Monday, March 6, 2017
The Keeper of all Emotions
The Keeper of all emotions has somehow taken control of my actions, my thoughts and my words. I am one of the lucky ones. As I move through this life I see so many people struggling through sadness, anger and regret. From a very early age, I have been blessed with that feeling that I just want to be happy. Its all I have ever wanted.
Somewhere along the path of life, I have mastered the fine art of just being happy. It is an art, and a struggle everyday. To be happy-It is all can only hope for, to be balanced and in tune with the universal dance. Once you feel happy and in balance there is that underlying worry that a person or an experience is going to knock me on my bum and I won't feel that sense of control over my feelings or my moods. That I could never get that happy feeling back, much like that person who started out with a ton of money then all of a sudden was extremely poor, to know you might never get that back and how do you live like that knowing the other side.
I picture this keeper of emotions as an all powerful being, delighting and marinating in the power of holding us hostage, balancing on the center of a fence, ready to teeter from one side to the other, risking the possibility of a bout of depression or a flare up of anger. This is also a kind keeper, one that walks along side of you if you are willing to do the work. So the work I will continue to do.
The first step is to breathe and breathe fully. This in the form of filling your lungs to capacity, taking your time and really holding that breath for a moment. And the second step is to be willing to let it go completely and I mean fully emptying out all the air from your lungs. When I breathe in that way I feel close to God-Jesus-Angels-My Mother-My cat Pebbles-my connection to all things positive and good and safe. I start in the morning when I first wake up with the intention of being in my breath for the whole day, no matter what transpires or what challenges or obstacles may block my path. I am protected, brave and safe, armed with my breath. It calms and centers me.
There was a brief period in my life ten years ago that taught me a very valuable lesson about giving up your power to someone else. An old friend from the past came into my life by way of the internet and what started as a innocent reunion quickly turned to an exchange of power with a malignant narcissist and with me ultimately losing that battle. I ended up a mere shell of who I was when we started. I will go into more detail on that story later, however it is important to mention that during this time, I was unable to catch my breath. I felt like I had a huge weight on my chest preventing my lungs and ribcage from expanding. When we feel cornered and small, the breath simply is not there. The air around my body felt heavy, unbreathable. I felt like I was the only person on earth that could not breathe and it made me feel weak and insignificant. When this happened I fell into a deep depression, fell- like I fell into a deep never ending hole, flailing always flailing. Not grounded-like I was always running towards and at the same time, away from something, scattered, and never ever safe. I sought relief in the place where most people should seek it but hardly ever do and if they do they almost never talk about it. Therapy.
Its like this quiet little secret here in the midwest. People on the East Coast wear it proudly,if you live in NYC and you have not been through some kind of therapy you are a enigma, at parties they seem to swap names of therapists like they do babysitters or personal trainers. People of the West Coast love to chat about it because it’s healthy and chic and everyone is doing it and if you aren't doing it and talking about it you are not cool. Then it seems everyone in-between the coasts regard therapy as something you don't talk about. My mom thought I was crazy to see a therapist-- exactly...Someone once told me that the really healthy people seek out therapy to work through their problems and those who are really sick, the ones who truly need it, are the ones who run in the other direction. I decided I was in the first category and quickly sought one out with the best method I could find. I picked one with a nice name. David, meaning beloved, sounded good so far-he has been a therapist for 30 years and better yet was married to one. (I can only imagine their discussions during dinner)
It was right about this time that I decided to get serious about my Yoga practice. Up until that point I simply used yoga as a form of exercise. Working a stressful corporate job, I only regarded yoga as a means to sweat and burn calories to counteract an extremely sedentary life behind a desk for 14 hours a day. During this challenging time period my yoga practice turned into something that was like food or water for my soul. I needed it to exist, to just get through the day. I found that it was in this yoga practice, it was the only place where I COULD breathe.
And something happened when I started meditating, I was able to let go of my terrible heavy thoughts, shame and guilt, for even just a moment I was able to be my old self again. No worry, no fear, no anger. I speak as if I had done something terrible, but affairs of the heart, emotional connections are so much more damaging than an actual physical connection and I was incredibly hard on myself.
My daily yoga practice soon turned into a physical type of therapy session which evolved to an additional quick trip to the gym. I say quick but it soon turned to obsession. I would find myself there lost in the sweat and the pumping and the music and oh my, I barely could think deep emotional thoughts and that was what I was after. I became more than obsessed. I was trying to get my control back. To take back my power. To purge myself. I would be there for hours pumping on the elliptical machine, then the treadmill, then the weights and weight machines. Then it was off to tan and jump in the sauna, hot tub and shower. My family called me “The Overexerciser” I was physically in the best shape I could be- strong on the outside, falling apart on the inside.
This is about the time I went to see David, my therapist. See how proud I am to say that. “Meet David my therapist.” It's taken me a long time (and a lot of co pays) to not be ashamed of my therapy. He was a smaller, older man with white shiny hair and kind eyes. He welcomed me in on my first day handing me a box of Kleenex and we began one of the most valuable and important relationships I have had. For an hour each week I would cry and talk his ears off and he would listen and only offer advice or comment only if I asked him to. I started out with a stranger and ended up with a friend.
One of the things he said the first day was “This may be more about your mother than this guy” and “Is there something I can prescribe for you to make you feel better". I said no to both. He was a great listener but he was a terrible psychic. Why is the first inclination to medicate, to numb the feelings. Even in sensory overload, in my deepest darkest days, I did not want to start something like that, to have another thing to deal with. The whole mother thing, that's for a different story. He actually was on to something but to this day he isn't aware but he is a bit of a psychic.
Through it all I turned my eating into something stellar, pristine and organic. I stopped eating meat, quit drinking alcohol, gave up sugar and salt. I was turning into this strong, healthy person. Each week I would meet with David and recount the same story over and over and over again, it was like opening up a wound, letting it bleed, and then allowing it to heal in the week following until our next meeting.
This therapy, both physical and emotional, went on for a year. During this time David encouraged me to begin a journal and keep it under lock and key. A safe place to put my thoughts, emotions and yes those moments when the Keeper of emotions was more in control than I was. I filled up journal after journal obsessively purging my emotions onto paper, often reading them to David or leaving them with him. I instructed my friend Laura to locate and to destroy those journals if anything were to happen to me. At the end of that year I had less tears and felt ready to move on. I felt stronger and more equipped to cope with what I called my kryptonite should he ever come back into my life. I know there were a few things that kept the Keeper of my emotions in check during that volatile period of my life. Some real tools that I learned. It almost always came back to the breath. Closing my eyes and letting it all go, finding peace within and going back to that strength I found inside when I needed it the most.
I also found praise music. To this day I am forever grateful for the uplifting music that turns all my energy to Jesus. To focus on gratitude and someone else, taking myself away from my worries and fears. I can close my eyes and know that all of this, the good and the bad is for a reason. I am filled with gratitude for the experience and the knowledge that I was not alone. Ever.
I am forever grateful to David, the yoga and meditation, the gym, the journaling and writing, but most of all proud of myself for pulling myself out of the depths of sadness and into the light again. A short while later I quit my Corporate job and became a yoga instructor with the intention of helping others through life’s challenges. When I look out into class I often see that same face that was staring back at me in the mirror all the years ago, that look of sadness-panic-regret-anger-fear, that same face that show the Gods of emotions have taken over and there is no control or power left. I approach that student, place a hand on his or her shoulder and say what my Father used to say “Everything is going to be ok” I see the eyes soften and I am grateful to that Narcissist for coming into my life all those years ago and shaking up my cage. But I will never let him know that. That is my secret and my story to tell, not his and to give him the credit for the change or the catylyst in my life would be to give him back that power again.
Last year I came upon those journals, 10 years after I wrote them. When the house was quiet and everyone was gone I had a big bonfire in the backyard and burned every one of them and had one last good cry. I feel stronger now, happy even, but please know David’s number is still in my contacts in case my email pings and it's kryptonite.
And I know "Everything is going to be ok".
Saturday, November 14, 2009
She lives, She breathes, She walks the night seeking inspiration
Hiatus Smiatus...Took some time away to work on my book and ended up getting sidetracked into a vacuum. Okay a vacuum of despair and self pity. After being DUMPED by a very good friend of mine, not in the boyfriend sense but in the friend friend sense. A long distance friendship but a close one nevertheless. He chose to commemorate our deep thinking and feeling friendship by never saying goodbye... just a fade out. no closure, no thanks for being there when I needed a friend that I could trust. just stopped calling and stopped returning calls, emails etc. I got the hint after about the 7th attempt to contact him. OUCH
What drives someone to behave like this? What about manners? Compassion? Karma?
It took alot of my self esteem to accept that a person who I invested my time, time that cannot be replaced, in these young years that are so precious and few, decided I was not worth a goodbye or a good wish.
I still swear at him under my breath, two years have passed... A good chunk of my ego has restored itself. I feel ready to write again and open up those floodgates. So... onward and upward.
Ron.. Karma is a mother, keep your head low and hope she doesnt sink....
good thoughts now-only good thoughts
meow
What drives someone to behave like this? What about manners? Compassion? Karma?
It took alot of my self esteem to accept that a person who I invested my time, time that cannot be replaced, in these young years that are so precious and few, decided I was not worth a goodbye or a good wish.
I still swear at him under my breath, two years have passed... A good chunk of my ego has restored itself. I feel ready to write again and open up those floodgates. So... onward and upward.
Ron.. Karma is a mother, keep your head low and hope she doesnt sink....
good thoughts now-only good thoughts
meow
Friday, June 29, 2007
Sitting in a protective circle
When I was a young girl I discovered my Grandmother was a witch. Not a witch in the sense of being crabby or rude, but a witch in the sense of intuition and all things dark and scary. I was digging around in her attic on a hot summer day, this was around the age of 12 or so... too old to believe that witches existed and too young to believe they didnt. On this day many many years ago, I found an old Ouiji board. It was dusty and old and immediately I was drawn to it, it really knowing what it was. I brought it downstairs and placed it on the table in front of my Grandmother. She looked at it and there appeared on her face an expression I had never seen before. She looked a little evil. She was a normal Grandma, one with thick glasses and gray hair and shewore all that polyester shit you know that neon stuff that looked like it would go up in flames if you threw a lit match her way. Until that moment I have always seen her as someone with a kind heart, lots of wisdom and advice and she made the best damn pound cake you ever tasted(she loaded it up with rum god it was tasty)but at this moment she looked different, dark scary and a little devilish.
She said "That's what I use to talk to all of our dead relatives." Holy shit I thought this woman is insane... here I am all alone with her in the house and this is a house out on a lake in the middle of the forest in Minnesota.. I didnt know a soul around and Grandpa was out on the boat fishing gone for hours. This put a whole new spin on things as I was there staying with them far far away from my home in California for Summer vacation. I said meekly "How does it work?" A strange smile came over her face kind of like I had opened the original pandora's box. She stood up and crosed the room and open a cupboard door on this black antique enameled case, reached in and took out a beautiful red satin jeweled case. She slowly opened it up and gently took out an object so foreign and odd. It was a little carved wooden triangle thing with tiny little carved feet on it. It was weird and I was strangely attracted to it. I reached to pick it up and she said "NOOO! dont touch it until it is ready to be touched." OMG this is too much. I sat there and watched her as she closed her eyes and placed both hands over this thing just hovering her hands over it about an inch above. She started humming this weird little tune and I got the feeling that even though her eyes were completely closed, she could still see me.
Shivers running down my spine I got up and left to get some water in the kitchen. When I came back she was sitting back at the table in front of the Ouiji Board (and I was only gone for a second so that woman flew over to the table like time had stood still)this time that thing that didnt want to be touched was right on top of the Ouiji Board resting right in the middle of it.
She looked up and said "Lets sit in a protected circle and talk to your Great Uncle Ernie and my Aunt Sadie." I sat next to her and as she instructed I placed my fingers lightly on the triangle thing just for a moment then drew my hands back on my lap(evidentally she said now it was ready to be touched)She placed her fingers lightly on the other side. She kept her eyes closed and told me to watch the board and say whatever the triangle thing spelled out. She kept her eyes closed and said "Ernie are you there, this is Thelma, please come to me" This thing started to move! I looked at ther and her eyes where closed and her fingertips were bearly touching this thing. It seemed to be moving on its own. I couldnt believe it. It slowly spelled out: H-E-L-L-O-S-I-S-T-E-R-R-O-S-E. I stopped and stood up. She opened her eyes and I said she said who is rose? A tightening in my chest and dizzy feeling crazy that all this was happening.. my dolls at home I called Sister Rose and Brother Thorn. I left them at home and never told her about this. How could she know that? I never told anyone that. She smiled a deep wicked smile and said "Now you will believe" that is all she said. She carefully put away the board and triangle and told me never to mention that again. She then seemed to return to her normal state of Grandmotherness.
It was years later after she died and Grandpa was long gone that we came across several boxes with my name on them. Mostly, they were filled with old painted china, old weathered pictures and a couple of tiffany lamps. I was in my own home now and had inherited all this stuff so I just put it in my attic.
This weekend is my big garage sale. I have to get ready for this whole big college thing so I went up to the attic and grabbed all the old boxes carefully opening and pricing all the old stuff I didnt want. There is one box I dont want to open and I know what is inside. I know it with all of my heart. I put it back up in the attic untouched unopened. I will leave it there ... maybe forever... maybe someday for my Grandaughter (just kidding)...and it still makes me feel like I am twelve. And yes I still believe....
She said "That's what I use to talk to all of our dead relatives." Holy shit I thought this woman is insane... here I am all alone with her in the house and this is a house out on a lake in the middle of the forest in Minnesota.. I didnt know a soul around and Grandpa was out on the boat fishing gone for hours. This put a whole new spin on things as I was there staying with them far far away from my home in California for Summer vacation. I said meekly "How does it work?" A strange smile came over her face kind of like I had opened the original pandora's box. She stood up and crosed the room and open a cupboard door on this black antique enameled case, reached in and took out a beautiful red satin jeweled case. She slowly opened it up and gently took out an object so foreign and odd. It was a little carved wooden triangle thing with tiny little carved feet on it. It was weird and I was strangely attracted to it. I reached to pick it up and she said "NOOO! dont touch it until it is ready to be touched." OMG this is too much. I sat there and watched her as she closed her eyes and placed both hands over this thing just hovering her hands over it about an inch above. She started humming this weird little tune and I got the feeling that even though her eyes were completely closed, she could still see me.
Shivers running down my spine I got up and left to get some water in the kitchen. When I came back she was sitting back at the table in front of the Ouiji Board (and I was only gone for a second so that woman flew over to the table like time had stood still)this time that thing that didnt want to be touched was right on top of the Ouiji Board resting right in the middle of it.
She looked up and said "Lets sit in a protected circle and talk to your Great Uncle Ernie and my Aunt Sadie." I sat next to her and as she instructed I placed my fingers lightly on the triangle thing just for a moment then drew my hands back on my lap(evidentally she said now it was ready to be touched)She placed her fingers lightly on the other side. She kept her eyes closed and told me to watch the board and say whatever the triangle thing spelled out. She kept her eyes closed and said "Ernie are you there, this is Thelma, please come to me" This thing started to move! I looked at ther and her eyes where closed and her fingertips were bearly touching this thing. It seemed to be moving on its own. I couldnt believe it. It slowly spelled out: H-E-L-L-O-S-I-S-T-E-R-R-O-S-E. I stopped and stood up. She opened her eyes and I said she said who is rose? A tightening in my chest and dizzy feeling crazy that all this was happening.. my dolls at home I called Sister Rose and Brother Thorn. I left them at home and never told her about this. How could she know that? I never told anyone that. She smiled a deep wicked smile and said "Now you will believe" that is all she said. She carefully put away the board and triangle and told me never to mention that again. She then seemed to return to her normal state of Grandmotherness.
It was years later after she died and Grandpa was long gone that we came across several boxes with my name on them. Mostly, they were filled with old painted china, old weathered pictures and a couple of tiffany lamps. I was in my own home now and had inherited all this stuff so I just put it in my attic.
This weekend is my big garage sale. I have to get ready for this whole big college thing so I went up to the attic and grabbed all the old boxes carefully opening and pricing all the old stuff I didnt want. There is one box I dont want to open and I know what is inside. I know it with all of my heart. I put it back up in the attic untouched unopened. I will leave it there ... maybe forever... maybe someday for my Grandaughter (just kidding)...and it still makes me feel like I am twelve. And yes I still believe....
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Pomp and Strange Circumstance
Hello loyal readers!
I am back! Back from the tedious responsibilities of real life duties that have so selfishly taken me away from my one true passion (besides yoga) writing....
In the last several weeks I have been in absentia. My Daughter had finals, then Prom, then actual Graduation ceremony, then the preparation of a party that would rival a wedding reception (not really but it felt like it and was extremely expensive) and then all the other graduation parties that we have had to attend, then finally the 7 hour road trip to the College Orientation, the two days spent there "orientating" and the 7 hour trip back... Whew! it's been a whirlwind.... and I am so glad to be back to the safe quiet uninterupted bliss of my computer...
So what did I do when I finally got into my home office, shut the door, fired up my computer and cracked my knuckles with gleeful anticipation? I felt the beginnings of what is the equivalent of cyptonite to a budding writer... Writer's Block...
Yes, I was blocked for a full week... so on top of all of the time away and the traveling and time to ponder topics of discussion to write about, the notes taken on the road of stories I couldnt wait to pumpout, I sat there staring at the screen the gentle hummmm of the hard drive humming at me as it is was actually saying.. "What the Hell!!!"
I realized at that moment, I left my writing "mojo" back on the University of Kansas Campsus somewhere between the Dorm Rooms, the Sorority Houses, The Union Hall and the Financial Center (the place where you would find most of the parents). The wind has been taken out of my sails all for the greater good of higher education for my only Daughter. I realized that my mind is on the Stranger Circumstance of her actually leaving and living this new life, apart from me, without me. My heart is a little fluttery just saying this out loud, fingers to keys... to my supportive friends and fellow bloggers. Let me go on record to say "Letting go sucks" and this empty nest thing is going to be a lot harder than I realized.
I started at the computer screen and had a good long cry. The kind of cry that you cry until there are no more tears. The kind of cry that feels like when you are finally finished you are reborn.
The next thing I did was pump out the most heartfelt little novelette about growing up and letting go and I have to say, in the process of letting go of here in my heart and mind, I found myself, my voice, and my writers "mojo"!
Soin a way, she has graduated and so have I... on to a new life of possibilities and opportunities for the both of us... and yes, my dear friends you are asking how old where you Kimmykat to have a child old enough to graduate?? Lets just say, I was way too young but am glad now I have all this freedom to look forward to still at a young age.
So on the list now... and this is for you my dear friend Domestic Minx:
1. Teach Yoga for 8-10 months or longer in Costa Rica
2. Open my own Yoga Studio on the beach
3. Get my book finally published
4. Travel and explore
and all this could not be done with a schoolage child at home. So the lesson of all of this is to look at the positive and see really see all that life has to offer rather than concentrate on what you have to let go of.
Namaste....
I am back! Back from the tedious responsibilities of real life duties that have so selfishly taken me away from my one true passion (besides yoga) writing....
In the last several weeks I have been in absentia. My Daughter had finals, then Prom, then actual Graduation ceremony, then the preparation of a party that would rival a wedding reception (not really but it felt like it and was extremely expensive) and then all the other graduation parties that we have had to attend, then finally the 7 hour road trip to the College Orientation, the two days spent there "orientating" and the 7 hour trip back... Whew! it's been a whirlwind.... and I am so glad to be back to the safe quiet uninterupted bliss of my computer...
So what did I do when I finally got into my home office, shut the door, fired up my computer and cracked my knuckles with gleeful anticipation? I felt the beginnings of what is the equivalent of cyptonite to a budding writer... Writer's Block...
Yes, I was blocked for a full week... so on top of all of the time away and the traveling and time to ponder topics of discussion to write about, the notes taken on the road of stories I couldnt wait to pumpout, I sat there staring at the screen the gentle hummmm of the hard drive humming at me as it is was actually saying.. "What the Hell!!!"
I realized at that moment, I left my writing "mojo" back on the University of Kansas Campsus somewhere between the Dorm Rooms, the Sorority Houses, The Union Hall and the Financial Center (the place where you would find most of the parents). The wind has been taken out of my sails all for the greater good of higher education for my only Daughter. I realized that my mind is on the Stranger Circumstance of her actually leaving and living this new life, apart from me, without me. My heart is a little fluttery just saying this out loud, fingers to keys... to my supportive friends and fellow bloggers. Let me go on record to say "Letting go sucks" and this empty nest thing is going to be a lot harder than I realized.
I started at the computer screen and had a good long cry. The kind of cry that you cry until there are no more tears. The kind of cry that feels like when you are finally finished you are reborn.
The next thing I did was pump out the most heartfelt little novelette about growing up and letting go and I have to say, in the process of letting go of here in my heart and mind, I found myself, my voice, and my writers "mojo"!
Soin a way, she has graduated and so have I... on to a new life of possibilities and opportunities for the both of us... and yes, my dear friends you are asking how old where you Kimmykat to have a child old enough to graduate?? Lets just say, I was way too young but am glad now I have all this freedom to look forward to still at a young age.
So on the list now... and this is for you my dear friend Domestic Minx:
1. Teach Yoga for 8-10 months or longer in Costa Rica
2. Open my own Yoga Studio on the beach
3. Get my book finally published
4. Travel and explore
and all this could not be done with a schoolage child at home. So the lesson of all of this is to look at the positive and see really see all that life has to offer rather than concentrate on what you have to let go of.
Namaste....
Thursday, June 7, 2007
A bird's eye view
Last night I had a dream. I am a bird but still cannot figure out what kind of bird. I guess it is all up to interpretation. I quickly jotted down my thoughts in my dream journal and still cannot decide. It has turned into a riddle of my mind and my dreams.
I am a bird in a faraway place. I am feral and regal and proud. I have ancestors that have spanned the ages through the times of dinosaurs, the times of king and queens, the times of dictators and wars, the times of drugs and free love, and have lived through it all and survived. I am prehistoric, I am a part of history. I know this in my mind and thoughts and understand that the world belongs to me because I conquer the skies above it. If there is catastrophe or danger on land I can escape and fly away. I have seen humans and other animals die in volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, fire, tornadoes and hurricanes. I can fly away from it all and for this reason I fear nothing. Nothing except the gun of a hunter. My fear: a loud blast, gunshot sound and I can imagine the feeling of a hot sharp piece of metal shredding my body, the instant pain like a white light and then falling falling until I hit the ground or darkness. I sometimes wish for the first because the next fear would be to survive but wait on the ground until other animals would find me. Then I would become theirs to do what they want to my strong body, my beautiful feathers, all of what God gave to me and made me who I am.
At night in the cold darkness, I can see the forest lit up with small animals. My prey, my food. They fear me as I can swoop down and capture anything that fancies my attention. My eyes dart from side to side and in the deep recess of my mind I can smell a small mouse very very far away. I can smell the fear in that mouse and I know that he belongs to me. I am primative. I am brutal. I am nature pure raw real.
In my life I have always known, my feathers gleam and shine. My beak is razor sharp. My talons are strong and needle pointed. I breathe in deep and feel the cold clear air permeate my lungs , my feathered chest fills to capacity and my wings arch. I am standing perched on a tall mountain high high above a beautiful valley. The sun is just coming up over the horizon and day in its new beginning, a fresh start, an innocence is in the air and it belongs to me. I command the world and I feel like I am the king of the land.
Time seems to stop as I edge up on my talons, my wings span and spread as far as they can reach, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and lean lean into the air over the edge, falling falling then snap, my wings take hold of the thin cool air and the muscles and tendons in them grab hold of gravity, up and down my wings seem to go effortlessly, this is what I am made of. Fluid movement, gliding gliding. My wings stop every now and then and I just float. I am content more than anything at this very moment doing what I am meant to do. I see the world below me the animals the plants the humans and I am free free to fly and glide and breathe and be. This is my world. I am a bird, I am free and I am at one with God at this very moment.
hmmmm, putting my dream to paper didnt really help...still cant figure it out- I could have been an eagle or a sparrow but in the dream it was my eyes looking through a birds eye view. The dream was real and vivid and a bit scary. But seeing the world through something as free as a bird made me add one more thing on my list of things to do before I die: learn to fly a small plane! Wow
I am a bird in a faraway place. I am feral and regal and proud. I have ancestors that have spanned the ages through the times of dinosaurs, the times of king and queens, the times of dictators and wars, the times of drugs and free love, and have lived through it all and survived. I am prehistoric, I am a part of history. I know this in my mind and thoughts and understand that the world belongs to me because I conquer the skies above it. If there is catastrophe or danger on land I can escape and fly away. I have seen humans and other animals die in volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, fire, tornadoes and hurricanes. I can fly away from it all and for this reason I fear nothing. Nothing except the gun of a hunter. My fear: a loud blast, gunshot sound and I can imagine the feeling of a hot sharp piece of metal shredding my body, the instant pain like a white light and then falling falling until I hit the ground or darkness. I sometimes wish for the first because the next fear would be to survive but wait on the ground until other animals would find me. Then I would become theirs to do what they want to my strong body, my beautiful feathers, all of what God gave to me and made me who I am.
At night in the cold darkness, I can see the forest lit up with small animals. My prey, my food. They fear me as I can swoop down and capture anything that fancies my attention. My eyes dart from side to side and in the deep recess of my mind I can smell a small mouse very very far away. I can smell the fear in that mouse and I know that he belongs to me. I am primative. I am brutal. I am nature pure raw real.
In my life I have always known, my feathers gleam and shine. My beak is razor sharp. My talons are strong and needle pointed. I breathe in deep and feel the cold clear air permeate my lungs , my feathered chest fills to capacity and my wings arch. I am standing perched on a tall mountain high high above a beautiful valley. The sun is just coming up over the horizon and day in its new beginning, a fresh start, an innocence is in the air and it belongs to me. I command the world and I feel like I am the king of the land.
Time seems to stop as I edge up on my talons, my wings span and spread as far as they can reach, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and lean lean into the air over the edge, falling falling then snap, my wings take hold of the thin cool air and the muscles and tendons in them grab hold of gravity, up and down my wings seem to go effortlessly, this is what I am made of. Fluid movement, gliding gliding. My wings stop every now and then and I just float. I am content more than anything at this very moment doing what I am meant to do. I see the world below me the animals the plants the humans and I am free free to fly and glide and breathe and be. This is my world. I am a bird, I am free and I am at one with God at this very moment.
hmmmm, putting my dream to paper didnt really help...still cant figure it out- I could have been an eagle or a sparrow but in the dream it was my eyes looking through a birds eye view. The dream was real and vivid and a bit scary. But seeing the world through something as free as a bird made me add one more thing on my list of things to do before I die: learn to fly a small plane! Wow
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
long night at the airport
Recently I had to take a brief business trip, the layover at the airport was time well spent as I wrote a story partly fiction partly truth of what was happening. I still keep in contact with Danny....
One day I thought about the secrets that we all keep. It was a day that I was traveling on one of my many trips. I thought about this sitting for what seemed to be hours and hours waiting for a delayed flight in Cincinnatti. The airport was packed and it was evident that most everyone that was milling around the terminal was stressed and tense and just wanted to be home where ever that might be.I felt the same way but after traveling for the last two days on a very quick, hectic business trip, I really did not want to be alone and wanted someone to talk to. I was sitting in the middle of a mass, more like a swarm of people and felt invisible. A man smiled at me and resumed reading his newspaper. A younger businessman with dark serious eyes and a massive mane of hair looked my way and our eyes locked. It was strange the connection, the attraction, the instant magnetism. He did not look away, neither did I. It became unnerving and a bit uncomfortable. I finally broke the connection and looked in the direction of a fussy child on the bench a few rows away from me. It was a believable diversion, one that he would not have thought he had won our staring contest. Better to let him think I was his equal, his match.
I could feel him looking in my direction still and my face felt flushed. There was excitement in my body and a quickening in my breath. I smiled a devilish little smile in the direction of the fussy child but in actuality was smiling the smile of a woman wanted, a woman lost in wanton thoughts. Suddenly the wait at the airport became bearable. Time seemed to stand still and in my mind, I was with this dark stranger. In my mind he only thought of me, of my wants, of my needs.
His name was Lucas and he was a traveler from a faraway land, a prince in his native country, a man that was taught to hold a woman in the highest regard. He was skilled in archery, martial arts and rode a horse like he had done so all of his life. Lucas was a man who would dress up in his finest clothes and take a woman out to an opera halfway across the country arriving in style, dinner on a concorde jet, champagne in the private opera box, no expense spared to make his lady feel like she was the only woman in the world to him. On the way home in the plane looking out over the quiet sleepy land below, twinkling lights of homes filled with love and hope, he touches her hand and smiles and he touches her heart in a very deep place. I am that lady and I smile back knowing that there will be many more dark plane rides to faraway places with this wonderful dark handsome man.
I look up and he is still looking at me this time smiling a little and if I am not mistaken a little wink or slight twinkle in his eye. The child fusses again (thank god) and I look in that direction.
His name is Danny and he is a construction worker in California working on houses during the day, surfing the best waves at night. He is simple and quiet and happy to just be , he does not judge and does not want to be judged. He is a hard working man, one who hardly ever travels but on this ocassion, is coming back from a trip to see his mother. He is lonely and wants to find a girl who just gets him. A girl that is happy to sit with him on the beach on a grand evening and watch the sun set while enjoying a couple of ice cold Coronas. His idea of a great evening is a barefoot BBQ on his patio with some steel drum music in the background or maybe a little Bob Marley and a quiet dance with his lady until they fall asleep under the stars. No pretention, no illusion, just truth and trust. He is a keeper and he is mine, body and soul. Wonderful strong Danny, I would not want for more and he is completely happy with me and our life together.
I feel his eyes on me again and I look up this time red faced and aware that he knows he has conquered my attention and a little bit of my heart. I smile and regally, gracefully and oh so slowly raise my chin and look in the other direction. He understands the attraction but knows I am no pushover.
His name is Jack, a man dedicated to doing only good for others. He is a decorated firefighter in a New York Borough and a hero in many ways. He has saved many lives and for this he has taken too many chances. With each fire, he feels like he is completing his last mission, his luck has run out and this time he is going to eat it. The adrenaline is too much for him though and he cannot stop. For this reason, he cannot pull himself away, when he hears the sirens in another part of town he simply is pulled towards it like the proverbial moth to the flame. What girl would not be attracted to the hero in him, the large sinnewy muscles, the hard body underneath his firefighting gear. The little boy look on his face when he is on his way to a fire and the bravery involved with his heroics is something so attractive to a woman. Sadly, he cannot find a girl that will be with him through the long haul, they are too afraid of losing him so rather than face his fate with him, they seal it for him by leaving him. He is sad and lonely and the only the fires that he can control and quench give him the satisfaction like that of conquering a firey wild woman. I am that wild woman and he takes hours and hours to control my fire with his raw tender passion.
They call my plane to board and I look up and see my mystery man is no longer there. I am crushed but a little relieved. My thoughts of him have consumed me and now they will just be a memory, a wonderful fantasy like that of a one night stand, the kind of naughty memories that years later will still make you blush. I realize that in thinking about who this mystery man was, I have summoned all the the men that make up the man I dream of, Lucas, Danny, Jack together all have special places in my heart and I know that someday a man who is strong and adventurous, simple and good, brave and true will find me and I will have found the other piece to the puzzle that I have been missing all of my life. I sigh and I get up to walk down the ramp to the plane's entrance. I say hello to the flight attendant and find my seat next to the window and settle in. I have my laptop on the seat next to me and am buckling my seat belt when I hear a soft yet strong and very masculine voice say, "is that seat taken?" I look up knowing it is my dark stranger and he smiles at me with a knowing look like I am the missing piece to his puzzle. I smile, pick up my laptop and say, "this seat is yours."
One day I thought about the secrets that we all keep. It was a day that I was traveling on one of my many trips. I thought about this sitting for what seemed to be hours and hours waiting for a delayed flight in Cincinnatti. The airport was packed and it was evident that most everyone that was milling around the terminal was stressed and tense and just wanted to be home where ever that might be.I felt the same way but after traveling for the last two days on a very quick, hectic business trip, I really did not want to be alone and wanted someone to talk to. I was sitting in the middle of a mass, more like a swarm of people and felt invisible. A man smiled at me and resumed reading his newspaper. A younger businessman with dark serious eyes and a massive mane of hair looked my way and our eyes locked. It was strange the connection, the attraction, the instant magnetism. He did not look away, neither did I. It became unnerving and a bit uncomfortable. I finally broke the connection and looked in the direction of a fussy child on the bench a few rows away from me. It was a believable diversion, one that he would not have thought he had won our staring contest. Better to let him think I was his equal, his match.
I could feel him looking in my direction still and my face felt flushed. There was excitement in my body and a quickening in my breath. I smiled a devilish little smile in the direction of the fussy child but in actuality was smiling the smile of a woman wanted, a woman lost in wanton thoughts. Suddenly the wait at the airport became bearable. Time seemed to stand still and in my mind, I was with this dark stranger. In my mind he only thought of me, of my wants, of my needs.
His name was Lucas and he was a traveler from a faraway land, a prince in his native country, a man that was taught to hold a woman in the highest regard. He was skilled in archery, martial arts and rode a horse like he had done so all of his life. Lucas was a man who would dress up in his finest clothes and take a woman out to an opera halfway across the country arriving in style, dinner on a concorde jet, champagne in the private opera box, no expense spared to make his lady feel like she was the only woman in the world to him. On the way home in the plane looking out over the quiet sleepy land below, twinkling lights of homes filled with love and hope, he touches her hand and smiles and he touches her heart in a very deep place. I am that lady and I smile back knowing that there will be many more dark plane rides to faraway places with this wonderful dark handsome man.
I look up and he is still looking at me this time smiling a little and if I am not mistaken a little wink or slight twinkle in his eye. The child fusses again (thank god) and I look in that direction.
His name is Danny and he is a construction worker in California working on houses during the day, surfing the best waves at night. He is simple and quiet and happy to just be , he does not judge and does not want to be judged. He is a hard working man, one who hardly ever travels but on this ocassion, is coming back from a trip to see his mother. He is lonely and wants to find a girl who just gets him. A girl that is happy to sit with him on the beach on a grand evening and watch the sun set while enjoying a couple of ice cold Coronas. His idea of a great evening is a barefoot BBQ on his patio with some steel drum music in the background or maybe a little Bob Marley and a quiet dance with his lady until they fall asleep under the stars. No pretention, no illusion, just truth and trust. He is a keeper and he is mine, body and soul. Wonderful strong Danny, I would not want for more and he is completely happy with me and our life together.
I feel his eyes on me again and I look up this time red faced and aware that he knows he has conquered my attention and a little bit of my heart. I smile and regally, gracefully and oh so slowly raise my chin and look in the other direction. He understands the attraction but knows I am no pushover.
His name is Jack, a man dedicated to doing only good for others. He is a decorated firefighter in a New York Borough and a hero in many ways. He has saved many lives and for this he has taken too many chances. With each fire, he feels like he is completing his last mission, his luck has run out and this time he is going to eat it. The adrenaline is too much for him though and he cannot stop. For this reason, he cannot pull himself away, when he hears the sirens in another part of town he simply is pulled towards it like the proverbial moth to the flame. What girl would not be attracted to the hero in him, the large sinnewy muscles, the hard body underneath his firefighting gear. The little boy look on his face when he is on his way to a fire and the bravery involved with his heroics is something so attractive to a woman. Sadly, he cannot find a girl that will be with him through the long haul, they are too afraid of losing him so rather than face his fate with him, they seal it for him by leaving him. He is sad and lonely and the only the fires that he can control and quench give him the satisfaction like that of conquering a firey wild woman. I am that wild woman and he takes hours and hours to control my fire with his raw tender passion.
They call my plane to board and I look up and see my mystery man is no longer there. I am crushed but a little relieved. My thoughts of him have consumed me and now they will just be a memory, a wonderful fantasy like that of a one night stand, the kind of naughty memories that years later will still make you blush. I realize that in thinking about who this mystery man was, I have summoned all the the men that make up the man I dream of, Lucas, Danny, Jack together all have special places in my heart and I know that someday a man who is strong and adventurous, simple and good, brave and true will find me and I will have found the other piece to the puzzle that I have been missing all of my life. I sigh and I get up to walk down the ramp to the plane's entrance. I say hello to the flight attendant and find my seat next to the window and settle in. I have my laptop on the seat next to me and am buckling my seat belt when I hear a soft yet strong and very masculine voice say, "is that seat taken?" I look up knowing it is my dark stranger and he smiles at me with a knowing look like I am the missing piece to his puzzle. I smile, pick up my laptop and say, "this seat is yours."
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Deja Vu and other scary shit
Ever since I was young I have always had a strange sense of deja vu. The feeling of being someplace before, experiencing something before or knowing what was going to happen before it actually does. A connection with the great beyond if you will. It seems witchy and scary sometimes but I believe that some people have a more heightened awareness of intuition than others. I have always been one of them. Maybe it is that Cancerian moon goddess trait where we seem so in tune with the moon and the ocean, the tide and the weather. Whatever it is sometimes it scares the shit out of me.
Now I am not as strange as the kid from The Shining... he actually believed he could listen to and talk to some little boy named Tony that lived in his mouth. This mouth dweller told him things like "stay away from the hacked up kids that used to live at the Overlook Hotel" or "Your Dad is going crazy with that Ax and your Mom will end up aimlessly wandering around the scarier sections of the Hotel acting useless while you are running for your life in the frozen maze" or "watchout for that river of blood". Now really this was possibly useful information to Danny, but how many of us really listen to the strange inhabitants of our mouths? Danny listened but never really did much about it all, in fact, he could have really warned that poor old cook Dick Halloran that he was going to end up with the business end of that ax in his chest.
I think animals have alot of intiution too. I sometimes come home after a long hard day,the kind of day that just sucks the life out of you or perhaps you have have a run in with someone especially evil... I come home and just seeing Isabelle sitting there by the door waiting for me or Gucci nosing me and then snuggling me when on most days these cats are aloof and on living in their solitary cat world. On those more emotionally charged days, my cats seem to sense that and are there for me to cuddle and kiss. Cats are intuitive creatures and know alot more than we think. I am not sure of the whole dog thing and perhaps if you have a dog and feel the same way you can respond with a post.
I remember once in high school there was this girl that was a typical Mean Girl. She was a cheerleader and dated only the top football guys and she had all the nicest clothes and she acted like she owned the entire school --- she was mean to those who were not as pretty or popular and she had alot of bad karma coming to her. She was walking down the stairs in front of me and for a brief moment I thought it would be karmic justice and kind of funny if she tumbled down those stairs and her skirt went over her head and everyone saw her bits and pieces. Well, in a split second that happened exactly as I described. I thought I made it happen and then felt a bit like Carrie burning down the school gym after the bucket of blood was dropped on her and her prom date.. the whole telekinesis thing... I have never forgotten that weird feeling of thinking I made that happen.
Maybe we have more power than we think in our thoughts and our minds. I have been very careful in my thoughts of a certain sailor however he should remain very afraid.....afterall we have no control over what we dream! Recently I remember dreaming about a boat sinking......
Now I am not as strange as the kid from The Shining... he actually believed he could listen to and talk to some little boy named Tony that lived in his mouth. This mouth dweller told him things like "stay away from the hacked up kids that used to live at the Overlook Hotel" or "Your Dad is going crazy with that Ax and your Mom will end up aimlessly wandering around the scarier sections of the Hotel acting useless while you are running for your life in the frozen maze" or "watchout for that river of blood". Now really this was possibly useful information to Danny, but how many of us really listen to the strange inhabitants of our mouths? Danny listened but never really did much about it all, in fact, he could have really warned that poor old cook Dick Halloran that he was going to end up with the business end of that ax in his chest.
Oprah calls it listening to your inner voice. She from time to time has this show on dedicated to scaring the living crap out of you... usually about someone horrible ready to attack you or abduct you in broad daylight. She will usually have a few emotionally scarred people on the show telling the gory details of how someone tried to take them from their normal surroundings and have their way with them, hurt them or kill them. The stories are over the top and always have the life lesson "Listen to your inner voice".
I think animals have alot of intiution too. I sometimes come home after a long hard day,the kind of day that just sucks the life out of you or perhaps you have have a run in with someone especially evil... I come home and just seeing Isabelle sitting there by the door waiting for me or Gucci nosing me and then snuggling me when on most days these cats are aloof and on living in their solitary cat world. On those more emotionally charged days, my cats seem to sense that and are there for me to cuddle and kiss. Cats are intuitive creatures and know alot more than we think. I am not sure of the whole dog thing and perhaps if you have a dog and feel the same way you can respond with a post.
I remember once in high school there was this girl that was a typical Mean Girl. She was a cheerleader and dated only the top football guys and she had all the nicest clothes and she acted like she owned the entire school --- she was mean to those who were not as pretty or popular and she had alot of bad karma coming to her. She was walking down the stairs in front of me and for a brief moment I thought it would be karmic justice and kind of funny if she tumbled down those stairs and her skirt went over her head and everyone saw her bits and pieces. Well, in a split second that happened exactly as I described. I thought I made it happen and then felt a bit like Carrie burning down the school gym after the bucket of blood was dropped on her and her prom date.. the whole telekinesis thing... I have never forgotten that weird feeling of thinking I made that happen.
Maybe we have more power than we think in our thoughts and our minds. I have been very careful in my thoughts of a certain sailor however he should remain very afraid.....afterall we have no control over what we dream! Recently I remember dreaming about a boat sinking......
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