Forget for a moment about the things you’ve been told for years; things like “get eight hours of rest a night,” and “Sometimes you have to do stuff you don’t want to do.” Throw it all out the window.
What would your day look like if you made the rules? Maybe you thrive on five hours of sleep, but you hold yourself in bed for eight because you read somewhere that it’s good for EVERYONE. Only to find that you lost your second wind for the day by “over resting.” Maybe eight is just a standard.
Maybe all these “rules” for living are standards. Maybe you do less than you would like for fear of getting hurt; maybe you have been told your whole life that you are a klutz. What do you think about yourself? What do you enjoy but avoid because of some etheric standard keeps you rooted in behavior outdated for your mode of living?
Maybe you want to try climbing, but tell yourself it’s too late, that your too old. Maybe there is another way to the top, you just haven’t been able to see it through the fear.
What if there were no “10 Commandments,” would you still make righteous decisions, would you still help humanity and your community? Would your internal moral compass lead you in the right direction, or would you waste away in confusion.
Some people function well with a frame work that has been proven by others, but most of us feel constraint from the expectations of these standardized rules. Making the expectations of others our own.
The artistry of living is sending invitation to join the calling of your heart. The pain in our world is crying for healing from Masters of change and Evolution. Are your insides feeling these growing pains?
Forget the rules for a day, live the way your heart calls for. Paint something obscure just to feel the weight of a brush in your hands and to participate in the glory of creation. Find a way to do something that fills you with extraordinary joy. Do something you have only thought about. Life is too short to be stuck in a standard of rules for those who are far from standard. In this day and age there are no longer excuses not to do what your spirit embodied physicality for.
If you have legs, use them. If you have resources, share them. If you have space for others, fill it. If you have knowledge, give it. If you seek guidance, ask for it. If you have love, make it multiply. If all you have is encouragement and a smile, gift them often. If you feel like changing into a better you… start today.
If life lived by your own rules causes you to thrive without forsaking the safety and health of yourself or others, than tell others how it worked for you. Be persuasion to change by always taking the best and leaving the rest. The world needs big thinkers and do-ers. The world needs the involvement of every heart and mind. Wake up, open your eyes, and welcome to a new day.

We did it again.
Started the summer amped for beach bodies and skinny dipping. Begging to be the best version of ourselves to date. The accessibility of self comparisons to past and present peers is in our faces, thanks to these social networking sites.
In a wave of collective consciousness each status update was a bold exclamation of “self improvement.” The hankering to be lighter, thinner. Somehow perhaps even more spiritually permeable?
We jumped in together, two months ago. Into the diets, exercise and fasting that seem to be a staple response these days to the warmer months. And why not with all those products on the market promising that everyday people can look like stars.
A test: of will power and a change of habits built strong over winter. Habits and attitudes packed tightly into the pounds of fat we tuck away for winter storage. Proving self mutilization to be a bigger predicament world wide than the media would let on. Addictions to stimulants, foods, pain, war and sickness, all wrapped tightly into a comfortable coat we call discouragement.
Our bodies scream to break free, our minds agree; and yet the will broken by time, lags in response. Perhaps the first week or two is easiest. Emotion and determination are fuel for the fire. Jump started metabolisms eased on by early morning runs, walks with loved ones and friends; realization the discouragement coat is too tight… Pushing the limits hard and fast, ultimately leaving a lot of us, some how empty. Emotionally undernourished, physically over-worked, and attacking this whole thing in a very bassakwards way.
Two months down the road; the push of new beginnings finds you looking at a pile of empty beer cans, the question of how the first two weeks could change so quickly and again wondering how you could eat that much cheese.
We feel it together. There is something happening to us as humans seeking deeper communion with ourselves, and one another. An aching so strong we literally want to shed our skin. To tear off the weight of centuries of oppression. We are reaching out in ways new to this world. And still, it is easier to get sucked into this vicarious way of living, checking up on one another just so we can build ourselves up by condemning others. Remembering vividly the pain of youth and holding those who hurt us: once upon a time; responsible even years later.
You told me I was ugly twenty years ago, why do I still hold you responsible. Have I blamed you for so long I have indeed become ugly?
Are we packing all this old baggage in our fat? All the old harbored feelings left unaddressed? The pain and the blame of childhood days now just lingering in the struggle to be better? Inside something doesn’t fell right. We would rather starve ourselves to look better in hopes of feeling more acceptance and deprive the body of personal work to achieve what would be considered an ideal quick cure. We want a cure; instant gratification style. We do not want to slow down to get there. To look too deep into painful waters, to see our own reflection in the common struggle that acts like a wave.
It isn’t easy to look back at comments made by our peers, to take back the blame and become responsible for our personal actions of today.
You may have told me I was ugly, but I was the one who listened, I allowed myself to believe you, too weak to believe in myself. No one forced me. It is me who relives those things on a daily basis to prove you right, because somewhere down the line I didn’t believe I could be worthy of being more than your projection. I couldn’t believe I had anything valid to offer. Externally if there was a consensus of no beauty then internally it must be just as flawed. My fear that everyone felt about me, the way you did, kept me from testing that theory for truth. Instead I created a buffer between me and society. Obviously a buffer built of fat and sadness. The fastest way to alienation in a superficial society is to become a less than optimal aesthetic of yourself. To physically hide behind pain in full view of others. The sensitive are prone to this path.
I don’t even remember your name now, just the horrible things you said that I took for facts. Some where at the back of my mind it’s given me excuses for over consumption of food and drink. I took it into account in every situation where I felt like the underdog.
Quietly confirming this lack of worth. You were never a friend, and never pretended to be; why your words would mean so much to me is hard to perceive. Left only with the reminders of how I have taken your view and made it my own.
You stood for popularity, the one who is liked even though it comes at the sake of others. You could say mean things and they would be taken like sacred relics by your cronies. I could speak truth for the sake of balance and be ignored. Anything you wanted was yours with a word or seemingly so. I have worked very hard for my place in existence, though humble it may be.
I have hung in the background watching the dynamics. I have seen your type come and go, blowing down mountains along the way, always taking the violent road to get to the top. All along, you have a similar pain, and are probably taking it out on yourself in solitude. I have examined this mind and heart, this intention of soul asking whose Truth I have really been living. And at times it is my own; the positive, ambitious, kind and brave attitude that prevails..
Through the ability to self motivate and observe, I see this fear does not serve me, this pain is only a ball and chain, that this buffer of old trauma is no longer my Truth. I am ready to strengthen my will, I am happy to do the work, and I am strong enough to become a better version of myself than has ever existed. I have seen my own personal ability to change. It takes time, and time gets shorter. I must use it wisely, to push harder when it is appropriate. Betterment with out forsaking the Self and the Selves of others, it is always appropriate. Life is rarely instant gratification, and those things that are, prove to be just as fleeting.
The work of change isn’t a month long diet. It’s an adjustment of attitudes and a life long shift that ebbs and flows but never goes away. It realizes that “I am He, as You are Me, and We are all Together.”
This isn’t a time for us to feel condemned to alienation through a pain we all feel. This is a new season where the old adage “Sharing is caring” rings true. Pieces of me, are pieces of you.
In the words of that famous writer Anonymous..” Remember in order to change your life… First; YOU must change, otherwise nothing else will. If you continue to do things as you have always done them, your life will remain the same.”
Let us tear into the layers of our soul and pull back the skin of our fear in order for the best parts of us to show, and for the fragile parts to find communion and healing.
We are not in this alone, we never were. First you must change your mind, and live another way. Open your eyes to new perceptions. We change the world we live in by first becoming righteous examples of the love, life and humor we wish to see in our reality.
The rest is just daily reminders to stay aware and flexible, not an easy task for someone weighed down by outdated modes of thinking.
Shed old thoughts that no longer serve like useless weight on a long trek. Take only what you really need, leave the rest behind. Only those who have made room for the new discoveries ahead will be allowed to partake in what will be offered. Out with the old, in with the new; and be prepared to discover who you really are. What your soul aches to be, the reason it took you so long to see it before. Be prepared to see a bigger picture, not just the microcosm of your personal existence. The interplay of lives that surround you; the affects and effects of moving up in vibration. Be brave, it is not for the faint of heart.

He said he liked my tights. He complimented the painting. A simple “thank you” would have been appropriate. A modest, heartfelt, appreciative “thank you.” Nothing dramatic, or sarcastic. Brief but kind… then on to the next topic of conversation; most likely left to my own responsibility to lead it in, in order to fill the awkward silence that was bound to follow.
This is all in 20/20 of the retrospective kind. Instead of stepping forth into perfected scripting, I took the improvisational route. I looked equally down the cross roads of Sarcasm St. and Self Deprecating Avenue, completely ignoring the “OPEN” sign at the “Keep Your Mouth Shut” Cafe. I needed to take a rest, forgoing a chance to sit down at the Bus stop to ” Smile and Say Thank you.” The options for Sarcasm St. and Self Deprecating Avenue look so tempting with their bright lights and flashy store names like “Sorry I am a Social Oddity,” and the “I have Serious Intimacy Issues” book store. There was the sweets shop that promised “I’m working on it!”; right next to the “Hide an Addiction Boutique.”
What a plethora of options! All far more dramatic and energy consuming than that boring ole bus to “Smile and say thank you.”
That bus; with plush seats, that always smells of vanilla and cinnamon. Where every rider is genuinely happy to see you, and conversations are easy, organically free flowing; and always thought provoking… Ohh, that bus! Why didn’t I take that bus?
That all realized after an exhausting walk down the roads of distractions and apologies.

Religion. Such a conflict of interests. My youth was spent in it’s clutches. I wallowed in the fear of an Angry God. A Ethic Father bound to condemn my actions… and being my own worst critic, I figured God must be a scary spirit to embody; all ready to beat me down about my wrongs. Yet, in the same literature we see Him as loving. A God of strong standard with moments of compassion and forgiveness. But which was He really?
I never quite figured out that paradox. How to live a fearless life with the fear of God in my bones. I found myself to already be a conflict of interests; this only added to my mounting confusion. Eventually I took my spirituality into my own hands. Labels had always annoyed me and claiming one in the big gamut of religion, “just one” directive didn’t resonate. It was like reading one author. What happens when you run out of books by that one author? Do you re-read all the literature all over again? There are few books I reread, much less niche myself to the entertainment of one mind. I would rather “take the best and leave the rest,” when it comes to self improvement which is directly connected to my spirituality.
If we have a collective consciousness, and I believe we do, then God must embody many things. You can not say He is “just love,” or “just vengance.” If we are each created in the image, and blessed with the diversity of minds, wouldn’t the “Higher Power” be one of multi-facets? Not one of justifications toward personal vice, or one of complete solitude and reflection; but one that encourages creative thinking, and decision making that comes from the best and Highest good of the individual. A Higher Power that instills humor as well as compassion, pain as well as joy. Experience shows us that when we listen to the “best and most right thing to do” for ourselves, we do not disrespect others. Emotions still come into the game, and yet, no decision is made with the desire to “screw” some one else over. Highest good, tells us, that at times it is okay to say “no.” Even if it is your best friend asking you to help out on something. If our internal voice feels drudgery and resentment for saying yes, how ever silent and harbored the resentment may be, are we not then serving ourselves or our friends. To show up when the heart is not involved serves no one. It’s like going to a job interview with interviewer who is playing solitare during the interview… Both parties are not fully present, and that serves no one. The interviewee is upset by the lack of involvement by the interviewer but feels as though they can not express their feelings because they want the job, and the interviewer is so uninvoloved he can’t tell. By saying “no” or expressing your true internal inclinations in any situation you can save yourself and those around you from falling into a trap that could damage your relationships. It also opens space for someone who is willing be present, and most likely will show themselves to be there as a positive experiences which in turn bless’ all parties.
Religion, did not teach me this. Going to Church, never clued me in. I admit, it taught me to tell the truth, to love my neighbors and to have Faith in things unseen. But I no longer wait for the Biblical Jesus to resurrect those lying dead, dormant and decaying in graves. I see the lesson of the Jesus love and servitude as a calling to rebirth ourselves, to ressurect our damaged hearts and minds into the exaltation that this life, is all we have in the now.
If we are constantly changing, moving, evolving, than the now is all we need. With every decision comes options, and with every option there is a personal truth to be discovered. But we are not aimless in our guidence, the internal compass that points toward truth is activated by our intuition, physical feelings, and ever growing personal consciousness. In every moment we have the chance to grow to become more loving; less selfish, more Selfish ( Selfishness that serves the Higher Self, decision making born out of doing what is best and good for the Self and those around the Self.) more compassionate and accepting…That potential is always speaking and showing oppertunity.
The question is not, “Will I go to Heaven? Will God approve of me?” but rather, “Am I being the best I can in the moment and are my actions hurting or helping humanity?” When as a collective we ask these questions out of a sincere desire to shift the world in to a more positve place… the fear of God will no longer burden us to a life a severe self critism. Because God is not fear, and he is not Self Depricating. God is the best in all of us. The servant attitude, the helping hand, the ability to rest when needed. All of this and more. The Spirit kindly asks us not to pigonhole, because Spirit is far bigger and more encompassing than we give credit for, admit we are only human, spirits babysitting physicality. We are the fractals of spirit in flesh and the world will keep on turning, the Angels will do their visits, but we are only asked to embody love and a desire to seek Truth. From there, the pieces will fall into place as they may, trusting each to their own path; denying no one the oppertunity to seek and grow. Religion is not the answer, acknowledgment of the communal Spirit within each individual and its connection to the same greater nameless Divinity will be the wrecking ball to knock down walls previously seeming unpassable. Worry not about the name your neighbor calls to his “God” but rather, love him because we are all made of the same fabric and we will all end up as dust upon shared wind. Nothing is seperate, one event effects another, and we effect eachother in turn. What do you want from your world? And have you ever felt alone? Anything can change, in a moment.

I am up early, 4 am. Kori should be on her way over here, she said 4:30-4:45, but it is now 5:21. I feel good, I am on my second cup of coffee, and I stretched, though not thoroughly. I am wondering why this new setup doesn’t automatically spell check, and how I can alleviate that situation. It now occurs to me why so many writers get up this early and turn their phones off, it’s cool out and the mind is lucid. This SHOULD become habitual… and most assuredly it will contribute to my growing nap habit. The hottest part of the day should be spent in a dreamy haze anyway. With the extreme temperatures yesterday, and little to no circulation and a temporary blackout; the only way to survive was to take cold showers and minimize movement… dreams really didn’t come, but reality was as stagnant as the air. I even considered going to “test out” Sam’s Clubs Freezer section. OHhhhh the thought.
This is good, I am writing, just like I promised myself I would once I got this computer. PRODUCTIVITY. So I just got a voice mail.. Kori-bean is sick! OH no… no clover picking, up early for not no reason, but I guess a different reason than suspected. I should fill up this page with words, you don’t have to read them. Pretty much I need to just get back in the habit of writing, writing, writing… and this typing thing goes a helluva lot faster than script, which I love to do, but is starting to effect my wrists. This is better for you, right?
I live in a place where a rooster crows. It is not restricted to the butt crack of dawn, though he is quite consistent with that as well. I really hope it cools off today.
So, a bird flew in here this morning, all the bright lights attract the barn swallows and since I live in a barn, the swallows run the joint in the summer months. The rafters are kind of like their summer home. I enjoy the damage they do to the bug population that would otherwise crowd the scene. Luckily the little buddy found his way out just about as quickly as he came in. It doesn’t always happen that way, most times they freak out and fly around looking to land on something, just to rest their over active heart. If it’s dark out, I find the only way to get them to leave is to turn the light on outside the door, and turn off all the lights inside, usually they fly to the light outside and you shut the door being more cautious next time. The quirks of living on a farm. The bat I found on the fly sticky trap wasn’t so lucky with his escape. The thing was pissed, and who wouldn’t be if they found themselves going out to dinner only to end up in sticky damn near impossible to escape situation. I really wanted to help it out, give it a hand. Especially since was obviously still struggling to get off. I think the barn swallows and the bats do their job for our little community. They damage the bug population, leaving me with one less thing to worry about. I also know bats have rabies, so my inclination to try and handle this little angry flying rodent. He ends up hissing, and I literally kind of holler and step back four steps with my ass puckered. Why am I puckering my ass? What do I think is going to happen to my by means of this little black thing stuck to a adhesive tube? His teeth are miniscule. And I wonder if the programming and association of bats to vampires has somehow effected my psyche. It’s harmless in it’s present state, but somewhere at the back of my mind, it’s going to magically transform into a vampire and be pissed I didn’t help it out of it’s predicament. I don’t even really read or seek out vampire based entertainment. That must just be a run off of the collective consciousness. Especially with all the current hype around the True Blood series or what ever it’s called… like I said, I wouldn’t know.
This week seems to be a folly of plans gone awry. Kori obviously needs to slow down, and her body is telling her that through the voice of vomit. This is a sign to me to attack some things around here that have been negligent, such as the mounting pile of dishes in my sink… And believe it or not, there are more mice to kill. I need to set up my “studio office,” which only means now that I have the computer and a printer, there should be a place that I use it in order to keep it clean and free of debris, and a non cluttered place to encourage good behavior like 4 am writing sessions.
Other work, move more shit, clean more shit… take a nap? I want to go back to bed, it is almost 6am, which is when one of my sleep cycles kicks in… perhaps…
Doesn’t that sound ideal? Get up at 4, start some coffee, do some stretching, sit down and write for about an hour and a half to two hours? Go back to bed for a little while, get up and start the day for real? Or just stay up and kick ass into overdrive and go for a walk…The coolest part of the day lately.
It could be the fact that winter is usually longer than the summer, and getting out of bed when it’s cold out is a million times harder than when it’s warm. All you can think about is the warm covers, and perhaps the shared body heat of the someone next to you. You ignore the fact you have to put your warm feet on the cold ground, because to acknowledge it, only makes you shiver, and you are still warm under that blanket, dreading the imposing dilemma of getting up and warm.
I only learned recently that big birds have a hard time circulating blood into their wings when it is cold out. It takes much more work for them, and they can appear sluggish in comparison the when things are warmer. It makes sense then that birds would migrate for more than just the reason of food. Cold weather really bothers their response time. In turn be careful when you see large birds near the road on cold days, on coming traffic startles them and in response they move, but not always in the best direction, and not always as fast as you would expect.
I had a large turkey vulture damn near hit my car. It was a cool morning, and there was a dead deer alongside the road that him and some buddies were munching on. As I approached they started to scatter, and most of them flew in the opposite direction into the forest. One however, headed right for the passenger window, and with an increase in speed on my part, he barely missed me. The sound of birds hitting a windshield makes me a little sick.
I remember going driving with my step mom right after I got my permit. We were driving down Road 22 off of Happy Jack toward Otto Road, and this flock of small birds was coming directly for us, one hit the window, I took my hands off of the wheel and ducked. I suppose that is a natural response to something flying at you at eye level. Karen grabbed the wheel perhaps kind of freaked out because riding with a new driver is scary enough. I think I might even have made a loud “AHHHHH!” noise, rough on a parents nerves.
This spell check thing, or lack there of, is annoying. I am ready for a nap! End of transmission….

Well, I had plans tonight, but it seems like a day full of “Of Mice and Men” type circumstance….”The best laid plans…”
One of my employers birds died today, she only had two. This wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t in charge of the farm while their gone… Little yellow, young canaries. At about 10 this morning, I found one of them dead in the cage. I had only seen it happy and chirpy hours before, the temprature in the room was too much for this fragile animal. (Heat from skylights are lethal to canaries…) This is the second animal to die on the farm, on my watch, the last was a lamb who died quickly of fly strike, ( wherein a fly lays it’s eggs in the wound and the eggs hatch, the maggots basically kill the animal from the inside out.) Both of these circumstances are ones that a person can only attempt to prevent with no garentee their effort will work. This is my job. Only months ago the Ewes were pregnant, and in my strong desire to do a good job, I stayed up late and woke up early to make sure the new mothers were able to deliver with help… one of the lambs died in a multiple birth, it inhaled the mercomium (poop in the fluid that releases during birthing and is toxic to the animal and when the animal is not delivered soon after, results in death…) There was little I could do about the situation, a sheep will only birth so fast, just like a woman, and new mothers have the disadvantage of having a less flexible baby exit,(that is unless the mother has a history of fisting… she may not have as many problems…). I hated having to deal with this dead lamb, I did it, but it seemed to be something I never saw myself dealing with, and disgusted somewhat at the reality. I seem somewhat desensitized to the death of humans, but dead animals; even mice in a trap, gives me the willies. I will throw the traps with the mice in it away, I do not have the patience or stomach to release them with their little crushed heads, I refuse to put my fingers near their dead bodies. I would rather, pitch it while looking the other way. Not because they are cute, not because I feel bad; but because they are filthy little animals that shit on everything. They attempt to sneak in my fridge, which is a terrible place for a mouse to hang out. They had some cousin connection to the black plague. They are gross, and though I don’t feel that way so much about the bird or the lamb, it makes me feel that animal death is something I would rather not to have to deal with… oh yeah I have a dog, whom I just found out, is not going to live forever… so I guess it may be inevitable.
So dead animal, and then a stupid sting by a stupid yellow jacket. This is a new feeling I would compare to a localized zap from an electric fence. Unacceptable in my current state of mind. Icing on the cake, but I was ready to go, looking good (not that I feel any need to try and impress this Nick Johnson, but rare is a day I feel so off {went to bed at 5 am} and still look good and find myself trying to get things done faster)
SOOOO I was suppose to meet for drinks and nonsensical reminicence with Nick Johnson, but he made the mistake of leaving his contactl lens’ in far beyond their que to exit, and coupled with the local pollen allergies and his brothers cats, his eyes are too swollen to drive the drive. So Here I am. Sitting at the place we planned on meeting… typing this, a consolation prize to the other piece I was working on, and deleted. How is it with all this technology you can still inadvertantly delete 45 minutes of consistant typing? Either way, the loud college kids next to me, are disrupting what was a very quiet and prime location, and noting their age, I am sure the liquor will catch up fast which usually means “less than mellow”… Oh, it’s always interesting to see what the consolation prize will be in an active effort to cohese, be hip, social and “out” (not gay, just out in public, I tend to hermitize for those who don’t know…)
The chicken fingers are good, I am glad a place around here found chicken with fingers, wings are ok, but fingers are the best. My favorite is the one in the middle.

Do you find yourself confused most of the time? Do find yourself staring into space more often than you should? Have you found yourself neglecting to do your day to day tasks? Is getting out of bed a problem of what to do once your feet hit the floor? Oh good, it’s not just me, then. No, in this dawning of the age of Aquarius, the past paradigm is crumbling. And when once, I thought myself a pioneer; now I wonder if I am but another light ready to blink from view too early. There are no longer any excuses not to succeed except the laziness and confusion of trailblazing a nw path in this day an age. Once upon a time I was an over-achiever who was awarded a scholarship to Christian College. The realization soon came that I had just been out to impress my teachers, and to out-do my peers, but only in the topics I found interesting. This new place couldn’t hold my interest. I became more sensitive to “the bubble effect;” which is the influence that happens to those who are too closed minded to diversify their lives. I found myself suffocating. Why was I here, and who was it for? Could it be a last stitch effort at following a righteous path approved by my kin? Was it the faith based fear that flowed in my blood? The sadness of wondering if those I had loved a lost made it to the higher realms of spirit? These were questions I felt held no answers in this location. In the situation of forcing some spiritual revelation, I felt I was swimming against the current. I left for the next leg of the journey without really thinking about it, I just knew I would have to pursue something that held my attention for longer than five minutes. In the world of no time, my interests have stayed in five minute increments. A challenge over come, and new situation awarded. I have done many things I have wanted to do, to smaller degrees than I would like. I am only twenty-eight I say to myself… you still have time. We live longer, now. We have many opportunities to do what we want, to go where we choose. Women have rights, we have a black president, the future is full of potential. Then why do I feel like I have past my prime by, how come I feel spent? My moods and virility come in waves with the moon. I ache for more, but I am unmoving. I want to wake up with more energy than before, but I can’t seem to make myself move faster or harder or with more passion. I have become somewhat passive externally. From the inside the cranks are working in my mind, my blood is boiling deep, and I am reaching toward the ethers with cries to the heavens, screaming “what to do next?” Anyone can have fame now, anyone can be seen. Those creative souls are searching and like fine cream rising to the top with a sense of purity, ready to teach. I thought I was one of those. Today I am not so sure. This could be another effect of the moon, it could be the sensitive weight that hangs in my heart, I know I was meant for something. I am asking for it to be revealed, I am tired of being tired. I am sick of wasting time. I need a little pocket life coach to send me on my way full of the encouragement I seem to keep from myself. Perhaps if I am honest about these things, they will neglect to stay the same.

If only I had a box of Solutions. Better than the floor mat from Office Space, the one that allows you to “jump to conclusions.” I don’t want to jump anywhere, I also have no interest in staring into the void until I am tackled by defeat… no I think it would be sweet to have a Box of Solutions. Maybe they would be note cards, and when I needed help I would pull one out and follow it’s instructions. Or maybe it would include statues from a Chess board, and the reward would be landing the queen. Maybe my box would have rocks in it, and I could pull one out at random and get a feeling for the hard place I am in, find a solution to the current predicament. With box of Solutions I would only need to give it time before the rhyme and reason of living just seemed to become streamline. No more whining about “what to do…” No more feeling blue over a lack of Solutions.
I imagine the situation I am in right now, would mellow out with an outside solution, one that leads to a healthy resolution, but I am not sure I have any of those in my box, when I asked what I should do; I pulled out an old hole-y sock… what the fuck does that mean?