to go full throttle for the win.  No slacking.   This has gone on long enough and we are ready to meet our Maker, or ChessMaster or Creator…. I don’t know what you call yourself in these hip days of slang.

Our only stipulation is that we want to meet with you with proper concession in order to make sure all the rules and conduct are updated.

I’ve assembled teams to attend to corners and ends of all the needs for fulfillment on the board.  The players are locked and loaded with the ancient wisdom.  They’ve all been trained in the Akashic and their hearts are pure and willing.

We understand that we are not playing against you, as much as we are playing for the totality of the game.

Creation, we love you, but it’s time for GAME ON.  May our upgrades be organically glorious.

See you on the other side of the board.

 

~M

 

 

Polarity and Me

Some times I have to talk, out loud, about the state of polarity in the world and this seems like a good time to do it.

There is a Matrix inspired concept of being “Red Pilled” ( you go down the rabbit hole) or “Blue Pilled” ( you live a superficial life and avoid the rabbit holes at all cost.)

I feel born “Red Pilled.”

I am at a point in my life, where even if I wanted to, I could never conform to the norm.  I would risk death by being myself, and I’m not even that controversial.  I think I am pretty logical about stuff, but I also have a strong spiritual foundation which influences my perception; I would say for the better.

Everyday people are being offered the red pill or the blue pill.  Everyday someone takes the red pill.  Every day several choose to keep taking the blue pill.   The concept of perception changing, willingly is scary.   It’s like choosing to take a drug that will alter your perception.  It’s one thing to get drugged without consent, it is a whole different thing to accept the unknown and ride out the journey, wherever it may lead.

I don’t want to be on social media, but I keep having to reconcile the fact that I am not “allowed” to leave yet.  I don’t make big marks because that isn’t the point.   I am the epicenter of an undetermined radius of beings that pick up on my electric fluctuation, in turn I feel their and we create a harmonization of frequency over time and space that levels the so called “physical playing field.”

The major resonance that exists world wide is vastly different then the mood or feeling that the MSM gives you.  It isn’t even close to the maps and charts dictated by polls, or analytics because the frequency being judged on a higher level, has mostly to do with the state of the mind, heart and intention plus follow through.

It also has a lot to do with our misconceptions of love and acceptance and how we play that out in the “real world.”

In my observation, most people will not take the red pill because it will flip everything on it’s head, just like Alice flipped down the White Rabbit hole.   It will flip definitions, perceptions and relations to the commonly accepted flow of expectation.

What I can tell you for truth, is that anyone who is drastically polarized enough to be consider “Far______” have taken the Blue Pill and continue to.

Those who have taken the Red Pill will speak through the levels of mourning.  They made a decision that would change their lives forever and lose normalcy as they know it.  They won’t want to celebrate holidays.  They won’t want to buy luxury vehicles or frivolous things.

Red Pillers want to pair it down.  Simplify, and try and extract themselves because the reality of the construct is so disgusting that it becomes hard to deal with.  Relationships become harder to maintain because it becomes near impossible to find common ground.  There is no more keeping up with the Jones’.  No more waiting in lines for new releases and Apple Products.

Red Pill makes you want to just get by until you die.  Do what you can for those living while you are alive.  Red Pill makes you attuned to the spiritual battle when once you may have denied there could be such a level of existence.

My whole early life was a push-me/pull-you of drive.  And I feel so blessed to have pulverized my dreams in the ways of my youth.   I am invigorated by the fact that I have deprogrammed myself into a point where nothing of this world is enough to stumble forward, toward.  That may sound cryptic, but it isn’t.  I have a freedom I can’t articulate, and most can’t comprehend.

Is there laundry in the afterlife?

I don’t know.  And even though I hope not, if there is, I bet it smells even better than Earth Laundry.

What I want you to know, is that polarization is a choice, but that choice is perpetuated by perception.  When you no longer wish to be in that polarization, you will find anyway you can to disrupt it and escape it.  “IT” will always try to pull you back in, but it becomes harder to slip into once you align your mind with your heart and use your will as a backbone.

My hope for my periphery is that they are able to sift and sweep through the bullshit, in order to see what games are at play within this matrix; then be moved to remove them piece by piece individually by expanding their movement beyond their perceived physical reality.

We live in a world of infinite energy.  Seriously.  We keep making, and the Universe keeps providing while we tell ourselves that we are in lack and the world is over populated.

It simply isn’t true.  But it’s the modern dialectic.  It’s true in subsections, elevated to exposure to posture the plight of the underdog, passing penance placed to those who claim to capitulate care.

Continuing the polarization of people.  Struggling to live, find balance and a leg to stand on.  Pulling apart partners who praise all but one thing.  Serving a conflict with reaction as a side and Solution as Dessert.

Placating those who know better by offering few options in a limitless World.

 

My Best Friend: Unsettled Awareness

I went for a walk today, obviously sans dog.  And something happened in my brain that I haven’t experienced in the decade I had walked with Claddagh.  I became aware of what other people may think about me, as I walk along, alone.

When I had Claddagh, our walks were interactive.  It was just her and me in the world.  I gave no thoughts to the perceptions of the individuals passing me in cars.  They only existed as obstacles in crossing the road, completely depersonalized inside their automobiles.

Occasionally someone might hoot out at me, grabbing my attention but mostly I would choose routes of alleyways and side streets without much traffic.

It’s a pretty straight shoot along a busy road to walk for a pack of smokes.   Dog-less the short trip is mind numbing.   I feel the cars pass, and I become extra aware of the expression on my face, my posture and gait.   I’m in this thought and I avoid eye contact with drivers.  I think about this solo jaunt and I’m sad and lonely.  I am sure my face has that “melancholy far off look.”

Each and every normal thing that I do, for the first time, again- without my friend, I make note of.

“This is the first time I have put gas in my car without Claddagh.”

“This is the fist time I am popping into Goodwill, real quick, without Claddagh.”

“This is the first time I am going through a Chick-fil-A drive through without Claddagh.  No one told me how cute she is and if she would like a dog treat.”

“This is the first time I am walking around downtown without Claddagh, and no one strikes up a conversation about her.”

This new internal narration doesn’t make a good movie. I am having a new conversation by myself with the world around me, and I am the only one who knows the inside jokes.

I was barked at by a squirrel for a good five minutes today.  Claddagh would have been amused.

When Claddagh and I would walk, I would try and see the world through her eyes and engage it that way.  The only time I would suspend this reality, would be on “athletic” jaunts where I would want to keep a steady pace and an elevated heart rate; other than that we would be as lackadaisical or as excited as she wanted to be while trying to maintain a lead that wouldn’t choke her.

It was only in the last year or so, that she was beginning to walk on leash like a well paced partner, no pulling forward for the lead. I was really starting to appreciate that shift in her maturity, but now I just think it may have been a side effect of her heart tumor.

If you are ever deciding to get a dog, get one that is young at heart and really foster that personality trait.  Much like people, they may age into later years and be mistaken for younger because of the youthful and playful nature they exude.  That is a precious energy to embody or be surrounded in.

My Best Friend: 2 Days and 22 Hours

It is almost one month since I put Claddagh down.

That phrase is so gross to me; “Put them down.”

My dog was already a submissive… she was “put down” in many ways in her early life.  I am still disgusted at it all.

But, you know what?  I will only talk about it here.  I bombarded FB for the first two weeks with my pain… and now in modern decorum I will pretend it doesn’t rip me apart on the inside.  Oh, geez, am I following the steps of my forefathers, who chose to sweep inconvenient truths under the proverbial rug?

People don’t know how to mourn, these days.  Our fast paced society urges us to “get over it and move on” as quickly as possible.  We treat ourselves like processed food with defined expiration dates that serve as suggestions.  You might be cool eating an out of date yogurt at your own house, but if a host of some other house offers the same thing, you cringe.

“Keep it in house.”

See, I don’t feel like I am allowed to mourn my dog companion for more than a couple of weeks.  It isn’t allowed to break me, because their life expectancy is so much shorter than ours, and I should have known better.

I don’t feel like I can allow Claddagh to be the portal in which my previous pain, loss and suffering is filtered through.  I just don’t feel like I have permission to fully feel, even though people say “take your time” and “feel it fully.”

I don’t feel permission because I am always trying to integrate and get along, and no one likes a Debby Downer, or a Miserable Mandie.  I don’t feel permission because the extent of the pain is mine, alone to bare.

After day three, I told myself, “You HAVE to stop crying.  You HAVE to buck up.  No one cares as much as you do about it, and no one wants to hear about it.”

If you make it a mantra, I guess it makes it easier to adhere to, just through repetition.

If left to my own devices, I look out the door and say “All I really want is my dog.”  And I imagine what that looks like, only to further upset the state of my heart.

Honestly, I don’t care if I upset you if I end up crying in reminiscence of my dog; but because I am empathetic, and I know you don’t want to hear it, I will self censor.  I am not looking for your pity or sympathy…. I know you don’t know exactly what to say and it may be uncomfortable for you, that every topic you excavate leads back to me and my dog.

I am sure it is annoying, or at least uncomfortable.

I’m sorry, but I’m not.

I suppose if you don’t know what to do in the awkwardness, just smile.  Know that I experienced a facet of love in life that I would have otherwise avoided, and that in and of itself, is bound to make me a better person in the long run.

I know she wasn’t as interesting to you, as she was meaningful and profound to me, and that is okay… but try not to sweep her memory away in your urgency to bring me back to whatever you feel is your self perceived center.  I will take my time, and I require no rush on your end, for it will not bring any benefit.

She was “my girl”, ya know?  I don’t even know if I am allowed to use the same distinct whistle if I find a new dog friend… I feel bad for chiding my cats with her same belly rub rhyme.   Things are flowing into each other with my other animal friends,  where it once was distinct and individual.

And I liked that, ya know?  When her whistle was our whistle and not like any of the other whistles that were common for the other animals we mutually knew.

I kinda wish I got a Chilton manual on how to deal with this,or a “When your Dog Dies for Dummies” book,  even though I know, internally all I need to know.

Life cycles are beautiful, until you see the shame in loss.  My dog should have lived forever… I mean, that is how I feel. I never thought about getting another one, even though at times I thought about re-homing her due to my own personality flaws.

I’m looking at rescue dogs, trying to find a face I recognize.  Not Claddaghs’ face, per say… just a face that feels familiar in the rustic part of my being that is perfectly adapted to animal companionship.  I know it will happen when it is meant to… if it is meant to.

No worries here.  I just miss her so damn much and rightly so.

 

My Best Friend: Just When I Was Getting Comfortable

I felt sick as a dog on the night of September 11th.  I was waking up hourly to empty my liquid bowels.  Standing up made me nauseous and I was afraid I was going to shit down my own legs.  I figured maybe it was one of the eggs I put into my dinner omelet.

The cats weren’t helping.  They wanted to lay on my stomach, causing me more discomfort.  I just wanted to sleep it off.

The 11th rolled into the 12, and I tried to go about my normal routine, but I wasn’t feeling normal at all.  My uncle came over to help out my grandma and I tried to sleep the day away, but was reawakened every hour or two by demanding felines.

I slipped in and out of dream space.

The woman accuses me of being an escort because I have a stack of cash.  I tell her I just sold my truck.  She also accuses me of having fake “air inflated” breasts.  I tell her that “that isn’t at all true.  I got fat and lost some weight and now I have stretch marks.”

Other strange thoughts invade my mind as I toss and turn.

I just don’t want to feel this way anymore.  I just want to sleep for 24 hours straight.  I just want to be taken care of because I don’t have the energy right now to care at all. 

I wake up early on September 13th.  I go to my Facebook feed.  There she is in my memories.  My fur buddy’s 10th Doggaversary.  Today would have been our 11th.

See just when I was settling into the idea that I no longer have to fill her water and food bowls, I am reminded of how far we went, and how close we came to 11.  I think about how, we would celebrate together since my birthday is so close to the day we found each other.

I realize, it wasn’t the eggs that made me sick; it was knowing that I would have to wake up on the 13th and deal with a new slew of emotions.  And that settling into emotions is much like the settling of sand which can be moved by a breeze, or a wash of water, dried out by the sun and stepped on, only to be encrusted into the indentations of some passerby’s shoes and transported to places unseen.

I’d like to not have to do anything for a while, so that I can just sleep if I want to sleep and dream these weird dreams, hoping we eventually reunite in that dreamspace for a little bit.  And, see I know I can’t tarry there long, but I would still like the opportunity, nonetheless.

 

Prelude to A Love Letter

I think we knew each other once upon a time.  Like, LIFETIMES ago.  I am writing this like I know for sure… but, in this climate, I can’t be certain, so let’s leave it to fiction… everyone likes a little bit of comedic-romantic-intergalactic fiction, right?

This is our eighteenth try at finding each other in some form of what is now called Earth and basically we have been told that if it doesn’t happen this time, then,it won’t ever be like people hope it is, and we at least want a fighting chance for an intergalactic minute .  I just want you to know I find it fucking cryptic and weird that we’ve been graced with twice as many tries as a cat gets lives.

So here we are in this last “hoo-rah” of life cycles with the chances and potentials and, well… maybe it was just a physical selfish desire to connect, despite all the connection we had previously in that timeless space.

I’m not even sure what I am trying to say…

All of us were, and then we were not, and then we became us again and then it fell apart and reassembled and continued on.  So we were always in the picture while being out of frame, over and over.

So, you know.  We’ve met.   I know you. I love you through the veils that seek to obstruct our views.

On top of it all I feel you and know everything about you, which draws us in and out of one another. Ebbing and flowing like the ocean, sometimes catching you off guard awash with an epic wave the slips sandals from feet causing stable stance to be up turned.

This feels like the Prelude to a Love Letter, so perhaps I will name it as such.