why passive aggression works...

.... cuz nobody asks the perpetrator,
"Who rightly should bear the burden when you do not or can not or will not?"
and thus, the burden is passed instead of being carried by its creator.

Stop that! Wake Up!
And next time do it like the kids do,
Think quick, place right index finger on your nose and say,
"Nose No's!"
and walk away.

Sure, the approach was gentle, the words polite, but you know you feel it, the weight, the punishment, the passive-aggressive payback.
Don't let the reasonable sound of his voice lull you into leaving your heart and energy undefended.
It's a hot potato, for sure. Toss it back!
 

 

my morning Trouble

black fur
warm sunshine
soft chocolate with
a million tiny rainbows

fortune cookie

"You will find the answer to your dilemma where you least expect it."
Dammit! TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW!!!!!!!!!!

love

Goofing on Fromm again
Oh god I love this dude! Wonder why, huh? ;-)

"People believe that to love is simple but that to be loved is most difficult. In our marketing orientation people think they are not loved because they are not "attractive" enough, attractiveness being based on anything from looks, dress, intelligence, money, to social position and prestige. They do not know that the real problem is not difficulty of being loved but the difficulty of loving; that one is loved only if one can love, if one's capacity for love produces love in another person, that the capacity for love, not for it's counterfeit, is a most difficult achievement."
Eric Fromm, Psychoanalysis and Religion

When I first read the above, it took a few minutes for me to get it at all. And even longer for true understanding to come. As a matter of fact I'm still chewing on it. (That's one of the things I love about Fromm. He can be so straightforward. Yet still I find I must work at it. And every time I do, I find that I am rewarded with new insight :)

I instantly got the first part - "In our marketing orientation people think they are not loved because they are not "attractive" enough...."
For me puberty coincided with the beanpole Twiggy's rise to stardom, and so I've been going round in circles with this attractiveness-monkey most of my life. I know the ins and outs of those feelings intimately. I've learned time and again that what you know and what you believe about yourself does not always coincide with how you feel. And no amount of intellectualizing or will power can change those feelings permanently. No wonder so many folks fall into this I-am-not-______-enough trap. afterall our culture and economic system is dependent upon keeping us in this unbalanced state.

The next part is what stopped me and forced me think.
"that one is loved only if one can love, if one's capacity for love produces love in another person,"
I had to turn "produces love in another" over in my mind again and again. I just didn't get it at first. What did he mean "produces"?

Eventually I decided I needed to figure out who "produced" love in me, to go looking for it, to see if I could feel love, feel having been loved. Maybe then I could understand.

Note, I can't count how many times in the past couple years that I've been told "You are thinking too much, try to feel". And so this trying to feel business is a skill I've been consciously attempting to cultivate. Funny, as useful as I have found it to be, it still doesn't come on its own but must be summoned on purpose for most tasks. This seemed an appropriate application.

I started thinking of certain people I've known over the course of my life, starting with the most obvious of loved ones, my father and his mother. I was searching for the emotions inside me that colors their memory. And I was thinking, how should this 'love produced' feel? And I was wondering who all I could lump together in similar feelings-produced categories.

Again and again, I purposely placed my mind on specific people and waited. Eventually I was able to recognize an emotional pattern that I believe is love. I believe it to be an aching yearning feeling; a hunger; a longing to reach out, to touch, to be with; and a desperate desire to give back in kind, a gratefulness. I've decided this specific combination is a good litmus test.

Over the course of a few days time I ran my mind over lots of people, relationships and emotional memories. And I came up with a short list. It seems that only a few special people cause this love-feeling to well up. I guess love is not as common as commonly thought, or at least in my life, not. Another observation I made is that, for me, the warm and fuzzy brought on by thoughts of these loved ones, is tinged with a bitter-sweetness, an ache brought on by loss and/or distance; some are dead, some moved far away and others have never been physically nearby.

I've been sitting with these love ideas now for a few weeks wondering, "Well what now?" The melancholy perpetually threatens but I don't want to go there. Knowledge like this needs to be leveraged and so I've been sitting with it, trying to accept and understand this love thang more completely. Below are a few of the places I've gone with it.

When I say "the desire to give back in kind" I mean the desire to love them back, to love the lovers. I think that is a very telling part, the way that desire arises spontaneously, from up and out of their love, from the love they produced inside me. I realize now that this is something different than what I would describe as my everyday giving-love motive. It is hard exactly to describe where the love-giving that I have done over a lifetime has come from, but I can definitely sense that for the most part, it is from some place different than the emotion-place that the folks on my short list take me.

It is embarrassing and sad, but there is no getting around the fact that, I think I've spent my whole life working so hard at trying to love, trying to let others know, or convince them, that I loved them, that I'd not noticed, actually not been able to identify, the lack coming back in my direction. I've taken in love's counterfeit, without question. I've lived on it so long that the malnourishment compounded. I accepted 'loves' at face value and never looked under the surface. I never bothered to compare, 'Why does this love feel different than that love?'; never considered, 'Is it possible that some situations/exchanges labeled love are not love at all, but instead, its counterfeit?'

My right brain has a song for most every occasion. Shakira is one of many that fits here.
"Did it again, love, I got it all wrong
But it felt so right, I can't believe it
And all the mistakes that went on for so long
Wish there was a way I could delete it"

And now to complicate the emotional landscape further -
Realizing that my attempts at loving were not always generated by genuine love itself, I must ask,
Did I produce love in them? Could I? Can I? Is it possible to fail in one of love's directions but succeed in the other?
I don't know.
Can misguided motivations sincerely executed produce the desired results?
I don't know. I think the Magic 8-ball answer would be "it is doubtful". Afterall it seems that those I've loved, tried to love, have not been motivated to give back in kind, and that is one of my criteria, right? I didn't give expecting anything specific in return but it is just that as I look around at my "closest" relationships lately I see an awful lot of what can only be described as profound disrespect. And that hurts. It is hard to reconcile with my giving spirit.
But what if I don't know how to receive love?
And what if that is the reason for the very short list?

My questions are endless. Maybe tomorrow I'll continue this and contemplate other love related topics such as the too-good-to-be-true a.k.a. experiencing-love-makes-me-paranoid phenomena. Until then I'll keep reading Fromm and others, content that I am learning, and resting in the warmth of the love I know is real.

Do you talk to inanimate objects?

I do, always have.

This morning, feeling pretty damn breezy, I was walking past a tall brick wall,
when I looked up and thought about how many times over the years I'd passed by there,
the student center where I went to college decades ago.

Q: Hey! Do you remember me?
A: You were such a scared little pup.
Q: Oh yeah? You think?
A: Come in. Sit. Stay awhile. Finish the work you started when you first entered those doors.

deck and cover

burned to the ground
still the memories glow bright
too bad physical pain can't be shared
I'd gladly have made an exception

now I touch the knot and wonder
what the lesson was
and who learned what

full circle
move on
their voices are coming from behind me now
I will carry no blame for their misnavigations

reflections in time
lone color and shape
felt sense and illusion
warm wood and rust

Sugar

When I started writing this yesterday I was wallowing and so I put it aside. Bigger and tougher pains commanded my attention this morning but I've circled back, and now want to post it. Sometimes I find it hard to put my finger on the how and why, but I sense there is rhyme and reason behind these seemingly random notes that sometimes pop out and carry me away. I guess in order to honor that process and allow for possibility, I want to let this one play out more completely, maybe shape-shift the emotions some more by finishing the post. I find writing most always helps clarify and finalize the weight.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I think it is kinda funny that I put "pony" on the wish list I posted yesterday. I don't really want a pony, well not in same way that I really would enjoy the rest of that list :) But there I was typing away and the word "pony" just popped out. It seemed to just follow and fit, and so I left it.

Today at lunch I got to thinking about it again and I don't really think it was an accident or random word choice. I think it linked to an upsetting conversation from the night before. I've been trying to feel more and think less but it seems that I am still fairly slow and awkward when it comes to connecting the emotional dots.

You see I did have a pony briefly when I was kid. I named him Sugar. He was a Shetland pony, brown with a white sugar-colored mane. He was a surprise, a gift that my mom's parents bought for me. I don't recall the occasion, might have even been a birthday but actually my memory is real sketchy on the details.

Nana and Frank raised cattle on 10 acres and so they had plenty of room for a pony. I've no idea what possessed them to buy him. I hadn't asked for a pony. I'd never really entertained the thought. Nevertheless I was thrilled! What little kid wouldn't be? I thought he was the coolest ever. I loved feeding him apples, petting him, talking to him, and just hanging out in the pasture with him. I rode him bareback a few times, and that was fun but really the best fun was just standing beside him nuzzling and being together. I guess I was a lonely little kid. Of course I didn't know it then but the fact seems pretty obvious now.

One day my grandparents had the neighbor boys over to show us how to saddle and bridle him. Sugar didn't care for this idea. I remember standing there watching, and saying "No, he doesn't like that." but they kept trying to force the bit in his mouth. I just didn't get it, what was so important about this? He resisted, they forced harder and harder. The adults surrounded him, they were determined. Finally Sugar reared up and bolted away, full speed into the upper pasture. I was glad it was over.

Not long afterward back at home, my mom got a call. I could tell she was agitated on the phone. When she got off, she told me that Nana and Frank had sold Sugar because he was dangerous, they were afraid he would hurt me. I protested and insisted that he'd never hurt me but it was a done deal. I cried and cried. I hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. It hurt so much.

Today my adult mind was reflecting on this memory and inevitably I came to -
WTF were they thinking? What was the point? Why did they say he was mine? They bought him for me? No!
And then I realized -
They bought him for themselves, so they could think of themselves as loving giving indulgent grandparents and enjoy the fun of teaching me to "ride" all proper like. They couldn't conceive of the fact that I was completely content to simply love him as a big pet, as a friend. That'd be a childish thing and unreasonable. They paid good money for him and he was supposed to perform, make them look good, fulfill the vision they had planned. (Yeah I really am slow sometimes :)

I understand now that they never considered my feelings or desires. I suspect they were incapable of doing so. They were motivated by their own needy egos. It was never about me.

Just another example of the emotional myopathy that surrounds us all everyday.

the real wish list

a week alone in wilderness
painkillers that work
a massage
cunnilingus
and a good hard fuck
my piano tuned
the house painted
a yard man
a pool boy in a speedo with a pina colada
a pool
a pony
wings to fly
fire unbound

bah, humbug

"What do you want for your birthday?"
I never know how to answer that question.
Honestly the whole gift giving thing has always bugged me. The artificiality makes me feel invisible.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I am sure that I will enjoy the cds I receive for my birthday. (And I know that providing a list will ensure they won't buy something I've already downloaded etc) But the thing is, the tell-us-what-you-want business is actually work on my part. Afterall I could just as easily go buy the stuff myself IF STUFF was what I truly wanted.
And so I can't help but ask, where is the present in all this? Where's the surprise? the joy? the fun?
And where is the celebration of life inherent in the words "happy birthday"?

I've contemplated this gifting crapola forever and here's the conclusion to which I've come. IMHO most all gift giving - birthday christmas anytime - is simply an opportunity for the gift-givers to feel good about themselves.
Over the years I can't count how many times I have heard,
"Oh is that the ________ I gave you for your birthday? You must be enjoying it, huh? Well good, I am glad." *pats self on the back for being so thoughtful and choosing the right present*

For the longest time I carried an emotional load after these sorts of conversations. I didn't want to hurt the other person's feelings; but also I didn't like being asked, there was just something "off" about it. I think something inside of me saw through the superficiality but I discounted it. Recently though I've come to see this sort of situation for what it is, parasitic egotism, not innocent curiosity or genuine caring. Basically, I was being required to supply the gift-giver an ego-boost through not only initially accepting the gift and using it, but also periodically updating the boost through answering such questions with continued assurance as to the pleasing nature of the gift.

I guess it is just human nature, hmmm? People embrace routines and ritual; and fear uncertainty and spontaneity. They want to know what is coming next and especially what is expected of them. They depend on the predictability of holidays with their check-the-box reassurances, in order to be certain of their own personal goodness and the completeness of life.

And so what better way for us all to stay even keeled in the self-esteem department, than to have cookie cutter gift giving holidays sprinkled throughout the year? Sure, there might be a little pressure making gift decisions as each event approaches but as long as you stick to the format you're certain to succeed, right? Flowers, check. Greeting card, check. Cake, check. Ice cream, check. Phew! All done, good job! Now take a break! Aw yeah, you deserve it, you thoughtful generous animal. *pats self on back*
Works quite nicely, I guess, until somebody gets bored to fucking death.

What would happen if I insisted on no presents for my birthday? I don't think they could stand it. It would make them uncomfortable. If I didn't "want" anything, I'd be depriving them of the feel-good of giving. And that would be mighty inconsiderate of me, huh?
*sigh*

do you see what i see

File this under "crazy" thoughts.
Proceed at your own risk. You have been warned! :)


A few weeks ago while waiting for a traffic light to change I had a mind bending experience. I had been feeling fairly sluggish mentally, in a "oh woe, what's the matter with me?" sort of mood. And then instantly this experience gave me new perspectives. I've been enjoying the turning of new thoughts and the seeing of new views ever since.

I was sitting at a traffic light at a fairly large and busy intersection. I was bored and wanted to get on home. I glanced up into my rear view mirror and the reflections drew my attention and held me. I saw them as I had never seen before. Now I am seeking out similar such views everywhere.

The thing that was so mind-blowing was the fact that when I glanced up into the rear view mirror, it took me a L O N G moment to figure out what I was seeing. I was only intending a routine check backwards, a sort of mindless automatic vehicle safety orientation glance. And yet I found myself staring and then disoriented. My eyes were focused on cars passing back and forth - red pick-up moving right, blue pick-up left, little grey sedan right, white panel van left, rumbling dump truck... zip, zip, zip. It was quite neat. The sun was shining. All was bright and quick. But then suddenly I felt confused, "Wait, what am I looking at? Where are these cars? In which direction...?" And then, damn it all, I realized that while I'd been feeling as if I was looking backwards, because the cars were in my rear view mirror, in truth they were directly in front of me! Traffic crossing the intersection ahead was being reflected in my sunglass lenses and subsequently reflected back to me by the reflection of my own face in the rear view mirror.

Once I had my orientation I began playing with it on purpose, shifting back and forth - from forward out the windshield, to back inside the rear view. I found that if I relaxed my focus I could watch them both. I could simultaneously monitor the real space of the actual intersection with its zipping cars, plus their doubled back mirror reflections in the very glasses through which my eyes were looking. It was not unlike standing in a dressing room with an angled mirror, only with these cars there was the complication that I knew they existed in a separate reality that lay beyond me and behind the mirror. I felt them both in front and in back; it was as if they surrounded me. I was now fully entertained waiting for the light to change :) However the longer I looked, the more my eyes and brain seemed to be asking me to choose one or the other focus, "Keep it simple, stupid! One at a time!" But I kept at it, watching and noting everything I could, trying to relax and remove all specificity from my gaze. I wanted to take it all in, allow each its own motion, while staying centered in my own small separate space.

BTW, maybe I should mention that I was completely sober. And that no psychoactive drugs were involved. Well, none other than, attention and curiosity! ;^)

Since this experience I've been flipping my vision back and forth alot, and seeing all sorts of other sights in this new way. And I've been thinking about how much I previously screened out of my awareness, by narrowing my attention. Yet now with a bit of effort I may purposely take in more. I think it is fun as hell.

I realize these different views have always been in front of my eyes. I guess though, on a "normal" day I decide on an orientation upfront, and then choose what to look at, always knowing from where I am looking. As a result, much of what might have been seen, passes by unnoticed, as if non-existent.

The experience has stuck with me. There is something about that ability to appreciate different layers of perception and reflection that super intrigues me. Sometimes it is fleeting; other times it can be sustained. Interestingly it is not exactly through effort that the views hang together; but instead, through a kind of relaxing, an allowing.

While musing on these simultaneous reflections and attention and focusing and the dis-orientation of it all, eventually my thoughts turned to dreaming. I've been keep a journal of my dreams for the better part of 2 years now. This summer they got really crazy. Many nights the dreams came on so fast and continuous that I could barely keep up remembering and recording them. Jotting down notes in the morning became a real challenge. Often I could still see images and recall some plot, but even if my life had depended on it, I couldn't have told you the sequence of these dream events. I would write a few things down and then have to turn my paper sideways or upside down because I knew that the dream bits I was attempting to express on paper were each separate entities and I wanted/needed to represent that fact in my record-keeping also. I ended up with pages full of crazy, the words heading off in all directions, linked by circles and arrows and question marks.

I am wondering now if perhaps a dreaming brain, like normal waking vision, has a choice of what to focus on in any given moment; and if given the right stimulus or mind-set, it too can focus on multiple images and their reflections. And what if those images in 3D bounce and diffract as we snooze? Like watching the cars crossing the intersection, am I sometimes in my dreams watching dream-reflections? OR what if, like the multi-plex down at the mall, there's more than one show playing at the same time? And maybe just as we multi-task errands in real life, we juggle simultaneous dream scenes all night long? No wonder those morning memories feel shuffled and are often so hard to sort out.

And no wonder sometimes instead of engaging our visions and illusions, we choose to sleep.

baby steps

Discussing psychological healing, someone once advised me to take "baby steps". It seemed like a good idea at the time. The image that came to mind was small steps, slow and careful.

However it has occurred to me that in child development books, REAL baby steps are termed precipitous walking. In the beginning, each and every step is actually a fall, a stumble. Children learning to walk are reckless, driven. Once they let go of that coffee table and head out into the great wide open, they tend to just go for it. You've seen it, right? All the adults holding their breath while the kid plunges forward, throwing one foot out ahead of the other, again and again, until boom!

They step out there, fall down, go boom. Then get back up and do it again!
Not a bad strategy, I think. After all, how many adults do you know who never learned how to walk?

Returning to this issue of psychological healing - 
Yesterday at a lecture I attended, the question was asked, 
"When do you learn to not abandon yourself?"
And I couldn't help but also think, "And how?" 

There is no doubt that I've been making progress for a couple years with the slow and steady approach. As a matter of fact, this week in particular I've been noticeably bolder and effective, speaking up, asking for help and getting what I needed. And that's big stuff for me; felt pretty good too, less foreign, less forced. Hmmmm...... and so I'm thinking maybe it's time to ramp it up...... and go for it toddler-style! :D 


    

warming up your dinner

how cool is that?

testify

"Tell them that you've gone to find a person
Someone you lost track of long ago
Tell them that it's someone you need worse than
Anybody else you'll ever know"
(Jackson Browne)


I can get off on lighting a one match fire. It takes some effort gathering your tender and kindling, being selective, and laying it all out carefully, but I think it's worth the trouble. There is just nothing like that moment, watching the tiny flame grow to become self sustaining, as you stand beside singing, "Rise up oh flame, by thy light glowing, show
to us beauty, visions and joy."

I like water analogies and that is often where my head goes when working on personal problems. Today though it was fire that helped me see. I was thinking about my marriage and my long standing desire to energize my husband. You see I've always been the one to yearn and burn and crave, the one with insatiable taste buds, the one who longs to live life to the fullest. He has always played it so straight, "Why would I want to do that? It is comfortable here now, so why should I move? Why change?" Yeah it's been a union of Mr Content and Ms Questing. I used to think that our complementarity was a good thing, a part of the variety of the world, something to be respected, but in recent years I've realized that this dynamic and his attitude enslaved me, limited me to his singularly defined orbit. I've always known that you are not supposed to try to change the ones you love, but I suppose I have always been wishing that my enthusiasm could be contagious, that at some point he might join me.

I want to shine, to bounce, to flow, to join the dance, not sit and watch.
I was a wallflower in high school, been there done that. It's a dead end street.

This past week I was reading through an old diary, confronting sadness and reality on every page.
"Sept. 1, 1984 ... But I'm not happy. Face it. Say it. Admit it. I'm not happy.......... I just yearn, ache, want, desire. I'm not happy. I want more. It's a good life. I haven't a right to complain, but why do I want more........ He's got sooooo much potential! I do love him. If he'd only loosen up..... that's what I'm tired of fighting - his closed mind. I wish he could just relax and enjoy, do away with that pride and worry and doing things right, socially acceptable"

One doesn't always have the luxury of time or the materials for building a one match fire. Success and that warm glow can be had through less elegant means. Unfortunately though, sometimes you have to face the truth, that not even a wind-proof lighter, the Sunday newspaper, slices of Dura-log and a quart of charcoal starter fluid is gonna do it.
If your wood is wet or green, it'll only smolder and make you cry.


"And the cold wind that blew
Through the hole in my heart
Made a fire for the very first time
From some branches of trust
And a kindling of faith
And that spark in the back of my mind "
John Haitt

smile

Be humbly grateful,
not grumbly hateful.

I spotted these words on a sign while driving
through south Georgia a few years ago and jotted
them down in a journal I was carrying.

I was re-reading that journal this morning.
The timing couldn't have been better.
I was in need of rediscovering this message.
Thank you Universe! :)

the simple stuff

"Decay starts when growth stops."

(seen on a chuch sign near Trader's Hill, GA)

mondegreen

"cryin' on the killin' floor"

Honest to god this is a true story, but I would not blame anyone for thinking it, fiction, as it does kinda have a too perfect to be believable vibe.

A memory came one night a few weeks ago. At the time I was pretty blown away with it. I immediately fell into a full blown woo-woo-cue-the-twilight-zone-music this-is-really-creepy mind set. I was thinking of it as forshadowing. Today however I am thinking that maybe it is not actual foreshadowing, but rather a single simple example of my long-standing <3 LUV <3 blindness; one of a zillion examples to be found, if I take the time to look around while my sight continues to slowly clear. You know how sometimes people mis-hear song lyrics? I saw a book once with a bunch of humorous examples... I think the one which most folks are familiar with is the line in Jimi Hendrix's Purple Haze, where he sings "excuse me while I kiss this guy".... no, rewind..... "kiss the sky"....
Yeah, dude was flamboyant, in the style of the times, but Purple Haze was not a coming out song :)


Many long years ago my boyfriend, now husband, shared the fact that he had misunderstood some Elton John lyrics. I think the song was popular on the radio at the time. I however hadn't paid much attention to it, and so had not yet formed an opinion about it. Over the years, even though we've never listened to the song much, we have laughed many times about how completely backwards he got the sentiment in the song. I've always attributed his misunderstanding to a combination of factors. For example, some songwriters simply do a better job than others in conveying emotion through music and tempo; and also, some songs (like hubby's example) are compositions, with words and music created by two different people, and thus ambiguity can be inherent; and well then there is the fact that some singers garble their lyrics :(

the lyric?
hubby's.................................... "love that crazy feeling in my head"
Elton John / Bernie Taupin's............."love lies bleeding in my hand"

To be honest, way back then, I actually thought it was kinda sweet that my guy interpretted the song in such a cheerful way. Too bad I was wrong about that. I now fully understand that this was not a sign of innate cheerfulness but rather a complete inability to see or accept and own anything painful.

It seems to me that song interpretation and music preferences are like psychological projections. They can tell us much if we listen with openness. Too bad we often only hear what we want, regardless of the truth and artistry that stands before us.

Seek and ye shall find,

two sides of a coin
denied.

I want to play. I want you to come visit me in my denuded environment,
in this home that I've messed up.
I am Asshole.

I was unprepared. I need protection from the cold and the wind,
the storms of life, and the relentless ocean's power.
I am silent girl.

needs.....wants

I need to touch

I need to be touched

I want more

dream work

The presentation was on working with dream characters. The exercise was to choose a character from one of your dreams and write a dialogue between yourself and the character, to write quickly and spontaneously for 5 minutes. I've role played a bit like this before. And a while back I even read an entire book on working with emotions in therapy that discussed/recommended such techniques. Never the less I was completely unprepared for how gut wrenching this short exercise turned out to be.

She's a pretty pitiful character, doesn't speak in the dream, just stands there windblown wet sandy and partially clothed. Attempting to interpret the dream, I've assumed she is some part of me, a personality that I've pushed away or denied. I've considered that she is perhaps an evolution of other rather lifeless characters who have been showing up off and on now for over a year. I've done a decent amount of thinking on her in the past few months, trying to understand her, the meaning, her story, her situation, the why and how.... hoping to empathize and comfort(?). I do feel a little bit sorry for the waif. In the dream I help her but only up to a point, I'm not willing to give her everything she needs.

Emotions washed over me as I wrote, I was close to tears several times. Sitting on the front row I feared that my contorting face and irregular breathing were obvious to others, especially the lecturer directly in front of me. Most of the other folks in the room were therapists and I assumed they were not likely to be dealing with material as raw and wild. And so I was embarrassed on top of it all, feeling naked, my inexperience on display and like I didn't belong..... However I kept telling myself that the presence of all these emotions (and the fact that i managed to bear them without totally losing it :) was ultimately a good thing, something that I would revisit and use to learn. Now I had a taste of her depth and hurt; some new data, a new tool

Once the exercise was over I spent the rest of the lecture alternating between listening to the speaker and reeling inside. I was surprised at how powerful the exercise had been (and lol I was hoping there wasn't going to be another one!) I knew that I needed to keep mulling it over. I wondered if I should go home and attempt more dialogues with other dream characters or if perhaps that could be dangerous, too much too soon, upsetting, confusing, too much material to digest at this point in time.

Later it finally dawned on me (I really am slow sometimes :) that all my previous thinking on her had been directional, from me to her, looking at her on the outside. And that's why the exercise was so powerfully moving. Yes, twas a variation of the lightbulb moment, a.k.a. the well-duh-that-was-the-point-stupid moment.

Even though from the beginning I've believed her to be a part of myself, I still had been viewing her in third person, from over here, through my eyes, just as I'd come up on her there on the beach in my dream.

The dialogue writing had forced me to voice her, to be her, to inhabit her skinny body, to feel tangled long hair blowing across my face, shifting cold bare feet on the sand, reluctantly trying to speak. I'd had to work at making words come out of her mouth, not an easy task cause she'd much prefer to stand there and stare. In the dream I'd spoken to her but she just stood here. In this dialogue not only did she finally say something but I'd had to answer her, to speak and feel my resentment and frustration, voice my shock at her condition and obvious lack of preparedness, and to really weigh the costs of helping her, to truly think about what a burden it would be to take her on, to give her everything she needs.

And tonight I'm still in pain, physically and emotionally, literally and figuratively.

Interesting stuff, dreams,
Gifts that keeps on giving. What more could one want? \(@_@)/

where is the love

"Love is only possible if two persons communicate with each other from the center of their existence, hence if each one of them experiences himself from the center of his existence. Only in this "central experience" is human reality, only here is aliveness, only here is the basis for love. Love experienced thus is a constant challenge; it is not a resting place, but a moving, growing, working together; even whether there is harmony or conflict, joy or sadness, is secondary to the fundamental fact that two people experience themselves from the essence of their existence, that they are one with each other by being one with themselves, rather than by fleeing from themselves." - (Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving)

Yeah, that.
That's what I want.

clarity

"songbird in a golden cage"

yes that's it
i am his joy, his life, vibrancy and song....
externally held

for ready access on those rare occassions when he is in the mood,
or can channel an alive feeling through massive quantities of alcohal

he craves life but doesn't know it
he thinks he's happy
ask him, he'll tell you
but warning, he'll lash out in anger if you challenge him on that point

she, his joy, can not reside inside him
he doesn't want to feel her inside, that'd be too tempting, too hard to keep hidden and quiet
and so he must not acknowledge her as an integral part
and that is why he needs me,
all so he can exist in this kind of warped wholeness
and so he can slap it down, make it hurt,
crush it as it bubbles up making him uncomfy

yeah! i got this shit!!! :)
it all makes perfect sense now
i've read hardcore psychology stuff for years
and some of it makes sense easily, on the first read through
but other parts, require repetition,
are initially understandable only on a surface level
like a theory or an abstract,
if you work at it and turn it over in your mind you can see how it does make a sense,
the pieces fit, but there's no intimacy, no deeper knowing,
no intuition solidifying the concepts
cuz it's all just words
until you discover the personal application,
see the living breathing pattern in your own life
then you truly understand

i've had these revelations before when contemplating my marriage, people in my life
and my own behavior
but somehow this one this morning seemed fresh and new and exciting

a variation of the lightbulb moment but broader and deeper
that's what i got today laying in bed rolling this stuff over in my head for the umpteenth time
i finally truly saw our relationship,
the mechanism behind the reaction
phew!
damn! i'm slow 5+28
trouble listens "time waits for no one"
better late than never?
tortoise and the hare
grand canyon chinese water torture drip drop

chem lab 101

Some people are precipitates, stable compounds,
settling to the bottom of the flask, or clouding the solution
and scattering light.

Some of us are fluid reactants, active participants,
in motion, combining recombining, readily subject to
the variables - time, temperature, pressure,
and the occassional catalyst.

Others yet, are gaseous forms driven to expand,
rising and escaping into the unbounded atmosphere.
Hold them in and the pressure builds. Let them bubble
up freely and they'll disappear.

"Stop waving your arms you're safe and dry"

tag this one "crazy thoughts"......

Looking for something that's still missing...
I just now found one of those hispanic prayer candles in amongst some camping stuff in the attic. On some previous trip I'd probably forgotten to pack a lantern and so picked up the candle at a grocery store while traveling.

Today has been full of clues that I'm entering the smackdown zone, again...
like the universe, subject to Newton's 3rd law of motion, is compelled to balance my earlier inflation...
But maybe the candle was sent as a little life raft for me to hold onto?

I light it now and pray aloud.

We thank you San Martin Caballero for protecting us today from spiritual and bodily dangers. Keep vigil over us all until darkness gives way to light and another day arrives from the hands and heart of the Lord who loves us all....
Amen

welcome home

I had a nice little roadrip last week, very symbolic....

Hubby and I drove together to hook-up with my college roommate and her family at the beach on Memorial Day. For the return I put him on an airplane and took the long way home. (lol Supertramp reference not entirely conscious, but damn appropriate!)

Four days alone at my own pace I moved. On the final day I turned toward home but only after wandering around a swamp scouting future paddle trips, and having a wonderful lunch in a little nowhere town, and lingering over a rich warm conversation for dessert. Driving I had a feeling of resolution, like I'd accomplished something; something invisible, that few would understand even if I bothered to try and explain. Yeah, invisible, but necessary and ineffable(?).

As I hit town, I texted h and we met for dinner in a restaurant. Then on the very last leg to the house, this playlist began to come together. Oh god! I love driving and singing at the top of my lungs \(^O^)/

Anyway I've been wanting to try this create-your-own-internet-radio thing and so I did.

http://8tracks.com/delicious_spark/delicious_spark-s-welcome-home-6-04-10-mix

Warning: There are some potentially whiplash inducing genre changes in the mix...
...ha ha, and they are in there on purpose!!! :^)

beauty all around

Mimosa trees are great climbing trees for young children.
Their bark is not too rough, plus the trunks and branches splay out at gentle angles.
In addition, they've got fragrant fringed blossoms, super cool compound leaves and funky seed pods to fuel the imagination.
When I was a kid I loved the Mimosa in our front yard. There was also one beside my maternal grandparents' home.

Driving across North Carolina last week I noticed tons of Mimosas in full bloom.
They reminded me of a couple of the last conversations I had with my beloved paternal grandmother.

"Hey look out that window. All that pink! So pretty! What do you think that is?"
"It's a huge azalea in full bloom. It really is beautiful."
(Left unsaid was - It's the one you planted by your bedroom window 50 years ago.)

"Hey look out that window? What's that pretty pink color? Is something blooming out there?"
"Yes, Mimosas. Want to go outside and look at them?"
I wheeled her chair through the nursing home's empty parking lot.
She marveled at all the beautiful blossoms. We picked some up off the ground and sniffed them.
I can still see those trees in my mind, crowded together, all pink and green, wild and overgrown, reaching over the fence, pushing through the bramble.

Why does a nursing home need 6 foot chain-link topped with razor wire?

How can anyone call them weed trees when they bring such peace and joy?

a sing along

Sometimes it's a lyric, sometimes a tune or rhythm, often the connection is not immediately clear to me. However, when the songs filter up I know for certain that there is a reason, a good reason, it is not a random event. It's been happening, I think, forever but I used to be more distractable and my doubt, louder. In the past if I noted them at all, I found them interesting, but I could never even begin to make myself believe these most obvious of clues.

Only about a year ago did I start taking this resource seriously. A little bird energized my thoughts on the matter last spring but I wasn't truly on board, until dead-girl drew my attention back. One afternoon about a year ago, she suggested that I had chosen the wrong lyric with which to embellish a piece of artwork I had made. It was a silly little bit of digital photo manipulation I'd done on vacation. It held special meaning and memories for me and it linked me to the night I first met her (in a dream in the trunk of a car). When she threw in her 2cents worth, it didn't take much reflection for me to see that her song was the better choice. She was right, ha ha, dead right! (No, she doesn't find the pun funny, but I do :)

Nowdays when the song traces come I take the time to follow them. I try to consider who is speaking or who is being spoken to. More often than not there's deep meaning, and multiple connections to the lived moment. The lyric or the song's attitude fits with what's been going on for me. I believe that some part of me recognizes (monitors?) the emotional landscape ongoing within each moment, and it has access to all the music filed away in my brain. This part of me, this voice inside me that loves music so, is offering me truths, points to ponder.

To not pay attention would be a waste.

That afternoon dead-girl sang,
"sing out sing out, the silence only eats us from the inside out"

And often these days, I'm telling the whole freakin' world, Hey!
"it's not like I got a bunch of bodies in my trunk"

And I think the universe has been trying to warn husband.... and me.... and maybe dead-girl too,
"you keep carrying that anger, it'll eat you up inside baby"

Last night as I was saying my goodbyes at the meditation center, bam, this line came soaring through my mind - "I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me". I walked to the car thinking, "Oh good grief! What 80's band schlock rock hit was that? And why is it in my head, now? Sounds like a falling in love song! Eeeww! Him? No! yuck. I mean, sure, seems like a nice sentiment and all but I only know the song cause it was over-played on the radio. It's not a song I was ever attached to. So wtf?"

Stuck humming it all day today I had the tune down pat but could only come up with a few more words. My emotional impression was simply that it was an over the top rock power ballad. Thank goodness for google! I finally did a lyric search and you know what? That is one beautiful song!! And I can see its timing was not accidental. It fit perfectly with how I've been feeling overall about life lately. And more importantly it resonates with my contributions to our post-meditation conversation.
Once again I'm marveling at the magic in music.

Hmmmmmmmm :) a Far Side cartoon just came to mind. A guy stranded on a desert island is holding a magic lamp. The genie is waiting with arms crossed. The guy is scratching his chin thinking hard, "Well, let's see --- so far I've got rhythm and I've got music..... Actually who could ask for anything more?" :DDD

equal but opposite

action. reaction.
but which is which?
how do you know?
does it matter?

what's the matter?
i want out

i want to stop, to be done
done with the entanglements
but i have to keep trying
there's no other way to be
damn tar baby

and now we're right back around to dead-girl
is she dead or not?
when can i unload her?
will she ever animate?

...... projection... introjection....
will it ever end?
how can it?, when
one begat the other

voices

"but i just always thought that eventually, after your mother died, things would get back to normal"

"no, no, no. you say healthy! no! i mean, you used to be over here, and healthy is here, but now you are all the way over there. you've gone too far. can't you see? this is why you can't have relationships, why people don't hang out with you, you don't know how to compromise, you need to be able to get-along...."

"so how's that project going?"

flashing blue glass

do you love it? or do you love what it can do for you?
do you love how it reflects on you?
how it appears to make you thoughtful, considerate, and sparkly?
do you love it enuf to sacrifice yourself? to give your time?
to keep it safe? to clean it?
will you make full effort? OR just a show of caring?
take it apart and clean it all by yourself and put it back together?
or just take the time to set it upon the ledge above the sink
for someone else to see and finish what needs to be done?

artsy fartsy

I had an interesting experience this past weekend and I am amazed at the energy and inspiration I am drawing from it.

I attended a lecture and workshop on active imagination, a Jungian technique for working with ones unconscious.
I read a book on AI some time back. Plus I have been recording my dreams for a couple of years and am fascinated with certain of my images and characters. With active imagination the idea is to basically clear your mind and see what comes to fill the void. Then you want to focus on that image and attempt to establish a dialogue. An activity, such as art or movement, is used as a conduit to allow interaction between the waking ego and the unconcious voice inside.

The technique can also be used to interact with night time dream elements. And I believe that is what I have done in the past on my own, essentially by accident or instinct(?). In other words much of what I have learned from dreams, especially in the past year, and largely through one character who I've grown very fond of, has developed by spacing out with the image or her presence, and listening to what comes afterwards. This is the main reason I was interested in attending the active imagination workshop. I wanted to learn more about the technique and I did, but more on that at another time. What I want to talk about now is how the most useful experience of the day might have come from a brief casual side conversation.

During a break folks were milling about. There was a copy of Jung's Red Book on a side table. Some of us were turning the pages and marveling at the illustrations. The book is a reproduction of a journal he kept. You can buy it today for only $200!!!! \(o0)/
Truly beautiful, it looks like a medieval manuscript with incredibly detailed illustrations of his imaginal creations and tons of decorative doodles in the margins.

At one point I commented outloud that I had no talent for drawing, that my hands weren't connected to my brain or eyes. A woman next to me, an artist, took up the challenge, "Well you can always get some clay and sculpt." I did not want to be argumentative but I told her the truth. Pottery on the wheel is something that I have done quite a bit of and very much enjoy. However even with years of practice, my hands are simpletons. The shapes I make and strongly prefer are subtle ones.

I didn't share this piece with her, but the truth is I've always taken the fact of my subtlety as a true expression of "me", my personality. My creations represent me. I am a girl but not girly; I've got curves, but don't do frills; some decoration is ok, but never superfluous embellishment. However I realize that this might simply be because I can't do or be anything else. Perhaps I'm working from a limited palette, so to speak. Even if I wanted to create more ornate pots, I couldn't. I know my hands. They wouldn't cooperate. Or maybe, they won't, until the inner me can match that outer representation.

I told the woman that I had been recording my dreams for some time now, and that increasingly I've wished I could somehow recreate certain meaning-filled images... use them in a visually artistic way to express my self and journey. Yet the complexity of the images and emotions in my head seem far beyond my hands.

Her reply blew me away.

"Well, you can always paint with words."
.
.
.
Whoa!
.
.
.
I almost then blurted out, "Oh, well, I have a blog!"
but shut my mouth instead
because blogging is just venting. And lol I KNOW I'm not a writer ;^)
**giggle**

spokeshave

He let loose a long barrage of angry words. I quickly realized I'd hit a nerve.
I listened calmly, pleased with myself that I wasn't getting all spooled up by his emotions.
I knew if I could stay analytically focused, I might learn something.

And then, there it was, clear as day. Somewhere mid-rant, the words "You think I'm not smart!"

Immediately all was sharp and clear. I was almost giddy. I was seeing us suddenly from a whole new perspective. A host of past arguments and emotional exchanges made sense; and simultaneously, I could see how smartly my susceptibility to his projections dovetailed with those words. I couldn't help but smile, it was everything I could do to not jump up and do the happy dance shouting "YES! YES! I got it, I got it this time! Woo Woo!"

That was a week ago and I am still in shock, still amazed at how I could never see this aspect before.

We'd been honing in on the dates for a summer trip. I had just mentioned a weekend class that I'm very interested in taking and that I needed to recheck the dates. If there was indeed no conflict with our travel, then I thought I should register soon.

"I'm worried the class might be full already."
"Ha! I doubt that's gonna be their most popular class."
"You don't know fuck about it!"
And that's when he blasted off on the uncharacteristically loud and long rant.

I'd meant he has no specific knowledge about the tool, or my new hobby; and therefore his speculation on the class' relative popularity was groundless. My remark was crudely worded and that surely added fuel to his ire.
However the fact remains, he was the one who had globalized my comment and taken it for a long ride.
And that was the telling bit for me.

Shaking his fist, slapping the table, "Don't try and tell me you weren't angry, I saw it on your face!"
I made no attempt to deny anything. I was riveted, listening to him go on and on and on and on....
I have no doubt that he'd seen emotion flash across my face, although I can't specifically say I remember anger in that split second. I certainly had been hurt by his scornful comment, and my mouth had gone off like a reflexive knee-jerk.

I don't like negative humor, never have. And that fact is something that we've been around many times. I think couching a put-down in what is supposed to be humor is cowardly. And btw that is not to say, I am not guilty of doing the same from time to time. What irks me is that most all of his humor is negative. Thinly disguised put-downs and unnecessary disaster scenarios are his specialty. When I'm being attacked or disagreed with, I prefer something more direct, something that can be pushed back against and engaged with. Ah but that's the point, isn't it? He needs to be blameless, he's covertly blowing off steam, he must get that negative emotion out. The structure is such that just in case you happen to react harshly, he has the option to say, I was just joking...... or .....relax, you're making too big of a deal about this..... it was just a joke... thereby throwing responsibility for any negativity and subsequent unpleasantness back on me.

I saw nothing funny in this. I was hurt. I felt he was belittling the class and by association me and my interest in it and the hobby overall and all of the other people like me who were signing up for the class. (Haha yep! I'm not above a little globalizing either :)

I think my hurt was magnified because of an earlier situation. As he was dissing the class and ridiculing my fear of it being full, I was emotionally tapping into my recollections of his attitude and profound lack of interest the week before when I'd carried this particular new tool up into the living room. At that time I couldn't figure out why things had gone so weird. Now I know. He'd just kept repeating the word "spokeshave" over and over with various awkward inflections. I guess it was his idea of funny. I was disappointed that he had no curiousity about why I had it. He only seemed to want to make fun of the word. I'd wanted to share, to explain the derivation of the word, the history of the tool and what all can be done with it, and how excited I was about my new project. But I knew instinctually (no, actually through years of experience) that if I persisted and shared, then my words and enthusiasm would fall flat. I knew he would flip it around somehow. He would ask how much it'd cost or he'd insinuate that I would likely never finish carving my own canoe paddle... and I knew that I would go away feeling bad. Instead that night I silently walked out of the room. I by god was determined to not let him negatively influence my paddle plans.

Maybe he is statistically correct. Maybe this is the least popular woodworking class ever, and maybe the average person couldn't care less about such a class. However that's not what his rant was about. He was not angry because we disagreed over whether the class would be sold out or not. He was angry that I'd called him on the fact that he could not know whether the class was popular or not. I'd pointed out the flaw in his logic, the fact that he lacked any knowledge of this hobby/tool/class and therefore could not judge it.

"You think I'm not smart" revealed a core issue, one to which I'd been blind for decades, and one to which he is still, and maybe forever more, blind.

I see now, the necessity of his putting down my desires to learn, the importance of squelching my enthusiasm. It is not a coincidence that over the years of our long marriage I've done fewer and fewer extracirricular activites; or that I've accumulated more and more incomplete projects.

He must devalue the things that I want to learn. If the subject has value, and he is ignornant on it, while I am mastering it, well then by comparision that makes him "not smart". If he can devalue the subject, or if he can profess no interest in it and/or no need for it, well then there is no shame in his not possessing that knowledge.

If he can politely, or better yet, humorously discourage my aquisition of knowledge and skills, then he can keep me arrested with failures, overwhelmed by guilt etc. And all the while it becomes obvious that he's not the problem, he's not the failure, he's not the less than smart one.

Of course in this way correspondingly, my needs to be ineffective, to struggle, and to hurt are preserved, while I endure....... until now :) until I quit playing the game.

Oh god yes! I was right! I am so smart! :D (oh that was mean, huh?)
From the day we met, I knew, we were made for each other! Yeah, operative word, "were". His tirade is proof... like I needed more evidence **roll eyes**

I read a book last summer on guilt and shame. I learned alot. And I give it credit for this break through in my ability to see husband's "not smart" for what it is.

Most people have trouble discerning between the two emotions; and most, understand guilt more easily than shame. There's good reason for that. Both individually and collectively we tend to be drawn in to guilt and push away from shame. And here's why. The primary difference between the two is one of perspective.
If you view a situation as, "I did this isolated bad thing", then the bad thing is likely small enough that it might can be fixed. You feel the guilt of having done it and say "sorry", or you pay restitution, or at the very least you can swear you'll never do it again. And so you are motivated by the guilt to move toward the fixing, towards constructive solutions, and towards growth and strength. Guilt is considered good for society in many ways, as it tends to keep the peace.
However, if your thinking follows the pattern of "I am bad because I did (or am) this thing", then what needs to be fixed is you and that is likely an overwhelming job. And that brings shame. The motivation in a shameful situation is to move away from it because it can't be fixed. The natural reaction is to try to make shame go away, to deny it, to ignore it, to repress it, to blame it on someone else. Shame lashes out in anger to destroy or to intimidate so we are not reminded of our inadequacies. Shame fuels family and societal violence.

My husband's family values intelligence. His father is a smart man, an emotional imbecile and tyrant, but an academically smart one. I'd say husband held his ground as a child, pleasing his father and competing with siblings by relying on his smarts. Subsequently he hung his self-worth, his very survival on looking smart. He was accepted by father, valued in the family and beyond, all because he was smart. Therefore this is possibly THE, core issue for him. If he is not smart, then he is nothing at all, he has no value.

For husband, I believe not being smart activates shame in a big way. In another person raised under different circumstances, not being smart might primarily activate guilt and hence spur that person on to studying more and trying harder. Our guilt-proneness and shame-proneness varies by the situation's make-up and our histories. An exceptionally stable pairing can occur when one's guilt is balanced by one's partner's shame, and vice versa. I wonder how many of those smiling elderly couples bragging on their 50 years together are locked in this dynamic.

Last week I walked away. This week I slammed it back on him. He was not able to discharge the shame in either situation. So no wonder the rant. And no wonder throughout our relationship he has devalued or ignored the new things that I take such pleasure in learning.

I'm growing more confident in my abilities and my feelings of self-worth. Each time I stand firm and reflect back his put downs, he feels the weight. If I don't absorb them, they've got no where to go except out into the atmosphere in the form of long angry rants or down into quieter passive-aggressive behaviors. It all makes perfect sense.

In the time since his rant, I've been walking myself back through conversations from our past and finding this "you think I'm not smart" dynamic at work all over the place. So so many examples have come up in my emotional memory. They would be difficult to describe here because I am not always able to quote those sorts of happenings verbatim. Something in the emotionality of the memories seems to block my words. I noticed this phenomenon years ago after arguments with my mom. And it is definitely at play here too. However I have vividly recalled the feelings and know the weight of them intimately. My pain lived on each time through the actions and inactions on my part that resulted from his words. I've been bothered by these past encounters and holding on to them for years and years. Finally understanding the dynamics helps immensely.

This psychology stuff is fascinatingly twisted. When I figure out something like this even when it is terribly unflattering or sad and disappointing, I still can not help but feel good, and relieved, and proud, and hopeful. My future, my happiness and health, and essentially the whole of my life hinge on mastering the maze. Each bit of progress is something to celebrate. YAY! **sigh**

"the future's comin' on like a bomb... bring it on... bring it on"

In the dream I'm testing a boat I built. I'm in the ocean.
I'm tumbling free, out of the boat, inside the surf, in a hollow space at the center of the wave. I'm tumbling like clothes in a dryer, chaotically rolling flopping turning over and over again. Water is splashing on me off of the walls as I bounce against them. I know my boat is somewhere in the outer waters, tumbling, too. And I'm hoping it doesn't get damaged, bang on a rock or something. I comfort myself with the thought that since I built her, I'll be able to fix whatever comes. I roll like this in the waves more than once.

A fellow I was speaking with last night at the mediation center used the expression, "roll with the punches". And that reminded me of the tumbling part of this dream and so I shared. At first he didn't understand what I said in quite the same way as I'd meant it. And so I explained how in the dream I was going with it, not just getting pummeled, how I was aware and oddly comfortable, not scared of harm. I was surrendering, riding it out, accepting... I knew the chaos wouldn't last.
"That's very taoist" was his reply.
He was right, and I was surprised that I hadn't thought of it that way before.

This morning I randomly opened my copy of Taoteching. It was right beside the bed because up until a week or two ago, I'd been reading it a page or two at a time pretty regularly for months, often first thing in the morning like this.

"the world never wearies
of pushing sages forward
and because they don't struggle
no one can struggle against them"

LOL, I'm not really seeing myself as a sage but I certainly can identify with feeling pushed forward by the world, by an unstoppable and tireless force... and the wisdom of not fighting it is pretty much a no-brainer by now. These verses reaffirmed my belief in the rightness of my desire to tumble through, to surrender, and to hold my faith on the belief that whatever comes will be ok.

Years ago speaking to the mom of one of my dtr's friends, I made a comment about how a bunch of things in my life were going wrong, one after another, and how it seemed almost predictible because no matter what I did, disaster just kept coming. I felt fated to struggle. I was tired, and confused as to why the pattern had not yet run its course. 'When it rains it pours' just seemed to be the order of the day, everyday. Her response was, "Yes, one of my friends seems to have been stuck like that for years." And I thought, "Oh how horrible! No no no no! Please god no! Don't do that to me. No!" And then in my mind I blamed the victim. I assumed it had something to do with her attitude. She must not be trying hard enough. She must be weak. And yet, nowadays I'm thinking, perhaps she was too strong, effectively holding the inevitable at bay. And I'm wondering, what happened? Did she break and change? Or is she still standing firm in her misery?

While contemplating about posting here on this subject today, a song line popped into my head, "ride with the tide and go with the flow". I am certain that I've not played the song or watched the video in ages. On the surface I recognized that the words fit with this taoist attitude, but I was also aware that I've never been really sure what the song was about... it's fun, it's catchy, but the lyrics always seemed a bit nonsensicle to me. And so tonight I searched youtube for "mockingbird no nukes" and found it. (the fleckman posting is good, loads fast, doesn't hang-up)

They look so happy but what are they singing about?

"and if that diamond ring won't shine, he's gonna break this heart of mine"

"and if that peace of mind won't stay, I'm gonna find myself a better way"

Yep once again, all the guidance and wisdom I'll ever need is right there inside the songs,
the water metaphors, and the dreams. (Oh yeah, and on the internet, too ;^)
Now all I gotta do is trust, stay the course, keep moving, go with the flow.

shit or get off the pot

How do you take a bandaid off?
S L O W L Y ? .... each hair screaming one at a time?
Or fast! a single quick rip!

How do you get wet, when the ocean is cold?
Incrementally? .... shivering, tummy tight, jaw clenched, fingers and elbows curled?
Or splash! a bold strong dolphin plunging down inside the wave then shooting back up for the open sky!

In both situations I strongly prefer the later. I'm no coward, a deep breath and fast bold moves are my way, the only way. Watching those timid people at the beach drives me fucking nuts!

Thinking about it today though I realized that pain comes in two flavors, emotional and physical; and they are two wholly seperate and different phenomena. Therefore I guess I shouldn't be surprised that ones approach to experiencing such pains can vary as well.

How do you convince the creeper that diving in quickly or ripping it off in one fell swoop is best? I'm not sure you can. At least I've never managed to do so, even though I have bravely demonstrated proper technique for them many times. ;)

How do I move on with my life now that I've done a fairly exhaustive analysis of my personality, marriage and family, and identified some major problems? What is possible? How much? How? Why?

It recently occurred to me that I've been channeling emotional energy into physical tasks, both renovations and new creations; and that maybe doing so has been a way of suspending pain. Am I avoiding future changes? or laying needed ground work? prolonging the pain? defering it? or simply stuck in an endless loop? Is this work that I've been doing reflective of cowardice? distraction? OR possibly some prudent planning? idk

A few days ago I was completely certain that I was moving carefully and smartly; slowly but surely forward. Today, I don't know. I'm tired again. My daimon got busy yesterday and literally dropped another honkingly huge and !heavy! obstacle in my way. So now I'm back to a question I've asked myself many times before. Do I keep clearing the path, assuming it will eventually lead somewhere I want to be? Or would it be better to throw up my hands, cut my losses and walk away in a unilaterally selfish direction?

Am I simply a person who approaches her emotional pains in a slow and edgewise manner,
yet tackles physical ones completely opposite?

....... Rat in a maze? ....... Hampster on a wheel? ........idk I can't tell from here.

Gravity's just gone today. Maybe it'll be back tomorrow. I hope so. I kinda miss it.

Wrong 'em boyo!

......."you be dumb girl".......

Nope. You are factually incorrect, irrespective of the meaning you attach to the word "dumb"; and, off-topic to boot.

FWIW my friend, spoof, parody, same difference, or at least close enough in my book for a casual facebook conversation.
But why am I defending myself? I'm not hurt by your ugly reply. It's OK, really. I understand.

You were just needing to put someone down. And I had conveniently stuck myself out there, speaking up, exposing the soft target of my uncertainty.

What's the matter, did she make you feel inadequate again?

dinner dishes

HA! You can't bamboozle me anymore!

My small politely phrased question was entirely appropriate, especially in light of your history. And given the limitations of constraining our conversations to commercial breaks from your almighty TV, there was no better time for me to ask.
No, I did not interupt you. I waited for the pause. I was conscious the whole time.

You are dead wrong. I was NOT the rude one!

It's called projection.

YES! ** insert, happy dance ** :)
Finally! I have got this shit down!

faker

It's Mr. Manager that I hate.

Talk to me like I'm a real human being, goddammit!
not like I'm some corporate lackey who is buoyed by your "Awesome - thanks for doing all the hard work as usual!"

You stupid piece of shit! can you really not see how hollow that reply was??????

For chrissake BE REAL!!!!! don't hide behind politeness,
it is NOT polite
it is lazy
and cowardly.

I want real,
honest.

dead horse

One summer day when my daughter was 4(?) years old, we visited a canyon in Utah. It's a deep rugged canyon with impressive views, not unlike the better known Grand Canyon farther south. Along the rim there was a walk that was bounded by a stone wall about one foot tall. On the far side of that wall the zig-zag edge of the canyon dropped steeply away for over 1000 feet. In the center of the overlook point was a raised wooden observation deck, not much different than the sort of large deck you see tacked onto so many suburban homes. My friend directed her three children there and told them this was a dangerous place and that they could only view the canyon from the deck. I thought that was silly. The deck was not very tall and quite removed from the canyon's rim. I did not want to cause any great tension between my friend and I, or her children and mine, but I hadn't driven cross-country to this beautiful place just to view it from the distance of a paranoid's safety spot. And so, my daughter and I began to walk the perimeter sidewalk. That's when the trouble began.

My daughter wanted to walk on top of the wall so she could see down into the canyon better. Given her shorter height, I thought her request reasonable, and so I helped her climb up. I took her hand and we resumed walking. True to form, this was not good enough. She quickly decided that she wanted to walk on the bit of land on the far side of the wall, at the canyon's very edge. I said, "No". And that's when her fire and determination began to blossom. It was like waving the red flag in front of a bull.

I wasn't truly fearful that she'd fall off the edge and die but it was certainly a possibility. My main reason for saying "no" was that I am into obeying rules. And the wall, to me, seemed to imply a rule - "do your walking on the the sidewalk". I mean, good grief! What the hell was her problem??? She was getting to do and experience far more than the other children, why couldn't that be enough??? Of all the visitors there, NO one else was over the wall.

She became angry and very determined. At first she thought she could talk me into it, and so her pleading escalated as did my explanations and refusals. Eventually she realized that I was remaining firm. And that's when she physically committed to defying me. Quickly it became a situation in which if I let go of her hand, anything was possible, including a plung over the edge to her death. I swear I am not exaggerating. I believed that in her fury she might push off of me and blindly lunge out onto the ragged gravely edge, and slip or trip. If she was calm, her walking that edge would likely not have caused me fear, but we were far beyond any possibility of that now. I pulled her off the wall and began walking toward the parking lot. She yelled and thrashed wildly the whole way. It was highly embarrassing. She even bit a hole in my t-shirt. I solidly held onto her arm and continued to embrace her at the car until she had cried it out.

When my friend joined us, she suggested that I perhaps could have "modeled" better. She was suggesting that I had caused or inflammed the situation, that I should have remained a model of calm and quiet, and that my daughter would have followed suit. I was deeply hurt. I felt victimized by my daugther's personality and criticized by my friend. To this day I still do not believe that there was anything I could have done differently to avoid the confrontation. Well, other than allow her to completely have her way. Oh but then we must play the "what if" game. What if I had let her walk on the outside? What if there'd been an accident? Wouldn't I have then been accused of being negligent?

Although I still resent my friend's suggestion in that circumstance, I do appreciate exposure to the idea of modeling. And I guess you could say the concept imprinted strongly on my mind as a result of the situation's emotionality. All these years later it still pops up for me especially when I am pressured as in a no-win situation. I am aware that it is not simply about figuring out what's right or what will work here, but also what is the optimal behavior to model. For better or worse, it adds a sort of a "who's watching" overlayer.

There are quite a few young people in my life, in their late teens and early 20s. What am I modeling for them? Is what I do and how I live impressing them? Am I the poster child for living a lie? a tired slack middle aged woman? Or am I boldly balancing an emerging eternal me with the present incarnation? I and everyone around me knows that I am changing, slowly but surely. And I think, my movement is in a healthier direction. I often wonder what the kids are taking away from the changes they are seeing in me.

In the past few years I've learned alot, struggled with my own personality and come to understand much about the dynamics that shaped me and my relationships. One thing is clear. I have a tendancy to take responsibility for things outside my control, to bust ass trying to prevent inevitable train-wrecks, often ignoring my own needs in the process. It's not so much that I've only now recognizied this fact, cause actually it was always painfully obvious :( However, what's new for me, is that I've grown to be comfortable with the fact that I don't have to do such things. I'm not as compelled to take up every cross I see. The bitch now though is knowing where to draw the line, when to speak up, when to walk away.

And in that regard, I've been sitting at a marriage crossroads for some time now. I've little hope that my husband is capable of mustering enough substantive change to ever engage my heart again. However, I am still hopelessly in love with my dtr. And I'm not sure which path to take. End the marriage? OR Continue to change myself and assert a gradual pressure on everyone from within it?

I believe that my daughter and I are together for a reason and that I've learned much from our relationship. However, she is still knee jerk fighting, same as the day she was born, blindly marching through life, damn the consequences. And perhaps that is how it should be for her right now. But what if there were some influence I could swing at this time, some mode of living I could model that'd be optimal, something on my part that could bring us both to a higher purpose?
How will my next move or non-move affect her? What's best, what's right, for her, for me....
- a model of compassion? and patience? or have I taken that road too far already?
- a model of healthy respect for myself? of personal independence? but where's the line? when to say when? the freedoms I've taken so far feel downright addictive. How will I know when I've reached enough?

What are the potentials? How much is possible?

How do we get to - and everyone lives happily ever after?
Oh wait, stupid question, right? That's fiction, unrealstic.

The given is that this is another no-win sitation that I am tasked to learn from;
and her job is to make it as tough as possible on me.
Yep, that's it. No doubt.
Damn it all. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!


Ok well, writing about it didn't resolve anything for me, as I'd hoped it would; posting it probably won't either,
but it's been on my mind so, blog this, whatever!

Roll away the stone

Sitting by the campfire I called his attention to the beautiful full moon rising in the live oaks above us. He said he'd spent all afternoon marveling at the vibrant green resurrection fern covering their branches. Must've had alot of rain recently.
As the fire faded to embers we walked to stand beside the reflective black waters of the slow moving river.

Awe! Hale! St Marys! \(^o^)/


P.S. I sincerely apologize for the horrible puns. Sometimes I just can't help myself :)

words and phrases my husband has never uttered

yes i like that
sure, do what you have to do
oh God i LOVE your boobs :)
i want to lay down with you, roll with you, hold you
this is for your pleasure, hon
come, let me run my fingers through that bush
where is your light? shine it down there so i can see
can i fuck your ass?
oh yeah, play with that pussy
cum for me baby
i want you to cum
i want to hear you cum
feel like getting pounded again? i mean, since we're both awake...
wanna go to the bath house and get naughty?
can i watch?
yes it turns me on
i'd like to titty fuck those now