Dear me
Hi there, it's been a long time since we've had a real talk.
No no, I'm not talking about how I put you down and make you feel less than a person. I'm talking about a real talk. So here it goes.
I'm sorry...
No really, this time I am for real. I am really sorry.
When you looked in the mirror this morning, and I told you that your eyes had too much dark circles under them, I was just being an ass. I know it hurt, and you went on with your day concerned about it. Truth is you have dark circles because you don't get enough sleep. You don't get enough sleep because you are constantly worried about the ones you love.
Can I tell you something though? A hundred percent honesty here? You forgot about me.
You forgot about me and now you have dark circles, anxieties, and an over all broken heart.
That's why I am sorry. I know you've grown up with so many hurts, and it's wrong of me to keep kicking at you, especially when you are down.
You know, sometimes I am just a big bully.
I have to tell you. Life isn't easy. You're pudgy belly is a big sign of that. The stress and poor eating habits played a toll on you. Which leads me to this whole apology thing. I want to apologize for everything. So, I'm sorry about calling you fat too. Hey, I didn't do anything to help you! I didn't motivate you to work out, but in spite of me you kept pushing yourself. You're actually going back the right way. You're eating better, you're getting in a few workouts. So you might not lose fifty pounds in a month but you're at least doing something. So I'm sorry for not giving you kudos.
Kudos girl, you're working on it. Please don't give up!
For every time I called you stupid, I take that back. I'm really sorry. Just because you don't think like other people doesn't mean you're dumb, you just think differently, and anyway, you get great grades in college... COLLEGE. So I'm sorry for saying that all you have to do to get good grades in college is the work. You kicked your own ass to get that work done, you were smart enough to keep going, and you're nearly there. Good! Don't give up. You've got discipline, and we can make it.
I think no person is perfect. I cut everyone slack except you, but now it's time to cut you some slack. Now it's time to let by gones be by gones and tell you the truth.
It's fear that has made me say those awful things.
Like how I make fun of your freckly face, your frizzy hair, your large breasts, and I know it was a cheap shot attacking your nose. The truth is, there is no one in this world who looks quite like you. Trust me, this is not the worst thing. What other people think of you shouldn't mean squat. I made it too much of a priority. I'm sorry. Anyway, there is something familiar about your face. No one can reproduce it. So I am starting to really appreciate it. So, I'll do my best not to call you ugly anymore. I mean, what am I even comparing you too anyway?
That leads me to that whole misunderstanding about your ethnic heritage. Look, I was just repeating what people have told me. Since they don't know what it's like to be you they really can't say. So why beat yourself up over something you can't control? I know you. I know you want to belong, but if people can't accept you for all of who you are, well they can go fuck themselves.
I mean it.
Hey kid, you've been through allot. I wish it could have been better. I wish the hurt could be washed away, the bad memories flushed down the drain but that just ain't gonna happen. I'm sorry for bringing it up all the time, for making you feel like you can never be good enough. Others go through similar hurts too, and you know what? Some of those people do right for themselves.
I'm not going to make the mistake of comparing you to others, I'm just saying...
I think my biggest asshole move ever was to tell you that no one would ever love you for who you are. It was such a dick move, really. I'm sorry. There are not enough apologies in the world for that one. I'm not just sorry to you either. I'm sorry for those that may love you, but I've planted that seed of doubt so deep that you have a hard time. I've made you feel insecure, but I hope by really talking to you we can change that. Now I want you to look at me, and really look.
Are you looking?
I love you okay? No really, I love you. Hey it's okay to cry. I know this is hard. I mean I am you, so I know. It's hard to let me love you. Don't you see why that is so wrong? Don't you see why we need to fix that? Not because no one else will love you, they probably will; but the truth is, you can't sustain yourself on that love alone. Oh it's wonderful and great and it really helps.
But I am going to be completely honest with you.
It's not enough. You need me.
You need my love.
So take it. Take it, along with all my hopes and dreams for our future.
I love you.
I'm going to keep saying that until you believe it.
Then I'm going to say it some more.
You deserve it, and I love you.
Now go to sleep because you need to take care of yourself.
Kind regards,
Me
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
life is not cupcakes
I think I am understanding more and more the true nature of my dilema.
This is my delima.
At times I feel so deeply, so much that the feelings are swollen to the point that they effect my actions, my choices, my life.
Other times I am numb.
When I say numb I mean I retreat inside and become isolated from all forms of human contact. If you've ever met me. You've seen me shut down like this.
It looks like I have decided all I want is to be alone. It LOOKS like I have effectively pushed at the fabric of my aura and silently but powerfully put up a big sign that says "GO AWAY".
Yet, I have to tell you the truth here. It is a mechanism. It is a natural product of fear. The truth is, I am lonely!
I have said before that I write for people who can't write. People whose stories would otherwise, not be told, but it takes a kind of bravery I am not sure I have. I mean, how do I explain what it is like to live in constant uncertainty? How do I convey the irrational fear in a way that gives people who don't have this problem a sense of clear understanding?
I know what I have been told. Here is a list of things from many well wishers who I feel just don't understand.
- Just get over it.
-Oh just find something you like to do and do it.
- You're not trying hard enough.
- You have nothing to be afraid of.
-It's because you don't love yourself enough.
- You just need to make more friends.
- You just need to get out more.
- You're beautiful, its your fault you don't see that.
etc....
Ah.. people people! I've heard these things before! Many others as well. Don't think for one minute that I do not hear this advise and digest it. Don't think that I do not, every day, try loving self. I've talked about that. I think it is very important to foster love in one's self. So I spend much time trying to rewire my brain to think more positively.
Yet, by nature I am restless. You say, I should try harder. To which I answer. Do you not see how emotionally draining this stuff is? Getting over phobias, getting over the types of anxieties that most people find so easy because they do not have them.
Let me say this. Do you know what it's like to be so critical of yourself that every action you take is a carefully calculated one? I do... I do. That is what happens to me when I get around people.
Here, I will give you a scenario.
I enter a restaurant.
Immediately, I look around the room, I decide right away how many different ethnicities, how are they dressed and if they look at me, what expressions are in their faces. Most people have an autopilot that is relatively disinterested.
My next phase, I walk to wherever I need to so that I can order, or get shown to a seat.
This is the moment where I will grip my wallet, or I will think about how much money is in my account, how much I am likely going to spend, and do I have cash to leave a tip?
There is an irrational fear here, in which I think I am being watched, but not only that I think people can smell the poverty from me. The poverty I come from, the unusualness of my features, and I start to wonder about my choice of clothes... Is this appropriate for where I am? I also note the families I see, the couples, and I can't help but to feel a pang of longing. The closeness I have always wanted for myself seems so elusive...
Then I tell myself, I need to just have fun.
I puff up my chest, I look at the menu. I make every effort to look normal while a pile of jitters course through my veins. I tell myself I should have done my hair different. I order my meal, do my best to smile...
glance surreptitiously around the room... note available exits...
You don't notice, you never notice. I have mastered the art of seeming calm. I have a special ability that allows me to do this... it is called the shut down mechanism, which I mentioned earlier.
Then I have my meal, pay and go do something else.
I ask myself, why do I do it?
Maybe because I want to feel some sense of normalcy. Maybe it's because I had been deprived of such luxuries for so long.. I don't know.
There is one thing I do know though. That is, that it is not about me.
I repeat... it is not about me.
I am consciously aware that people don't give a damn
Yet, I am powerless to my reactions. I can try telling myself over and over that I am worthy, I am fit to be where anyone else is.. I belong.
Yet.. there is still that little perverted voice inside my head that says You are different, you are lying, you don't belong.
And folks, when my offers of friendship are not taken seriously, when I am ignored, when I am not approached, when people buddy up at events effectively isolating individuals, you just confirm the pervert voice's edict. I am different, oh sin of sins!
I am different...
But it's not about you either.
It is about us.
Our interactions to each other. Our humanity, our ability to find and create connections on this dust bowl, because whether we like it or not we all have a share in this world. It is about how we respond to each other, how we help each other.
Like creating stepping stones to something higher, some better level of existence... that is the goal.
At least.. I always thought so.
This is my delima.
At times I feel so deeply, so much that the feelings are swollen to the point that they effect my actions, my choices, my life.
Other times I am numb.
When I say numb I mean I retreat inside and become isolated from all forms of human contact. If you've ever met me. You've seen me shut down like this.
It looks like I have decided all I want is to be alone. It LOOKS like I have effectively pushed at the fabric of my aura and silently but powerfully put up a big sign that says "GO AWAY".
Yet, I have to tell you the truth here. It is a mechanism. It is a natural product of fear. The truth is, I am lonely!
I have said before that I write for people who can't write. People whose stories would otherwise, not be told, but it takes a kind of bravery I am not sure I have. I mean, how do I explain what it is like to live in constant uncertainty? How do I convey the irrational fear in a way that gives people who don't have this problem a sense of clear understanding?
I know what I have been told. Here is a list of things from many well wishers who I feel just don't understand.
- Just get over it.
-Oh just find something you like to do and do it.
- You're not trying hard enough.
- You have nothing to be afraid of.
-It's because you don't love yourself enough.
- You just need to make more friends.
- You just need to get out more.
- You're beautiful, its your fault you don't see that.
etc....
Ah.. people people! I've heard these things before! Many others as well. Don't think for one minute that I do not hear this advise and digest it. Don't think that I do not, every day, try loving self. I've talked about that. I think it is very important to foster love in one's self. So I spend much time trying to rewire my brain to think more positively.
Yet, by nature I am restless. You say, I should try harder. To which I answer. Do you not see how emotionally draining this stuff is? Getting over phobias, getting over the types of anxieties that most people find so easy because they do not have them.
Let me say this. Do you know what it's like to be so critical of yourself that every action you take is a carefully calculated one? I do... I do. That is what happens to me when I get around people.
Here, I will give you a scenario.
I enter a restaurant.
Immediately, I look around the room, I decide right away how many different ethnicities, how are they dressed and if they look at me, what expressions are in their faces. Most people have an autopilot that is relatively disinterested.
My next phase, I walk to wherever I need to so that I can order, or get shown to a seat.
This is the moment where I will grip my wallet, or I will think about how much money is in my account, how much I am likely going to spend, and do I have cash to leave a tip?
There is an irrational fear here, in which I think I am being watched, but not only that I think people can smell the poverty from me. The poverty I come from, the unusualness of my features, and I start to wonder about my choice of clothes... Is this appropriate for where I am? I also note the families I see, the couples, and I can't help but to feel a pang of longing. The closeness I have always wanted for myself seems so elusive...
Then I tell myself, I need to just have fun.
I puff up my chest, I look at the menu. I make every effort to look normal while a pile of jitters course through my veins. I tell myself I should have done my hair different. I order my meal, do my best to smile...
glance surreptitiously around the room... note available exits...
You don't notice, you never notice. I have mastered the art of seeming calm. I have a special ability that allows me to do this... it is called the shut down mechanism, which I mentioned earlier.
Then I have my meal, pay and go do something else.
I ask myself, why do I do it?
Maybe because I want to feel some sense of normalcy. Maybe it's because I had been deprived of such luxuries for so long.. I don't know.
There is one thing I do know though. That is, that it is not about me.
I repeat... it is not about me.
I am consciously aware that people don't give a damn
Yet, I am powerless to my reactions. I can try telling myself over and over that I am worthy, I am fit to be where anyone else is.. I belong.
Yet.. there is still that little perverted voice inside my head that says You are different, you are lying, you don't belong.
And folks, when my offers of friendship are not taken seriously, when I am ignored, when I am not approached, when people buddy up at events effectively isolating individuals, you just confirm the pervert voice's edict. I am different, oh sin of sins!
I am different...
But it's not about you either.
It is about us.
Our interactions to each other. Our humanity, our ability to find and create connections on this dust bowl, because whether we like it or not we all have a share in this world. It is about how we respond to each other, how we help each other.
Like creating stepping stones to something higher, some better level of existence... that is the goal.
At least.. I always thought so.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Dad... do you remember when you used to do handstands?
My father...
A white man with Native blood. His parents hardly mentioned it. I remember my white grandmother saying we have some sort of Navajo blood...
Well I did the research and it isn't Navajo at all, it's Cherokee, and plenty of it. I expect her to have lied though, that was something she was good at...
but enough about her.
My mother told me that when I was first born, my dad nearly dropped me from the shock. Imagine his surprise that his child of a black woman could be so... soo...
white?
For my part, this is one of the few times I can recall my dad acting fatherly.For the most part, let's just say some things happen, and after the point of age 10, my dad was almost entirely non present, and when he was present, he would make very little effort to reinstate a loving relationship. Then, in my teen years, he started calling me names.
Is it any wonder why I wanted to leave home? The stress, the strain of responsibilities getting put on me was too much, and at some point I started losing gaps in memory, started passing out. To save myself, I fled, yet when I returned, the situation was not much more pretty.
My dad is someone I don't know. He's had his presence through my entire life, and yet his presence has seemed more like an afterthought than an experience. I grew up thinking and feeling that no one was there for me.
The relationship my mother had with my father was one that was much more like poison than an expression of love. Yes, they remained together, yet there was always a feeling that they did this out of necessity rather than actual expression. If my mother wasn't yelling at my father, my dad was yelling at her. They degraded each other, they argued over money, they argued over us. On valentines day, my father would wait for the sales to come then get her something, and on Christmas it was never anything romantic or thoughtful. My mother poured her effort into his birthdays, however, this was not well received. He insisted on handmade cakes and food, and seldom took her out. Now, later in life that she is without vision, the only places he will go is super cheap which means, not very healthy.
I don't know what love looks like...
For me, love looks complicated, abusive, and draining. Yet, I know what I want love to mean. I know what I want it too look like.
I know the result is fear and anticipation. That is how I look at love. With fear, and anticipation.
What can I say?
I am my parents's daughter...
A white man with Native blood. His parents hardly mentioned it. I remember my white grandmother saying we have some sort of Navajo blood...
Well I did the research and it isn't Navajo at all, it's Cherokee, and plenty of it. I expect her to have lied though, that was something she was good at...
but enough about her.
My mother told me that when I was first born, my dad nearly dropped me from the shock. Imagine his surprise that his child of a black woman could be so... soo...
white?
For my part, this is one of the few times I can recall my dad acting fatherly.For the most part, let's just say some things happen, and after the point of age 10, my dad was almost entirely non present, and when he was present, he would make very little effort to reinstate a loving relationship. Then, in my teen years, he started calling me names.
Is it any wonder why I wanted to leave home? The stress, the strain of responsibilities getting put on me was too much, and at some point I started losing gaps in memory, started passing out. To save myself, I fled, yet when I returned, the situation was not much more pretty.
My dad is someone I don't know. He's had his presence through my entire life, and yet his presence has seemed more like an afterthought than an experience. I grew up thinking and feeling that no one was there for me.
The relationship my mother had with my father was one that was much more like poison than an expression of love. Yes, they remained together, yet there was always a feeling that they did this out of necessity rather than actual expression. If my mother wasn't yelling at my father, my dad was yelling at her. They degraded each other, they argued over money, they argued over us. On valentines day, my father would wait for the sales to come then get her something, and on Christmas it was never anything romantic or thoughtful. My mother poured her effort into his birthdays, however, this was not well received. He insisted on handmade cakes and food, and seldom took her out. Now, later in life that she is without vision, the only places he will go is super cheap which means, not very healthy.
I don't know what love looks like...
For me, love looks complicated, abusive, and draining. Yet, I know what I want love to mean. I know what I want it too look like.
I know the result is fear and anticipation. That is how I look at love. With fear, and anticipation.
What can I say?
I am my parents's daughter...
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Just my two cents
If we were all meant to be the same skin color.. there wouldn't be so many variations..
If we were all meant to believe the same thing, there wouldn't be so many different perspectives!
So..... why then can't we all just agree to disagree and move on with our lives?
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Its happening again..
That gravitational pull..
that inner plexus...
in the center
the place where I am one ball of energy
is spiraling
I toss and turn around..
round another circle
fly across another ravine
open up another trail
My ceaseless mind
with it's multitude of thoughts
mixing
boiling
particle by particle
I am me
and yet... I am the me that sees beyond
Those drifting sails in the wind
that rock in time with the sea
the ebb and flow of tides
ever changing
yet still.. always something will choose to remain the same
I am me and I am not me
I am more
that inner plexus...
in the center
the place where I am one ball of energy
is spiraling
I toss and turn around..
round another circle
fly across another ravine
open up another trail
My ceaseless mind
with it's multitude of thoughts
mixing
boiling
particle by particle
I am me
and yet... I am the me that sees beyond
Those drifting sails in the wind
that rock in time with the sea
the ebb and flow of tides
ever changing
yet still.. always something will choose to remain the same
I am me and I am not me
I am more
Friday, November 28, 2014
Poem
Liquid fire
racing up my veins
driving my pulse
forcing the beat of my heart
in rapid cadence
as I think of you
I grind against the vine
stretch taught my mind
and yet..
nestled in my heart
exciting my daydreams..
is your beautiful visage
your talented hands
your smoldering eyes
that delightful smell
I close my eyes and it is there
you are there
with your boundless love
but..
when I open them
when I open my eyes
I wake up..
racing up my veins
driving my pulse
forcing the beat of my heart
in rapid cadence
as I think of you
I grind against the vine
stretch taught my mind
and yet..
nestled in my heart
exciting my daydreams..
is your beautiful visage
your talented hands
your smoldering eyes
that delightful smell
I close my eyes and it is there
you are there
with your boundless love
but..
when I open them
when I open my eyes
I wake up..
Sunday, November 23, 2014
My mother...
I remember.. walking through the grocery store with her. How the little old ladies would look at us with stares of uncertainty...
I remember calling for her, and laughing at the strange looks.
Their logic? How someone of chocolate skin could produce such a fair skinned child.
My logic? It was just funny, the wide eyes, the slack jaws...
I remember her asking me questions sometimes, as if my opinions really mattered, and I would respond with whatever answer I knew she would like most. Her softness, her largeness, larger than life... encompassing the world...
I was always sensitive to that... the kadence of her voice, the tightness of jaw... the tension in the air... If she was upset, then I was upset. If she was hurt or outraged.. I was hurt or outraged.
I know of days when it seemed like it was just her and me. My sisters and brother would stay with a relative... the wrinkle in her brows when she couldn't afford to pay for all the groceries... the feeling of shame when we had to put some things away...
These things remain close to my heart, as our shared pain. Our struggle... when I was hers and she was all that was right in the world.
Even when...
even when her face would change, her eyes widen with anger, and she would hold a knife to my throat and threaten to cut me. Perhaps I said the wrong thing? I could not please her... Should I have looked at her a different way?
Or when the dark plastic trash bag descended over my head, and she held it there when I struggled, desperate for air. She held it there and said. "Don't play with these any more."
She was life and she was death..
She was death when her fingers encircled around my neck, and she squeezed... I was strong enough to fight it. I was strong enough to pull her fingers away.. and yet I did not. I was mesmerized at the anger I saw there. The emptiness that she had for me in that moment...
She was life when we'd play Christmas songs, and we'd dance around the house, with no presents under the tree and no guarantee that we would have any.
She is love and hate.. my mother.
She is love when I think of all the things she gave up, so that we could eat.
She is hate when I think of the word 'stupid', or when I collapsed doing dishes, crawling my way to her room, needing her help, and she found no need to rise from the couch to come to my aid...
My mother is my past, she is my present, and while I desperately try to struggle to regain the healing, while I struggle to understand the bruises and the hugs overlapping... overlapping so that I am unsure whether or not I can fully hate her, knowing I will always love her. I struggle with the knowledge that I can never fully trust her.
Always confusion...
Always in angles, in curves and circles...
Never a straight, definitive line.
Then again... sometimes relationships are like that...
Even relationships between mother and child..
I remember calling for her, and laughing at the strange looks.
Their logic? How someone of chocolate skin could produce such a fair skinned child.
My logic? It was just funny, the wide eyes, the slack jaws...
I remember her asking me questions sometimes, as if my opinions really mattered, and I would respond with whatever answer I knew she would like most. Her softness, her largeness, larger than life... encompassing the world...
I was always sensitive to that... the kadence of her voice, the tightness of jaw... the tension in the air... If she was upset, then I was upset. If she was hurt or outraged.. I was hurt or outraged.
I know of days when it seemed like it was just her and me. My sisters and brother would stay with a relative... the wrinkle in her brows when she couldn't afford to pay for all the groceries... the feeling of shame when we had to put some things away...
These things remain close to my heart, as our shared pain. Our struggle... when I was hers and she was all that was right in the world.
Even when...
even when her face would change, her eyes widen with anger, and she would hold a knife to my throat and threaten to cut me. Perhaps I said the wrong thing? I could not please her... Should I have looked at her a different way?
Or when the dark plastic trash bag descended over my head, and she held it there when I struggled, desperate for air. She held it there and said. "Don't play with these any more."
She was life and she was death..
She was death when her fingers encircled around my neck, and she squeezed... I was strong enough to fight it. I was strong enough to pull her fingers away.. and yet I did not. I was mesmerized at the anger I saw there. The emptiness that she had for me in that moment...
She was life when we'd play Christmas songs, and we'd dance around the house, with no presents under the tree and no guarantee that we would have any.
She is love and hate.. my mother.
She is love when I think of all the things she gave up, so that we could eat.
She is hate when I think of the word 'stupid', or when I collapsed doing dishes, crawling my way to her room, needing her help, and she found no need to rise from the couch to come to my aid...
My mother is my past, she is my present, and while I desperately try to struggle to regain the healing, while I struggle to understand the bruises and the hugs overlapping... overlapping so that I am unsure whether or not I can fully hate her, knowing I will always love her. I struggle with the knowledge that I can never fully trust her.
Always confusion...
Always in angles, in curves and circles...
Never a straight, definitive line.
Then again... sometimes relationships are like that...
Even relationships between mother and child..
Sunday, November 16, 2014
I don't do rational
The most interesting lesson I've learned this life is this...
No one is going to put themselves out to make me happy.
This is interesting, because while this lesson has been internalized in me for the last couple of years, I was never able to find the words to make it... well... solid and rational. I owe a great deal of thanks to a female artist who happens to write songs that I feel. This is profound because I never much loved rap. Nope, but she's made songs that I have actually bought, and enjoy. Her name is Temper, and I'll throw a link for you, if you are reading this and are into music do check her out. https://www.youtube.com/user/Temper3k9
I follow what speaks to me. This speaks to me. Anyway, she said in one of her Q and As.. this would be on another channel she has.. she said "DO you know anyone who will risk their own happiness just to make you happy? It's not going to happen."
It makes so much sense.
No one is going to do that. I've learned over time that no one wants the responsibility to make you happy. Now there may be some that are willing to take on a partial role in it, but you are pretty much alone. I know, it's kind of disheartening. Especially for those of us who are sensitive and still hold out this irrational hope that someday a love all powerful will come and truly change the world..
On the other side of that though, it's kind of empowering. If we allow ourselves to digest the fact that the soul mate ideology is a myth, we can see life for what it is. It is a learning experience. We can see love for what it is, what it is not, and what it CAN be... We can see our mistakes in love as growing opportunities. Through loving others, we are made aware of the flaws, and the strengths within ourselves.
You don't have to love everyone you date, but you can keep your heart open for the kind of love that is lasting.
Let us focus on that.
While we are focusing on that, let's never forget the love we have for self. It is self who is responsible for the care and feeding of self. Once you are an adult, you are thrust into the world and it is sink or swim honey. So... swim, and really and truly understand what it means to love self. First rule just say it.
"I am worthy of love"
Go ahead and say it. Say this too..
"I am good enough to be loved. "
Now, digest those words, every day. Regardless of what relationship you are in, regardless of what other people think or feel toward you. Focus truly on you.
I know it's hard, but nothing worth doing is easy. Write it down if you need to, say it over and over until you can feel it. Go through your past hurts and understand that people hurting cause hurt in you, but it is up to you how you internalize it. Never let another person's opinion of you reflect on how you view yourself. You are the creator of your own universe. Only you see from your own eyes, hear from your own ears, and hear from your own skin. See, feel, be, and love you.
Go back if you have to. Pick yourself up from the darkness and understand that weaknesses are only weaknesses if YOU view them to be. Everyone has lessons to learn, and no one is carved from gold.
You are however, made up of flesh, bone, and spirit. Like everyone else on this planet. JUST like everyone else. There is no one better than you. No one less than you. Ingest this knowledge, internalize it. Make it your own.
The light in me acknowledges the light in you...
-Orhea the Dreamer
No one is going to put themselves out to make me happy.
This is interesting, because while this lesson has been internalized in me for the last couple of years, I was never able to find the words to make it... well... solid and rational. I owe a great deal of thanks to a female artist who happens to write songs that I feel. This is profound because I never much loved rap. Nope, but she's made songs that I have actually bought, and enjoy. Her name is Temper, and I'll throw a link for you, if you are reading this and are into music do check her out. https://www.youtube.com/user/Temper3k9
I follow what speaks to me. This speaks to me. Anyway, she said in one of her Q and As.. this would be on another channel she has.. she said "DO you know anyone who will risk their own happiness just to make you happy? It's not going to happen."
It makes so much sense.
No one is going to do that. I've learned over time that no one wants the responsibility to make you happy. Now there may be some that are willing to take on a partial role in it, but you are pretty much alone. I know, it's kind of disheartening. Especially for those of us who are sensitive and still hold out this irrational hope that someday a love all powerful will come and truly change the world..
On the other side of that though, it's kind of empowering. If we allow ourselves to digest the fact that the soul mate ideology is a myth, we can see life for what it is. It is a learning experience. We can see love for what it is, what it is not, and what it CAN be... We can see our mistakes in love as growing opportunities. Through loving others, we are made aware of the flaws, and the strengths within ourselves.
You don't have to love everyone you date, but you can keep your heart open for the kind of love that is lasting.
Let us focus on that.
While we are focusing on that, let's never forget the love we have for self. It is self who is responsible for the care and feeding of self. Once you are an adult, you are thrust into the world and it is sink or swim honey. So... swim, and really and truly understand what it means to love self. First rule just say it.
"I am worthy of love"
Go ahead and say it. Say this too..
"I am good enough to be loved. "
Now, digest those words, every day. Regardless of what relationship you are in, regardless of what other people think or feel toward you. Focus truly on you.
I know it's hard, but nothing worth doing is easy. Write it down if you need to, say it over and over until you can feel it. Go through your past hurts and understand that people hurting cause hurt in you, but it is up to you how you internalize it. Never let another person's opinion of you reflect on how you view yourself. You are the creator of your own universe. Only you see from your own eyes, hear from your own ears, and hear from your own skin. See, feel, be, and love you.
Go back if you have to. Pick yourself up from the darkness and understand that weaknesses are only weaknesses if YOU view them to be. Everyone has lessons to learn, and no one is carved from gold.
You are however, made up of flesh, bone, and spirit. Like everyone else on this planet. JUST like everyone else. There is no one better than you. No one less than you. Ingest this knowledge, internalize it. Make it your own.
The light in me acknowledges the light in you...
-Orhea the Dreamer
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Things... and excerpt!
Good evening!
So, when I talk about my writing process.. which I don't often, I often mention that it is at random. Oh I know I know that most writers say just write! Just write and it will come.
Can I tell you though, sometimes I come out with poetry, lyrics, or bits of random? Other times brilliant scenes emerge from stories whose plot lines are not yet written.
Someday I will be orderly, but not today! Anyhow, last week I wrote a scene for Thraxia, which is my major project I"m still plunking away at. I debated within myself if I wanted to make it a YA, and thus more relatable to a younger audience, or should I leave it adult oriented? Well... after much debate with myself I have decided that Thraxia is meant for adult audiences. It's an exploration not just on gender expression and sexuality, but also an exploration on things like race as well as religion and philosophy in general. Those are big topics, and I want to express Jade honestly and completely... So anyway here is a scene for Jade let me set this up for you.
Jade has just entered into an area of the underground she did not know existed. The people she meets, called 'Demons' by the Rowe, come in colors shes never seen before, but most interesting are these people's love of bathing... So much so that there is a law about it.. Here umong the demons there are certain concepts new to her. Nudity for one thing... in Thraxia, especially if you are a child, gender neutrality is important. You run too much risk of sexual assault if you cause attention to yourself, therefore the people of Thraxia are typically very personal, and those on the streets wear many layers of ragged clothing... So it is not suprised that Jade has not been naked in front of people. The whole concept of nakedness is quite frightening.. but in this scene it is bath time.. and the Demon's policy on cleanliness is strict. ..
--
The first thing I noticed as the initial burst of steam cleared from my view were the tits...
Tits of all sizes. Some heavy and sagging, some firm, high, and roung.
Well... they were all round. Except for those with almost no flesh there... Yeah there were tits that didn't quite look like tits, and the only way to know they belonged to grown women were the enlarged areolas in various shades. Their nipples were fat, like the tip of my pinky finger, but I thought they still had their charms... These titless tits with the perky nipples.My own were more on the heavy side, but I kept my arms firmly crossed over them. I was still wearing my street clothes, and my heart pounded heavy in my chest with anticipation... Couldn't I do this bath thing with my clothes on?
I stared at Jen's back. Her pale, gold-kissed back. Her shoulders moved this way and that as she dodged through the bodies of naked women passing her. She was at home here and I was not. When she paused at the edge of a shallow pool of water, steam rising up from all over, and dropped her towel, my eyes instantly riveted downward. Her butt had a perfect roundness to it, and it was attached to lean, muscled thighs. A collection of wetness pooled in my mouth and I swallowed. She sank in the water, and turned around to look at me.
The water was clear, so clear I could see everything. More tits, but Jen's tits caused a sensation in me different from the others. It was like my stomach balled up and dropped down to my feet. I stood there, towel in hand, petrified.
Jen groaned appreciatively and leaned her head back. Her blond hair took on a darker hue from the water. The action caused her tits to bounce up and out of the water. Her nipples like those dot candies the demons offered us after meal times. I stared at them I know, wondering if they actually tasted like those dot candies too. Sweet maybe?
"Common!" Jen said, splashing in my direction. She was laughing, maybe she didn't think about all the tits in the room, but I found it distracting.
I shook my head and backed away.
"You have to bathe" I heard Jen say; but I had closed my eyes and kept them shut. I didn't want to....
"If you don't, you will have to leave"
I kept my eyes shut tight for the longest time and then slowly, I began to take off my shirt. I felt so cold all of the sudden, and I started to shiver. It got so bad that my teeth were chattering and I stumbled as my feet tangled in my pants. It was a slow, painful process removing my clothes and when I finished I quickly moved into the water. It was hot.. almost too hot, and it made my blood rush quicker. I fought the urge for tears though and crouched a little so that my tits were covered. The ground beneath my feet, under the water seemed a bit rough, porous, but not uncomfortable. I heard Jen gasp and in spite of myself I opened my eyes. "Don't look at my tits!" I said.
Jen had moved behind me however and I turned to see her. She wasn't staring at my chest like I had so eagerly stared at hers.. Instead, her eyes were focused on my back. She reached out to touch me and I flinched, but her fingers were light as they slid down the base of my neck, and to my shoulder.
"What happened here?" Her voice was soft, and there was an emotion I couldn't recognize in her tone.
"Huh?"
"Here" Jen moved her fingers, and I could feel her fingers slide over the smooth parts to hit the raised marks there.
"Oh" I said. "You know what the punishment is for gangs who cause too many problems right?"
Jen's fingers dropped uprubtly. "That is a barbaric law."
"Barbaric... I like the sound of that word, what does it mean?"
"It means cruel in this context. It's cruel and stupid, and dated" With each word Jen's voice grew more taught.
"Oh" Suddenly I didn't like her staring at my back now, so I turned around. It was better for her to look at my tits than my back. She did look at them, but her eyes flew to mine.
"What happened though?"
I shrugged, uncomfortable in the spotlight. Her eyes were so intensely blue now, and I could see my reflection in them. "When they caught us the governor said no mercy. So we were flogged...thats where they take these whips, and they have little pieces of metal at the ends. They hit you and hit you with it until you're blind with hurt and the smell of blood is so strong you're sick with it. We figured we'd get flogged but we didn't think they'd put us in the hole."
Jen sighed. "It's disgusting, those fat governors are so corrupt. All they do is sit on ration cards and extort from the elite."
I didn't respond to that. Even if I'd wanted to, Niala chose that moment to call at us, stepping into the water.
So, when I talk about my writing process.. which I don't often, I often mention that it is at random. Oh I know I know that most writers say just write! Just write and it will come.
Can I tell you though, sometimes I come out with poetry, lyrics, or bits of random? Other times brilliant scenes emerge from stories whose plot lines are not yet written.
Someday I will be orderly, but not today! Anyhow, last week I wrote a scene for Thraxia, which is my major project I"m still plunking away at. I debated within myself if I wanted to make it a YA, and thus more relatable to a younger audience, or should I leave it adult oriented? Well... after much debate with myself I have decided that Thraxia is meant for adult audiences. It's an exploration not just on gender expression and sexuality, but also an exploration on things like race as well as religion and philosophy in general. Those are big topics, and I want to express Jade honestly and completely... So anyway here is a scene for Jade let me set this up for you.
Jade has just entered into an area of the underground she did not know existed. The people she meets, called 'Demons' by the Rowe, come in colors shes never seen before, but most interesting are these people's love of bathing... So much so that there is a law about it.. Here umong the demons there are certain concepts new to her. Nudity for one thing... in Thraxia, especially if you are a child, gender neutrality is important. You run too much risk of sexual assault if you cause attention to yourself, therefore the people of Thraxia are typically very personal, and those on the streets wear many layers of ragged clothing... So it is not suprised that Jade has not been naked in front of people. The whole concept of nakedness is quite frightening.. but in this scene it is bath time.. and the Demon's policy on cleanliness is strict. ..
--
The first thing I noticed as the initial burst of steam cleared from my view were the tits...
Tits of all sizes. Some heavy and sagging, some firm, high, and roung.
Well... they were all round. Except for those with almost no flesh there... Yeah there were tits that didn't quite look like tits, and the only way to know they belonged to grown women were the enlarged areolas in various shades. Their nipples were fat, like the tip of my pinky finger, but I thought they still had their charms... These titless tits with the perky nipples.My own were more on the heavy side, but I kept my arms firmly crossed over them. I was still wearing my street clothes, and my heart pounded heavy in my chest with anticipation... Couldn't I do this bath thing with my clothes on?
I stared at Jen's back. Her pale, gold-kissed back. Her shoulders moved this way and that as she dodged through the bodies of naked women passing her. She was at home here and I was not. When she paused at the edge of a shallow pool of water, steam rising up from all over, and dropped her towel, my eyes instantly riveted downward. Her butt had a perfect roundness to it, and it was attached to lean, muscled thighs. A collection of wetness pooled in my mouth and I swallowed. She sank in the water, and turned around to look at me.
The water was clear, so clear I could see everything. More tits, but Jen's tits caused a sensation in me different from the others. It was like my stomach balled up and dropped down to my feet. I stood there, towel in hand, petrified.
Jen groaned appreciatively and leaned her head back. Her blond hair took on a darker hue from the water. The action caused her tits to bounce up and out of the water. Her nipples like those dot candies the demons offered us after meal times. I stared at them I know, wondering if they actually tasted like those dot candies too. Sweet maybe?
"Common!" Jen said, splashing in my direction. She was laughing, maybe she didn't think about all the tits in the room, but I found it distracting.
I shook my head and backed away.
"You have to bathe" I heard Jen say; but I had closed my eyes and kept them shut. I didn't want to....
"If you don't, you will have to leave"
I kept my eyes shut tight for the longest time and then slowly, I began to take off my shirt. I felt so cold all of the sudden, and I started to shiver. It got so bad that my teeth were chattering and I stumbled as my feet tangled in my pants. It was a slow, painful process removing my clothes and when I finished I quickly moved into the water. It was hot.. almost too hot, and it made my blood rush quicker. I fought the urge for tears though and crouched a little so that my tits were covered. The ground beneath my feet, under the water seemed a bit rough, porous, but not uncomfortable. I heard Jen gasp and in spite of myself I opened my eyes. "Don't look at my tits!" I said.
Jen had moved behind me however and I turned to see her. She wasn't staring at my chest like I had so eagerly stared at hers.. Instead, her eyes were focused on my back. She reached out to touch me and I flinched, but her fingers were light as they slid down the base of my neck, and to my shoulder.
"What happened here?" Her voice was soft, and there was an emotion I couldn't recognize in her tone.
"Huh?"
"Here" Jen moved her fingers, and I could feel her fingers slide over the smooth parts to hit the raised marks there.
"Oh" I said. "You know what the punishment is for gangs who cause too many problems right?"
Jen's fingers dropped uprubtly. "That is a barbaric law."
"Barbaric... I like the sound of that word, what does it mean?"
"It means cruel in this context. It's cruel and stupid, and dated" With each word Jen's voice grew more taught.
"Oh" Suddenly I didn't like her staring at my back now, so I turned around. It was better for her to look at my tits than my back. She did look at them, but her eyes flew to mine.
"What happened though?"
I shrugged, uncomfortable in the spotlight. Her eyes were so intensely blue now, and I could see my reflection in them. "When they caught us the governor said no mercy. So we were flogged...thats where they take these whips, and they have little pieces of metal at the ends. They hit you and hit you with it until you're blind with hurt and the smell of blood is so strong you're sick with it. We figured we'd get flogged but we didn't think they'd put us in the hole."
Jen sighed. "It's disgusting, those fat governors are so corrupt. All they do is sit on ration cards and extort from the elite."
I didn't respond to that. Even if I'd wanted to, Niala chose that moment to call at us, stepping into the water.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Yellow bone, yellohammer, red bone...
Sometimes I get put into a situation I don't like. I think everyone does at some point in their lives. However, when I start to point out what I find as fallacies I think people get highly offended. Or they assume that I am making so much to do about nothing. Hey I get it.. but when situations happen where I am made to feel like I am less than. I must address it. Today I heard someone use the term yellow bone... now if you don't understand the term you can google it. I wont go into it, but I don't like the feeling I got from it.. so of course I had to write about it..
--
Yellow boned
a term so much like thick bread
it settles like a hard lump in my stomach
at once I can hear the jarring words...
"You will never understand.
You are not one of us.
You are half"
Cast aside for racial ambiguity
as if I am impure
unclean
as if the only way to be clean is to be one irrefutable thing
like I am a blob of black ink on white paper
it is black and white
it is black or white
choose
Like I could bathe in the flames and arise the color of ebony
or maybe dip in cold water and arise white as milk
Or maybe I can peel back my flesh and become red?
To be without one label is to be born in sin it seems...
and it is those who share the legacy of my own blood that would cast me away
half cast, like so much luggage
mulatto, like a bastardized blend of horse and mule
Yellow bone
like my bones and flesh did not develop inside my black mother
yellow bone
like my great grandfather did not develop in his red mother
yellow bone
like somehow, I am not a sister, a friend, a lover, a peer
I am an IT
and you ask me why I loath the word?
Why my insides clench and the wounds of the child I was crack open to bleed anew?
Maybe you can't understand because my bones are yellow..
--
Yellow boned
a term so much like thick bread
it settles like a hard lump in my stomach
at once I can hear the jarring words...
"You will never understand.
You are not one of us.
You are half"
Cast aside for racial ambiguity
as if I am impure
unclean
as if the only way to be clean is to be one irrefutable thing
like I am a blob of black ink on white paper
it is black and white
it is black or white
choose
Like I could bathe in the flames and arise the color of ebony
or maybe dip in cold water and arise white as milk
Or maybe I can peel back my flesh and become red?
To be without one label is to be born in sin it seems...
and it is those who share the legacy of my own blood that would cast me away
half cast, like so much luggage
mulatto, like a bastardized blend of horse and mule
Yellow bone
like my bones and flesh did not develop inside my black mother
yellow bone
like my great grandfather did not develop in his red mother
yellow bone
like somehow, I am not a sister, a friend, a lover, a peer
I am an IT
and you ask me why I loath the word?
Why my insides clench and the wounds of the child I was crack open to bleed anew?
Maybe you can't understand because my bones are yellow..
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Nothing fake here...
I often talk about love...
Lack there of, or presence of for example. I often talk about love for self as well.
What happens when someone challenges your self love, and you find your foundations are weak? I was openly criticized for being two faced, but this happens when I try to actively express my opinions.
I have not perfected the art.
So I have had it reiterated through events in my life that it takes much strength to be yourself. It takes tremendous courage to express your opinions. To understand that people will not agree with you or argue with you just for the sake of not being wrong. To understand that you may be the one that is wrong truly takes self confidence.
So anyway, of the art of expressing opinions... I think it was best put to me this way. "You can't determine what people will think of you. You can't predict how they will react. " But I and several others I am sure, do the predicting anyway. Why make it such a big thing? Why agonize when reactions will just happen anyway?
Hmm... then I suppose the merit in conveying your opinion honestly, at risk of being called two faced *insert expletive here*, is that you are being true to you. Loving yourself by not denying your feelings.
It takes a brave soul.
But it has merit.
Lack there of, or presence of for example. I often talk about love for self as well.
What happens when someone challenges your self love, and you find your foundations are weak? I was openly criticized for being two faced, but this happens when I try to actively express my opinions.
I have not perfected the art.
So I have had it reiterated through events in my life that it takes much strength to be yourself. It takes tremendous courage to express your opinions. To understand that people will not agree with you or argue with you just for the sake of not being wrong. To understand that you may be the one that is wrong truly takes self confidence.
So anyway, of the art of expressing opinions... I think it was best put to me this way. "You can't determine what people will think of you. You can't predict how they will react. " But I and several others I am sure, do the predicting anyway. Why make it such a big thing? Why agonize when reactions will just happen anyway?
Hmm... then I suppose the merit in conveying your opinion honestly, at risk of being called two faced *insert expletive here*, is that you are being true to you. Loving yourself by not denying your feelings.
It takes a brave soul.
But it has merit.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Why did I?
There is this silly notion that one day you wake up wise.
That perhaps with age you'll just start to 'get it'. It's really a lovely fairy tale but that is just what it is, a fable. I'd like to call it the fable of youth. The idea that you turn 18 and you're instantly an adult or you turn 21 and then.. yes and THEN everything makes sense.
Not likely.
That is why I continually dedicate myself to being a lifelong learner because baby, I don't know squat.
Well..
Maybe that isn't to safe to say...
I DO know that if you don't pay your bills before you decide to go out and splurge you will forget and be behind. Because who wants to pay bills? I also know that sometimes the very thing you think is going to happen actually does. In short, the only thing I know for sure is that predictions are iffy at best, and it's always good to have a back up plan.
I seldom follow the rule. I admit it here that I'm a creature of habit. I like to do the same thing at the same time every day, with maybe an occasional surprise or two.. I like consistency and some predictability. Maybe it's because I'm a taurus or maybe it's just because I've had a lifetime of unpredictable happenings and it can get rather old.
Anyway what I kind of wanted to touch on is my anxieties. You wouldn't know it by looking at me... or maybe you would? But I have anxiety that occurs in social situations. Yes, the heart palpitating, sweaty, nerve racking anxiety that often damages opportunities. I go to a support group for it now, we've had only one meeting but.. It struck me that I am seriously not the only one. I am not the only one who keeps talking, afraid that if I stop I will be deigned uninteresting and cast aside. I am not the only one thinking that everything I say SHOULD be interesting. I am also not the only one who laments on the idea of being hated.
The question often comes up, why do I care so much?
Why indeed?
I can't tell you. Only that I do. I care too much. That is why I criticize my everything. That is why I struggle with confidence and why it is hard for me to really just be cool.
No worries though. I am learning that this is not a weakness. It is a condition, and while the condition may never fully be cured, it can be significantly improved and liveable.
I can live.
I can live, and actually be happy.
So here I am, dreaming a better dream and I hope you do too. Don't give up on you.
With much love...
Orhea
That perhaps with age you'll just start to 'get it'. It's really a lovely fairy tale but that is just what it is, a fable. I'd like to call it the fable of youth. The idea that you turn 18 and you're instantly an adult or you turn 21 and then.. yes and THEN everything makes sense.
Not likely.
That is why I continually dedicate myself to being a lifelong learner because baby, I don't know squat.
Well..
Maybe that isn't to safe to say...
I DO know that if you don't pay your bills before you decide to go out and splurge you will forget and be behind. Because who wants to pay bills? I also know that sometimes the very thing you think is going to happen actually does. In short, the only thing I know for sure is that predictions are iffy at best, and it's always good to have a back up plan.
I seldom follow the rule. I admit it here that I'm a creature of habit. I like to do the same thing at the same time every day, with maybe an occasional surprise or two.. I like consistency and some predictability. Maybe it's because I'm a taurus or maybe it's just because I've had a lifetime of unpredictable happenings and it can get rather old.
Anyway what I kind of wanted to touch on is my anxieties. You wouldn't know it by looking at me... or maybe you would? But I have anxiety that occurs in social situations. Yes, the heart palpitating, sweaty, nerve racking anxiety that often damages opportunities. I go to a support group for it now, we've had only one meeting but.. It struck me that I am seriously not the only one. I am not the only one who keeps talking, afraid that if I stop I will be deigned uninteresting and cast aside. I am not the only one thinking that everything I say SHOULD be interesting. I am also not the only one who laments on the idea of being hated.
The question often comes up, why do I care so much?
Why indeed?
I can't tell you. Only that I do. I care too much. That is why I criticize my everything. That is why I struggle with confidence and why it is hard for me to really just be cool.
No worries though. I am learning that this is not a weakness. It is a condition, and while the condition may never fully be cured, it can be significantly improved and liveable.
I can live.
I can live, and actually be happy.
So here I am, dreaming a better dream and I hope you do too. Don't give up on you.
With much love...
Orhea
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
A little self confidence this morning!
A thought on beauty….
In this world where women are suddenly bursting out into
their sexuality, and when I mean
bursting I mean bursting! If anyone saw the recent musical awards show, I refer
to Niki Minaj’s skit, and the one done by Beyonce. One ponders the correlation between beauty
and sexuality.
Honestly, I think anyone can be sexy. It is a matter of how
you present yourself, your level of confidence, and your desire to convey a
certain message. It is also highly a
matter of people’s preference. That
being said, I can see a certain level of beauty in all people.
So, what is it that I am looking at, that most over look? It
is simple. While others are typically looking at aesthetics, I am looking at
the whole picture. That is, mannerisms, the way a person speaks, their level of
confidence, and also their level of competence. To me, there is nothing more unattractive
than a person that behaves and is, willfully ignorant. If you are close minded,
unwilling to learn, stagnant, then I can read it in everything you do.
Now, let’s consider how these days, a plus size woman, if
she is confident, can put on a corset and heels and rock that look with a level
of poise that could put shame to super models on a runway. So then, why is
there all this pressure to lose weight? Society seems to have this
misconception that the size of your waist equals the value of you. That is why,
although I know I am not at the size I want, I understand that what others may
find appealing in me is their own affair. The biggest, most important thing is
what I find appealing about ME. So let’s try this exercise.
Look in the mirror.
Go on look! Look at yourself for at least thirty seconds;
take in your facial features, better if you have a full mirror, look at your
whole body if you can. Then look back at
this.
Tell me, what is it about you that separate you from the
crowd? Oh everyone has a defining mark.
Something about them that is very unique.
I think I have nice eyes.
I think I have an adaptable personality. Though I wish I was more outgoing
and a better listener. These things I can improve and to me, ads to my appeal.
Do you get it yet?
Beauty is not the size of your pants, the shape of your
rear, the poise of your breasts. Its that nifty part of you that says “I am me,
and I am proud”. Whether it manifests in
the tone of your voice, the way you move your hands, or how you engage
others. It is there. You just need to
see it.
Now look back in the mirror.
Are you happy? Don’t think about what others may think! I think in a
short amount of time I have learned that people don’t care. No really they don’t
care to really judge you like you think.
Everyone judges, but don’t agonize on it. Just focus on expressing
yourself in a way that is respectful but genuine.
Do that, and all the beauty in all the world is yours.
You’re gorgeous honey!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
JUST DO
“Just do” That has been my driving force the last few months… It has seen me through losing four inches off my waist. It has seen me through disappointment, and into triumph.
All my life, my decisions were made based off what others thought of me. By others I mean my very own family. It’s been made based off what I thought was expected of me, and also how I wanted people to perceive me to be. Now, I understand one thing for sure and that is that life is a constant work in progress. In this way, just like everybody else I try. It is just discovering what I am trying for that has been tricky.
Fact one: No matter how hard I try, people will only see what they desire to see. They will only see what they perceive.
Therefore, no matter what I do, I cannot control it. I can’t control what others see and take from what I put out in the world. I can only control the feeling behind it. I can only do my best to communicate my thoughts and feelings as best as possible, and hope that some will find the message in them so that it can effect in a positive way.
Fact two: I have no way of knowing what they are wanting from me. I can only guess. Truth is anyone can only guess.
Thus, instead of trying to give people what they want. I have decided to just DO what feels right. If it isn’t wanted, then it isn’t; but it is out there.
Fact three: Up until I decided to consciously make a change, everything I did was not working.
It is hard for me not to give a damn. That’s it, I said it. I am one of those people that agonize on whether I said the right thing, or communicated something the right way. So by just doing, I am constantly changing. It is better than killing myself with worry!
Fact four: The idea of there being a right way to anything sets you up for failure.
Hear me out. If we are constantly trying to do things right and as a result constantly failing, then it is not that we haven’t been doing it right, it is that we haven’t found a way that works. Just like there are many ways to love a person, there are many ways to approach a situation. Just like you can fail when trying to communicate your love, there are many ways to fail when trying to improve a situation. The answer then is to find another way. Find as many ways as possible and just keep trying. The moment you give up is the moment when you lose.
Happily, even when we do give up, we can always make the decision to get back up and try again. I don’t think there is such a thing as too late either. It is when we limit ourselves by time and circumstance that we stop making progress, and it’s when we try to measure our progress up to preset standards that we stop seeing the big picture.
That big picture is splayed out before your eyes, every day.
All my life, my decisions were made based off what others thought of me. By others I mean my very own family. It’s been made based off what I thought was expected of me, and also how I wanted people to perceive me to be. Now, I understand one thing for sure and that is that life is a constant work in progress. In this way, just like everybody else I try. It is just discovering what I am trying for that has been tricky.
Fact one: No matter how hard I try, people will only see what they desire to see. They will only see what they perceive.
Therefore, no matter what I do, I cannot control it. I can’t control what others see and take from what I put out in the world. I can only control the feeling behind it. I can only do my best to communicate my thoughts and feelings as best as possible, and hope that some will find the message in them so that it can effect in a positive way.
Fact two: I have no way of knowing what they are wanting from me. I can only guess. Truth is anyone can only guess.
Thus, instead of trying to give people what they want. I have decided to just DO what feels right. If it isn’t wanted, then it isn’t; but it is out there.
Fact three: Up until I decided to consciously make a change, everything I did was not working.
It is hard for me not to give a damn. That’s it, I said it. I am one of those people that agonize on whether I said the right thing, or communicated something the right way. So by just doing, I am constantly changing. It is better than killing myself with worry!
Fact four: The idea of there being a right way to anything sets you up for failure.
Hear me out. If we are constantly trying to do things right and as a result constantly failing, then it is not that we haven’t been doing it right, it is that we haven’t found a way that works. Just like there are many ways to love a person, there are many ways to approach a situation. Just like you can fail when trying to communicate your love, there are many ways to fail when trying to improve a situation. The answer then is to find another way. Find as many ways as possible and just keep trying. The moment you give up is the moment when you lose.
Happily, even when we do give up, we can always make the decision to get back up and try again. I don’t think there is such a thing as too late either. It is when we limit ourselves by time and circumstance that we stop making progress, and it’s when we try to measure our progress up to preset standards that we stop seeing the big picture.
That big picture is splayed out before your eyes, every day.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Taste my words
Here for you I am giving up another poem. The power to overcome the ridicule and angst that may have assaulted you for years comes from really and truly digging deep. You remember YOU. You must love YOU. In all your gorgeous perfections and imperfections. For there is something to love in imperfection. It is unique, it is personal. It is, your claim to identity.
Taste my words!
Taste my words!
I feel it inside myself
That tender yearning for something gentle, sensual, and real
For a love everlasting
And perhaps it is more than that…
When I search for that thing inside that is whole and beautiful,
that thing that is so much me and yet..
And yet, so far out there…
Disjointed, disconnected,
feeling a since of detachment that starts somewhere from the center and
spirals outward
Still… If I silence my mind and lay silent
Yes silent
Devoid of cell phones, media, or the loud loud ringing of
another person’s voice violating my ears
If I assault my heart, rifle through its treasures can I
find it?
I want to say yes
To no longer look at that question mark in the mirror
To smile and nod and kiss the roundness of my eyes
To stroke the softness of my hair to feel
To feel…
Love
I hug my pillow, and mutter my prayers
My undying devotions to hope
I settle in the warmth of my own soul and there
I sleep
Friday, August 1, 2014
What is in a word?
I speak often of love.
It is true to say that my whole life is guided with this one core idea, and that is that LOVE is everything.
We are all created of star stuff, and which each tiny particle of cosmic stardust that fills us inside and out, is a secret prayer, a secret hope that is LOVE. Yet why then do we turn from it?
In my searchings I have come across a principal that states FEAR is the direct opposite of LOVE. Anything that does not come from love, comes from fear. Is this true?
Well lets see...
We fear being judged by people, so we isolate ourselves. In this instance unsocial behavior is a direct result of fear. Which is not a behavior conducive to love.
We fear that we are ugly, and so we call ourselves ugly, and fall out of love with self.
We fear what we don't understand, so we discriminate or hate it...
This is the opposite of love... fear.
Now that I have sent this out into the world I challenge one to become fear-less.
I am not asking you to not fear, I think that is something that is a choice. You can choose not to fear, or instead, you can choose love.
Yes, reader, choose love. That is what I am asking you to do.
If someone is telling you that you are nothing. I want you to go within, find that love within yourself, and move on. Recognize their own fear, the fear that YOU are SOMETHING. Let go of what others say of you.
If you are telling yourself "I'm not good enough" I am not strong enough." Or "I am not powerful enough." Then I challenge you to stop right now. Do not fear what you have not even attempted to try. Instead try, and then try again. There is nothing to fear... unless is it that you fear that you can?
Instead, dear reader, choose love. Know your fear, and choose to love yourself enough to give yourself a chance.
It is true to say that my whole life is guided with this one core idea, and that is that LOVE is everything.
We are all created of star stuff, and which each tiny particle of cosmic stardust that fills us inside and out, is a secret prayer, a secret hope that is LOVE. Yet why then do we turn from it?
In my searchings I have come across a principal that states FEAR is the direct opposite of LOVE. Anything that does not come from love, comes from fear. Is this true?
Well lets see...
We fear being judged by people, so we isolate ourselves. In this instance unsocial behavior is a direct result of fear. Which is not a behavior conducive to love.
We fear that we are ugly, and so we call ourselves ugly, and fall out of love with self.
We fear what we don't understand, so we discriminate or hate it...
This is the opposite of love... fear.
Now that I have sent this out into the world I challenge one to become fear-less.
I am not asking you to not fear, I think that is something that is a choice. You can choose not to fear, or instead, you can choose love.
Yes, reader, choose love. That is what I am asking you to do.
If someone is telling you that you are nothing. I want you to go within, find that love within yourself, and move on. Recognize their own fear, the fear that YOU are SOMETHING. Let go of what others say of you.
If you are telling yourself "I'm not good enough" I am not strong enough." Or "I am not powerful enough." Then I challenge you to stop right now. Do not fear what you have not even attempted to try. Instead try, and then try again. There is nothing to fear... unless is it that you fear that you can?
Instead, dear reader, choose love. Know your fear, and choose to love yourself enough to give yourself a chance.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Glittering visions
Early on in my life
I picked diamonds from the grass
When demons whispered prayers in my ears, I made sure they did not pass
For all the hopes and dreams I had, one of them held true
The secret hope and fantasy that led me to you...
I spent many years picking diamonds from the trash
Scraping and polishing them, til they shown with pomp and class
Many of them fell and faltered and did slip from my hands
So tricky and so fleeting were they, refusing to expand
So I could stretch my hands around them, hold them in my heart
Those diamonds plucked so carefully, from which I did not want to part.
Without such glowing lights I found they'd stretched to full capacity
When stretched so far the illumination faded,they were reflections of my fantasy.
So here I am, all alone, dreaming a better dream it's true
And all my dreams I can't escape the dreams are filled with you.
Hope and love, clarity and faith, create our homespun family.
A treasure I can hardly say, in all it's magnanimity..
Oh! My love how I grieve for you!
To think, you don't see it too.
but, then again, I am one who picks diamonds from the grass...
Whose to say in this cruel world what dreams may come to pass?
I just know, I hold you close in my heart
Praying for the day we get the chance to finally start.
Eleven years, a hundred years- however long it lasts
I care not my dear, I'll pick no more diamonds from the trash.
I picked diamonds from the grass
When demons whispered prayers in my ears, I made sure they did not pass
For all the hopes and dreams I had, one of them held true
The secret hope and fantasy that led me to you...
I spent many years picking diamonds from the trash
Scraping and polishing them, til they shown with pomp and class
Many of them fell and faltered and did slip from my hands
So tricky and so fleeting were they, refusing to expand
So I could stretch my hands around them, hold them in my heart
Those diamonds plucked so carefully, from which I did not want to part.
Without such glowing lights I found they'd stretched to full capacity
When stretched so far the illumination faded,they were reflections of my fantasy.
So here I am, all alone, dreaming a better dream it's true
And all my dreams I can't escape the dreams are filled with you.
Hope and love, clarity and faith, create our homespun family.
A treasure I can hardly say, in all it's magnanimity..
Oh! My love how I grieve for you!
To think, you don't see it too.
but, then again, I am one who picks diamonds from the grass...
Whose to say in this cruel world what dreams may come to pass?
I just know, I hold you close in my heart
Praying for the day we get the chance to finally start.
Eleven years, a hundred years- however long it lasts
I care not my dear, I'll pick no more diamonds from the trash.
Monday, February 24, 2014
It is time
It is time to rid the mind of continuing self doubt. That being in my head that tells me what other people think of me. I walk into a room full of people, and essentially I assume they think themselves superior to me.
That is because I ALLOW that self doubt, that they just might be superior.
Well, enough of that...
Often I wonder if exchanging prose will really make much difference? If I can exchange with you, the reader, a little bit of my life with the hope that you will come to an understanding. That you will take away from the baring of my soul a certain lesson that I have set out to teach.
Here are my lessons:
1. Open your eyes and see the life that surrounds you. Understand you are apart of a much larger whole, and everything you do has a trickle effect which leads out into the world. Be aware of this, and act accordingly.
2. Think big, but think small too. Sometimes the smallest things mean the world. For me, it was a school breakfast, a little diary offered as a gift from a stranger, a kind word given by a sister... These little things left impressions on me that is long lasting, and ever forging my path ahead.
3. Every day counts. Make sure you are taking time to find your own peace. This way, the people you effect will not get damaged because YOU feel neglected.
4. People like me go unnoticed every day. We are the abused, the neglected, the impoverished, the hopeful. Open your mind, see the heart of things. Be a hero.
5. Anyone can be a hero. You don't need super strength, speed, heck, you don't need arms or legs. All you need is heart, and the determination to make a change.
6. Take care of what you have, including the earth, you are dependent on allot more than you realize.
7. Trust
Once upon a time, a little girl dreamed that God was a huge creature up in heaven, who was infinatly bigger than earth and all the people on it. When God wanted to see how things were going, he/she would open a book called life, and turn to the page that most concerned him/her.
So convinced was this girl that life was a story. She used to write little stories about her adventures and even draw pictures. This was as much a cry for help, a need to understand the instability of her world. Why is there so much pain and not enough understanding?
So convinced was she that God read her story now and again that she would draw doors in the dirt or on the concrete with chalk. Each door was her size, and each door had a special key hole. Sometimes she drew a key, hoping it would magically appear, other times, she'd hope a key would show up. The doors would lead to a magical world there was no pain, no suffering and she would indeed find the place where she was MEANT to be... because the cruelty of having no home was too much for her to bare.
Sometimes she would sit in the dark, or away somewhere, behind a bush, behind a fence, alone, she would wrap her thin arms around herself and rock back and forth; humming and crying to herself. Somehow there had to be an escape, anyday now, God would open his/her book and see the turmoil in her little soul. When this happened, God would open a door, and she would be free.
Over the years the little girl grew into a teenager and lost her faith.
She'd spend hours with no sleep at night, then sleep all day.
She stopped drawing doors with chalk or dirt...
In these years she made many misstakes, in an effort to find her own way out. Yet, how does one escape what has already been?
Then the day came when the girl, through much trial and error finally understood something very important.
The door she was looking for did not exist within another man or woman. It did not exist on dirt or concrete, or at the other end of a rainbow. The magic she was trying to find was her own, and that door she desperately wanted to open was within herself. So now each day of her life, she continues to seek the door within, each day the door pries a little bit more open. At the other end she knows she will find home, love, and a safe haven. Each day she works on her key... and she will do so, for the rest of her life.
Here's to drawing our doors, and making the keys to opening them.
Love and life to you.
That is because I ALLOW that self doubt, that they just might be superior.
Well, enough of that...
Often I wonder if exchanging prose will really make much difference? If I can exchange with you, the reader, a little bit of my life with the hope that you will come to an understanding. That you will take away from the baring of my soul a certain lesson that I have set out to teach.
Here are my lessons:
1. Open your eyes and see the life that surrounds you. Understand you are apart of a much larger whole, and everything you do has a trickle effect which leads out into the world. Be aware of this, and act accordingly.
2. Think big, but think small too. Sometimes the smallest things mean the world. For me, it was a school breakfast, a little diary offered as a gift from a stranger, a kind word given by a sister... These little things left impressions on me that is long lasting, and ever forging my path ahead.
3. Every day counts. Make sure you are taking time to find your own peace. This way, the people you effect will not get damaged because YOU feel neglected.
4. People like me go unnoticed every day. We are the abused, the neglected, the impoverished, the hopeful. Open your mind, see the heart of things. Be a hero.
5. Anyone can be a hero. You don't need super strength, speed, heck, you don't need arms or legs. All you need is heart, and the determination to make a change.
6. Take care of what you have, including the earth, you are dependent on allot more than you realize.
7. Trust
Once upon a time, a little girl dreamed that God was a huge creature up in heaven, who was infinatly bigger than earth and all the people on it. When God wanted to see how things were going, he/she would open a book called life, and turn to the page that most concerned him/her.
So convinced was this girl that life was a story. She used to write little stories about her adventures and even draw pictures. This was as much a cry for help, a need to understand the instability of her world. Why is there so much pain and not enough understanding?
So convinced was she that God read her story now and again that she would draw doors in the dirt or on the concrete with chalk. Each door was her size, and each door had a special key hole. Sometimes she drew a key, hoping it would magically appear, other times, she'd hope a key would show up. The doors would lead to a magical world there was no pain, no suffering and she would indeed find the place where she was MEANT to be... because the cruelty of having no home was too much for her to bare.
Sometimes she would sit in the dark, or away somewhere, behind a bush, behind a fence, alone, she would wrap her thin arms around herself and rock back and forth; humming and crying to herself. Somehow there had to be an escape, anyday now, God would open his/her book and see the turmoil in her little soul. When this happened, God would open a door, and she would be free.
Over the years the little girl grew into a teenager and lost her faith.
She'd spend hours with no sleep at night, then sleep all day.
She stopped drawing doors with chalk or dirt...
In these years she made many misstakes, in an effort to find her own way out. Yet, how does one escape what has already been?
Then the day came when the girl, through much trial and error finally understood something very important.
The door she was looking for did not exist within another man or woman. It did not exist on dirt or concrete, or at the other end of a rainbow. The magic she was trying to find was her own, and that door she desperately wanted to open was within herself. So now each day of her life, she continues to seek the door within, each day the door pries a little bit more open. At the other end she knows she will find home, love, and a safe haven. Each day she works on her key... and she will do so, for the rest of her life.
Here's to drawing our doors, and making the keys to opening them.
Love and life to you.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Suffocated, isolated, and left to die alone
There’s nothing more that needs saying when pain is all my own
A figment of my sneaky mind, out to get my brain
And confuse and use and twist the truths to heed this nasty thing
It grows inside of me with nagging, selfish, queasy guilt
Torn open with a serrated edge, ripped at the seams
My blood spills on the floor, ingraining in the wood
Save but a tiny pints worth, to revive the damned
And break free from the tight vise that wraps around my heart
For cold and dark is a lonely place
And I would find a portal to escape
But fear is a binding thing, which has but one cure
The cure is in the facing
If I can start embracing
All there is.
Then I can leave behind the past and move forward into the sun
No longer hindered by doubt and self-ridicule
No longer angry
No longer sad
No longer alone
There is no shame in falling. It happens from time to time... you can do nothing but let yourself cry, cleanse your soul.. then arise. Never forget to allow yourself the chance to get back up. Your strength is in your ability to accept your weaknesses, and move on..
Love to all of you.
There’s nothing more that needs saying when pain is all my own
A figment of my sneaky mind, out to get my brain
And confuse and use and twist the truths to heed this nasty thing
It grows inside of me with nagging, selfish, queasy guilt
Torn open with a serrated edge, ripped at the seams
My blood spills on the floor, ingraining in the wood
Save but a tiny pints worth, to revive the damned
And break free from the tight vise that wraps around my heart
For cold and dark is a lonely place
And I would find a portal to escape
But fear is a binding thing, which has but one cure
The cure is in the facing
If I can start embracing
All there is.
Then I can leave behind the past and move forward into the sun
No longer hindered by doubt and self-ridicule
No longer angry
No longer sad
No longer alone
There is no shame in falling. It happens from time to time... you can do nothing but let yourself cry, cleanse your soul.. then arise. Never forget to allow yourself the chance to get back up. Your strength is in your ability to accept your weaknesses, and move on..
Love to all of you.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Reflections
Hello my sisters...
Today's topic is about the past.
Or rather, I am posting some old poetry from another sight that I was on. I am doing this because I feel that some of the topics are still relevant, still worth looking at. As we sharpen out emotional weapons and strengthen our shields in preparation for the upcoming year, we need to be able to view the past with the mind of a student, so that we can approach the future with new understanding. So, I encourage you to read an old journal entry, look at old artwork, watch a favorite movie. Find that place of recognition in yourself that says "I have been through this, I have survived, and I am moving on".
Enhance your life, with every memory, don't let it rule you.
Love deeply…
Tread softly
Feel
Eat, live
Survive
Why?
Why not?
Kiss like there is no tomorrow.
Make love just the same.
Share with those that matter…
Know that YOU matter.
YOU matter.
If you can take this in your heart.
All things are open.
----------
Curves
Soft, smooth, dipping and rolling...
A valley of treasures..
Tastes like...
your favorite confection
Comes in many flavors..
Pillow like, so cushiony you can just sink in..
Like you slip into warm water..
Or bite into a fresh cookie.
Decadent and... oh so good..
They make you hungry with one look.
Go and have a taste...
should you dare
----
Have you ever asked a lover or friend their opinion of you, in hopes of hearing something good?
I have. Too often, people look for what they are missing inside themselves by experiencing other people.
Hold on sisters, stay focused. What I am saying to you is, sometimes we want to be loved, for the sake of being loved. We want love to COMPLETE us.. but I am here to tell you such a love as that only comes when you are complete enough to receive it.
That is, you must work on YOU.
Today's topic is about the past.
Or rather, I am posting some old poetry from another sight that I was on. I am doing this because I feel that some of the topics are still relevant, still worth looking at. As we sharpen out emotional weapons and strengthen our shields in preparation for the upcoming year, we need to be able to view the past with the mind of a student, so that we can approach the future with new understanding. So, I encourage you to read an old journal entry, look at old artwork, watch a favorite movie. Find that place of recognition in yourself that says "I have been through this, I have survived, and I am moving on".
Enhance your life, with every memory, don't let it rule you.
Love deeply…
Tread softly
Feel
Eat, live
Survive
Why?
Why not?
Kiss like there is no tomorrow.
Make love just the same.
Share with those that matter…
Know that YOU matter.
YOU matter.
If you can take this in your heart.
All things are open.
----------
Curves
Soft, smooth, dipping and rolling...
A valley of treasures..
Tastes like...
your favorite confection
Comes in many flavors..
Pillow like, so cushiony you can just sink in..
Like you slip into warm water..
Or bite into a fresh cookie.
Decadent and... oh so good..
They make you hungry with one look.
Go and have a taste...
should you dare
----
Have you ever asked a lover or friend their opinion of you, in hopes of hearing something good?
I have. Too often, people look for what they are missing inside themselves by experiencing other people.
Hold on sisters, stay focused. What I am saying to you is, sometimes we want to be loved, for the sake of being loved. We want love to COMPLETE us.. but I am here to tell you such a love as that only comes when you are complete enough to receive it.
That is, you must work on YOU.
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