My writing has been lagging behind to the point of not getting done the last month or two. Interestingly, this began right about the time I started painting classes and yoga classes. For a while there I was worried that maybe I’d reached the limit of my brain capacity. But I don’t think that’s what is going on.
Painting sends me off into a non-verbal almost buzzed frame of mind. In everything around me colors, textures and patterns jump out and say “pick me, pick me.” I get quiet being so caught up in the light show that I don’t say or write anything. Mr. Husband got worried at first and would ask me if something was bothering me because I got really quiet and wasn’t making blog posts. I laughed and teased him saying something to the effect of “hey, take advantage of this quiet time! When the words come back you’re in for it.” He’s getting used to it now. I find that it helps if I wear my painting apron as a signal to him that I’m heading off to La La Land.
This painting above is a work in progress. It’s after Van Gogh’s Bedroom in Arlais.
The yoga is also putting me in a totally different head space. My neck has been bothering me a lot lately. Unfortunately I think it’s about time for my annual steroid shot in the neck. Bleh! But one has to do what one has to do. In the meantime, the yoga classes are helping a lot with my posture and achieving a peaceful state of mind. In this class the teacher has us pick an intention at the beginning of the month and breath in thinking “I am” and breathing out <insert intention here.> I chose clarity.
Contemplating clarity has been really interesting. I’m discovering that when I’m not clear on something going on it’s not so much that I don’t have the capacity to understand and follow the subject, rather it’s because I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve been listening with half an ear, thinking about other things and nodding “uh huh” from time to time. So before I allow myself to wander off to mental fuzz land I make a conscious choice: “Do I want to understand and retain this info, or just disregard it completely?” It’s helping a lot. Before I was blaming my fugue on my meds or just being a generalized air head. Not so good for the ole self-esteem.
Now that I’m working on being in the present I’m enjoying the freedom to either accept or reject the constant stream of info coming my way. Oh, I still have major meltdowns from information or sensory overload from time to time. But I’m getting better at it every day, and that’s a good thing.
I know that God won’t give me more than I can handle. I just wish he didn’t trust me so much. Mother Teresa
If children are a gift from God…why does is sometimes feel like a curse? I woke up last night doubled over in pain with some kind of spasm in my innards. As I writhed around in pain thinking “oh crap, please tell me that I don’t have to go to the emergency room again” it suddenly occurred to me that it was because I still worry about my daughter even though I’ve told myself I’ve given her back to God.
The second as I realized that the pain vanished and I went back to sleep. I felt like yanking back the cosmic curtain and snarling “OK God, you do know I can hear you laughing, since you’re omnipotent and all that, right? I know there is supposed to be something I need to learn here, but could you point me in the right direction, or tell me if I’m hot or cold?”
Maybe the rope burn on my hands is a sign that I haven’t let go…enough…yet. Bleh!
This morning I’m walking around laughing at myself and suddenly the phrase “tough old bird” came to mind. I’ve always wondering what it would feel like to be a bird and fly free and now I realize I am a bird and I can fly free, if I let go of the things that are tying me to the ground. I’m a tough old bird who has seen and heard about almost every stupid self-destructive thing that a person a can do. There isn’t much that anyone can do that surprises me anymore. I may be annoyed, disturbed, elated, disgusted, frustrated, or over joyed, but surprise usually doesn’t come into the picture. Usually my main reaction is a deep sigh and “geez, not again.” God can still surprise me, but people? Not so much.
I told my sister that I had a long talk with the Big Guy upstairs and told him, “Hey, you sent her and now I’m sending her back! I’ve been at this for 42 years now, and I’ve had all the fun I can have, thank you very much.” She cracked up laughing and said “I can’t believe you said that.” But that’s how I feel. I can only take so much before I throw up my hands and cry “Uncle, I give up.” If professional wrestlers and fighters can tap out and stop a match, well then why oh why can’t I?
When in between adventures at home I tend to get introspective and start reading all kinds of wild and crazy books. Seems I’m not content to just sit around and twiddle my mental thumbs.
Started reading the Tibetan Book of Death and Living after watching a documentary The Quantum Activist. Theoretical physicist, Amit Goswami mentioned it during the program. Now I’m having all kinds of strange dreams and am evidently working out issues from the past in my sleep.
Having my grandson here is definitely stirring the sludge at the bottom of my psychological pot. His way of dealing with authority or just about anything is from the victim/I’m being taken advantage of mentality. He has no concept that anything that happens today is a direct or indirect result of what he did or did not do in the past. Where did he learn this from? His mother, of course. My daughter. She could figure out a way to blame the state or someone else if she deliberately shot herself in the foot .
Where did she learn this from? Why me, of course. The me that existed 35 years ago. I am not that person now. I spent 35 years going to therapy, psychiatrists, Al-Anon meetings, adult children of Alcoholics meetings, marriage counseling, meditation, acupuncture, spiritual retreats, pilgrimages, aura cleansing, novenas, sweat lodges, prayer circles, bible study, rosaries, more meetings, lighting candles, medication, introspection, retrospection, cleansing juice fasts, navel gazing, star watching, shedding tears, having nightmares, making amends, listening to Doctor Laura on the radio, and reading almost every self-help, or self-improvement book ever written. Even the cells in my body are not the cells that were in it 35 years ago. Spooky. What a blast from the past.
Just for the record the 2 favorites that I read over and over are: When I Say No I feel Guilty, and 10 Stupid Things Women Do to Mess Up There Lives.
When all that is done, I think traveling is so much easier than the above route and a helluva lot more fun. The very nature of travel forces to you to another mind-set. To enjoy it all, you must give up any delusions of control the minute you set foot on the curb at the airport. At that point it’s too late to go home and get anything you forgot.
The plane leaves on time and gets you where you are going or it doesn’t. At your destination you are a stranger in a strange land. What is in what is out? Up or down? Acceptable or unacceptable? Where is the toilet? If you are in a country with a different language you are completely out of your element.
You must be creative and communicate without your comfy known language for the most basic needs, food, water, telephone, and shoe store. Right and wrong become more subjective rather than absolute. It’s difficult to get in heated discussions about politics, or anything else, using sign language. Even rude gestures don’t mean the same thing in other parts of the world.
I can’t wait to go again. While I’m waiting nothing is stopping me from investigating the possibilities from the comfort of my den.
Oubliette – (noun, french) a little place of forgetting. A small, windowless room where someone is locked away, forgotten, left to go mad. A place I’ve been locking my spirit in since my earliest memories. A place to dump the pain. The bottomless pit. Not to deep for God. What do I need to forget? I don’t even know, it peeks at me from behind the curtain of my mind. If I forget, is it really gone ? Or does it sneak back down to a dark place in my mind only to roar back later. The fear, loneliness. I was too little, too hungry, too scared. I had to fill shoes that were too big. Stand up to giants. Last on the list. Be happy with the leftovers, cast offs. Second hand love. Don’t talk about anything, don’t need anything. Don’t ask and you won’t be disappointed.
People can’t control you if you don’t need anything. They can’t control you if you don’t want anything. That’s OK, I don’t mind, I’m sorry, no problem, don’t worry about. I know you didn’t mean it. I’ll just fade away like the Cheshire cat, leaving nothing behind but a grin.
I will go to my place of forgetting. He is waiting for me there. I can rest in his arms, put down my burdens. I don’t have to explain myself. He understands. I can be scared, overwhelmed, needy, cranky. I don’t have to put on a happy face. He understands. I don’t have to be embarrassed for being alive. I don’t have to regret being a tiny sparrow, only one in a flock of millions. I can cry, I can let it all out, I don’t have to apologize or worry that I will stress him out. Nothing is impossible for him. I don’t have to be brave. He won’t laugh at me. He won’t tell me my dreams are silly. He will take care of me even if I turn my back on him. He will forgive 10 times more that I could ever need or ask for. What happened? When did I forget that I am a beloved child, a daughter of a King.
We are all blessed in our very creation, and this blessing never leaves us. [ Henri J.M. Nouwen.]
If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world. [C.S. Lewis]
- Genesis 21 God Didn’t Forget (truth2dare.wordpress.com)