Category Archives: Writing

Whats Love Got to Do With It?

I think we need to have a talk about Love.

I think we are mature enough to look at it from various perspectives and start to really feel and observe what this concept is beyond the word, itself.

Love, isn’t one thing or one feeling.  It isn’t one singular expression that is universal in output.  In fact it is as ever changing and unique as each human is- and each human changes and develops over time.

But Love is also consistent and steady and holds itself with such secure solidification that one may ask how both could be the same and cohesive at the same time.

Love is more than a word that is used too much and not enough.

Love is a feeling that is intangible but has, at times tangible reward.

Love in it’s most true form can not be corrupt- for its expanse leaves no room for corruption.  It is only those on the surface who use the term with superficial meaning that bastardize the depth of the concept.

No worries though- there is always some hope that True Love can be found or will find you.

The first Love we know is from our parents or primary care givers in our early development.   They set us up with expectations that love may equate ultimate forgiveness and freedom, or that love equates some sort of punishment; then again it may present as non existent as a word- that there is some void of connection to the word that is often connected to a feeling.

Then there are the loves we find beyond those beacons that bring us into the world- those gods that brought us life.  Those on the outskirts that are different but familiar- grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins. We love them too.  But each is expressing it in a certain and unique way that may or may not be healthy.

And we learn- we are mushy little beings in the beginning- we are absorbing like a sponge.  And Love is a word with a unique feeling that shifts and changes with these beginning relationships.

We get older- hormones come to play.  We see our peers now in a new way as physical and mental development weave with the comprehension of our soul.  Attraction becomes something that steals our attention.  The biology we cannot control brings new focus.  If religion is involved things get even more complicated because something in it fights the reptilian brain.

I could ask anyone and everyone would define “Love” differently- that should give you pause because the word is thrown around like confetti- it is strewn about as decoration. I don’t like that.  I take the word very personally knowing everyone defines it in their own way.

It’s an awkward way to live.

I’ve never been about the superficial meaning.  I’ve never been about throwing the word around like it is candy or a treat to waste away the senses.  I use it, when I mean it, the way I comprehend it.  It is not a designer label, it is not a place holder.

It is a brief moment when I am saying “all is forgiven”- I feel for the best of you in the depth of my core and therefore you have my care.

You won’t find that in the dictionary.  Most people won’t define “Love” in anyway close to that.

There is “conditional love” and “unconditional love.”

I don’t want anything to do with conditional love.  I want to specialize in “Unconditional Love.”

I am familiar with rejection and I don’t want to feel it again, nor do I want anyone else to feel that feeling.  The word “Love” is not the answer or solution because it is so unique.

In the Love Languages I am a service oriented do-er type.  I show love by action.

When I feel love it is hard to deal with the energy that comes with it because I do not use the spell of the word to convey the feeling.  I take the feeling and I do something that shows the care that I have for the one who is getting affection.

I would bleed myself dry for love.  I would work to the bone for love.   I would sacrifice my time for love- but I will only use the word every so often to make a point- and if the focus of my attention was paying attention they could see that.

We don’t live in the ideal world…yet.  It hasn’t worked out so well for me in the way I perceive.  It is easy to feel like it is all daunting- but it isn’t because everything is temporary.  My Love is so big- the word “love” is just not good enough.  It has been co-opted and bastardized by inappropriate boxes and labels.

The movies try and drag you into “romantic” and “unrequited love”, the psychologists try and tell you that even though your parents abused you, they also loved you, and that even though you may hate them, you still love them.

Abusers love to use the word love as a psychological manipulation tool.

People read scripture and bastardize that too and make the examples of unconditional love fit a prerogative.

I don’t like it- I don’t want to do it and when the word comes out of my mouth you better know I mean it wholeheartedly but in a very, very big way.  Nothing about it is superficial.

I know we all deserve love in that way- that we deserve to know what it is and what it feels like, but people are too scattered in their mind mayhem and survival to break it down.

Tonight I break the construct of superficial love and help reintroduce the TRUE REAL EVERLASTING AND UNCONDITIONAL LOVE that is the core of our being- our heartbeat, our bread and water and breath.

No more will these chains of superficial nature keep us bound in ideas of condition love.  No more will the phraseology be used as a psycho/emotional tool.  NO MORE.

Everyday I work for all of us, because I believe and LOVE all of us.  It isn’t work like a normal job- it actually looks like nothing to me if I were to look in on it- it isn’t a perceivable work.  That doesn’t make it un-important- sometimes it confuses me too.  I am human and fallible-  but that it allows me to not care what you think you do or do not see.  It is happening beyond your view.

I DO Love you all.   I DO want the best for you.  I WILL Work for the best case scenario for us all. I DO NOT need the word “Love” to prove my work.  That word never did prove the work.

If you feel profound Love for someone- do the work- see what they need and help them meet their needs.  Show up.  Be there.  Say the word if it gives them comfort, but refrain if you don’t feel the feeling in your core.  Know that not everyone enjoys the word, read the room and figure if it’s been over used and has lost it’s meaning like saying the word “Fork” one hundred times.

We are all at different places on the playground.  Honor that most- it takes no words.

This Transparency

I knew at a very young age that marriage and children were not in my cards.  I didn’t spend time dreaming up the dress unless it was to try and meld with my peers.  I came up with the weirdest name for the imaginary daughter I would never have.  It was really mythical in my opinion; Azora Wynter.  I guess “azora” means sky blue.  The name is beautiful and somewhat depressing unless you are a skier who appreciates a good fresh powder blue bird day.

I came up with that name when I was in junior high school, in the beginning of my depression as I tried to blend in with peers while still holding on to the self that existed beneath the required social structures.   And if time doesn’t exist- it was perhaps in that moment, coming up with that name that I deeply knew some day, I would make a decision so that spirit of something would not have time on this earthly realm.

We actually know a lot about ourselves at a young age and the world will either capitalize on it or try and wipe you clean of what you remember.

When my parents would say “Just wait until you have your own kids.”  I would vehemently tell them I wouldn’t be having any.  So far I have stuck to it.

When I was little, before anyone said anything about it- I believed in Mind Over Matter.  Weird that it comes as an acronym for MOM- because losing my mom at a young age is where many of these belief systems originated.

A mom is an amalgamated foundation for survival and life experience- when there is no mom a child grows up quickly out of need and survival.  It’s also very traumatizing but not something that can be openly discussed because the adults have a hard time quantifying painful situations- or at least historically it appears that way.

I thought and observed a lot of interesting things when I was young yet there was no real outlet for rumination of that sort.  Parents want you to be good and listen and follow directions.  Peers are trying to out do themselves with being “cool.”  I was in a constant spiritual battle and very aware of it on the physical realm.   Religion only made the struggle even more brutal.

I’ve fought myself to be where I am right now and if you were on the outside looking in you might find it a sad plight.  Over times I have been nearly dredged of whatever external drive I may have been given in this dream world.  I don’t want fame, I don’t want fortune.  I want to be in peace with the land and myself and anyone of that ilk is invited to join me in camaraderie and contemplation.

This isn’t my world.  I know it is a strange thing to say because here I am living up in it-  yet I am in the world, and not of it.  More and more I disassociate from it- not because I am frightened, but because it is so dissonant except for where it resonates.   These spots of resonance are so physically far removed from one another, that I am certain if they were in proximity something just may change with such a rush it would catch many off guard.

Meanwhile, here we are broadcasting these resonator waves  trying to create bubbles of heaven to inhabit.

This all sounds so crazy, but we need to be transparent about what is actually happening here.  I don’t spend all day and night focused in this way for nothing.  As time speeds up and this focus has apparent results for those beyond myself, this work just feels like it has to be done and I have been set up to participate in a greater effort for the whole.

This feeling that we came from somewhere else is pervasive in my common community.

For a long time I have felt that we will not recognize Jesus or the Christ because he is here in the faces of those fighting this spiritual battle that they were born for- incarnated to face.  The Christ spirit has been here for a long time- it is already embedded in those who are willingly here but have always wanted to go Home.

It is time to realize your roles in this play.  It is time to be transparent about what you are here to do and do it. It is okay to be in the middle, but realize there are two sides to the fence and walking the fine line takes practice and strategy.   You could fall at any time to either side.  Also remember that there is more than one way to get where you are going and you are a unique creation with permission to make your own way which make be more akin to a dance or carving your own path.

In this journey- some things stick and others fall away.  Pick your little battles wisely because the war isn’t yet over.

Unconventional: Rise Above to Reform

Have you ever been at a point, where it all seems so obvious and you can’t believe people are still arguing over what is blatant?

That is me, here, now in this cybersphere.  I thought that by leaving FB I would find respite- but one doesn’t simply go cold turkey with social media- they migrate and adapt.

For me, this was moving over to Twitter, where the conversation completely changed and I felt like I jumped into the deep end of the lake.

On FB, I had over 500 friends and over a 100 followers… I know, I know; nothing to brag about, but it equaled engagement.

On Twitter, I have roughly 90-96 followers and I am pretty sure at least a dozen of them are surveillance.  When one of the surveillance accounts realizes I am useless- they move on.  That’s cool- what ev’s.

That doesn’t stop the weirdness on my end though- Nope.  I am still at the mercy of algorithms when I go check my feed.

My motto:  “I’ll follow back until your posts get whack.”

Why?   I am not your judge- I am not your jury.  If you start posting stuff that makes me want to act in a negative or violent way- I will simply remove you the way I would a thorn or a splinter.

I will pay attention to the wound, give it care with things that will remove the intrusion.

This doesn’t mean I am running away or avoiding things- it means I am doing what I can to control my internal environment which will ultimately impact my external environment.  I could let my wound fester, or I could care for it and bring it back to optimum function.

90% of what I see posted online, makes me want to kick someone in the shins- why?  Probably because when we hurt we try and hurt others and the things I see posted bring me more than a modicum of pain.

If leaving FB taught me anything, it’s that I am sick of making myself responsible for the pain of others, or assuming that I was the source of pain, to begin with, because that is how hard we can be on ourselves.  We will assume so hard that a post is about us, that it will tear us up inside and then overflow into the life we live that isn’t attached at all to a SIMPLE FUCKING POST!

It’s crazy- but it’s real and normal for day to day life.   How many people are lugging around their own unspoken guilt and ruining the lives of others because a post was worded in a way that makes an individual have to face their own conscience?

I had to leave because I was on the brink of kicking shins because of the fakeness of all of it.  I wanted to kick shins because it would really hurt, in real time- but it isn’t fatal, but it is brutal.

I sit here at times just hoping for a real and raw conversation about how fucked up we are individually and in groups- not because I want to further twist a wound but because I can’t wait to find people who are finally mature enough to address the issue while also avoiding kicking shins.

I’ve found people would rather kick shins until they are bruised or deal with broken toes that have to heal from all the kicking.

I want a conversation or ten to be good enough.  Most people would rather mince words, or not talk at all, because they know their words will hurt as bad as a bruised shin.

When I say “I can’t do this anymore.”  It is because I truly can not do it anymore. I am smart enough to know that there are others in the world who don’t want to operate on the program we have been fed- and those are my loves of forever.  They are the ones who keep coming back, again and again, so that none of us are left alone in the struggle.

Those of us aware of the struggle, say “NO MORE!”   We are done.

 

 

What do you know you know that you remember?

Microcosm-  Inception- You

While in the womb, you just grew and developed and thought whatever thoughts developing souls think cushioned in a vitreous bubble

Listening to the voices outside of yourself as you are jumbled and tumbled around by your incubator, the love of your creator holds you still and yet, not

You didn’t consciously think “I should grow an arm right now”, while your mother craved pickles and puked at the smell of salmon, or laughed at a joke she once told, and then forgot and told again

She didn’t think about her loss or change of appetite as anything other than a sort of synthesis where you were able to show your first impressions of the world, which were merely reflections of the last one you left

Connected yet disconnected by a few stops from your last departure

As a Mother, she, just kind of dealing with it.  And hoped for the best.  “I don’t care what it is- as long as it is healthy!  Ten fingers!  Ten toes.”

She didn’t sit to manifest you, but rather said, “So it is, I guess this will do.”

The Mother Knows, that these impressions can last longer than a lifetime and the purging of herself in the openness of newness is proof.  Suddenly a new entity, little-me arrives!

To some, on a sunny day and to others a rainy night.

In each of us, there is the reflection of the Mother, for we could not exist without her.

But in each Mother, there is a reflection of eternity, and she graciously imparts that upon us without request.  It is a shock for all parties, and a strange blessing without a manual.

The impression is beyond permanent, it is in the genetics and all of the beautiful unfoldings that appear to be effortless

 

 

 

 

My Best Friend: What a Difference Four Months Makes

The weather is warming up- and the yard is calling!

Journey Oroborus Wonderdawg has now been in my care for four months, and she is even more amazing every day!

I was reading a post I made last November- about all the dogless moments that were hitting me hard, and it’s crazy to think that so much has happened since the end of last August- but really it is only notable in my little sphere.   It probably isn’t profound to anyone else.

I guess to explain a little bit- it is the insights that have befallen me through my sadness and “rebirth” through Journey.   Journey truly represents a change inside of myself that is hard to articulate- it wasn’t something missing- it was something that had yet to be awakened but was there all along.  Like epigenetics and cultivation, I just needed the right circumstances to enliven something dormant.

I have become more patient, more understanding- attributes I wanted to strengthen but had a hard time controlling and would guilt myself to extremes in regard to; suddenly became effortless as the synthesis of past experience unfolded into a new awakening.

Claddagh and Journey have given me a  calmative understanding and awareness.  I am conscious of all the ways I was wrong to Claddagh- and I refuse to repeat the pattern with Journey.  Journey knows the spirit of Claddagh, they are married within me, and through that devotion our relationship shifts in dimensions.  I become a better soul than I was before, and I can feel and see that happening.

It may sound strange- but I really don’t “miss” Claddagh.  I continue to experience her every day through Journey because their personalities are so interconnected, there is no room for feeling loss.   They are in no way replicas of one another, but they are very much “the same” and the comfort that comes from that is profound in my opinion.

I can compare it to having a few close friends in a place and then moving away and finding new friends who have certain quirks and traits that very akin to friends from the other place.  Personality types are drawn to each other and it is a way that we find our “tribes.”

These days, my tribe is mainly my little fur family along with my Uncle and Gma.  Every day the humans in my tribe get to see the value and vastness of animal personality and the way it adapts with us.  When I am in the yard, and my animals follow me around, I feel like Snow White or something similar.  They come when I call, they sing with me, they see me digging in the dirt and they want to help.  If that isn’t Spiritual, or Magic- then I don’t know what is.

One of the most profound things to settle down in me through all this transition is facing one simple and “gross” thing-  We have to deal with our shit.  Not just personally, we have to deal with the shit of others- and the question is, how do we do that?  No one wants to deal with shit, but it is a part of life, and if for some reason you don’t have to deal with shit on some level, there is a big problem because it is essential to eliminate waste.  If we neglect that fact, things can get extra rancid.

I am cleaning up shit, every. Single. Day.  More than once a day, for someone other than myself.  And for a while, it would trigger a wave of deep anger and resentment.

“Why me?  Why do I have to do this? I already have to clean up for myself.”

Well- I chose this path.  Sometimes we choose paths because they appear to have the least resistance, but as we wander that path we realize it may reach a sort of “dead end” which really just means that we have to clear some things out of the way in order to proceed.   You have to do the work, or wander around looking for another path… either way it is work and resource.

Journey came to me damaged, which means I need to use all of my knowledge and resources to assist in her healing.  By doing so, I am reminded of my own depth of knowledge and it becomes easier to enact that knowing through action because I am driven to assist those who have a hard time assisting themselves- so brilliantly and obvious is this reflection of purpose in co-existence.

How blessed am I?  Infinitely so in my humble opinion.  A certain sense of joy is becoming alive inside of me that I haven’t felt in what seems like a millennium.

 

 

 

Who I Am- Who Do I Want You To See? Your Unperceived Experience: What Is Real

Social Media is an illusion.  We trick ourselves into thinking we know one another.  We are enticed by pictures and platitudes.  (I’d like to do a podcast where I sardonically read inspirational memes.)

I am a person who has probably spent more time hating my physical body aesthetic than I have loved it.  I want to, but I can’t see me, through your eyes. I can see myself in a million ways in a million lights, but when I look in a mirror my default has been ugly. For some reason, I am sure the feeling is mutual.  You MUST see me the way I see myself- I can’t fathom it any other way.

When I see me, in a mirror- I see a Gollum.   A grotesque manifestation of flesh attempting to masquerade as a human. This isn’t new- it is an ongoing saga.

I’ve had a couple of points in my adult life where I “grant permission” for photos. Most times I am caught off guard. With all this technology- I’ve attempted to take control of my image.  It isn’t so much that I don’t want you to see them- it’s just that when I see them, I get really rough on myself- even though I know I shouldn’t… but as I get older, and even more celibate and single- I- I don’t even know.  Perhaps I should peruse for a book to address these issues, or write one of my own… but I don’t want to- other things interest me more.

I’m thirty-eight, I’ve suffered the yo-yo weight- the meat versus vegetable debate.   Yet no one can isolate the reason I always menstruate late beyond the common fate of erratic hormones. Yo- this blows- but I deal, cause I am real- and if no one else is willing to admit it, then I will admit it- I feel.

I want some angelic new deal, where the real me slips from my current skin.  I want to see the reflection of within- in the without.

My daily mantra has become “I see the Angel within” in hopes that I manifest that reality.

This may sound crazy- but my spirit has set me free from human bondage in a sense that we obsess about so much that is meaningless. So daily my eyes are set on Spirit and the unseen control battle.  Yet, I can not escape my reflection.  I can only augment it, moment by moment while dealing with the torrents that come.

 

 

 

 

A List of Thankful

I’m not sure how people have the strength, courage, and fortitude to have children in this modern world.  Heck, the more I think of it- it doesn’t matter what time in history we are talking about- having children seems like an absolutely terrifying life path.

I am thankful my parents wanted me so badly that they had to try to make it happen.  How I’ve spent years feeling “unwanted” is beyond me.  My brother was the accident- but you know what?  They wanted him too, they just didn’t have to intend him as they did with me.

I am thankful I was raised before the age of technological saturation.  How blessed I was to be woken up at the crack of dawn to go fishing with my aunt;  to go sledding in the mountains, to go backcountry to cut down a Christmas tree, to go camping all over the US.  Those where the days when imagination was easily immersed in books and drawing paper.

If you had a computer- it belonged to the family, and it wasn’t used that often because it interfered with the phone line that everyone also shared.   It was a time in history when there were time limits for these shared resources.  Set the kitchen timer for a twenty-minute phone call.  When the timer went off- the call would need to wrap up- post haste. If you needed the computer, you could use it for an hour, but not if someone was expecting a phone call.

I am thankful I was raised in a time where we had to communicate our needs and expectations to one another- face to face.   A lost time when dinner was ready, your parents would holler at you to set the table- instead of sending a text message to the room down the hall.  It scares me to think that this is how we have adapted to our technology.

I am grateful that most of my youthful indiscretion was analog.  Stupid mistakes made before the time when everyone had a digital instant camera in their pocket, ready to record the blunders of those around them.   A time before “revenge porn” and naked selfies.  I can’t imagine the unconscious stress this adds to teenage/ young adult lives.  I can’t imagine how this will change the foundation of relationships in the future.  Yet another terrifying thought that brings me back to my appreciation for how much simplicity we had at one time.