Sleeplessness engulfs me when my mind goes on the run. Thoughts speed through my mind at a ferocious pace, one I am scarcely able to keep up with. In those adrenaline fed moments, as the chase ramps up in my brain, I want to be able to sit down and hammer it all out...to strike a deal with my captures and vomit up whatever venom is pulsing through my veins, and I don't care what form it takes... words on paper, conversations, tears, hysteria, whatever. But the bargaining chip of self expression was abandoned at the scene of the crime, and I am over taken by this fierce inability to concentrate, even if I knew what I wanted to say, the words to articulate myself elude me; making talking damned near impossible. Forgetting what sparked the chase before I've reach it's end point. Wasting loads of time retracing the mental footsteps as my mind spins around it's hamster wheel, searching desperately for the clue that will proclaim my innocence.
Being on the run can get pretty lonely at times. There's an undeniable hunger for human connection, but it seems as though no matter how much I yearn for it I cannot manifest it. An urgency to both connect and disconnect at once. Like a fucking junkie whose just shot their very last morsel of dope, now high and searching desperately for the next hit... In times of even a little more mental clarity I can recognize this as the game my monkey mind plays with me, and that it persists for only as long as I'll allow it...
Everything seems so scattered and I fear I will never make sense of anything when I am in the middle of those marathon mental quests. Somewhere in the pursuit, the scene changes. Atop my bench I sit, in solemn judgement of myself as I hold court... what the fuck is wrong with you?! Judge, jury and executioner. The burden of proof is on me, each side presents it's case:
The jaded prosecutor shouts-
"The evidence is clear! LOOK at all this PRODUCTIVE time being wasted... an extra 6-8 hours a day...the defendant could be accomplishing things."
And the bleeding heart defense fires back- "not all productivity can be measured with linear and tangible parameters."
Witnesses are called, experts weigh in, and one by one, they are all consequently discredited.
And so, the trial trudges on for days. As does the self imposed gag order. And things get messy. Each side is thoroughly convincing. But all the evidence is circumstantial. When both sides have exhausted their arguments, the jury is dismissed to deliberate my fate.
Truth is, productivity comes in many, many, forms. Sometimes it looks the way I think it should...
in the form of measurable gains at work, or a clean house, or some
beautiful bit of creativity. But sometimes, it's disguised as 'wasted
time'. Encrypted in long hours of seeming idleness... but in all actuality this is when the raw assembly begins. Below the
surface of consciousness. Exhaustion strips away the guards I normally
carry around... the ones that I don't even realize I have until they
disappear in the long black stretches of night, somewhere between the high speed chase and subsequent hours spent in solitary. And in reality, there can be no deal cut. This goes one of two ways...and the jury comes back
Could it be? The jury is hung, a mistrial is declared. As I emerge, I feel the sun beat down on my skin, I gulp in the fresh air, and I walk away. I will most certainly have another trial, but today freedom is mine. I can't help but realize it's that point I was running from all along. There is no production. There is no progress. The crime is in murdering the present with the past and the future.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Monday, December 30, 2013
Pulse
Part of me wants so desperately to rid myself of that hollow, empty, loneliness that lurks in the deep pockets of my consciousness. But I am also aware of the need to honor all of the fragments that form who I am. I know they all have to do with a frame I built long, long ago. Crafted partially out of cultural and social constructs, partly out of a subconscious story I've been telling myself most of my life, which makes it all seem so tough to dismantle.
Each time I experience another genuine glimmer of myself, I like it... which is why I am confounded as to why it appears to be such a struggle to pull those authentic pieces of myself to the surface. Lately, I am recognizing more of the ways in which I hide those parts of me. I guess maybe hiding is the wrong word... maybe those pieces are shrouded or skewed, hiding under layers of carefully contrived boobie traps. Luckily, my consciousness allows for a tiny few rays of light to filter through my cracks... so even when the innocent, frightened, little girl I sometimes refuse to acknowledge, retreats to what's left of her partially dismantled wonder wall, my soul tribe members develop an extraction plan and dispatch a search party. Upon emerging, I am able to look back and survey the progress. Each time I revisit what used to be the fortress of my defenses, I dismantle yet another piece of that crumbled skeleton and further the rebuild which is my new frame.
I would have never guessed this process to be so paradoxical. I am constantly wrecking to re-build, dismantling to re-assemble, and retreating to emerge. While I hate those uncomfortable stretches that accompany inner expansion, I love them at the same time. I am fairly certain that nothing will ever be crystal clear, but I am also pretty sure that I do not I want it to be... I do know that these awarenesses are not to be taken for granted. They are sacred in a way I cannot begin to articulate. It is vital that I extend myself that same grace I so freely give others... I need to remember that the same facets that draw me to the souls of others- those cracks and imperfections, those little intricacies that can only be truly appreciated close up, those elements of a person's composition that speak to us on an inarticulate and intangible level- are precisely what make up the authentic self, and therefore, authenticity is no more complicated than breathing-and it is the very ACT of covering all that up that robs the world of the sublime and exquisite beauty that is this human experience.
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Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Bats in the Belfry
I read this bit of prose a few weeks back that beautifully articulates
what consciousness looks like, it made such an impression I searched it
again today and found another version with a response. If you've not yet read this-it's quite
lovely- Date an Illiterate Girl
. How fantastical it is to stumble across things that remind me that
there are other people experiencing similar ripples in their
consciousness... and further, that there are others besides myself who
not only appreciate that but pine for it as well...
Consciousness is tough. It's puzzling and elusive, it's slippery and subtle and transient...And it is something our culture conditions us to avoid... whereas I may experience a concious person as if they are illuminated, others view them as crazy; depending upon which end of the consciousness spectrum one may fall... I spent a majority of my early 20's struggling on the other end of that spectrum, trying desperately to swallow that subordination elixir. The more I attempted to ingest it the more noxious it became to me. At some point I finally gave up my daily dosage, but let me tell ya, the half life on that shit is fucking fierce! The point is, I get that those who spend a majority of their time stuck in the sticky web of cultural indoctrination have been trained to see anything outside their own periphery as crazy... think about it. Our society has made a billion dollar industry out of treating and 'fixing' those 'poor souls' that feel too deeply. There is a pill for being too anything... too sad, too happy, too anxious... Our culture is one that demands uniformity... uniformity of thought, uniformity of action...and if we step out of line, event slightly, there are cultural norms in place to shame us back into obedience. This too I've experienced first hand... it's partially what I was attempting to communicate in Axiom... although I've yet to have the vocabulary to articulate it- it is becoming clearer to me everyday...
So as I am grappling for the language to get all these 'nonsensical' thoughts and concepts out of my head or at least strung together in some way my own mind can make sense of it, this morning I stumble across this post- YOU NEED TO GO AFTER THE THINGS YOU WANT, and I gotta say...after reading that, what I am experiencing is so profoundly visceral- my heart is racing, my hands are shaking, my thoughts are going a million miles a minute... For a moment I thought to myself- 'fuck, I really ought to trade my tin foil hat in for one made of Kevlar!' I swear, reading that was as if someone plucked thoughts from my brain... as coincidental as it may seem, I don't believe in coincidences...
For weeks I have been trying to muster the courage to talk to him... some days it seems as though the universe has dropped every single solitary hint to me...I've struggled to excuse it away... because of fear... fear of looking silly...fear of being vulnerable... there is a part of me that wants to walk right into his shop and tell him that not only do I read, but I write, and I do them both, often. And then that little voice shouts from the back of my head- Absolutely not, no sane person walks up to a dude whose practically a stranger and says 'hey, you don't know me, but your facebook posts make me want to know you...' And so I go on, trying to ignore this weird connection that spurred from something so benign...and just as it seems I have sufficiently stifled it, something else pops up... I mean who strikes up a conversation with 'I like the way you think'? How does that go exactly? Do I walk into his shop? Do I take Harvey Milk's advice? I mean, that IS what I want, but what scares me is not knowing what the reaction will be...I believe the shift I have been feeling for a while is close, really close, or maybe already happening, and that is why the vocabulary is starting to come to me. And maybe that's why he's entered my consciousness? Or maybe I have become conscious enough to see it more than stifle it.
I read something the other day about how when you feel lost it is time to step out of your comfort zone and find new meaning... what is our existence except for a long string of attempts to make meaning? Over the weekend.... I had a rather eye opening conversation about meaning making and consciousness with a friend She happens to be in a different stage than I... she is trying to make meaning out of the whole of her life, while I am still attempting to make meaning out of the this moment... but the principal is the same, we talked about what is to experience meaning making with a conscious lens, and what that does to one's thought process. These are the conversations I savor... they are the tough ones, the ones where I am forced to take it a step or two further than I thought possible... the ones that stretch the complexities that I thought myself capable of... the ones that challenge me to dig a little deeper, that edge me closer to the next ledge I will have to leap from in order to grow.
It helps immensely to talk about consciousness with people...I find myself craving more interactions like this. I am drawn to those people who want to unpack their shit, who aren't afraid to attempt the daunting task of approaching that ledge... I fear the ledge, but more, I fear not taking the leap at all. Perhaps that's how my interest peaked... I gotta say, it's been an awfully long time since a person has intrigued enough to inch up to the ledge, peer over, and close my eyes for the leap....
Consciousness is tough. It's puzzling and elusive, it's slippery and subtle and transient...And it is something our culture conditions us to avoid... whereas I may experience a concious person as if they are illuminated, others view them as crazy; depending upon which end of the consciousness spectrum one may fall... I spent a majority of my early 20's struggling on the other end of that spectrum, trying desperately to swallow that subordination elixir. The more I attempted to ingest it the more noxious it became to me. At some point I finally gave up my daily dosage, but let me tell ya, the half life on that shit is fucking fierce! The point is, I get that those who spend a majority of their time stuck in the sticky web of cultural indoctrination have been trained to see anything outside their own periphery as crazy... think about it. Our society has made a billion dollar industry out of treating and 'fixing' those 'poor souls' that feel too deeply. There is a pill for being too anything... too sad, too happy, too anxious... Our culture is one that demands uniformity... uniformity of thought, uniformity of action...and if we step out of line, event slightly, there are cultural norms in place to shame us back into obedience. This too I've experienced first hand... it's partially what I was attempting to communicate in Axiom... although I've yet to have the vocabulary to articulate it- it is becoming clearer to me everyday...
So as I am grappling for the language to get all these 'nonsensical' thoughts and concepts out of my head or at least strung together in some way my own mind can make sense of it, this morning I stumble across this post- YOU NEED TO GO AFTER THE THINGS YOU WANT, and I gotta say...after reading that, what I am experiencing is so profoundly visceral- my heart is racing, my hands are shaking, my thoughts are going a million miles a minute... For a moment I thought to myself- 'fuck, I really ought to trade my tin foil hat in for one made of Kevlar!' I swear, reading that was as if someone plucked thoughts from my brain... as coincidental as it may seem, I don't believe in coincidences...
For weeks I have been trying to muster the courage to talk to him... some days it seems as though the universe has dropped every single solitary hint to me...I've struggled to excuse it away... because of fear... fear of looking silly...fear of being vulnerable... there is a part of me that wants to walk right into his shop and tell him that not only do I read, but I write, and I do them both, often. And then that little voice shouts from the back of my head- Absolutely not, no sane person walks up to a dude whose practically a stranger and says 'hey, you don't know me, but your facebook posts make me want to know you...' And so I go on, trying to ignore this weird connection that spurred from something so benign...and just as it seems I have sufficiently stifled it, something else pops up... I mean who strikes up a conversation with 'I like the way you think'? How does that go exactly? Do I walk into his shop? Do I take Harvey Milk's advice? I mean, that IS what I want, but what scares me is not knowing what the reaction will be...I believe the shift I have been feeling for a while is close, really close, or maybe already happening, and that is why the vocabulary is starting to come to me. And maybe that's why he's entered my consciousness? Or maybe I have become conscious enough to see it more than stifle it.
I read something the other day about how when you feel lost it is time to step out of your comfort zone and find new meaning... what is our existence except for a long string of attempts to make meaning? Over the weekend.... I had a rather eye opening conversation about meaning making and consciousness with a friend She happens to be in a different stage than I... she is trying to make meaning out of the whole of her life, while I am still attempting to make meaning out of the this moment... but the principal is the same, we talked about what is to experience meaning making with a conscious lens, and what that does to one's thought process. These are the conversations I savor... they are the tough ones, the ones where I am forced to take it a step or two further than I thought possible... the ones that stretch the complexities that I thought myself capable of... the ones that challenge me to dig a little deeper, that edge me closer to the next ledge I will have to leap from in order to grow.
It helps immensely to talk about consciousness with people...I find myself craving more interactions like this. I am drawn to those people who want to unpack their shit, who aren't afraid to attempt the daunting task of approaching that ledge... I fear the ledge, but more, I fear not taking the leap at all. Perhaps that's how my interest peaked... I gotta say, it's been an awfully long time since a person has intrigued enough to inch up to the ledge, peer over, and close my eyes for the leap....
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Axiom
So last week, I am sitting at my desk at work, quietly pounding away at whatever mundane task was in front of me at the moment, and I hear the ping that says I have a new email. I click from one monitor to the other and open it, it's from my HS best friend, well... I should say we have been best friends since high school, because we are still best friends today. Anyway, I open the email and all it say is :
Your mom just told me that I needed to find you a boyfriend
I am instantly pissed. I am mad because I have been consistently hearing from friends and friends of friends that my mother is talking about my life to them. I'm mad because it seems like everyone wants to put everyone else in a fucking box... I get defensive when people, (mainly my mother, but really anyone) try to shove me in some aphoristic box I do not fit it. You know, like the kind where you're supposed to be partnered up, married off and be at least half way through producing heirs by the time you're 25 or some shit. I missed that deadline years ago, in fact, it's still hanging in my mother's closet in the form of a super expensive, super fucking beautiful, never been worn, Italian wedding dress. And most days, not only am I good with that, but I am pretty happy with where I am and the experiences I have had. But some days, those societal boxes get to be a little crushing, ya know?
So while I sit at my desk with all the fuck yous and how dare yous swirling around in my head, this pops up in my bookface feed:
Don't you hate when someone asks if you have a boyfriend, and you say "no," and they get all googly-eyed and say, "WHATT?? WHY NOT?!???" like it was the the most absurd thing they've ever heard. What is that even supposed to mean? Is this a compliment, or are they judging me for being single and stoked? I'm so confused by people sometimes. No, strike that. I'm so confused by people ALL the time.
And my anger instantly melts into ferocious laughter. After some banter back and forth on that thread, she responds with this:
I also wonder if they think good guys grow on trees or something, as if I've chosen not to find the perfect male specimen who apparently is available immediately. Or like I'm too lazy to drive down to the boyfriend store and pick up the latest and greatest. And the only way to be happy is to have a boyfriend, so obviously I'm psycho.
At this point I am laughing at the humor in her posts, but also having a good laugh at myself. Why do I let people get to me? I know that I am right where I need to be, and I know how important it is to stay true to myself, even if that means other people are uncomfortable. So I poke fun at the entire situation on my own bookface and shrug it off. In the meantime, I am in the middle of composing Amalgamation which was proving harder and harder to write by the minute, it started out super free flowing, but as is the case with most of my posts, they generally take a few days to write, edit, and finally post, and those final edits were tough. Like that was the hardest post I have had to edit in a long, long, time. It probably went through three different rewrites and in the end it seemed more discombobulated and dis-jointed then ever. I finally just gave up and posted it, figuring the reasons would become clear to me at some point.
And so, last night I read this article: Top 5 deathbed regrets and low and behold, what's number one on the list?
I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
Truer words have never been spoken, me thinks. Ya see, I try very hard to live my life with some amount of personal integrity (I am in no way saying that I am a saint, or that I never make bad decisions, for fucks sakes, people, I am human), really what this means to me is that I do not compromise on certain things- in my life that has meant a lot of different things. It meant that even though I could have chosen the cheaper faster route out of college, I opted for way more time and effort (and debt) to study what I was truly passionate about (even though I have never and may never work in that 'field') It has meant that even though I could make more $ working for some corporation, with higher pay, perks, insurance, paid time off... all the 'luxuries' other people snap jobs up for, I have chosen to work multiple jobs for smaller, independent and or non-prof outfits doing things I truly believe in. It has meant that I stopped the wedding train. After the engagement party. After the expensive Italian dress was purchased. After the reception hall was booked.
It means that yes, indeed I am sometimes lonely because I won't wrap myself up in a relationship for the sake of being in a relationship. It means that I frequently take the scenic route, the road less traveled, the one that is NEVER on GPS. And yes, some days, even I question the validity of my path. But then I read an article like the one above, and my self assured-ness is restored. What am I getting at? Well, I guess the point is (more for me than anyone else), that I think we can all occasionally use a reminder that despite the boxes and categories that society seems relentless in presenting, and even though it's tough sometimes, even though it can be lonely, confusing, and tiring; it can also be challenging, rewarding, refreshing, eye opening, and BRILLIANT! In the end, I KNOW that I am living a life that is truest to me, which, in my mind, is the ultimate pay off.
"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Your mom just told me that I needed to find you a boyfriend
I am instantly pissed. I am mad because I have been consistently hearing from friends and friends of friends that my mother is talking about my life to them. I'm mad because it seems like everyone wants to put everyone else in a fucking box... I get defensive when people, (mainly my mother, but really anyone) try to shove me in some aphoristic box I do not fit it. You know, like the kind where you're supposed to be partnered up, married off and be at least half way through producing heirs by the time you're 25 or some shit. I missed that deadline years ago, in fact, it's still hanging in my mother's closet in the form of a super expensive, super fucking beautiful, never been worn, Italian wedding dress. And most days, not only am I good with that, but I am pretty happy with where I am and the experiences I have had. But some days, those societal boxes get to be a little crushing, ya know?
So while I sit at my desk with all the fuck yous and how dare yous swirling around in my head, this pops up in my bookface feed:
Don't you hate when someone asks if you have a boyfriend, and you say "no," and they get all googly-eyed and say, "WHATT?? WHY NOT?!???" like it was the the most absurd thing they've ever heard. What is that even supposed to mean? Is this a compliment, or are they judging me for being single and stoked? I'm so confused by people sometimes. No, strike that. I'm so confused by people ALL the time.
And my anger instantly melts into ferocious laughter. After some banter back and forth on that thread, she responds with this:
I also wonder if they think good guys grow on trees or something, as if I've chosen not to find the perfect male specimen who apparently is available immediately. Or like I'm too lazy to drive down to the boyfriend store and pick up the latest and greatest. And the only way to be happy is to have a boyfriend, so obviously I'm psycho.
At this point I am laughing at the humor in her posts, but also having a good laugh at myself. Why do I let people get to me? I know that I am right where I need to be, and I know how important it is to stay true to myself, even if that means other people are uncomfortable. So I poke fun at the entire situation on my own bookface and shrug it off. In the meantime, I am in the middle of composing Amalgamation which was proving harder and harder to write by the minute, it started out super free flowing, but as is the case with most of my posts, they generally take a few days to write, edit, and finally post, and those final edits were tough. Like that was the hardest post I have had to edit in a long, long, time. It probably went through three different rewrites and in the end it seemed more discombobulated and dis-jointed then ever. I finally just gave up and posted it, figuring the reasons would become clear to me at some point.
And so, last night I read this article: Top 5 deathbed regrets and low and behold, what's number one on the list?
I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
Truer words have never been spoken, me thinks. Ya see, I try very hard to live my life with some amount of personal integrity (I am in no way saying that I am a saint, or that I never make bad decisions, for fucks sakes, people, I am human), really what this means to me is that I do not compromise on certain things- in my life that has meant a lot of different things. It meant that even though I could have chosen the cheaper faster route out of college, I opted for way more time and effort (and debt) to study what I was truly passionate about (even though I have never and may never work in that 'field') It has meant that even though I could make more $ working for some corporation, with higher pay, perks, insurance, paid time off... all the 'luxuries' other people snap jobs up for, I have chosen to work multiple jobs for smaller, independent and or non-prof outfits doing things I truly believe in. It has meant that I stopped the wedding train. After the engagement party. After the expensive Italian dress was purchased. After the reception hall was booked.
It means that yes, indeed I am sometimes lonely because I won't wrap myself up in a relationship for the sake of being in a relationship. It means that I frequently take the scenic route, the road less traveled, the one that is NEVER on GPS. And yes, some days, even I question the validity of my path. But then I read an article like the one above, and my self assured-ness is restored. What am I getting at? Well, I guess the point is (more for me than anyone else), that I think we can all occasionally use a reminder that despite the boxes and categories that society seems relentless in presenting, and even though it's tough sometimes, even though it can be lonely, confusing, and tiring; it can also be challenging, rewarding, refreshing, eye opening, and BRILLIANT! In the end, I KNOW that I am living a life that is truest to me, which, in my mind, is the ultimate pay off.
"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. - See more at: http://www.karenstan.net/2013/11/11/nurse-reveals-top-5-regrets-people-make-deathbed/#sthash.LF9AyCTS.dpuf
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. - See more at: http://www.karenstan.net/2013/11/11/nurse-reveals-top-5-regrets-people-make-deathbed/#sthash.LF9AyCTS.dpuf
Monday, November 18, 2013
Amalgamation
Surely, I cannot be the only one who reflects upon past experiences from time to time. Like looking back and taking stalk in who I was as compared to who I am now... the things I have experienced, the ways in which I have handled myself, that kind of thing. Of course, I have the benefit (or maybe detriment) of having logged my experiences on this blog, and in many, many, journals before this blog, I also have other odd methods of remembering... Like, I have every single text message I have received for something like the last 5 years. I know, I am a weirdo, it's OK, I'll own it... So I have a written record of things, which is helpful since I may have the world's WORST detail oriented memory. While it is sometimes uncomfortable, I have found that embracing the pieces of me from which the present amalgamation of myself is comprised, far outweighs that momentary discomfort .
Anyway, this time every year seems to be evocative of that contemplative thing inside of me... maybe it has something to do with the weather change, the colder and darker it gets outside, the more I seem to go inside myself. I often think, what was I doing this time last year? Two years ago? Three? Well, you get the point. I have never been good with dates, but I can start with last year and go backward. Right, so- I have been nostalgic about the past recently... not necessarily like I am yearning for what might have been, more like... umm... like evaluating my part in things and wondering how I can do things differently going forward.
So, I open one of the local free weekly's today and flip to the horoscopes-
You've got too many keys on your ring. You've locked and unlocked so many hearts that at this point you're practically a janitor of the soul. Although it fills you with a certain satisfaction to walk around jangling that giant loop of glittering keys, fondly recalling all the times you've used them and what you've used them for, please notice that your behavior is preventing any new keys from from being added to the collection. It's time to throw a few away, that you no longer need or no longer dare use, to make room for a tantalizing handful more. If I haven't been obvious enough: stop clinging to the past so you can finally unlock the future.
Wowser. I would love to laugh all of that off and say that has NOTHING to do with me, but really, it's pretty much spot on... I read a book some years back that explained the Law of Attraction- the idea that everything is made up of energy, and that like energy attracts like energy. I believe in the power of energy, I have seen it at work in my life... in the sense that what I ping out is what will come back to me... if I am in a positive place, things will flow in a positive direction, and if I am in a broody and negative space, negative energy will flow back to me. I am beginning to see where 'taking stalk in the past' is really just a way to muddy my own energy...because when it comes down to it, when I look at everything with a holistic mindset, it's ALL good. What I am realizing is that all of us are amalgamations of our former selves. It's time to step away from the mental microscope.
Like I said in last week's Guerilla Warfare post, this is all coming to light for me recently. I suppose it's not surprising then, that I have been waking up a little lighter each morning. There are a lot of super-fucking-awesome-sauce lines in the water... projects I am excited about, ideas I am stoked to flesh out... It's an illuminated place to be amidst the autumn chill. As such, it is high time I toss some of those old keys. So many of them look alike and I am spending far too much time bumbling in the dark, attempting to fit old keys into new doors. Who knows... maybe I will even clean out my text messages...hahaha.
Anyway, this time every year seems to be evocative of that contemplative thing inside of me... maybe it has something to do with the weather change, the colder and darker it gets outside, the more I seem to go inside myself. I often think, what was I doing this time last year? Two years ago? Three? Well, you get the point. I have never been good with dates, but I can start with last year and go backward. Right, so- I have been nostalgic about the past recently... not necessarily like I am yearning for what might have been, more like... umm... like evaluating my part in things and wondering how I can do things differently going forward.
So, I open one of the local free weekly's today and flip to the horoscopes-
You've got too many keys on your ring. You've locked and unlocked so many hearts that at this point you're practically a janitor of the soul. Although it fills you with a certain satisfaction to walk around jangling that giant loop of glittering keys, fondly recalling all the times you've used them and what you've used them for, please notice that your behavior is preventing any new keys from from being added to the collection. It's time to throw a few away, that you no longer need or no longer dare use, to make room for a tantalizing handful more. If I haven't been obvious enough: stop clinging to the past so you can finally unlock the future.
Wowser. I would love to laugh all of that off and say that has NOTHING to do with me, but really, it's pretty much spot on... I read a book some years back that explained the Law of Attraction- the idea that everything is made up of energy, and that like energy attracts like energy. I believe in the power of energy, I have seen it at work in my life... in the sense that what I ping out is what will come back to me... if I am in a positive place, things will flow in a positive direction, and if I am in a broody and negative space, negative energy will flow back to me. I am beginning to see where 'taking stalk in the past' is really just a way to muddy my own energy...because when it comes down to it, when I look at everything with a holistic mindset, it's ALL good. What I am realizing is that all of us are amalgamations of our former selves. It's time to step away from the mental microscope.
Like I said in last week's Guerilla Warfare post, this is all coming to light for me recently. I suppose it's not surprising then, that I have been waking up a little lighter each morning. There are a lot of super-fucking-awesome-sauce lines in the water... projects I am excited about, ideas I am stoked to flesh out... It's an illuminated place to be amidst the autumn chill. As such, it is high time I toss some of those old keys. So many of them look alike and I am spending far too much time bumbling in the dark, attempting to fit old keys into new doors. Who knows... maybe I will even clean out my text messages...hahaha.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Guerilla Warfare
It's been quite a long stretch since I have committed a blog to type. There has been A LOT of action in the battlefield that is my mind's eye, but I haven't taken the time to write any of it down or really even to talk about it in general. Up until this week, time seemed like a commodity I'd sell my soul for, which is pretty much what I have been doing. For the last month or two I have run from one place to the next, sleeping little, eating shit, and freaking the fuck out about shit that doesn't matter at all in the scheme of things. And recently, it all came crashing to a crystal clear fucking halt.
I know just enough about myself to be dangerous if I were to apply it with any sort of consistency. I hate that initial free fall back down to earth. Fuck, it stings. Coming to rest in a scratched and bruised up heap, goddamn I am fucking tough on myself. The thud is always louder than I anticipate and it generally serves the purpose of startling me back into consciousness where I am left to sort through the rubble that is my mind and body after a stint of the fuck-its. And I always spend far more time beating myself up for the fuck-its then I do on basking in personal revelation or taking notice of a job well done. And I have been wondering for a while... why is that? Why can I not take as much credit for progress as I do for failure? What the fuck is up with that?
I spend so much time trying like hell to propel myself forward, that I frequently miss my own fucking milestones. And then, at the first sign of a detour I rail on myself about everything I have yet to accomplish. And that is where I have been for the past few weeks. Actually, I started writing this blog entry a few weeks ago so- fuck, the past month or so. I've ridden the train of self destructive behavior, I've taken up residence in my head, I've run the gamut of anger, self pity, fear, and teetered on the edge of depressed, in short, I have spent FAR TOO MUCH fucking time in the dark corners of my introversion.
And then, this morning, I read this post by one of my favorite bloggers - The Bullshit of Being a Work in Progress. Go ahead, read it, I'll wait...
The title doesn't lie, huh?!
"When life doesn’t go the way we envision or we find ourselves having screwed up (yet again), we ladle the I’m-a-work-in-progress bullshit on anyone who will listen.
And the sad thing is (well, for me at least) that we’ve convinced ourselves that there’s a goal. That there’s some elusive day akin to a good parking space at Whole Foods where we’ll wake up and realize that we’ve made it. We’ve convinced ourselves that we’re perpetual works in progress and we forget...
Well, we forget that today’s the fucking day. Today’s the day we wake up surrounded by hedgehogs and hot girls on Harleys. It’s the day where we’ve done it — we’ve gotten there."
Goddamn, that chick has some fucking eloquence, eh? Well, what a fan-fucking-tastical reminder! I am right fucking here, right fucking now, and I am good with it. Instead of taking time and energy to beat myself up as a means to forward progression, or whatever other dumbass, newagey, oxymornical phrase my brain decides to attach to it, I'm gunna take a deep breath in and take credit for where I am RIGHT FUCKING now. I'll just be over here, filing work in progress right alongside the Mr. Rogers terminal uniqueness rhetoric... it's a dumb fucking story I tell myself, it's self deprecation thinly veiled as motivation, it's the Guerrilla Warfare I wage on my own consciousness. It's high time I recognize that this shift in consciousness I go on about- from guerrilla warrior to gorilla power, is happening NOW- it is what it is all in this moment. And ya know what, I WILL celebrate that, abso-fucking-ultely!
I know just enough about myself to be dangerous if I were to apply it with any sort of consistency. I hate that initial free fall back down to earth. Fuck, it stings. Coming to rest in a scratched and bruised up heap, goddamn I am fucking tough on myself. The thud is always louder than I anticipate and it generally serves the purpose of startling me back into consciousness where I am left to sort through the rubble that is my mind and body after a stint of the fuck-its. And I always spend far more time beating myself up for the fuck-its then I do on basking in personal revelation or taking notice of a job well done. And I have been wondering for a while... why is that? Why can I not take as much credit for progress as I do for failure? What the fuck is up with that?
I spend so much time trying like hell to propel myself forward, that I frequently miss my own fucking milestones. And then, at the first sign of a detour I rail on myself about everything I have yet to accomplish. And that is where I have been for the past few weeks. Actually, I started writing this blog entry a few weeks ago so- fuck, the past month or so. I've ridden the train of self destructive behavior, I've taken up residence in my head, I've run the gamut of anger, self pity, fear, and teetered on the edge of depressed, in short, I have spent FAR TOO MUCH fucking time in the dark corners of my introversion.
And then, this morning, I read this post by one of my favorite bloggers - The Bullshit of Being a Work in Progress. Go ahead, read it, I'll wait...
The title doesn't lie, huh?!
"When life doesn’t go the way we envision or we find ourselves having screwed up (yet again), we ladle the I’m-a-work-in-progress bullshit on anyone who will listen.
And the sad thing is (well, for me at least) that we’ve convinced ourselves that there’s a goal. That there’s some elusive day akin to a good parking space at Whole Foods where we’ll wake up and realize that we’ve made it. We’ve convinced ourselves that we’re perpetual works in progress and we forget...
Well, we forget that today’s the fucking day. Today’s the day we wake up surrounded by hedgehogs and hot girls on Harleys. It’s the day where we’ve done it — we’ve gotten there."
Goddamn, that chick has some fucking eloquence, eh? Well, what a fan-fucking-tastical reminder! I am right fucking here, right fucking now, and I am good with it. Instead of taking time and energy to beat myself up as a means to forward progression, or whatever other dumbass, newagey, oxymornical phrase my brain decides to attach to it, I'm gunna take a deep breath in and take credit for where I am RIGHT FUCKING now. I'll just be over here, filing work in progress right alongside the Mr. Rogers terminal uniqueness rhetoric... it's a dumb fucking story I tell myself, it's self deprecation thinly veiled as motivation, it's the Guerrilla Warfare I wage on my own consciousness. It's high time I recognize that this shift in consciousness I go on about- from guerrilla warrior to gorilla power, is happening NOW- it is what it is all in this moment. And ya know what, I WILL celebrate that, abso-fucking-ultely!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Pro-paelo-lific: Day 1
So, a few years ago I developed these weird, chronic stomach issues. Every time I ate, my stomach hurt, and just after I ate I would be overcome by lethargy. It went on for a couple months, I tried taking things out of my diet, I tried avoiding food in general, I lived off antacids for a while... it seemed as though the problem was gluten, and man was I pissed. Who doesn't love bread, and pasta, and really everything carb?! And, in case you don't know...gluten is in PRACTICALLY EVERY FUCKING THING!!!! Desperate for an alternative solution, I went to a homeopathic doctor, who, after a 3 hour consult, gave me what is referred to as a constitutional in the homeopathic world. And, much to my surprise, it worked!!! I got to go back to eating all the things I loved and felt better. Shockingly, whatever that little remedy was, it worked for well over two years. Then, last year, I started having issues again. At the same time I started reading things about our food (mainly wheat)...and how it has been SO severely crossbred and modified over the last 30 years that it doesn't even resemble it's original molecular structure...
Ok, I am rambling a bit. While I could go on for DAYS about the fucked-up-ness of what is happening to us through our food sources, I will save that part for another day. There is a connection here to other things I have been rambling about as of late...I think I have always been aware of the connection between mind and body in some form... but in the last couple of days it has become so apparent. I have been struggling through this transition period (for the last couple months, but even more so in the last week or so), I have also been dealing with the resurgence in my stomach issues, and the cherry on top has been this incredibly HELLISH heartburn that arrived a couple of days ago. The heartburn thing was what really got me thinking...
A friend shared with me that the throat correlates to the throat chakra (which is associated with communication), and that in turn, the physical manifestation of heartburn could be connected to a need to communicate... I know, I know, it is almost too woo woo for me as well. But then I started doing a teensy bit of research, and it sort of started making sense...Oddly, when I began this blog I wanted to use this as a platform to communicate all the crazy (seemingly non-connected) crap that swirls around in my dome, but as of late, I have scarcely had the energy or brain power to organize any of it into cohesive thought. So yeah, I guess I do feel a bit communicatively stifled right now. Huh... they couldn't possible be related... or could they?
In addition to the chakra stuff, I started reading a book on eating Paleo yesterday. Another thing I have been thinking about for a while... it seems to have helped a lot of people with similar health shit, and I know I respond well to a diet that is higher in protein and lower in carbs. And, what do ya know, as I am reading the book I start seeing the correlation between grain/gluten intake and the mental confusion I have been experiencing lately too! WEIRDNESS. Weird, but in a good way. It gives me hope that there are solutions other than just feeling completely and totally overwhelmed... because that is what happens when I get to thinking about all this shit... Like well, the only solution is to change every motherfucking thing and start over from scratch and be completely perfect at it. NO WONDER I have been so apprehensive to make ANY changes! Talk about setting ones self up for failure! Well, the book addressed all of that as well, and gave me a sliver of confidence that I can do this and be easy on myself.
Isn't it funny what the human mind can do to self sabotage?? I need to make changes, but I tell myself I will just fail anyway, so why bother? Fuck it. And I KNOW I am not the only one who does this. I talk myself out of positive change all the time...I hide behind the fear of failure and then a month goes by. And then some other thing comes up and three months slip away. And before I know it, I have spent a year making excuses for not doing something that could potentially help me. WHAT THE FUCK???!!!!
So, today is the day... I start making some tangible changes- like cutting out grain, legumes and (the scariest one for me) dairy, and going back to being more aware of what I put in my body. I am not going to be a zealot about it... so as NOT to set myself up for failure from jump. I am just going to make this simple shift for 30 days and see what happens. I really don't have a whole lot to lose at this point, and if I get more energy and start to feel better, I will totally keep going. My hope is that if the physical parts of me stop feeling so crappy, the mental shit will surely follow suit, even if it is only in small ways. And, as part of the connection between mind and body, I am going to keep writing. Even if it's garbled and confusing, I can't just keep it all in my head because it seems too hard to relate cohesively... patience grasshopper, all things will shift in good time, it all starts with willingness and an open mind, right?
Ok, I am rambling a bit. While I could go on for DAYS about the fucked-up-ness of what is happening to us through our food sources, I will save that part for another day. There is a connection here to other things I have been rambling about as of late...I think I have always been aware of the connection between mind and body in some form... but in the last couple of days it has become so apparent. I have been struggling through this transition period (for the last couple months, but even more so in the last week or so), I have also been dealing with the resurgence in my stomach issues, and the cherry on top has been this incredibly HELLISH heartburn that arrived a couple of days ago. The heartburn thing was what really got me thinking...
A friend shared with me that the throat correlates to the throat chakra (which is associated with communication), and that in turn, the physical manifestation of heartburn could be connected to a need to communicate... I know, I know, it is almost too woo woo for me as well. But then I started doing a teensy bit of research, and it sort of started making sense...Oddly, when I began this blog I wanted to use this as a platform to communicate all the crazy (seemingly non-connected) crap that swirls around in my dome, but as of late, I have scarcely had the energy or brain power to organize any of it into cohesive thought. So yeah, I guess I do feel a bit communicatively stifled right now. Huh... they couldn't possible be related... or could they?
In addition to the chakra stuff, I started reading a book on eating Paleo yesterday. Another thing I have been thinking about for a while... it seems to have helped a lot of people with similar health shit, and I know I respond well to a diet that is higher in protein and lower in carbs. And, what do ya know, as I am reading the book I start seeing the correlation between grain/gluten intake and the mental confusion I have been experiencing lately too! WEIRDNESS. Weird, but in a good way. It gives me hope that there are solutions other than just feeling completely and totally overwhelmed... because that is what happens when I get to thinking about all this shit... Like well, the only solution is to change every motherfucking thing and start over from scratch and be completely perfect at it. NO WONDER I have been so apprehensive to make ANY changes! Talk about setting ones self up for failure! Well, the book addressed all of that as well, and gave me a sliver of confidence that I can do this and be easy on myself.
Isn't it funny what the human mind can do to self sabotage?? I need to make changes, but I tell myself I will just fail anyway, so why bother? Fuck it. And I KNOW I am not the only one who does this. I talk myself out of positive change all the time...I hide behind the fear of failure and then a month goes by. And then some other thing comes up and three months slip away. And before I know it, I have spent a year making excuses for not doing something that could potentially help me. WHAT THE FUCK???!!!!
So, today is the day... I start making some tangible changes- like cutting out grain, legumes and (the scariest one for me) dairy, and going back to being more aware of what I put in my body. I am not going to be a zealot about it... so as NOT to set myself up for failure from jump. I am just going to make this simple shift for 30 days and see what happens. I really don't have a whole lot to lose at this point, and if I get more energy and start to feel better, I will totally keep going. My hope is that if the physical parts of me stop feeling so crappy, the mental shit will surely follow suit, even if it is only in small ways. And, as part of the connection between mind and body, I am going to keep writing. Even if it's garbled and confusing, I can't just keep it all in my head because it seems too hard to relate cohesively... patience grasshopper, all things will shift in good time, it all starts with willingness and an open mind, right?
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