The Point

The Universe is constantly placing us exactly where we are meant to
be,
and it is with open eyes and hearts, that we are able to trust in the
forward motion we are propelled to go.

Life goes on and that is the struggle, the beauty and the gift. The
whole point is simply to remember who we really are.

To All the Ones Who Let Me Go

Thank you.
For breaking my heart.
For making me question my own agendas.
Thank you for making me see parts of myself that needed loving illumination.
Thanks for the laughter.
Thanks for the hot tears of anger.
Thanks for the tender goodbyes.
Thanks for the inside jokes that will live on- our own private shrine to our time spent together.
Thank you for loving me enough to know I wasn't what you needed.
Thank you for pushing me forward into this place I am now.

This afternoon, after a light nap, I stood looking out the window of my room.
The sun was dancing through the clouds, and a mist of rain swirled around intermittently. .
There between the veils of this place and the next, I saw it.
In the quiet, of my mind, and my heart, my soul.
I glimpsed, for the first time in years, what is to come for me.
And for everyplace I went searching for what is on it's way to me now, of it's own timing and accord- I see the purpose behind it all so clearly.
It is almost blinding.
Something in me has turned over into a new direction, surprising and completely unexpected. The walls I have worked to dismantle, and the load I have worked to lighten are in plain sight.
There is a calm residing in my bones like I have never known.
Come what may, when it will.
Fear is absent and the connection true and absolute.
I wait patiently for it's arrival, the word "yes", on the tip of my tongue a thousand times a day. I understand that I could not receive it so openly in my heart, if not for
the ones who let me go.
Thank you.

women food and god

12 pages into this book by Geneen Roth I am f'n riveted. This book isn't just for the women.
It's amazing.
It's true.
It gets right to the heart of it in 12 pages.
Damn.
I strongly urge you to go to your local library or book store and checkout or buy this book.
Seriously.
More later.

Signs of life and the dead speak in Silence

Last night after a particularly weird and jarring dream, I awoke with the intent to go for a walk in my neighborhood.
In my dream, I had done just that.
I woke up, put on my clothes and coat, and shoes and walked out the door.
It is overcast, as usual. But the sun was working hard to shine though the gray veil. The air smelled like rain. And in fact, it was dropping in tiny drops. Uninhibited by the rain, I walked down the driveway, and onto the street. Up the hill, down the hill, around the windy road.
I was looking for signs of life.
They were every where.
The gentle buds on flowering trees. The pink blossoms on the tree in my neighbor's yard, which seemed to bloom overnight.
The happy daffodils. The shy hyacinths. The wind whispering on my face, cold and invigorating.
My legs moved and my feet anchored into the earth with every step. I found myself wondering if I was a tree, what kind of tree would I be.
Something with silvery colored leaves. Like a eucalyptus tree.
Half-way up the walk, I stopped to visit the Jewish Cemetery on my street. I love cemeteries. They are a really peaceful place for me. I don't actually get much interaction with the spirit world, when I am there. I might get some wispy spirits. But I made sure to have my shields up when I stepped foot onto that hollow ground. I find it's easier for me to get my bearings there. The dead mostly speak with their silence. I like wandering around the tombstones, and taking notice of the husbands and wives birthdays.I ponder their connections as I decipher their zodiac signs. What were there lives like together? Occasionally they talk back. I chuckle. Even in the afterlife, there is a sense of humor.
Walking up my driveway, I checked the time. I had been gone almost exactly an hour.
I felt refreshed and grounded. Ready to take on my day.
I just needed to be outside.

taming the fire

It's difficult for me to sometimes keep my fire in check.
I react quickly to situations that ignite a hot reaction.
Stepping back and asking "what would Love do here?" has been something I have been trying to incorporate into my daily life.
Being grounded has been important.
Creating a protective bubble against the emotions I pick up around me. It becomes harder to separate myself from what I psychically take on, versus what is actually mine. I finally figured out the reasons I don't like to talk on the phone, or be in crowds, or busy places in general, I more often than not prefer the silence to noise- because my gentle psychic self cannot handle it. It's too much. Any opportunity I can take to be alone without interruptions, I seize zestfully. Though I don't want to be a hermit. I do want to be a sassy little witch living in her Magic Cottage, on her Witchy Wonderland.
So I put my roots down, and my branches up, shields full power.
Learning to walk in the world, being as sensitve as I am, grounded and available. Balance between earth and sky.
Sun and moon.
Yin and yang.
In and out.
Of and On.
And on, it goes.
Om Namah shivaya.

too much yin, not enough yang

Lately, I have been thinking, meditiating on, and observing vibrations.
Sounds of the soul.
Chakral alignment.
Kundalini.
Energy imbalance.

It occurred to me, around my birthday in November, that the male energy in my life is seriously lacking.
I Am not just talking about the fact that I am sans boyfriend these days.
When I look around on my facebook page, or in my phone book, the number of male friends that I would genuinely like to hang out with and shoot the shit with is limited to a number on one hand.
When my guy friends pair off with their ladies, the friends often get the shaft. Because if the S.O. doesn't know you, or like you, then it's kind of weird to hang out.

And I have finally, after working at it and sometimes embarrassing myself to an a crazy extreme, have stopped acquiring male friends that I am crushing on and have hidden agendas with. (Although I have heard it expressed that guys are not friends with girls they wouldn't be..cough.. intimate with {which leads me to ask myself, is that the reason why I don't have as many close male friends as I once did- because I am not found attractive. Great. Way to make my self esteem take a nosedive into oblvion. Because let's face it- our egos want us to be desired and found attractive.}).
And I guess, to a certain degree, I do find all of my male freinds somewhat attractive. Definately some more than others. However, I no longer desire to be in a realtionship with any of them.
Oh crap. I have digressed so far, that I have lost my point.....
....er... uh....OH, right!

As I was saying- the number of close guy friends compared to my close female friends is seriously imbalanced.
Which makes me think about my body and the fact that it is fighting a daily battle to balance out the male and female hormones/energies in my body. As a woman with PCOS, I have high levels of testosterone. (which can be great news for my boyfriends- high sex drive is peaked when coupled.) But there are negatives to that situation too.
There has to be a connection.
Can I bring balance to both areas?
There is a lot of yin in my life- meditation, reflection, female bonding and friendships,nurturing,most of the music I listen too is softer in it's tone customer service, living on my own, creating art, 3 out of 4 health care providers are female, even my cat is female.
Would balancing my yin and yang energies allow me to vibrate at another level that would attract more male energy into my life? I am also fully cognizant, of the fact that I have such strong boundaries up, due to my issues of being hurt by men I let in closely. Is my recognition of this lack, an indication of me relaxing and changing the boundaries? There is something in me that has to open up to let it in.
And I will be honest.
I want to open myself up and let in new energies.
And....
I am scared shitless to do it.
Yet....I am creating the opportunities. I just keep breathing, praying, asking, and surrendering to what comes up. I said I wanted a revolution, weeeellllll.... you know...

Tonight, as I was listening to DJ Quick on the ride home, I tapped into some of that more masculine energy and was rapping along in my car, bass pumping. Confidence rose as I spouted off the lyrical rhymes. Words so out of character for me, I think most people would be shocked.
Like the guy in office space, who sings gangsta rap in his car, on the way to work.
Yep.
Kinda like that. :)

Reminiscing on "My So-Called Life"

Recently, a friend of mine lent me the first and only season of "My So-Called Life". I hadn't watched it since it was on, in 1994-1995. I myself was a sophmore in high school when it was on tv. And I remember identifying with the characters and the show itself. This is what made it so popular- because most everyone could relate on some level. Because we are all connected by similar experiences.

Watching the show again, the memories flooded back. My high school, in the mornings, where my locker was, eating lunch with my friends outside almost everyday, the boys I had what I was positive of at the time, the greatest love of all for. (I was the Queen of unrequited "love" back then.) I made art. I wore Birkenstocks and clogs. Hootie and the Blowfish, The Spice Girls, and the Cranberries dominated my tape player. I didn't have a car yet, and can still feel the texture of the green vinyl seats of the bus on the back of my legs.I remember my biology teacher, pretty and young- she was surely a cheerleader in high school, herself, always had outfits that were perfectly coordinated- right down to earrings. I remember the smell of the art rooms, and the freedom I felt to be myself in those spaces. Watching "Friends" and "Seinfeld" on Thursday nights on the little black and white tv in my room, while doing my homework.I recall reading " A Tale of Two Cities", and discovering Jane Austen during my solitary lunches in the library. * sigh* The nostalgia grips me like a vice for a moment, and then passes into relief for the fact that I am not there but I am here now. Looking back, I couldn't wait to get out of there. To hurry up and make the grades, get the diploma and start living my life.
And yet, watching this show again, bubbles up parts of the girl I was then and how she still influences me ever so subtly today. I wonder what it would be like to go back and do it all over again, except as the woman I am now. The wisdom and knowledge I have gained about life in my tool box of survival against my peers and my parents. Would I have partied more? Probably not. I was in a hurry to grow up, but not nearly as hurried as some of the kids I went to school with.
I waited for sex, drugs and rock and roll until years later. Thankfully, the wait made those experiences easier to handle, because I had the mature emotions to deal with those experiences. God, I would have been a wreck if I had been partying it up in high school! Drinking on a school night? Man, I can barely have a glass of wine and function now!
Somewhere among my boxes of keepsakes, I have a letter that I penned to myself from that era. It's a time capsule of sorts, as it has it written on the front not to open until 2015. At the time, it seemed like an impossibly long time away- light years away. Now that its 2011, I realize if I can hold out for 4 more years, I will have followed my own instructions. Sometimes, I get very curious about that letter, laying in bed at night. What did I write to myself? What bits of information did I want to be sure to pass on, because I was so sure it was necessary for me to remember, years later?
I do know, sitting here in my Magic Cottage, I am living a life I didn't quite see for myself. Not that I had an exact vision then. But if feels like its all happening simultaneously. Sometimes, if I wake up in the middle of the night, before I open my eyes to get up and go to the bathroom, I can put myself right back there- to the house on Brogden Street. The house quiet, except for the dog's snores. My family asleep. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. My cat, curled up next to me, and the ticking sound of my alarm clock. I am back in my room with its lavender walls and also in my bedroom at the Magic Cottage. Because it is all happening at the same time- those moments tucked away in my mind, happening all over again, as I am in the here and now.
The questions I had then, have evolved into new questions now. And some mysteries have been reve4aled while others remain elusive. Like Angela getting into Jordan Catalano's car and driving away, on the cliffhanger of the century- the possibilities and the not knowing are kind of perfect, hand in hand, in their own way.