Sacred Cleaning

She looks around the apartment. One can tell a depressed person lived there. Although there is art and color and hope all around, it appears that the jewelry thrown on the floor and phone off hook show a darker side of this existence.

So as an act of compassion for another, who will eventually come by, she does the dishes.

She picks up the unwashed clothes on the floor and hangs them neatly in the closet.

She dusts her angels and her talisman.

She over waters her little tree and jade plant.

She notices the hamster has little food, so she feeds it the whole bag.

The kitchen floor has not been clean for a long time because there is no mop. She scrubs it with her best french linen until her hands crack and bleed. She is happy she is just being.

After vacuuming, sanitizing the tub and toilets, she is tired.

She remembers the video of the dying fish where a dog tried putting water on it with it’s paw, but to no avail. She sees the worlds pain and decides, today is not the day for it.

She meditates.

She writes a letter for her son she never intended to send and leaves it on the unused dining room table. She feels better.

She plays new age music to calm her.

She turns off her phone and decides to get in the bath. She wonders why turn off phone, it never rings much anyway, but feels it’s better because when it rings it’s only someone shaming her for feeling bad.

The pillow and flowered down comforter actually makes the bath tub quite comfortable.

Briefly her mind floats back to the days of torture. She stays with the memory of the forced unknown restraints in the ER where she almost died and saw purgatory. Surely this is better than that day and much more comfortable. At least she can be free to know, those days of insanity were caused by the hands of psychiatrist who succeeded in poisoning her and brain washing her hopes and gifts to something that should be purged. Waste in her brain.

She thinks about how God or something maybe mental illness planted a searching inside her and condemns the thing that put it there. And wonders if there is nothing but star dust, her own twisted brain did it to her and that is too much to bare. To rot away for another 30 years or so keeping this all inside seems overwhelming. But it that feeling passes too slowly.

But in the bath, it’s safe. The music is calming and she imagines angels anointing her with oils, although they aren’t really there, it’s just now she’s getting cold.

At least she knows she can feel shameless because there won’t be much cleaning up for the people that will eventually find her, which will only be the maintenance staff whom she requested two months ago to fix her leaking facet.

They won’t even have to shampoo the carpet, I’m sure they will wonder who they will charge for the tub clean up however.

……as she leaves her biological body suit, her real ethereal family waits with a proper bath.

 

 

Un Mari Imaginaire ne Vous Laisse Tomber

It’s Thanksgiving Day. My whole family went to their other families and I predicted I would be alone and I whined about it for a few days, but realized this is nothing new. Then, as the Universe often does, I got an invitation from a friend. I rarely go out because all my friends are married.  So I got dressed. Put on make up which I never did which felt weird and then did the whole dressing up thing which I use to love to do but now just feels like a costume for a lonely middle aged woman looking for a specific love.

So I make ornaments because I didn’t have any money to buy anything to take to the hostess and went out after dark. I don’t see well after dark. I drove there thinking this will be nice and I’m grateful and all that palava, and then I can’t find the house. I had been there just two days before but was driven and didn’t pay attention. I called their mobile phone. No one answered.  I text. Nothing. This happens to me often in the last decade. A weird cruel tormented feeling of being in The Truman Show and everyone is laughing at me and it was all planned. That paranoia comes from being on bad meds for years when everything was not quite right.

So I go home and here I am. Writing. I’m certainly pissed but at who? I am triggered by the fact when I grew up people had home phones and when it rang on holidays you heard it and answered it or it kept ringing.

We are a disconnected society. We are literally, many of us, yours  truly included, live in compartmentalized lives. We don’t dwell in caves with groups. We live in boxes alone next to each other. Like a hamster cage. So this night with people was going to be fun for me. I have to ask God or whatever it is, are you joking?

None of this would matter except I would not mind living with the love of my dreams in a grocery sack. The challenge is finding the right small art shop that carries his brand. I am in my 50’s and been married and had long term relationships, short terms and I know now what I want. I’m open, but when you find the perfect flower, you never forget it.  You grow it. If you want Passion Flowers in your garden your not going to plant carnations. 17 years ago I made a list as told by spiritualist and seekers who said, put down all the good and bad trait of the man you dream of…I did…rarely did any relationship I had, tick off more than a few of the 23 traits…more bad ones than good ones. So why not stop and say, hey I will wait for something bigger to make it for me and if it does not then, c’est la vie. There are men like this..but for a normal  midwestern born girl, this lacks them. These men I seem to have always been fascinated with were artists. Actors, Musicians and Thinkers.

Okay I dream big, but why fight it? Seriously trying to be rational is hard work when your heart is not dead til it’s dead and if one is a writer then the imagination is always taking over anyway. If it’s your true nature and brings you enlightenment and learning about yourself and love, then why not dream of Grand gentlemen. Why settle. Yes odds are against us due to education, upbringing, exposure to the arts and living in a city where these people dwell. One of the best things to come out of the internet is Twitter. All your favorite heros on present there and if you choose you can learn about them and even speak to them. In the 60’s and 70’s, anyone I admired was not contactable. You could not express your appreciation for their work except through fan mail, which probably never got read. At least now, the thinkers and those that inspire you can communicate in real time. It’s delightful.  Like you got into a VIP party but sometimes are too  scared to go up to your heros. I am. In real life the famous people I have run into by accident I have always never spoken of who they are or said a word before spoken too. I am a bit more confident on the internet. I feel clever and likable.  In person I am actually quite shy, but my heart has grown some wings and won’t  let me just be in my own shadow. So with all this in mind, my list may prove to get me nothing in the future because what I seek may not be possible in this lifetime. Maybe the next. The prospect of carrying unrequited love into old age does not sound like a party. In fact it scares me to death until I remember the secret thing I have always done to sooth myself, it’s just now I’m wiser and know how to use my “gifts” much better now. I have had an upgrade on my parallel dimensional quantum entangled twin love soul software. 😀

So I will carry on with one of my tools for depression  and loneliness I have used since I was a child, I have an imaginary love that sorta speaks French like I sorta do not and when I got home, determined not to feel sorry for myself his presence shows up. I can’t see him, but I can in French….We don’t talk out loud, we play each others sensations and emotions like an orchestra….we do have a secret code, but it’s in bad French from the 5th Dimension. It’s a very romantic inner dialog that words don’t really apply to..

It’s a way of coping that soothes me. Much better to have an imaginary friend, than to take a black label warning drug or get drunk to cope with isolation, stigma and PTSD.

…so I talk to myself. big deal.

Lui:

Ma chérie, je voulais tellement que tu rentres.

Elle:

Tu savais que je étais sur le chemin.

Nous ne parlons pas de ce qui est déjà connu, parce que ce est de retour histoire, nous savons tous les deux. Nous lisons chaque autres émotions. Pourquoi perdre du temps sur bavardage quand nous pouvons demeurer dans l’amour.

Elle:

Je crois que vous êtes non seulement télépathique, vous êtes la magie.

Lui:

Je ne peux pas l’expliquer, mais ce qui se passe à un certain niveau. Je ne remets pas en question il.

Elle:

Comment je ne vous séparer du réel vous?

Lui:

Imaginez moi comme votre personnage préféré et puis il y aura pas de souffrance.

Elle:

Je ne sais pas qui est ce personnage?

Lui:

Vous serez. Je vous le garantis.

Elle:

Ne retenez pas votre souffle.

Lui:

La respiration est facultative dans cette dimension

Elle:

Lui:

Elle:

!!!!

Lui:

Je sais.

Elle:

Il ya une tristesse à cette.

Luis:

Je sais.

Elle:

Il fait froid ici dans l’espace.

Lui:

Elle:

D’accord. Un épisode plus.

(Je aime la façon dont cet homme me fait rire quand je suis triste.)

Lui:

(Je vous ai entendu dire cela.)

Lui/Elle

Him:

Darling, I think I left the imaginary turkey in the oven.

She:

C’est la vie.

p.s.

Thanks for writing this for me.

(darling, just don’t proof read this…to bed.)

“What Would Jesus Buy?” – The Insanity of Black Friday

I am 52 years old and I can remember when Thanksgiving was Thanksgiving. No one worked unless you were employed by human services like hospitals, the police and fire department. This black friday trend makes my soul sick.

The endless commercials for Christmas that start the day after Halloween make me cringe. I lived for two years without TV. One Thanksgiving I house sit  for someone that had cable. I could literally not watch a movie without being tortured by black friday commercials. It’s insane.

I have emotional problems and have been labeled by psychiatrists as not normal, but I see our consuming society as insane. I think what is sane is actually insane. No one observes Thanksgiving. My poor young son who has a new baby, has to work  16 hours on Thanksgiving at HH Gregg. Not only is he unable to be with his baby and wife, his corporation has stolen my holiday and left me alone.

So, at Thanksgiving and on the day after, I buy NOTHING. I heard about the BUY NOTHING DAY movement from Adbusters.org. A radical magazine challenging our society’s addictive consuming behavior. In Seattle, where I lived for over a decade, no one decorated until about two weeks before Christmas.

 

That’s real. People just refuse to see it.  There is nothing wrong with buying things. What’s wrong is how we buy, what we do with the waste and why we choose to fill up our empty spaces and landfills with the need to consume because a retail store tells  us too. Is nothing sacred anymore, not even the Earth? Or our time? Or our families?

This is no judgement, more of an observing cultures as it’s warped into something young people can’t even see. That we are all  hypnotized by the material life and a need to be the people the media  sells us. Especially commercialism. As small family businesses  disappear in  backwater conservative areas of the US, many become lemmings to the siren call of big corporations to keep consuming, upgrading your phone when your old one works,  to have the next new thing. The insanity is that there is always the next new  thing technology and it’s manic and delusional and not conscience to crave this quest that goes no where and creates waste on our planet. Maybe it takes age to know this. However, sadly, my generation and the those of the 70’s & even 80’s will soon die out and no one will be left to tell the young how in our days, we carried  no phone, we didn’t watch TV 24 7, we connected with people in real ways and we did not shop on Thanksgiving Day. We gave thanks.  What do we give thanks for now?

Discounts?

The TV is hypnotizing us. Corporations have stolen the meaning of the holidays. It makes people who are alone, impoverished feel as if their holidays have no meaning. It’s the loneliest time of the year for some. Many isolated people  end up taking their lives during the holidays. Where is the meaning? What is happening to America? Our endless addiction to consuming has made us the walking dead. Our environment is suffering. The packaging, the wrapping paper that never gets recycled is just horrific to me. I make all my gifts by hand and if I do  shop, I shop at small family businesses. If people were really spiritual, which is what Christmas is about, they would not sacrifice holidays to be focused on material things. What is worse, is the people who do not believe in God, celebrating a holiday about God. They buy anyway.

Insane.

The saddest and most ironic part is that the Pilgrims, who of course later killed the very people that provided them the thanksgiving meal, would have looked at us now and lost their minds. “Is this what our new world is destined for, chaos?”

And Christmas is sad too because so many people don’t believe in a God of some kind, or if they claim to, they celebrate the holidays giving overpriced presents to their loved ones, when there are so many unloved people that go without. If you are an atheist, then Christmas is not your day and if you overspend during this time, then your just a addict. Addicted to  consuming to fill up your empty place where if you really observed Christmas in the simple way, you would know. Jesus would not be happy with what his birthday has become. The wise man gives handmade gifts, but mostly he goes out into his community and starts a habit of giving to those we don’t know who need our help. The gift to ourselves is the feeling we made a difference. And you don’t just do it at the holidays. You do it everyday.

I love family dinners. I love  dressing up the table.  I love talking. Enjoying food and conversation. I have never been to a dinner in my family where one of two things did not happen. 1. Everyone ate while screaming at football game.  2. We argued before dinner, argued or gossiped during dinner and ate as quick as possible, ate  dessert too early,  quickly cleared plates and bitched about cleaning up, only to go sit down and not have anything to say and then people went home.

I want to  dine like Downtown Abbey. I want to live in the old proper way. Maybe that’s too late, but I see our society headed in a dangerous direction and it hurts my heart I can’t do anything about it.

..and I’m sorry, if I were at a family dinner and everyone gorged their food fast so they could get in a car jam at a mall to obtain a discount on something that has no meaning because we have been brainwashed to believe we need to be greedy and get everything at the cheapest price possible on a day when we are suppose to be reverent and be grateful for what we already have. It’s an illness of society and that is why sometimes I wish I lived in Europe. We do things too big here.

I’m not saying  there are not mindful consumers out there, I’m just triggered when I happen to watch commercials and realize  how unreal and not the truth they are and how they hurt my heart for the future of my Grandchild.

Jane Austen would call this need to consume as prideful, extravagant and far from what matters most in the world is to love and be with ones you love on a traditional day. When we lose our traditions to addictions, sad is the society that the future children are born into. An unpure world full of material needs rather than a connection to spirit, which the Native Americans knew about. We destroyed spirit when when destroyed the real Americans. Those are the lives that could influence the spiritual nature of our children, thus a whole new mindful being that is connected to the Earth, rather than culture.

This is an interesting film about the things I am trying to convey. I still have hope, as long as we are able to really look inside ourselves for what is the meaning of life. I think  it’s simply to slow down and love each other without hurting the Earth and our traditions of  the sacred.

It starts with just one person making one change and that person is you.

 

 

Would You Believe In A LoVe At First SiGht?

….yEs, I’m sure it hapPens all the tiMe.

The only true love is love at first sight; second sight dispels it.

Israel Zangwill

“Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.”
― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring humThe only true love is love at first sight; second sight dispels it.an being.”

― John Joseph Powell

“This is going to sound crazy, but… from the moment I first set eyes on you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
― Leigh Fallon, Carrier of the Mark

“I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.”

― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Colpo di fulmine. The thunderbolt, as Italians call it. When love strikes someone like lightning, so powerful and intense it can’t be denied. It’s beautiful and messy,
cracking a chest open and spilling their soul out for the world to see. It turns a person inside out, and there’s no going back from it. Once the thunderbolt hits, your life is
irrevocably changed.”
― J.M. Darhower, Sempre

“We live and breathe words. …. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted–and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.”

― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

The only true love is love at first sight; second sight dispels it.

Israel Zangwill

“Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.”
― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring humThe only true love is love at first sight; second sight dispels it.an being.”

― John Joseph Powell

“This is going to sound crazy, but… from the moment I first set eyes on you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
― Leigh Fallon, Carrier of the Mark

“I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.”

― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Colpo di fulmine. The thunderbolt, as Italians call it. When love strikes someone like lightning, so powerful and intense it can’t be denied. It’s beautiful and messy,
cracking a chest open and spilling their soul out for the world to see. It turns a person inside out, and there’s no going back from it. Once the thunderbolt hits, your life is
irrevocably changed.”
― J.M. Darhower, Sempre

“We live and breathe words. …. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted–and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.”

― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Since I was a young girl, I experienced a sense of seeking someone, even before I understood who I was and what was romantic love, my soul sought you. Who you were, I was not sure. Who you became, was someone I always never imagined. Love at first sight is real because if you get lucky enough to finally gaze upon that being you’ve sought, your heart cracks open and falls into kaleidoscopic puzzles pieces on the floor in just the right place, in just the right time.”

– Deborah White-Machon