This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Friday, December 10, 2010

Three Dreams of a Family Nature

It's my usual-lately wake up time of 4 AM and for the third night in a row I've had an interesting, vivid dream.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

To Hold What We Love of the World

I want to post here more regularly, but I don't want to agonize over it.  I want to read more inspirational sentences, lines, works. I want more energy during the day. 

I told Hadj yesterday that I think I've reached the point in pregnancy, which is commonly talked about in the US culture, wherein...I feel I'll be pregnant forever.  Yes, it's true.  This pregnancy has been an astounding and amazing experience, but truly, my patience (deeper than I ever imagined already!) is waning.  When I told a mommy in arms the other day that I don't know the sex of our baby-to-be her eyes popped, "You're so patient!" she exclaimed. 

I made a list of things that were funny or exciting to me when I was just in my first trimester.  Here's another one, my second and last, pregnancy list. 

Monday, November 29, 2010

Spark and Flow

Spending time with extended family and friends over the long weekend has rejuvenated my sense of inner peace today.  I sit, now, with a heart shaped hot water bottle at my low back to soothe the remnants of a nasty round ligament cramp that I experienced earlier today.  I drastically cut short my usual morning walk with the dogs because the pain was so sharp and located on only one side, which indicated to me that it was not a contraction of any kind.  I walked slowly toward my home with this cramp, and felt really buoyed, really strong; breathing deeply and saying to myself and to Baby, "it's ok.  We'll go lay down and call Mif (our midwife) and find out what this is." Glimpses becoming less rare about who I'll be as a mother.  Can I just say? I'm in love with me as a mother and really, I kind of always have been. 

Friday, November 26, 2010

Thanksgiving 2010 Menu & Recipes

We had a small Thanksgiving party with a large amount of left-overs.  My mom teased me about making so much food and I had to admit it was no longer about the guests, but about the menu.  I was very excited to make my first Thanksgiving.  Hadj was a fantastic partner in cooking and all the food came out really well.

The gravy is absolutely worth the extra work and the Chocolate Ganache Tart is an oh my god instant classic.  In my opinion, the zest (I liked orange), shouldn't be optional as it provides the most wonderfully surprising, yet slight, citrus compliment in the heart of the crust.  Be warned, we used at least two pounds, maybe three, of butter, all told. Bon Appetit!

Pickled Beets
Wasabi Peas
Trail Mix of dates, dried apricots, soy nuts, dark chocolate chips


Brussel Sprout Hash with Carmelized Shallots  
(thanks to Ammie for introducing this months back)
Hazelnut and Apple Dressing  
(a combo of these two recipes)
Mashed Potatoes  
(with innovative tips from this recipe)
(the first recipe)
Homemade Apple-Plum Sauce  
from my wonderful neighbor
made from a recipe in an ancient Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook


Pinot Noir
Sauvignon Blanc

A hearty post feast thanks to all the amazing cooks who have inspired me and shared their wisdom!

Monday, November 22, 2010

Wildflower Prayers

I try to get my mind off of Hadj's four hour and counting 12.5 mile epic standstill on state route three coming home.  Ridiculous doesn't even cover it.  There's maybe four inches of snow.  All I can tell him, when he asks via text if I can get a scoop on the traffic ahead, is "give thanks you're not on the East side of the Sound where a web search shows up like this...

I don't even want to know what the difference between a red "!" and an orange one is.  He texts me now to tell me he's finally gotten a chance to pee and that there's a jack-knifed truck ahead.  "May be a few more hours."  I shake my head and feel for him.  Maybe, I wonder, I should try to feel hopeful and encouraging, or specifically timely and safely driven instead of terrible. 

But last night I had unseasonably warm dreams. 

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Before I Wrote this I Drew a Seal

I had a quietly empty feeling day. How can emptiness feel so weighty? I felt I was betraying myself today - somehow.  Not doing "the work" I deeply feel I need. It was a day of baby-ing.

So, what is "the work"?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

A Wee Wednesday Update

Problem Wordings

Words color our view of the world. Used carelessly, they can perpetuate old prejudices and preserve old stereotypes without our analytic mind even realizing it. In an effort to avoid this, we need to work hard to create a terminology that will help remove the semantic barriers to open-mindedness and understanding between cultures. As the industrial world extends its reach to what were once hidden pockets of the globe, the job of refining our language becomes more important than ever.
Childbirth Wisdom, Judith Goldsmith

I just love the above passage.  I haven't gotten into the meat of this book yet, that is, the above excerpt is from her preface, but I'm pretty excited to learn about the traditional practices of women in other cultures as related to childbirth.  Should be v. interesting!!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

How a Change in Schedule Led me to Jesus, Today

Before I launch this I want to give myself a few props.  I've been pretty good at staying positive on this here blog, and in my life, on a regular basis.  Things have changed rapidly and I've done my best to open up and let it all in without prejudice.  BUT... (kvetch alert) this morning has been kinda irritating.  Please stick with me as I blow off some steam and circle back around to warm fuzzies.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Getting My Feet Wet on the Rainy Season

I got an idea for a poem while out walking the dogs yesterday.  I haven't written anything remotely close to poetry in a long time.  Last I can remember was trying to poetically describe the waves I felt I was riding when I first met up with Hadj.  I have been getting urged toward poetry lately by my friend Anna, which feels nice and like a challenge, but it's not coming out easily.  I told her earlier today, and I think this is common sentiment among amateur poets/writers, that it's harder by far to write poetry when you're feeling grateful or happy, which I am. 

But I didn't feel like cleaning our art room any more so I gave my hand at the ideas.  It turned into a prose-like meditation, which any attempt I make at poetry often does.  I stopped before finishing and well, there I am.  And, god, it's rainy.  And Hadj is working.  And I'm just ho-humming it up today, it seems.  I'm actually bordering on feeling bored!  Boredom is not an emotion I often feel, which is good because I'm not a fan of it one bit.  The rainy season.  I feel half lidded.  So, just saying.  Here are some pretty images of cozy, rainy day things.  Seeking inspiration and sharing it with you. 

posie gets cozy: perfect craft ideas blog for this weather
sweet, cozy, bright work studio! mmmm beelieve
drop the antlers, add some more prints and seat me here with a blanket and a good book!     

Happy Halloween Everyone!
By the way, I do expect I'll perk up soon.  Tonight we're going to a post-apocalypse Halloween party and I'm wearing a dress I made out of plastic bags.  I think Hadj is going to be a cockroach or something. 

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Loving What's in the Air

It's Subterranean Fire: The Extreme Makeover Edition!  I've retained much of my old color schemes, updated some of my "favorite post" side bars (now at left) and dropped off a few gadgets that either were too cumbersome or led to unneeded self-scrutiny based on the popularity system of "google friends."  Another of those aforementioned cumbersome features is this thing down here where you get to click to tell me if you think my post is "useful, funny, or interesting."  I'm not sure how I feel about your ability to poll -or, even worse, not poll- my subject matter, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to get rid of it at this time, and so it stays.

I also want to fancy up that header picture, add an About Me page, and separate pages for my own favorites.  Eventually I'd also like to make the sidebars more visually stimulating with picture links instead of all that text.  I'm pretty sure y'all are salivating to click that "interesting" box now! Aren't cha?

I guess my blog's not the only one getting a makeover of sorts.  As I mentioned earlier this week, I've revamped my daily schedule (in training for, as I've come to think of them, "mommy-marathon days") and I've also, thanks to this stylish new mom and blogger, really been inspired to getting all dolled up on any old day, just because it feels so good.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Another Fantastic Step on the Journey to Fully Inhabiting My Body

Let's move to those aforementioned things and change the song into one with a major-chord feel!  First of all, I'm totally freaking stoked about my baby these days.  So much so that I just edited the curse word out of that sentence.  I'm not excited just about the baby, but the part that comes before the baby: the birth.

In the Midwest, Most of Us Don't Think About Submarines' Existence

I have a very ambitious schedule this morning, which began at 5:20 AM.  I read, somewhere, recently about a woman who is so creative/eager/successful that she "has to get up at five in the morning just to get everything done in a day."  My mom gets up at five-something five days a week to do her workout routines. Lately she's been working out with an amply endowed ex-reality TV star who either is or used to be one of Hugh Hefner's girlfriends and her conventionally good looking Aussie male trainer.  Apparently in Australia, if you have a big butt you say [something like] you've got "boots in the boot," which my mom finds utterly amusing.  About her morning routine, she says, "you just get your ass up and you do it."  She's always been better than me at overcoming laziness in favor of doing what's right for her body, chased as she is by a twenty-year old MS diagnosis. 

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Oh Right, I Was Doing Something About That...

I have been introduced to more internet wonderfulness this week than I have in many months past, which have provided moments of laughter and brevity, but despite them I remain mostly prone on the couch with what feels like my only friend, NPR.  Oh sigh. The emo of it all.

And while I did just read that one key to blog success is to consider what your readers want to read, I am writing now mostly just to write, which means y'all (whoever you are) might have to read more about what the truth of my life is this week than, say, hilariously cute stories about four-year-olds with ADHD and access to an entire cake.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Family is just accident.... They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are.

The phrase "return the scene of the crime" kept popping into my head as I rounded hour five of my week long visit at Mom n' Dad's.  I guess that smart-ass subconscious of mine was referring to this time last year. I kept flashing back to my first night with Hadj in this house, when I broke into uncontrollable sobs and couldn't describe what was causing them except deep fear.  He couldn't understand it; my parents seemed so supportive and loving.  That's appropriate because they are both of those things,

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The Opposite of Long Is?

Apparently I'm incapable of reading any books unless they are about pregnancy or parenting right now.  That, along with my hour long enjoyment of Loreena McKennitt yesterday, have me more in awe of what is about to happen to me.  This isn't meant to be a long post, sitting at Hadj's desk (the only desk with a working computer) turns me lethargic and I tend to try to avoid it, but I couldn't refuse a quick kind-of update.

I'm in my final trimester and all sorts of really exciting things are falling into place.  We know where we're having the baby, we've begun our natural childbirth method classes, I'm talking to, and knowing more and more about, the baby inside me.  Also, more and more, I'm wondering what parts of me will come out and shine when I've become a parent.  I've always been a pretty contradictory person, with many unconventional proclivities, and those seemingly divergent interests are as "in focus" as ever.  I've sort of decided to let the little kid tell me when the time is right to finally plunge in and dye my hair that platinum-purple combo I've dreamt of for years.  I'm thinking about unschooling, and hearing more and more about ascended masters and the predicted impacted of the coming generations on our collective consciousness.  Also, I watched a pretty cool documentary about crop circles last week (it was free at the library!). Sometimes all my "out there," weirdness tendencies overwhelm the part of me that tried to blend in or hide for so many years, which is to say I sometimes feel like a total whackadoo.  Then my inner six year old chimes in: "Hey! You wanted to move to the west coast for a reason lady!"  I keep a sense of humor about it and try to continue rolling with the (comic) punches.

I know I haven't been writing much (see aforementioned excuse re: the writing desk) and for that I am aggrieved.  However, I'm also in full-scale nesting mode and this house has a never ending list of to-do's whereas I have a never ending need to sit down and take a break.  I've updated my reading list in the sidebar and hope to be back writing more, about recipes, discoveries, internal exploration, and random excitement (not to mention the occasional reference to sex!) soon.

P.S.  As I continue to wonder about parenting I've found one thing I'm really sure of: I'll be a great story teller to my child.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Back to Those Switch-backs and a Story

I resolved what to do about my therapist before I had reached the crest of the switch backs.  After having that in the bag I realized that I wanted to just keep on talking aloud about whatever came to mind on my hike.  I began talking to the baby in my belly then.  I sat on a bench for a few minutes reprieve and just started talking to him.  Before I go on further to tell you the story let me give you two details.  I, we, don't know the sex of the baby, we're not going to know until after he or she is pushed out sometime this December.  However, at about the halfway mark of my pregnancy I began to get a feeling of the sex of the baby.  A hunch, which may or may not be correct, had finally come to me after months of me just really know knowing at all.  The consensus seems to be, from me, Hadj, and some family members I spent time with in Colorado recently, that we can call it "he."  The other detail is that we have known the name of our child to be since before my first trimester was over.  I was keeping it a secret for a long time, but now, after months of waiting and still more months of waiting ahead, I am too excited to do much concealing any more.  I haven't been volunteering it around, but now I will.  The name of kid is going to be, whether he is a he or a she, Salamander.  We haven't decided on what the last name will be at this point, but we do know that the first and middle are Salamander T. 

Welcome to the internetz little buddy!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

How I Didn't Chicken Out and How it Paid Off

As I mentioned yesterday, I have voyeuristic tendencies which I'm questioning the value of currently.  I also have a tendency to use my truly easy going nature as an excuse to put up with less than satisfying situations just so I can avoid having, what I perceive as being a possibly, difficult conversation.  This contributes further to my seeming flighty in that, I will "put up with" something for as long as possible, then I will bolt as quickly and quietly as I can, vainly hoping to seem to really disappear, just because I can no longer "handle" the situation.  I said to myself, as I debated the lackluster therapy, "How should I approach this?  Should I just give it another shot tomorrow? Maybe it felt poor because it'd been so many weeks since I saw her last."  I eventually talked myself out of this approach.  There was no need to conceal my real feelings on it, it would be counter productive to therapy at all, I decided.  I did not want to fear her reaction on my reasons for wanting to talk about my dissatisfaction, there was no reason to do so. 

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

On the Habit of Acting like a Wallflower

Today I told my therapist it wasn't working out.  Some culturally influenced part of me wants to make it a "big, comic deal" and use phrases akin to a break up.  I'm going to refrain from doing that though.  I'm not going to say that I said, "It's me, not you" or anything like that, except there, where I just did say that and must have still needed to get it out of my system.  Sit-com writing aside, I can tell you what happened and why and more importantly, what my point is. 

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Somewhat of an August Run-Down

Yikes!  A new month again?  I'm just back from a two week trip to Colorado to visit with Hadj's family branches.  The week prior to those two we hosted a good friend visiting from Chicago.  August basically didn't exist in any normal way for me. Since I'm rusty, how's about a quick game of catch up?

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Coming Back

Summer-time in the Pacific Northwest is an interesting animal for me to witness.  After months and months and months on of rain, rain, rain, and mud (of course) we now have months and months of dusty drought.  I feel like I'm watching Discovery channel episodes about some African country where there is "the rainy season" and the...not-rainy season; like some monotonous narrator is going to tell me that "this once fertile river bed" is now so dry that the zebras (et al) have to trek hundreds of miles South for a drink of water and green pastures.  Yes.  It hasn't rained since...well early July at least, which is when summer unofficially begins 'round here. 

I'm told, by my very sweet neighbor-fella, Carl, that it'll probably start raining on or after September first.  Which means it won't stop until next June or July, I guess. And so the grasses are either watered daily or crunchy, though the flowers retain their brilliance (so many royal hydrangeas!).  And, in these verdant self determined days of spousal supported unemployment I continue to have moments where I feel like a pre-teen (this was before the term "tween" existed) at summer camp, sans the horseback riding, which I'm told is a no-no for preggers ladies. 

I'm almost 5 months pregnant, which actually means I'm almost done being 4 months pregnant.  People measure time in weeks at this stage of life, which neither Hadj nor I are inclined to adopt.  We have the name chosen: it's unisex and a secret.  I've recently begun wondering if what to do about my mom.  Again.  I want to wonder if that is solely due to my return to therapy sessions, but I know not to do so.  I have always had a contentious relationship with my mother and her family, and this baby business, along with my jump to across the country to live in love with a new man, seems to have ramped up my need to assess the divisions between ME and them. 

Monday, July 19, 2010

First Poem in My New Home: Peonies, Mary Oliver

I raptly held Mary Oliver's New and Selected Poems Vol. One Friday morning at the book store. The few poems I attempted to sop up were so good that I knew right away this was to be my first poet here.  It made immediate sense: a naturalist, a sensualist in my new, natural, sensual home.  This feels like a mile stone of some kind...though it feels like the markers on my progress here, now, come more rapidly than every mile.  While I await more poems from this book to permeate my consciousness, I have a perfect summer poem for you.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

"Don't bother me. I've just been born."

The living room is some kind of Bazooka Joe Pink now, and the little room is becoming pistachio or melted mint ice cream green.  We're moving from the "mother-in-law apartment," which was originally intended as a bachelor pad, as soon as we can get it all together.  In the process of emptying the contents of one room we found the small remains of the two pound bag of Twizzlers that accompanied me on our drive from Chicago to Belfair.  Those damn licorice twists still entice me, even after eight months of aging, but they also help me begin.  I want to take stock. 

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Not the Most Constructive of Posts

I feel like I'm in the midst of a hormonal mutiny.  It must have begun sometime Sunday, when I noticed that I had less energy to devote to listening or interacting with my visiting friends and partner.  The first signs of emotional overthrow were evident Sunday night as I wailed, tears streaming in buckets down my face.  In my stress had my first moment of feeling like a terrible mother...


...and I thought it was bad when Billie got lost for 24 hours.  All the books talk about mood swings and the developing worry habits of expectant mothers, making me want to bury my head in the sand and put on another distractingly hopeful Pixar movie.

On Monday I had an emotional hangover, which I attempted to douse with meditation, yoga, and my normal daily routine.  Look for jobs, clean house, make meals, play with animals, meditate, yoga, rinse, repeat.  At least I've managed to work flossing back into my daily routine.  Four days in a row and counting. 

Yesterday, I did alright until I got home from my day at the local employment center.  I was even feeling close to motivated.  The appearance of my little home in the woods deflated me somehow though, and I wound up under the covers devoted only to finishing Water for Elephants (very good, by the way). 

I admitted last night, or realized, that the sensations in my abdomen are probably my growing baby's movements.  I felt how my stomach organ is up much higher than before and then realized the gurgling / popping feeling in my lower abdomen were Mm. Niblet in the flesh.  Exciting, right?

If I weren't so busy trying to keep my head above water maybe.  I feel disconnected from most things that I know bring me joy, disconnected from joy itself.  I dreamt of blood for the first time in months last night, and am suddenly having bouts of middle of the night insomnia.  There are tiny plans, directions, percolating in the back of my mind; good instructions on how to keep going, perk up, focus and allow for it all...but they don't remain clear for long.

So...sigh.  I'm having a grand old time.  Even my sarcasm is limited in scope... Just hang out, some part of me assures, this will pass too. 

Thursday, July 8, 2010

The Practical Guide to the Fulfillment of Your Dreams

I wrote in my journal this morning, "I feel the latter half of my twenties has been defined by searching for work."  Really.  I'm willing to bet, but not execute, that a search on this blog of the words "work" or "job" would return several dozen entries wherein I bemoan the work I have or don't have.  It sucks.  It's not work that sucks, it's how I am playing it out. 

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The Zygote Chronicles

I have been feeling fantastic lately.  My optimism is strong, my appetite less ravenous, my energy high, and good feelings are abound.  I seem to be limiting myself to a maximum of five minutes of emotional freak out a day, which has to be about an 80% drop from two weeks ago. 

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Red, White, and Poor Un-eaten Purple

On July 4th we behaved like absolutely typical Americans.  We drove long distances, drank carbonated beverages from cans, ate multiple kinds of meats, and watched explosives in the name of "Freedom."  I learned much about Seattlites on this day. 

Thursday, June 24, 2010

My First Pregnancy List

A short list of fun things about pregnancy:

1. Eating whatever you want because your body tells you to.  This morning, I had a tuna-melt for breakfast.  So far, my favorite pregnancy craving has been chocolate milk; drunk through a bendy straw. 

2. Napolepsy.  This inventive term was produced by me early in the first trimester when I would zombie walk to the bedroom and fall face first into a coma-like nap for at least three hours at a time.  I  plan naps into my daily schedule now.

3. Lapses in short term memory.  It's fun to retrace your steps just to remember what the hell you went into the bedroom for!

4. Extremely vivid dreams and recollection.  I've had more sex dreams while pregnant than ever before and I recall all the details.

5. Super sensory powers.  Last week I was waiting for our housemate to get up so I could ask him a car question.  From upstairs in my house with closed doors I got a whiff of cigarette smoke indicating he was up.  I ran outside and there he was, but no cigarette.  "Did you just smoke a cigarette?" I asked, and yes he had.  I can also smell fresh baked goods from a mile off.

6.  I am unbelievably horny.  Since the end of my first trimester I am hornier than before, which is saying a lot for me.  This works out for me because my partner's way into it.  So this item could also read Hotter sex life.

7.  The things people say.  I am blessed with a supportive family and friends.  I hear a lot of reassuring things from all of them, especially when I call and tell them of my most recent emotional outburst or doubts.  I also have encountered my first appalling pregnancy-related social situation.  Last week I went to a barbecue at my neighbor's house where I visited with some people I haven't seen since early May.  My neighbor's adult daughter said, "Wow!  You're really filling out, huh?" and looked me up and down.  I just smiled and thought, did she really just say that? 

The best thing I've heard came from my Grandma though.  She was joking with me about the unplanned nature of our pregnancy and said, "So, you took seriously what was poked at you in fun."  Awesome, Grandma, awesome.

8.  No one is allowed to eat your ice cream, black-forest ham, hormone free yogurt, etc.  Hey, the pregnancy books mandate it.

9. Pants not fitting right is no longer cause for concern, it's par for the course.  It's even kosher to use a rubber-band to keep last years shorts from falling down because they won't button.

10.  Boobies.  Bigger, more sensitive, tender, lucious, and responsive than ever before.  I loved them before, and now they're almost doubly good.  Might even been triply good by the end of this thing.

11.  Teasing people about what we'll name the baby.  I'm telling everyone we'll name him/her Jesus if he/she is born on Christmas.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Naive Song

One thing I learned upon entering the adult world of customs is this: with regard to "small talk" the weather is always a great place to start.  Every one has an opinion on it, and chances are high it's the same opinion.  No one likes scary high winds that might cause damage, or sideways sleet, or 300 days of rain in a row.  We can get past whatever differences we might perceive, or whatever else is catching our minds in a web, and look to something universal.  Since I'm feeling rather intimidated by the blank page or screen these days, I'll do what I would do in elevators to break the ice.

Hey, how about this weather we're having?  Don't you just love the summer-time?  I know!  The sunshine is like some happiness disease that I wait all year to catch. 

There now, I feel better.

Speaking of blank pages, I haven't written a blog-post in ages!  There is one good reason for that, I've been too busy sobbing uncontrollably! 

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Have Faith in Pandemonium!

Here's the thing.  The crux, the request, the lesson I am most most most ready to learn and put into action, do you hear me universe?!

"Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive"

Everything I Ever Done, Gonna Give It Away

I had a brief fantasy about reading my stories in public yesterday as a song on KEXP inspired me.  I realized that my stories deserved to be shared.  They exist, they are built with love, and they shouldn't sit dusty and dark, unheard.  I should prepare some more of them, get them on portable paper and take them to the cities nearby.  I should read them, for free.  I have been thinking about me: what and how I seek interests out.  There is no denying I am a writer first and foremost.  Music, visual art, expressive motion, even song lyrics are all beyond the realm of my immediate draw.  These genres inspire my writing.  In turn my writing reflects what they say.  I am friend to a great many musicians, photographers, painters, sculptors, collage-makers and so on; our exchange is always wrought best wherein they show me their work and I reflect my feelings from it back to them.  They hear their work in my words and we're both happy to have expressed ourselves in each other.  Here's something that's  more practice than anything, and is probably not like what I would take on the road.

Friday, June 4, 2010

The Serendipitous and Absurd

In thinking about baby steps this morning I noticed that I have developed more patience and ability to cheer myself onward toward my goals.  I'm getting better at holding the thought of what's next in the foreground of my mind and not thinking that all the other goals have fallen off the cliff.  They're in the background, some goals are on deck, some are birds waiting to take flight in the unknown future. 

I see that I am the same person.  It's another intensely personal anniversary for me.  I'm happy to see that I'm still the same scared, courageous, crazy, sane, wild person I was a year ago.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The Show That Existence Loves to Watch

While I am not "very" pregnant as is in time elapsed, I am am very pregnant as in 100%. 
Roller coaster moodiness.  I brought it to the keyboard with a welling chest, fragments of feelings turning into disconnected words. 

And I want to connect the words, blog, people, I want to.  But another wave is moving in me and it is actually late.  I am trying to set a better example of responsibility to one's work. 

I am thinking, if I may just rap here now, of BSG and this speech about the fact that the man who destroyed human kind was made.  And that he was loved.  I'm thinking about how that speech echos what I wrote on the bathroom mirror tonight.  You are loved.  It made me pine for Burning Man.  And recall my earlier pining for something solid.  And oh, it made me feel that glowing expansion in my chest that happens when I know, I know, I know, I am loved.  Not by the other humans I keep talking about only, but by the existence that made me. 

The existence, it has all these names.  Life, I can't not believe in it.  It's the expansion in my chest, maybe that's all that I love and call existence.  It doesn't matter.  I feel so beautiful, so good, so rich, vibrant, energetic and open when I feel that expansion.  That light, open door, in my chest. 

That light went out, and another door closed in my throat, just now.  That's what happens when
I'm nostalgic for it, but not really feeling it.  That closing door takes my breath away.  It often makes me cry. 

Oh baby, but, here's a cool secret about this being pregnant thing.  Listen.  I am loved.  The, woah, other human being, growing in my abdomen is loved.  Why is it?  Why are we?  Why am I?   

Why not believe we are loved, and that is why?  We are loved.  We make the show that existence loves to watch. 

We Make the Show

Today seems like a great day to share some titillating news.  It does so because I have been on a hormone high that one mom referred to as like "riding a roller-coaster blindfolded."  It has been such a great day that I might as well start my telling of it at the beginning. 

Monday, May 10, 2010

New Girl's Community

I decided, just now, that this is the year of "The New Girl" for me.  I've been the new girl in town since Thanksgiving '09.  The new girl at work since March.  The new girl in the family and on the block.  In August I'll bring my new-self to Black Rock City and see what neighborhood community I can create and find myself in there.  I guess I'll come home a bit new to myself too. 

Friday, May 7, 2010

I Eat My Stress

I eat my stress.  I hold it in, between my bones, in my muscles.  My ligaments, tendons, cartilage act as cheeks, greedily holding my stress in, and refusing to digest it.  My jaw, my breath, suck in.  I eat my stress.

My digestion is slow.  I've had problems since I was a kid.  The first time I remember, I was in second or third grade in the girls bathroom.  I remember the pain of not being able to let go and the blood in the bowl.

Water does not rid me of my held stress.  I cannot wash it away.  What works is working, that is how my stress gets digested.  I need to exercise it.  But, new projects become scraps laying on the counters or floors

I eat my stress until it poisons me, it held in my joints and skin.  It stays, in its original form, not broken down, not worked through, until I hurt.  I give myself junk: television, naps, unintentional puttering.

Behind the oxygen I might be breathing, remains the moment.  Impassible guards of fear block the way.  On the other side of the guards, subtle burning in my physical body begins to rouse and wake me.  

Though anxiety, moodiness, sloth, and thickness failed to cue me, my muscles will not be ignored.  My energy goes akimbo and my vision off balance.  Until I work, I feel uncomfortable, bloated with ideas and themes.

Writing and yoga are work.  Those are the main two.  I have research and projects that call me, but writing and yoga must be done.  I must listen to birdsong and laugh at my yard's uncanny animal calls. 

I must breathe and yoke.  I must be still and quiet.  I must overcome distraction and taunting, fearful voices from within.  Those voices are my stress burning off.  Those voices must remind me to let go.

Like steam rising from a cold hearth and pops from old wood.  I feel my heat build in my body and pockets open in my blood.  Oxygen rushes in and the moment greets me.  I thank and welcome it in.

It's not magic, it's work.  I count my breathing, I laugh and delight.  I say my mantras and watch my strengths gather again.  I smile, I adjust, I feel for all the dark spots and breath light into them. I love.

My heart loosens up.  My liver lets go.  My stomach calms down and my back grows long.  My hips fill with light and my shoulders with liquid.  My knees are all courage and my kidneys, forgiving.

Movement leads the way because my brain is full of mischief.  There are monkeys about, clattering pans, burning steam, loaded words and unspoken fears.  Breath and movement is a path around that.

Regaining balance takes a certain amount of time and I don't always allot it.  I don't always help myself, when I most need it.  I don't always breathe when it's most appropriate.  I try my best.  I get back to work.

Friday, April 30, 2010

What's Going On: Last Monday Morning Pages

I have Lilies of the Valley and Forget Me Nots in a vase on my table.  I chopped kindling, started a good fire.  Now Hadj is here to fix the writing desk.  *smile*

I now have a writing desk.  It face the entrance.  Faces South.  The crackling fire is at my back.

I listened to "It's Not Easy Being Green" yesterday.  It's a collection of quotes from Jim Henson, his characters, and colleagues.  It was inspiring.  Now - this morning I feel more unsure.  I am trying to recall a connection and my inspiration.  I feel I have bled off the a lot of energy for others' sakes and the sake of my home.  That is for the sake of me too, then.  I think, though, I am having a hard time recalling something.  I am even wondering what that thing might be.

According to the audio, Jim wanted to leave the world a better place.  He certainly did so, too.  What do I, or can I, do to improve the world my way?  His great interest was the positive power of possible in television.

Mine is....what?  Books?  Teaching?  Letters?  Language?  I feel I could give a lot to children's literature... Over all...

I am unsure.  I want to lay back and silently be.  Wait.  Not contemplate, but wait for some answer.

On the other hand that does not seem to be the answer either. 

So--what have been my stated goals?  Debt freedom, learning and the pursuit of discovery, teacher training, writing, and travel.  That my not be the order. 

I think the fire needs a stir.  And my toes are cold.  And I want a tarot reading...

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Dog Poem

Dog energy
What was that?
Being drawn in
by deepest
brown eyes
down pointed snout
and back drawn ears.
Felt almost vampiric!
Her unending brown
I closed my eyes.
Put myself in perspective
Found my breath inside

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Coming Back to the River: Wednesday Morning Pages

"Have a good day at work," I said and kissed Hadj.  He walked back toward the house to prepare for his day of brick laying and earth moving.  I walked up the hill to my dome.  I have some morning pages to write.

I can feel my inspiration warm and ooze like sap out here.  My imagination follows the crows' arguing and the flames licking the air.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

And the Conch Ran Away with the Spoon

In Skinny Legs and All, by Tom Robbins, there is a philosophizing bean can, a cantankerous used sock, an ancient conch, and a mystical, yet submissive, dessert spoon.  There are other, normally animate characters with stories too, and enough motifs to inform me that I can't quickly sum up the book for you now and still write the general blog-confessional that I have planned.  Adding to my general coyness is this teeny hour of the day, which seems overtly ridiculous, for such a self-centered announcement.  But, I suppose you "takes whats you gets."  Rather than follow my initial impulse, to use Robbins's motifs and over-arching theme as an existing framework on which to set my own "epiphany" writing, let me give you a quick one liner, by way of segue:  "illusions that obscure humanity's view of the true universe fall away, one by one, like Salome's veils."

In the book there is an act that spurs the humans (and bean cans, socks, and spoons) to wake up, or to "let the veils drop." It is the sensual long-dance of a skinny legged girl in the lounge of a restaurant owned by an Arab and a Jew which is situated across from the New York U.N. headquarters...

However, I want to write less about that book, and more about me and my so-called life veils...

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Superwhamadine Purge

There's a made up word that I've heard Navy men use a few times.  Sometimes Hadj will use this word to describe complex Navy stuff he did.  He'll say it was "superwhamadine."  Well, this cleanse we're doing is superwhamadine.  As in it's effing difficult.  As in, total freak out, where am I? what the hell is happening? ohmigod! freak out. 

Monday, March 22, 2010

Sprouting: Parasite Purge Embarcation

The time has finally arrived with the spring equinox; we're embarking today on the parasite purge recommended in Healing with Whole Foods.
The recommended diet is based on one for people with severe candida imbalances.  This turns out to mean that the list of what we "can't" eat seems much longer than the list of what we can eat.  No more animal products: dairy, eggs, cheese, ice cream.  No more sugars, starchy vegetables, very few fruits, almost no bread.  What we will be eating a lot of are whole grains and grain sprouts, beans and their sprouts, cabbage, carrot, radish, celery, grapefruit; many of the sour and bitter flavors in the traditional Chinese medicine methods.  We're back to the raw rice for breakfast for a few days, which is meant to clear out a blocked colon where many parasites lay dormant waiting for your immune system to get low so they can thrive.  Many naps are expected.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Sensuality Sharp and Searing as Fire

Before I moved away from Chicago I made one last visit to my health center, this time for a healing touch session.  I sat talking with the healer for a while before and after she did her work and had the book Your Body Speaks Your Mind by Deb Shapiro recommended to me.  When I got my library card in January I put a bunch of books on request that they didn't have in my local branch and this one finally came in this week. Prior to it I had a short affair with Michael Pollan's book, The Botany of Desire, and also read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and her family.  Thus far it's been a very "food and body" year.  The focus there has only increased since I began my surprising new job as a cook in a simple cafe.  By the way, I do want to get some posts written in the future, about the deep joy that wells up while I'm slicing artisan salamis and subsequently arranging them with arugula or fontina, for instance.

My tendency is to always push for more.  More comfort, more style, more knowledge, more sensuality, more, more, more.  While I feel that is something that makes me the brave, strong, and creative woman I am, it also can run me into the ground.  I am realizing that my greed for a more full life can stress me out.  What I want to do is be more gentle and possessed of a graceful equanimity in experiences.  That does, somewhat obviously, mean that I'm still wanting more, which is painfully ironic to me, but at least the more I'm wanting is one I'm trying not to push for.

Lady Chatterley's Lover has been rising in my heart lately and so has nostalgia.  I am full of vernal, sensual romance about life in general.  These feelings have translated into many wonderful experiences.  Upon gleefully accepting that I am healing in mind and body I also decided to put Deb Shapiro's book back in the library stacks for now.  Though the introduction and first chapter were compelling I'm resisting the urge to push for more and let the knowledge I have worked so hard to acquire settle in.  I'm taking a resting break, from the pursuit of direct learning, during which even more healing is bound to occur. 

Instead, I am waiting for Lolita to come in at the library.  I want to see how I take to Nabokov's most impacting and controversial work.  I plan to be savoring prose, in general, for awhile.  I aim to rekindle my infinite zeal for the soulful music of artistically wrought language and in doing so, also allow the eager student in me a relaxing break, abound in spring-time beauty and linguistic dance.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Reaping Reward, Planting Success

In a post earlier this week I wrote about developing three things for myself: understanding, appreciation, and forgiveness.  I realized, after that dream, that I know how to treat my body right.  I have learned the material. 

Ten years ago I woke up and saw that I was sorely abusing my one and only body. It took me some time to accept that I was regularly over eating, had an imbalanced diet, and unhealthy attitudes.  I accepted eventually too that I needed to get regular exercise and learn how to manage, not medicate, my stress.  Now, ten years later, I finally, really believe that I do know what choices to make to feel and be my best

It is true that I could have chosen to believe this much sooner than I did.  It is even true that I didn't "need" to believe that I was slumbering before and had since woken in a melee of self-abuse.  I know we choose our perceptions, but sometimes, it seems much more like our perceptions choose us. 

Nevertheless! Late bloomer and tough crowd or not, I am here.  I am ready.  Zoom in on my ass, Mr. Deville, cause it's hot and gettin' hotter.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Letter Sent: To a Woman on OkC This Morning

I was sure you'd be an air sign, what with all your interests abounding, but my psychic powers do not yet extend beyond myself and my intimates.  Then I exclaimed, "Pisces! Man, they always grab me like that."  And later, when you said you were "emo in your heart of hearts," I said, "Man! I totally know what she's talking about!" 

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Dreams of Forgiveness

Two weeks ago I woke with a start from a dream.  Its intricacy overwhelmed me so I wrote the general feeling and reaction in my journal:

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Details Sketch from One Month Ago

I'm sure I have mentioned that things were pretty intense on the inside of our heads, separately and collectively while Hadj and I were living with my folks in October.  In that time I began blogging elsewhere because I needed an outlet.  I guess I wanted it to be a bit more separate and only slightly more anonymous.  I only ever got around to writing four posts and now that lovely little blog is sitting, neglected, at The Present Tense.

The name of the blog is from a Gwendolyn Brooks poem.  The line in the title bar was tweeted by Poetry Magazine near the start date of the blog.  How appropriate, to lift the text written by a famous poet from twitter for use in a blog about The Present moment.

My last defense / is the present tense
The first post jumps around in a stream of consciousness style, because the idea I was knocking into over and over was one of wanting to capture it all in words. Now. And now. And now again.  Even the most mundane of scenes can be turned into identifiable art with the right eye for detail and adjectives.  Let me give it another shot...

Monday, March 15, 2010

January Three Minute Sketch

Jeez I've missed my keyboard.  My impulse is leading me all over the place in excitement to write something.  I've got movie quotes, comparisons, kvetches, questions all running through my head and I'm not sure what's going to come out.  I know I don't want to "journal entry" my readers to death, but I don't have a story all cooked up already either.  So I'll say this:

I am not desperate anymore.

I'm not desperate for work like I used to be, I'm not desperate for distraction, for help, for love, for attention or even for ice cream.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Key Fob Sketch

When I was packing to move to Belfair I uncovered a precious old key chain.  It is a simple thing which has my specific name and two lyrical phrases, similar to what you might find in an unusually eloquent fortune cookie.  When I found the plastic fob I remembered how delighted I was to find a ready made retail object baring my unusual name.  It now sits on my desk under my computer monitor.  The time is ripe, I suppose for me to delve more deeply into the meaning of "Wisdom beyond years / In life she'll gain, / By treating others well / Her honor will remain."

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Unwoven Spirit Knowing Sketch

Ever since I was a very little girl I have unconsciously desired to be with the spirit world most of the time.  All my day dreaming took me to the spirit world.  All my alone time, my reading, my staring off blankly, took me to the spirit world which then contained little more than nursery rhyme and images of picturesque natural expanses.

Knowing comes to me now, when I am in this spirit world.  I understand now that I have desired too much time in that ethereal plane.  I have been neglecting the human world in which my body resides.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Action Sketch

In the last week I have met the first three women that I may befriend out here.  I have (with Hadj's help) designed, cut, and passed out "business cards" for my non-entity "business."  I have gone on interviews for two different jobs, landed and begun one of those jobs.  I visited a new doctor.  I drove to Portland - for a three day, two night stay - and back.  I went out determined to get drunk and flirt.  I drew a map on my hand and found out I had North where East should have been.  I reacquainted myself with the stellar locations of Orion, the Big Dipper, Mars, and Cassiopeia.  My garden is not as tended as I'd like.  My writing is unwoven.  I do not do yoga as regularly as I wish to.  One thing changes and it all changes, but I am learning the lessons of who I will become.  I am more capable of accepting now, than ever before, that I am a spiritual being having a physical existence. 

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Sharks, Monkeys, and Pigs Sketch

I took a funmergency jaunt to Portland last weekend.  I desperately wanted sublime escape.  I thought it could bring me quiet, time, and space, and would help me garner insights into the problems that were binding.  I brought my journal with, and a bag of vegetables.  I had a couple pairs of socks, a change of clothes, the book I'm reading.  As soon as I finished having my transmission fluid changed on the trusty Subaru, I hit the road with big latte in the cup holder and the empathetic ear of my best pal in Chicago on line.  She was listening to me complain and asking me clarifying questions.  "I don't mean to sound insensitive," she prefaced at one point, "but are you really all that surprised?"  It is no surprise to my ex-lovers; I am hard to pin down, emotionally speaking.  

Wednesday Night Sketch

My hair smells like woodsmoke and the house is silent save for the high wheeze of my computer fan.  Respite from interaction is mine right now, and it is sweet, even though I have had much solitude in the last several months.  Just when I feel that I am getting a grip on some kind of satisfactory routine something changes and I have to move all the pieces and parts that comprise daily living around again.  I may eventually find that I simply must give up one or two of my goals because of time.  I may eventually find that it is somehow better for me to read only one book at a time instead of four.  Some day, I may want to go faster in one direction rather than feel I am a glacial human being, cutting a wide swath ever so slowly.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Sent to a Craigslist Posting Today

A short lifetime ago I spent five years as a highly professional administrative assistant.  Since love has brought me to the Puget Sound to start anew I have spent considerable time rebuilding my life from the ground up.  This building process has included a huge amount of cooking nourishing and delicious meals, organizing two (six if you include the pairs of pets) lives merged into one small space, and seeking footholds in the path to who I will become.  I am a writer, a healer, a yogini, and someday I will offer these services professionally.  Right now, I am a busy ant looking for a fulfilling way to garner more income. 
Please check out my resumes.  I have included my "service" resume, as well as my "administrative assistant" resume.  They are both knockouts and include my contact information. 

Before I leave you to the most special part of this particular letter I want to cover your "small print":  I am available part-time and flexible.  I drive a reliable green Subaru station wagon, which is apparently the mascot vehicle of the Puget Sound.  I quit smoking on my 28th birthday, which was February 1 (go me!).  I have two dogs and two cats, have taught children of all ages and adore them, their humor, and the insightful challenges they present (see "IRD Teacher" on resume for reference).  I wash and dry; sweep and mop; brush and floss regularly, and quite enjoy doing so.  I am a household manager extraordinaire; feel free to ask my fiancee. 
Since you mentioned, specifically, recipes, I'd like to give you a glimpse at the most recent week's menu:
  • this morning: Spinach feta scramble with green olive garnish
  • Sunday dinner: Hoppin' John with brown rice and sharp cheddar
  • Saturday lunch: Winter "Shana Cobb" Salad with dried apples and onions, maple sausage and ham, broccoli, cauliflower, chives, and celery tossed with a poppy seed dressing
  • two quarts: Spicy kimchee
  • last Thursday: Potato leek soup
  • the week's bread: Pumpernickel
  • Wednesday dinner: home-made pizzas with home-made sauce; 1 ham, artichoke, onion & 1 green olive, artichoke, onion
All the best,
Shana R. Cobb
Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings.  Not all things in life are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest.  The blessing is in the seed. - Muriel Rukeyser

Friday, February 26, 2010

Ride Life to Perfect Laughter

Sometimes I get Really Excited when I write the three morning pages in my journal.  So much so that I want to share it. 

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Present Tense - Blog Catch Up

While H. and I were living with my folks things were pretty intense on the inside of our heads.  In that time I began blogging elsewhere because I needed an outlet.  I guess I wanted it to be a bit more separate and only slightly more anonymous.  I only ever got around to writing three posts.  Now that lovely little blog is sitting, neglected, at The Present Tense.

The name of the blog was inspired by Gwendolyn Brooks and Twitter.  The line in the title bar was tweeted by Poetry Magazine near the start date of the blog.  How appropriate, to lift the text of a famous poet from twitter to use in a blog about The Present moment.

My last defense / is the present tense.
The first post talks a bit about what I wanted to do with the blog.  It's very "stream of consciousness" and tends to jump around where my mind and eyes jumped.  I think I was nervous to write some of what is contained there, here, because I feared I would sound too "crystal shop."  I am practicing every day at letting go of that kind of fear.  Underneath that thinking is the belief that "X will not love me any more if I am Q."  Insert your own X and Q. Where do you hide your true self? 

I never developed the blog out further, but I did import the three entries I wrote to this blog.  

Ffiery Mmaple   "Maple lights fires in my eyes and Blue Spruce dances gaily with Wind."

Matters of the Heart "Another one of my favored contradictions: I prefer to dance like no one is watching, but I kind-of hope someone is."

Grey Matters "Inspiration is always waiting just on the other side of some door. There seem to be few tricks to inviting inspiration in;"

In other blogging news I am working on fleshing out my sex blog more.  I trying to navigate real life developments which are hard to define.  Due to my perfectionism I'm being secretive about the name and location of it.  If you're excitable and curious, and want to know now, email me and I'll give you the URL.  If you're indifferent to new developments, well, keep coming back here at least.  When I'm more satisfied with the language I'm seeking for that blog, I'll publish an ad here and encourage readers to hit me up for the URL, which I will not dole out freely, since I'm keeping it anonymous for safety sake. 

Thursday, February 11, 2010

The High Priestess is Breathing Down My Neck

I have a half hour before I go jogging a distance I still don't know the length of.  I know it's over a mile, but am not confidant it's over two.  Could be.  I like to think I can jog two miles in approximately twenty minutes.  I need to eat some food that will energize me, but not slow me down.  I have a home-made "Lara bar" and about half a cup of our sauerkraut, which seems impossibly tastier every time I take a bite. 

I am back to my morning pages again.  I wish I could say it's because I'm am persistently disciplined, but it's really because I'm going through an "annoyed" phase.  

Thursday, February 4, 2010

The Case of the Mystery JOGGING Shoes

There's a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that.  A lot of malice and dread and guilt, and so much loneliness, where you wouldn't really expect to find it, either.  -Gilead, Marilynne Robinson

I love that it is nearly impossible to tell what a person's life is really like.  The mystery of their daily interactions will always be an unsolved one to you.  And no one can ever know exactly how this or that conversation went, which you carried with you all the way through dinner, without even knowing it.  No one can ever know why the phrase your neighbor said sticks to your throat weeks later, or why you unfairly compare yourself to strangers on the internet.  We're all mysteries to each other, and yet all familiar too.  It seems primitive somehow, to be knocking about thinking we know the whys and what fors of another person when we hardly know why we're still talking to our ex-boyfriend in our head.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Feeling the Tempo

Yesterday, I woke up when the sun was just making its way out of the trees in our Northern yard.  I had planned a day of really getting my hands dirty, doing whatever of the multiple layers of work that need be done. 

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I Would Veil

There is so much to learn.  Out here I am surrounded by reminders of the learning I have to do.  Learn where and when the morels and portabellas grow.  Learn what plants are indigenous and which are taking over.  Learn which direction North is, for goodness sake.  I am being remade.  I am being stubborn.  I am curious, insatiable, excitable, and extremely weary of changing my schedule for undesired tasks.  I am wobbling like a weeble.  I promise myself not to fall down.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Miraculous Indeed

[April] is the emerald season of spinach, kale, endive, and baby lettuces.  The chard comes up as red and orange as last fall's leaves went out.  We lumber out of hibernation and stuff our mouths with leaves, like deer, or tree sloths.  Like the earth-enraptured primates we once were, and could learn to be all over again.  In April I'm happiest with mud on the knees of my jeans, sitting down to the year's most intoxicating lunch: a plate of greens both crisp and still sun-warmed from the garden, with a handful of walnuts and some crumbly goat cheese.  This is the opening act of real live food. 
- Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Rolling Seascape

Oh. My. God.  I. Am. So. DUMB.

I decided to start using the jump breaks on my longer posts sometime last week, but didn't think they were working for me.  I spent HOURS scouring forums and help articles trying to figure out why my simplistic blog wasn't taking to this supposedly simple new feature.  Well folks, I just figured it out.  And it was totally dumb.

I believe this is where the internet quip, Hand to Forehead, originated.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

A Good Meal May Solve Any Problem

A handful of creative chefs have been working for years to establish this incipient notion of a positive American food culture -- a cuisine based on our own ingredients [...] However, to the extent that it's even understood, this cuisine is widely assumed to be the property of the elite.  Granted, in restaurants it can sometimes be pricey but the do-it-yourself version is not.  I am not sure how many Americans came to believe only our wealthy are capable of honoring food aesthetic.  Anyone who thinks so should have a gander at the kitchens of working-class immigrants from India, Mexico, anywhere really.  Cooking at home is cheaper than buying packaged foods or restaurant meals of comparable quality.  Cooking good food is mostly a matter of having the palate and the skill. (p. 31)
This passage spoke to me as I read this morning because of the meal we cooked last night.  Actually Hadj cooked it while I tried to calm myself after my tantrum.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

It's Just Poetry Now

Hello beloveds, thanks for coming back again today.  I sure do enjoy your company.  I'm rearranging some things, trying to make my pages more handsome to behold.  I'm re-organizing the sidebar categories and have begun with the Poetry, Prose & Healing section.  The section has been drastically cut, and now includes only Poetry which I have written.  Look below to see excerpts from some of the poems, then click on over if the line appeals to you.  Remember, you can link me anywhere, I like the public.  Ciao, ShanaRose in her Admin Hat

Ancient. Community where I Text
"...Listening in wet green sapling grove. Burnt out car. Rocks buried in chocolate mud. Life laid like a path..."

 Whatever I Wanted
"...Shoulders squared to one another / And pelvis I imagined slicking / over..."

 Wasp Frosts
"...I am willful as a wasp and just as / fragile in the frosts of a void."

Oranges in the Break Room
"...the orange was allowed to / live on its stem, at home among / the leaves and branches / in the wind..."

Might Be Is Too
"...Begged / the concrete tunnel, with its rails of steel and beams, / to crack deeply down to sediment..."

Feedback, Comments, Emails, Questions and Leads are always invited.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Chewing Myself Out

Recent, heretofore, unmentioned developments in my extraordinary daily life.  You heard it here first folks: Chewing your food is the new South Beach diet.  About to take Hollywood by storm.  Get your umbrellas Brangelina!

Seriously though, according to Paul Pitchford, author of Healing with Whole Foods, chewing your food a million times per bite rectifies most imbalances and cravings from the ground up.  (Damn!  I wish I knew who writes these puns!) 

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

"Here Thom tells the story of how he once had a narcissistic friend he was compelled to elude."

We’ve built a pattern on google calendar. Hadj is now painting regularly. I got to tell someone “he’s a painter” yesterday, instead of “he’s a retired submariner” - which was interesting enough.  He's also been listening to The Bends on repeat.  Today, I am again, feeling batshit.   Hadj swears I'm just as sweet as can be, but I feel rudderless, cranky, and confusing.  I was downstairs in his studio earlier, trying to explain one of my instant mood swings.   I hit upon an idea and tears came to my eyes and I got choked up.  The chorus to Just came on and I squeaked out the sentence, "I don't get things, like that paintbrush, I get concepts."

Hadj, you see, has needed a new paintbrush for a couple days and he's been trying to work out how to justify the overwhelming $4 expense. He was just thinking it was time to chuck it, and go to McLendon’s Ace Hardware, when we spotted a brand new paintbrush laying in the vacant parking space next to us. It was just the size he needed, there on the ground where he could find it.

When I said, "I don't get things, like that paint brush" I meant that a pair of new running shoes has not just appeared on the curb yet.  I was drawing my kvetching to a conclusion and feeling wilted when the words came out joyously from the thrift store mega-speakers and I felt lighter.  I finished, "I get concepts."
You do it to yourself, you do / And that's what really hurts / Is that you do it to yourself / Just you and no-one else / You do it to yourself

Every day moments, maybe the sunset was beautiful after a gray day, are my small saviors. They lead me back to the larger saviors like alignment, uplift, grace.  They do it one step at a time, fast and slow.  I've finally begun reading The Artist's Way (still on the intro). I feel like pages of words could spill out of me right now. I could drown in what feels like confession, but what is really my verbal painting of human interconnection. The routes we take to cover up the fact that we're all one is infinitely amusing. We're all made of the same stardust. We fight like we don't share the same molecular make up.

I have few reasons to complain right now, really. While it's true that I have no income myself, and Hadj's stipend is meager, we have a lot. And I have Caller ID which I am temporarily using to avoid the polite, but unfortunate, student loan bill collectors. We live in a nice home. We have four huggable animals to love and squeeze. My man took the afternoon off to rub my creaky back and encourage multiple orgasms. We have vegetables, cheese, pickles, dark chocolate, laughter...

And yet I am veiled. I feel all, serious. It's time for me to be welcoming of solitude, darker spaces, and wider. I'm happy to be doing it. It seems like anytime I'm not writing right now, I'm thinking about writing or reading. Taking the time to drag my ass to the seat and log time is still a struggle, but here I am, writing. Radiohead is talking about being strong enough, strength, and belonging and I get messages and it goes on.

I just need to clear myself," I said to Hadj. I drew my hands across my forehead to indicate my third eye. "I feel it blocked up; my throat and third eye. It's giving me a headache.