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

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

We Made Our Own Computer Out of Macaroni Pieces And It Did Our Thinking While We Lived Our Lives

I was all set on skipping my three pages today.  I begin every bi-weekly writing session with a three page journal entry and today I reasoned with myself.  It takes the steam out.  I conjectured -- It prevents the actual work.  Then some auspicious input came along, and it turned into something I wanted to post here.  That of course changed the way I approached the writing slightly.  I think of the physics law, in which the act of observation changes the behavior of atoms, often.
I'm thinking of posting these three (or more) pages every time I write them.  The upside of doing so is posting more often and sharing more of myself in writing.  The downside would be less time working on stories of a non-blog, non-journal nature.  I'm undecided.  (This warm up to the meat of the entry comes after a bit more noodling.  If you want to skip the noodling click here.)

I'm working from home today.  As expected the start time was shoddy -- I've only just begun after a half hour of snacking, emailing, and various piddling google searches.  The urge to go smoke a cigarette is (perhaps) even stronger.  However -- maybe the detour I took to get to work was secretly wise.  I am beginning to feel more juicy.  And - well - here I am! writing these pages even when I thought I wasn't going to.  Again though, I'm distracted.  What can be done about this terrible overhead light?  (Pause for serious inquiry, turn off light, move desk lamp, light "guava-coconut" scented votive.)  There now.  Not only is that an improvement for this environment, it's an improvement over the previous environments I've recently chosen to write from.
The reasons I'm writing these pages number at least two:
1. I felt I aught to, deep down
2. My horoscope confirmed me

I am listening to ambient music tones called "Soma" by Tom Kenyon.  I got as much of his music as I could find after a vision board workshop while I was pregnant.
Juicy yes, but unfocused too.  Mental whirlpool.  It's quite possible that that's OK.  I had planned to write more in the [unnamed, unpublished document] tonight.  Then mood struck this afternoon.  I was thinking about the malleability of my external personality i.e. the things I focus on and how they shift and why.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

This Post Will Not Make You Money, but It Might Make You Feel Rich

My moon time is coming again and that means that listening to one of my favorite albums makes me feel like some kind of human stew; all the memories, thoughts, experiences blending together in a rich sauce that somehow feels like it should be sustained, wrapped up and put away for later reflection or feeding on.

Not Knowing, Action and Completion

While reading about harmful/helpful bacteria and germs I came across a statement that said a study showed farm kids had better health throughout life than city kids.

I don't literally live on a farm.  There are no cows or goats to milk, no chickens to feed or hay to bale or any other of my limited examples of farm knowledge.  No one will die or go hungry if I stay in bed until the full light of the sun has dried off the morning fog.  But some thing does die a little. -- The Wild One.

I know I've talked about Women Who Run with the Wolves on this blog before.  It's been awhile because I haven't picked up the book in over a year.  I recently loaned that book to a friend and in return I was fed a few highlights she sparked on as she began the book.  It's been a joy to hear someone else talking about wild women, and self nurture and care.  I've been doing my best to take care too.
I've been gone from this blog for so long that there are multitudes of stories trying to jump out of my throat right now, but there's also the me who has been up since four and who wants to crawl back into bed for a few minutes now...

My mom told me something about herself the other day.  We were talking about my beginnings as a modern latchkey kid - when I was in full-time day care at 12 weeks old.  She was talking about the how and why of the success or our situation.  Then she said, as an addition or final explanation, "I like things to be easy."

Some kind of eclipse in my perception is ending and light is being thrown upon shadow.

I am very typical of my generation.  (As conventional as a four year degree and "essential" handheld electronic devices.)  One of the often publicized "problems" with me and my "millennial" friends is that we expect instant results out of some over developed sense of entitlement.  It seems that our parents' proximity of birth to WWII and a great city will influence our degree of spoiling, and so will the amount of money in their family.
My mom was born just after the baby boomers, to a Jewish family who became middle class on the uppermost part of Chicago's North side.  She married in 1981 at age 22 and had me about six months later. My father missed being a part of the "great generation's" offspring, but his eldest siblings were in on it.  He was also born in a Navy family and it seems their causal realities are varied from the daily "conventionally known" realities of non-military families.  My dad's family was larger and had one working parent (the absent one) so they were lower down on the economic ladder.
He might have been taught about the gains come from hard work except his mom had a fatal heart attack when he was 13 and his father was never around for long, at best.

Lots of girls play at princess stories when they're small.  It's an extremely common theme in American girls' psyches.  The princess may be poor, but golden hearted or drop dead gorgeous or extremely talented at singing.  Or she may be wealthy, a real princess at the outset, but beset by either villain, tragedy, or higher asperations than royal marriage and begetting.  In either case, in the majority of these popular tales, the princess' fortune ends fatter and through some kind of instant, game changing good luck.

We don't ever learn what happens to Princess Ariel of The Little Mermaid.  What if Prince Eric didn't want to, or wasn't able to, stop his seafaring in order to stay home having adventures and copious sex with his 16 year old wife?  What if she found herself on land, with her legs and her snorfblats, with a whole new world (sorry, wrong princess) to explore, all on her own?

Ok, so I'm not an ex-mermaid and I didn't get into a multi-species war with an octopus queen and my father didn't grant my biggest wish with his magic trident, but I am finding out what happens after the "and they lived happily ever after" curtain falls.  It was really embarrassing to me, to have to admit that I'd played right into that fairy tale and had No. Idea. what came after "happily ever after."  I hate it when I turn out to be a cliche.  (My trick for that is to just do or same something original or clever and then moving along.)

I have learned so much about myself in doing this work of mining into the cave of myself in order to be more authentic, more present, more consistently honest with myself and my lover.  I don't take myself to be a dishonest person.  I do my best to always show up and be real and present with my beloveds.  It is only now that I realized that I omit things in a split second.  Things that are not a big deal, but that some part of me sensors for the perceived sake of others or of some kind of peace.

Hadj make a funny the other day when a woman told me she hadn't ever really know any Aquarians.  He said, "And you never will!" and then guffawed at his own joke in that way he has.  It was clever and so true, but I wouldn't have ever known it until this relationship. I do require a lot of space and my man requires much less.  We meet in the middle as often as possible and call to each other when one has gone into hiding.

Now that my sense of humor is back and I've again traded in my depressive blues for more manic flower power patterns, I can see that I make the committment more and more everyday to be as much of what my man needs as I can and also to be all of myself that I need.  That's really all required and I'm pleased by the simplicity.  The universe has put my right where I need to be if I want to work out the knot of not yet knowing how to energetically move and patiently be.  

Hadj and I were talking the other day and I was saying how it can be disorienting to pine for the city while feeling grateful for the country at exactly the same time.  I gave a few examples of what about the city I was missing and he said, "instant gratification."  That's what the city has.  You can get anything you want any time of the day or night when you live in a metropolis.  "Here," he said, "if you want something you have to do research first."

Sometimes it's very reassuring to have a name for the struggle you're feeling.  It's like having a flashlight in the woods at night.

Speaking of work, and patience with this post is waning at the present and I'm not further patient to save it and make it into the picture of what I originally had when I began writing it.  I had grand ideas, of course, least coherent ones, and now what I have is written.  And what's really great is that this post, this very one, is really a mash-up of something I began writing two months ago and have finally come back to tend to now.  That's part of the reason why blogs are so great.  Whatever I need to say, I can say it quickly and move.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

My Own Softer World

I've made one other personal rendition of A Softer World before.  You can see it here.  Then you can marvel at how much more advanced this one is!  This is my new piece of pride.  I love the website Picnik for helping non-graphic geeks like me make fun stuff in a snap.

Body Mind Hypnosis

I can stop wishing.  From what I learned of hypnotherapy last week I, with all my daydreaming, imagining, and irregular meditative states, am a great candidate for hypnosis.  As it was presented to me, hypnotherapy can basically be used to reprogram our thought habits around certain subjects or behaviors.  You're reprogramming your brain; like all of my unlearn and retraining issues.  I'm betting I can stop wishing to be a certain way and hypnotize myself.  If I have a positive, smooth script and a few quiet moments I can immerse myself and remake parts of the past as I keep wishing they had been.  I can stop wishing and make it real.  For instance, even as my boy wiggles and baby-grunts on the floor next to me, I can cull the idea here now and create a script to heal my body treatment habits.  I can unmake the story I've told myself, about my upbringing's strengths and failings.  I can unmake the why of my bodymind issues.  I can fill in the places I wish were different with new truths that I know now.  I can go back and give myself all the things I know now, that I wish I knew then.  I can stop wishing; can have it be...

One thing the following hypnosis script draft does not have is the into and out of portion, like I experienced at the session I had.  At the end the script included something like a trigger.  The color, in that case was red.  Every time I saw the color red, I was instructed, I would feel good.  Would feel valuable, vibrant, vivacious, and so on.  I will do this for myself now.  The color of the root chakra, the seat of the body, the pelvis, balance point, is also red.  (Well, isn't that just convenient?  A twofer!)

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

There Isn't One Right Way

I've decided to submit the story I've been working on for publication, so I won't be putting it up here for the time being.  Here, now, are some things I have been writing and thinking lately...

First of all, before I get to what I've written recently, I want to share one of those a ha! moments, as Oprah coined them.  I thought there was a right way to feed a baby.  I thought there was a right schedule to be kept, so somehow, the baby learned how to eat rightly.  Now I see that no, there isn't a right way, there is the way that works for that particular baby and mother.  I've learned a lot, in retrospect, about my feeding habits with Salamander.  I needed more support than I realized or sought, but...oh well! At least we're doing great now.  In that same vein, some more of what I've been writing on paper, transferred here for you all to read...

I have to admit my own mistake.  I thought I had to teach Salamander something rather than know I just had to feed him.  Well, now the boy eats.  He SO eats and it's a joy to listen to him snore after he's fallen asleep eating his last bottle of the night.
I thought it had to be all from me.  I was unconsciously out to prove something with breastfeeding.  This proud, stubborn piece of me mistakenly took on showing some people how it could and should be, instead of realizing THIS is NOT about THAT.  This is a new life we're feeding here, not my life we're making proof as success out of.
Back to Salamander snoring.  That was a couple nights ago and it was painfully precious.  He fell asleep in my arms in the rocking chair.  The bottle dropped out of his mouth and tiny fists and he positively gurgled like some fat old man with sleep apnea.  In a grown person it could have been a gross sound but in this tiny boy it was purely hysterical.  I had to bite my lip from bursting out.
"more eggs please"

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Isn't It Fun When We Go As Fast As We Can?

I want to share my dork with you.  No, I don't have a whale penis our house isn't that big.  OK, I'm on my third sentence and already I'm editorializing myself, but this (if you're like me) is just too funny.  I heard, probably in fourth grade, that a "dork" was "actually" the name of a whale penis.  And now Google has half affirmed me.  Moving now, decidedly, on...

By "my dork" I mean what Lights Me UP.  The specific and eccentric set of stuff that tickles my fancy and fills me up with goodness.  Over at 1,001 Son Days I've managed to curate a lovely set of bloggers focusing on the positive and fanciful in this world.  I'm spending as much conscious time possible thinking happy thoughts.  Sprinkling damn sparkly fairy dust on myself and my loved ones (or those who just happen to be nearby) and believing that a new world that is hopeful does still exist.  And! What I'm really proud of right this second is that I'm doing this despite the hours a day I spend listening to panic, doom, and "balanced information" on NPR stations.  OK, sometimes they have happy stories too.

It is really helping me that I specifically choose what images I let in my life!  If something leaves a bad chill up your spine, get it out of your life, right?  (OK, I'm still totally subject to the royalty of True Blood, but I love a good fantasy thriller.)  On the road today I was listening to a podcast called The Indigo Room with Sydney Chase and it revved me up like a can of Red Bull used to when I was working two jobs in the big city.  Even better! These were good vibes organically made and offered to me from a real person!  Let me tell you about some of the effects it had on me.  First of all, she uses the phrase "wicky-wacky."  Now, I'm not going to be able to define exactly what she means by that, but viscerally I could tell she meant "kinda off."  Or wonky.  But I just liked it! Wicky wacky.  Also, this woman's laugh is gold and she ain't afraid to spend it!  Every time she laughed I laughed.  She was laughing so much that I couldn't only giggle along with her.  I was guffawing in the car to myself.  I was kicking my feet the way Salamander does about five minutes into a meal of sweet potatoes or pears.  Right when the sugars hit him, I guess, his feet just get all happy and start kicking up a storm.  It's so damn cute.

Another reason I said I wanted to share my dork with you is because of my all time favorite food blogger, Deb, at Smitten Kitchen was included in the most recent issue of Everyday Food.  She was talking about her blog and encouraged people (readers) to be them, be their dork selves.  Her showing up in this magazine that I've just begun a subscription to was surprising and led me to feel I was being followed, euphemistically speaking, by a favorite celebrity and that this was somehow teaching me something, or hinting I should look somewhere for inspiration or guidance.

I only have ten minutes before I'm kicked out of my writing hole for the night so I'm going to give as many quick bits of good news I have in the next five minutes.  Yay! Doing things fast!

I put myself back to work.  That means, with my excellent partner's support, I'm taking two nights a week to get away from home to a wifi supported distraction free location to write, write, write.  I even have a system!  An objective!  A goshdarn mission statement!  And I have my first story.  It's three and half pages, 2200 or so words, and about my experience with a pediatrician in Salamander's fifth month.  It's kinda long for a blog, no?  Do you want me to put it up here?  I'm thinking about it....

I tried hypnotherapy and it was really cool!  At the end something very synchronous happened that sent shivers up my spine.  It made me feel pretty damn good about myself, over all.  And that was the point! Isn't that special?

Hadj's birthday is this weekend and we have a baby sitter for six hours!  Plus, I'm making what looks to be an awesome cake and I'm pretty stoked about it.  I need more close friends,in this area, to bake for...

We're going to have about 650 more square feet to inhabit on our property soon!  Our buddy is moving out so he can explore his adventurous future in Thailand and that means we get our studio and half our "garage" back.  Exciting!

Salamander.  Oh my goodness.  I wrote a few paragraphs earlier this evening on a specifically gaga love fest I was having with him a few nights ago.  I was going to post it here, but then forgot so I'll come back to it soon.  But, jeez.  Salamander.  He is such a blessing and excellent teacher.  Thanks little buddy.

I have to go! The nice waitress who alternately has called me missy, dear, and ma'am wants to go home.  Love to you all.