the Year of the Delena

I declare 2009 The Year of the Funktastic Wow. two-zero-zero-eight, the Year of the Delena, draws to a close and, as i sit here well on the road to drunk, i find i'm in the perfect state of brutal honesty to go into this year in review:

we had the pleasure and singular privelege of witnessing the Great Confrontation and Bake Sale, the Night of the Great Kabloosh, and the Saddest Support Call Ever.

we also watched When Weird Giant Killer-Squids from Outer Space Attack! (which was a really freakin' weird episode...), Notes From My Pussygata, and we heard iGoddess Speak. there was also the debut of iGoddess: the Movie!

oh yeah.

we also saw a few characters leave the show. we said good-bye to *ds* and *ks*, who are making the dysfunctional, unhealthy, unbelievable choices that they --as individuals, adults, and fucktards-- are free to make. *sy* came and went with all the fanfare of a fart in the wind, and i haven't had a real relationship since.

i'm in love. damn me for it. but there it is.

so here are the 10 Things I Will Happily NEVER DO in 2009: The Year of the Funktastic Wow...

1.) Accept the things I am told I cannot change.

Your thoughts become things. Don't fight it. Don't think there's anything else. Don't entertain the false premises of fate, luck, or a God who judges, withholds, or decides. You decide. You manifest. You rule. This is why you are here. This is what you came to discover. You were born to experience your absolute dominion over every flimsy, malleable illusion of time and space; to have, do, and be anything.

Truthfully, it couldn't be any easier. All you have to do is think of what you want and refuse to deviate from that thought. This will, invariably, set you into motion, stir up the magic, and unleash the full force, power, and majesty of a Universe conspiring on your behalf.

The Universe

see? ha! ...fuckers. i can change the world. don't tell second-generation star stuff come alive what it can and cannot do!

2.) Ever. Stop. Writing.

"You know this is an endurance game. All the old playground rules still apply: you don't get picked for the team, you watch the game and come back the next day. When you're picked, forget mistakes, you've got to be better than everyone else on the field. Bloody noses and skinned knees are not an excuse to quit. And if you have the stubbornness (or stupidity) to stay in the game until the end of the day, you get to come back tomorrow and have the crap kicked out of you all over again. But: everyone else who can't stand on the sidelines, play their hearts out or take a few bruises goes home sniffling about what great players they would have been, if only the game had been fair and the other players nicer." --PBW

3.) Trust my naiveté

i've just had that lesson rubbed into my face, up my nose, in my hair, way too often.

4.) Ever give up on Love

love is the cornerstone of Pronoia, and the star-stuff that Funk is made of, baby. hippies were called love children; the summer of '69 the Summer of Love, and the greatest of These is love, man.

5.) Sacrifice my naivité

i might be stupidly naïve, but i'd rather be disappointed occasionally as i believe in people, then be bitterly cynical and RIGHT all the time...

(dammit, i mean it...no matter how much it feels like a lie...)

6.) Never stop loving everyone in my life.

and this includes people like big *c*, and willow (the first woman i ever Loved), and everyone i've ever said good-bye to. i will always love you, no matter what comes between us. i loved you. i will always love you. that's just how i was built.

7.) Give Up.

'nuff said.

8.) TBA

9.) TBA

10.) TBA

bon anniversarie

somewhere between the 11th and 17th of this month passed the 1 year mark since the last time i burned, or in any way self-injured.

i totally didn't even notice.

Merry "Just A Normal Day!"

now that the holidays are over, i can say it.

i can't stand the christmas season. it's not just watching people around me receive the perfect gifts while i make do (hence why i just asked for book store gift cards this year), it's the residual feeling of somehow being not as well-explored. i was talking with somebody about it a while ago, and likened it to sex: no one does it right, so i have to do it myself.

but, while annoying, i can get over. i just go out and buy myself what i really wanted.

but the season's supposed to be about the things that really matter, about those things that we really need, which have no price tag, and feed our souls.

what i really want is my son, and christmas just kind of feels like an empty, cold, annoyingly snow-piled winter inconvenience. i don't put up decorations, i don't mail cards, i make as few phone calls as possible. i tuck my head under and hope it passes quickly. i've seriously considered going to court and relinquishing my parental rights. i'll still be a mother, at least in the loosest interpretation of the word, but i won't feel so marginalized and helpless anymore. i hate christmas.


archetypal philosophies

whoever thought of the family "tree" was onto something. i prefer to picture a rosebush, however. there are those who are your foundation and prove themselves over time. my bio-dad once said he gives people the Five Year Test. if they fuck up royally in the first five years he knows them, he writes them off.

this is a good test.

those who prove themselves --blood relative or not-- are the bush's roots. and those who prove themselves may be added to the your root structure. after all, roots grow. through any weather, transplanting, or hardship, those roots are strong and anchor your soul. the plant grows, roses bloom and attract butterflies and bees and smiles. people pluck the beautiful blooms to give to their sweethearts, spreading the beauty and symbolic love growing from your family.

some people, however, suck the nutrients from the roots and give nothing back. they're rightfully called "suckers." it takes time to find these, because while they suck your roots dry, the appear as any other branch. only enough time reveals they will grow yet produce no blooms, no beauty, and no love. they are then chopped off at the root with cold necessity, lest they kill the whole plant with their ruthless, selfish, fruitless greed.

family is a choice, a prize rosebush to be cherished and protected and nourished so it can spread beauty and love, fragrance, and be around for generations.

love... love is war, and love is peace. the soul is the battlefield upon which all these powerful human emotions wage their conflict. everything from insecurity and substantiated fear, to hope and faith.

sometimes the long path through that battlefield is overwhelming. the skirmishes can wear a body down. strategy and tactics are a puzzle that exhaust the mind. maintaining battle-readiness is a strain which can fray the strongest soul.

the question, "what if i died tomorrow?" is a good question. it eliminates the obstacles we believe are so necessary, so vitally important. if i died tomorrow, none of those things would matter, and there would be no battle. yet...odds are i will not die tomorrow, and those obstacles and complications are important because there are consequences to all of them, which must be considered. experience teaches us consequences are to be respected. it teaches us temperance.

temperance is a beginning to wisdom.

yet...sometimes after considering all the dangers, the consequences, the tactics and terrain and collateral damage...sometimes the battle must be fought. when the dust settles and the dead are buried, after weapons are cleaned and sheathed once more, life will never be the same.

life is never the same, minute to minute. it's called "living."

but the victory, and the fruits of that victory, far outweigh the pain of battle. far outweigh the heaviness of despair that grips the heart in the thick of battle. far outweigh the helplessness that surrounds the edge of battle.

the heavenly illumination of love shines all the brighter against the memory of despair. the sweet ecstasy of love feels all the sweeter against the pain. the miraculous freedom of love feels all the greater against the helplessness. the battle was necessary, a struggle against those shadows dwelling in your heart which would never allow love to thrive. conquer the battle, conquer the shadows.

find peace. find faith. find hope. but the greatest of these is...

faith flourishes. trust thrives. sweet surrender shines bright. being in love, living in Love, means you have touched the sun and now, no matter how many storms darken your sky, you know it will pass...

...and you keep your face lifted toward the sky, knowing you will feel the sun once more.


delena haiku, and the funkmobile

oh, my funkmobile...
wherever have you gone now?
i miss you so much.




it's freakin' adorable, and just so damned cute!

my score was 69,640 my 2nd run through...my 1st score being 360, until i figured out what was going on. OMG! cuuuuuute!

try it.



...she loved strawberry jam sandwiches, spaghetti, and anise tea.

...she hated playing with dolls, but adored each and every one of her stuffed animals.

...she was so good with animals --even ones that adults considered dangerous-- her father sometimes called her St. Francis.

...she loved Winnie the Pooh, Annie, and Grover on Sesame Street.

...she taught herself to read, and write in cursive.

...she would sing the theme song to My Little Pony when she got scared of the dark.

...she hated when her mom put her in pigtails or dressed her like a girl.

...she talked to God every day, and God talked back (she never told adults this).

...she would climb into people's laps and give them a hug because, somehow, she just knew.

...she told me she needs me again, but maybe i need her.


i yield to greater wisdom

For those who don't yet understand themselves, Delena, it's impossible that they might understand you.


I understand you,
The Universe

Don't let their choices offend you, their words hurt you, or their actions upset you, Delena. And as you come to understand them, try not to laugh once they get cranked back up.

this was too fitting, and i know exactly whom the universe has in mind. the universe is right. i no longer care, i no longer mind, i no longer am affected. i demanded too much; now i demand nothing at all.


measure this

(a hundred thousand thank-you's to megg for sharing this. all i keep thinking of is, "who i am, and who i'm trying to become." it's the only valid measurement.)


new project

dear wyrd, destroyer vulture goddess, who constantly burns heaven to the ground in a viciously benevolent desire to remind us to use our power lest we be devoured for those who would use it;

oh great trickster goddess who's always mutating my archetypes faster than i can keep track of them;

dearly destructive jiggy snake, you pyrokinetic rockstar with the hottest games since the Big Bang bonged;

i pray...

...for forgiveness that i should forget you in my search for the next biggest challenge;

...for pardon after rejecting the idea to welcome wetter, wilder, and more interesting problems to solve;

...for an amused chuckle at my presumptuousness, that a simple serenade would be all that was required to tame my Inner Flaming Narcissist;

...for understanding, because i am exhausted and bereft after my latest sojourn into ba'hara, lilith's third garden; after my dance of the bones on the hook where ereshkigal hangs the corpses; after the morrigan's ravens ravaged my flesh when her berzerker rage was done with me;

...for mercy, as i am confused and heartsick and unsure and afraid;

...for thanksgiving, as i am grateful my wishes for a new pruning were heard and answered by the following business day;

...for celebration, that the old has been shed and will continually be shed in the name of renewal;

...for gratitude, that i was created in your image as a gorgeous genius;

...for laughter, as i gather my freaking genius powers and fearless imagination every day to gaze into the maw of happiness, rather than be like those media-brainwashed automotons who gather their insipid courage to peer into the horrifying abyss;

...for love, because in all its beauty and gruesomeness, all its treasure and trash, the pearl and the puke...this is a perfect moment, and in gratitude and love i thank you for my life during this irreplaceable, priceless moment which has never been seen before and shall never be seen again.
for all these things, i pray. amen. a-woman. ohhhmmmm....and hallelujah.


for the next thirty days, i will not be posting here. well, maybe i'll post pictures, and haiku, maybe little one-line quotes i find here and there (i'm a sucker for quotes). but i won't be writing to express my heart and mind. i'm tired of my thoughts being used as weapons against me, so i'm taking a hiatus.

instead, i'll be posting for all of you, out there in my lovely and nurturing iVillage. i'll be posting comments, leaving prayers and poetry, love and light, well wishes and snippets of lyrics. it'll be my own version of what brandi-licious does with her metta meditations.

i'm going to dance more, love and laugh and pray more. i wish i could say ima have sex more, but oh well. can't win 'em all, i suppose. i'm going to validate myself more, and get back into the habit of my daily dee-lite. i've lost two (maybe three) people i loved, and it's thrown me. might take me a while to learn how to be a boomerang.

so today's the 14th. i'll be back on my birthday.

in memoriam

i wanna be like her.

when i grow up.


chunk of an email

conversations with a friend of mine have been stirring up the muddy bottom of a clear lake. it's darkened my mood considerably, and for all my personal discipline and pronoia, i'm having a hard time clearing it away.

this one's tenacious; it keeps returning, no matter how many times i step back out of the emotion and clear it away. i'm not consciously focusing on what i don't want, but i must be focused on it because the clouds just keep gathering in my sky. to make matters worse, i think my heart thinks it's falling in love with a younger man, which i promised i'd never do. hell, my dad would never let it happen (he's really picky about age). i'm an obedient and dutiful daughter, so if my dad would say "no," then i say no, too. but my heartstrings keep getting plucked and it's driving me crazy. in fact, it's adding to the previous problem and muddying the waters even more.

it came up in conversation that, my lifestyle being what it is, i really do, can, and have gone weeks with no more physical contact than my bi-weekly hugs from my parents. i've gotten used to that. just like i'm used to my cold bed (figuratively; i'm not talking about my wonderful electric blanket).

not only did i have no problem with it, i embraced it. if i lived the rest of my life alone, at least i'd have my family. i was content. but this friend keeps poking at me daily about it in our hours-long text message conversations. he knows i'm way too dynamic for that, and suddenly i'm not so okay with it. i think what makes me grumpy isn't so much that i feel i'm missing something by being alone, but i'd already settled everything in my soul and learned to love being alone. then here he comes and defiantly, deliberately, stirs up the mud until my clear lake isn't so clear anymore. if that makes any sense. argh.

i wish i could hate men. no, not really. but yeah, i do.


CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): In California's recent election, citizens voted to liberate poultry. Proposition 2 passed, mandating that from now on farmers cannot confine chickens in cages where they're unable to spread their wings. Meanwhile, in the same election, voters decided to make it illegal for gay people to be married, a right that had previously been granted by the California Supreme Court. How odd is it that chickens got a measure of freedom while gays had one of their precious freedoms cut away? I'm warning you to be wary of a metaphorically similar scenario looming in your personal life, Capricorn: in which one liberty is upgraded while another is sacrificed. Fight to make sure there's no net loss.


i want this book


for you, brandi...

the funkmama of soul, divalicious brandi over at love, the experiment has put together such a lovely post i had to mention it here. but also...she said something that was so beautifully succinct i couldn't let it slip by on just her blog alone.

so i'm spreading it around.

like Funkalicious graffiti to make the Jiggy Snake proud.

she said, "Maybe that's what self love really is...remembering who you really are. And remembering more."


remembering that we Are the universe. that all the matter in creation started as a bitty speck of matter. we are second-generation star stuff come alive.

so i thought i'd also post another little reminder: The Creation of the Universe According to Delena.

a little something to remember ourselves by.

for you, brandi-girl. you're gorgeous.


checking in

*cc*'s birthday was saturday, and yesterday we went to the parents' for her birthday dinner. she asked for a german chocolate torte for dessert, so dad went all-out and made dinner german style. it was quite wonderful, as always, and much leftovers were loaded into the car with us. we begged mom not to make us bring the leftover cake, though. *cc* and i were thinking about all those extra hours on the elliptical...

since that night when *ks* was a complete ass, i haven't been back. and i haven't missed it. it continues to amaze me just how much i was willing to compromise myself for them...because i loved them. too bad they'll never wake up enough to realize what they had. ah well.

rumblestrut has settled in immediately into his new home. he absolutely loves it here. he spent three days just exploring everything, but he had such an excited, contented expression that i knew he was much happier here. he's been a curious and confident little fellow, and ten times as affectionate as ever. plus...he loves the staircase. when all the other kitties are little pygmy rhinos stampeding up and down the stairs, rumbles is a good three pounds heavier than the largest of *cc*'s cats and considerably wider. he's the actual rhino making it sound like the ceiling is caving in when he stampedes.

he's completely won over *mj* and *cc* with his adoringness and cute, simple playfulness. he's so uninterested in heirarchy or winning any top runs in the pride. he'd rather just be loved and petted, rank be damned. it's adorable. he hasn't whined at me once since we've been here. and every time he comes up and gives me love, i think he's thanking me. he's just so much happier!

since mom's got us all hooked on watching "house" when we're over, with dad and *cc* in their respective medical or medical-related fields, that show sparks some very interesting conversations. i love what i learn each time. but last night we got to talking about the decisions that need to be made when a family member is incapacitated, and i brought up my desire to give dad and *cc* a Power of Attorney (or whatever is needed in oregon) should anything happen to me. otherwise, all rights and priveleges to decide my fate would actually fall to my bio-parents.

i had made that realization a few weeks ago (watching "house" makes me think of a lot, actually) and it kinda freaked me out.

so after i mentioned that, i brought up what my aunt *d* had told my dad after *rc*'s wedding. she'd called him up a few days later, after both my aunts (dad's sisters) and i had gotten to know each other, and told him that i couldn't be any more his daughter --and any more a chappelle-- if i'd popped out into his waiting arms.

it kinda brought a tear to my eye.

and after he told me that a few months ago, it started me thinking. family is everything to me. *cc* asked me why i didn't change my last name to chappelle a few years ago anyway, and i told her that at that time, i still wasn't sure i was family and didn't want to presume. *ds* and *ks* had extended the invitation. i was without family back then. over time, however, those two have repeatedly shown me they don't know what they're talking about when they talk about family. oh, they talk a mighty good talk, but they don't do a thing to actually live it. all *ks* did was get pissed at me whenever i pointed out he was full of shit. but we had the same last name, we supported each other (most of the time). we were family. i was loyal.

unfortunately, they've shown me time and again they don't want family, they want enablers who'll cater to their fucked-uppedness.

no thank you.

i'd been thinking about it since september, but i came to a decision a few weeks ago. now i'm just coming out with it. the minute the opportunity opens up, i'm going to court and changing my last name to chappelle.

when i mentioned this last night, dad came into the living room and asked if my bio-parents would sign off on a formal adoption.

...i was stunned.

not only because i didn't know it was possible to adopt someone who wasn't a minor (which is kinda cool), but because...well...wouldn't you be stunned if you realized the lengths people would go to when they really wanted and loved you? i mean...the sort of lengths that i've gone to for people (who ultimately never deserved it).

it's a glimpse of the end of my ugly duckling story.


notes from the universe

Sometimes, when you're feeling your lowest, Delena, the real you is summoned.

And you understand, maybe for the first time ever, how grand you are, because you discover that vulnerable doesn't mean powerless, scared doesn't mean lacking in beauty, and uncertainty doesn't mean that you're lost.

These realizations alone will set you on a journey that will take you far beyond what you used to think of as extraordinary.

There is always a bright side.

The Universe

Don't disguise your tears, Delena, don't hide your sadness, don't be afraid to find out who you really are. Because in those fleeting moments you'll summon such beauty and strength that, in no time at all, you'll fully grasp exactly why you're so gossiped about here in the unseen.

this was a comfort. combined with mr. brezsny sending me an email that my smoke alarm's going off (when i was already on the street in my robe, cat in my arms, watching the conflagration with my neighbors) it was pretty powerful.

not that i'm shedding any tears, mind you. it takes something especially strong to jerk a few tears out of me. if anything, my mind is already racing with possibilities.

all day yesterday in being vulnerable, scared, and uncertain, it didn't even occur to me to behave like the Old Delena. i didn't even "fall back" behind friendly lines, more like evacuated out of the hot zone because it was so unhealthy (once i finally admitted it to myself).

in being vulnerable, the first thing i did was ask myself "why?" --even got 2nd and 3rd opinions-- and began excising the vulnerability from my Self. not because vulnerability is a weakness; it's not. it's a powerful human experience, and keeps us in touch with many, many things. no, i excised it because it had been an avenue of serious-yet-subtle injury to myself for too long.

in being scared, i asked myself "of what?" and "why?" then i discussed with *cc* how to conquer that fear. mainly...asking dad to teach me how to wield a baton.

in feeling uncertain, i hit the ground running in search of certainties. i continue to do so even now. with *cc*'s help, a Plan is quickly forming.

and all of this can be summed up in four words; these four words made all the difference in why people didn't give up on me vs. why they not only gave up on *ds* and *ks* long ago, but pretty much threw them away as useless: i walk my talk.

the first part of walking my talk is in drawing hard lines. maintaining soft, malleable boundaries with *ds* and *ks* got me what i deserved: being screwed. my chappelle family warned me of this, but i vehemently defended the silverfoxes and said i had faith they were sincere in wanting to be better people. and i kept those soft boundaries.

which is kinda funny, because i've gotten so good at hard boundaries. for the girl who had no boundaries for the longest, letting anyone come in and violate whatever they wanted, hard and clear boundaries defended by consistency are a necessity along the path of self improvement. giving someone a chance is great. giving someone a second chance when they reveal a hopeless psychology? bad idea. this man with the hopeless psychology actually left a comment here on iGoddess about how i have "bigger issues that need to be dealt with," after a short diatribe written completely in "kicked dog." it's laughable only because he's accusing me of having the wrong issues, and because he doesn't know you can't act superior after you just tucked your tail between your legs.

the difficulty in knowing more, braving more, doing and being and seeing more is only difficult when surrounded by people on a less evolved rung of the awareness ladder. i was talking with my li'l bro *aj* the other night. he's taking flight lessons, a necessary step in his lifelong dream to becoming a fighter pilot. he was telling me how surprising it was to find out just how many airports there really are in any given area. it's a shocking number. and if you fly high enough, you can actually see many of them from your vantage point. and the longer you stay in that world of airplanes and airports and reading manuals and contacting flight control, the more you learn about how they're all connected, why they're connected, and can even point with accuracy to the location of signal towers on the ground which connect all those little airports one to the other. you might not be able to see them, so small on the ground, but you know where they are because you understand the larger network.

it's the same with self-growth. the closer to the ground you are, the less aware you are. the less you see, the less you know. you look up at the people flying in airplanes and marvel at the thought of what they can see, you admire their wisdom and courage and ability to fly. but you don't know them. you have to learn and work hard before you're ever given the ability or opportunity to fly. but you start your ascent and you realize that you see more, and you had no idea what was really out there! and you start seeing connections, and at some point you say, "they look so small down there!"

it's true. it's because they are small. they're small-minded, small-spirited, small in courage, small in imagination, small in sincerity, small in strength... they don't believe you know what you're talking about because they don't know it. they haven't experienced it. so they say you're full of shit and "have issues." it's laughable.

but i've stayed with these small people in the hopes that they were sincere in their desire to be more. in the desire that i could help them when no one else wanted to. perhaps that's my arrogance, my bad. but i've been unhealthily surrounding myself with people who just can't see --and will never see-- and wondering why it felt like such a breath of fresh air when i'd spend time with people of my caliber or higher.

speaking of a higher caliber...no, that's a post for another time.


CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): From 1987 to 2006, Alan Greenspan was Chairman of the U.S. Federal Reserve and a major force in shaping the world's most powerful economy. When the recent troubles hit, Congress called on him to testify. With shocking humility, he confessed that there had been a flaw in his model of reality. All those years he'd believed that "free, competitive markets are by far the unrivaled way to organize economies." Now he saw he was wrong. While I'm sorry for the collective pain his mistaken ideas have unleashed, I'm elated for him personally: How many 82-year-old men are open to the possibility that their philosophy of life needs adjustment? For that matter, how many people of any age are receptive to changing their ideas about how the world works? I invite you to take your inspiration from Greenspan, Capricorn. Be curious about how your own major theories might need revision. Doing this heroic deed will energize you with good karma and fresh mojo.

*dies laughing*

trust me, mr. brezsny. heaven's already burning to the ground.


boot to the head

i remember when i was breaking up with *m* --over the couple months when i struggled with it-- *cc* and dad kept telling me that i was too generous with my heart, and forgave way too much. i kept telling them, "no, that's what you do when you love someone. i have to be true to that."

it's not quite obligatory, but it's an obligation. it's not quite duty, but it's duty-bound. it's love...and for love...you believe the impossible.

you just do.

i did it for my bio-dad; i did it for *jd* ('cause i thought it was love, oi...); i did it for big *c*; i did it for willow; i did it for richard; i did it for *m*. and i've done it for over a year for *ds* and *ks*.

*cc* tells me i never learn. she loves to tell me "i told you so." and she loves to make that gesture where you slap one hand against another, as if to say, "ima smack you upside the head. how could you be so stupid?"

and part of me always feels the recrimination. she's right. how could i be so stupid? but...how could i not? you do things for family you don't do for anyone else. you put up with tons for family you don't for anyone else. hell...i've put up with criticism and name-calling from my chappelle family because i stuck by my silverfox family. it was damn difficult.

damn difficult. ...but it's family, right? you pull off the impossible for family. and they're my family, too. unless they don't want to be. of course, that's a horse of a different lie color.

i really didn't want to believe it, because their transformations only a few short months ago was unbelievably amazing. and i was so proud of and excited for them. when no one else believed in them, after so many friends had deserted them, i stuck with them and loved them. in my adopted family, that loyalty cost me. but...they're family, too, so they accepted it.

it's like...the last little while, i've had suspicions, but i kept telling myself that it was just my imagination. they were so adamant about not falling backwards, and i wasn't about to precipitate the belief that i'd lost faith in them. i kept treating them like they wanted to be treated, with the maturity that they pretty much demanded i give them. and it blew up in my face. so...what do you do when it all dissolves like tissue paper in the rain? that "fuck off" was in defense against unhealthy, destructive habits. only the oblivious so viciously defend their bad habits like that. and the oblivious are usually only the unawakened.

what about when you become conscious to the point where you are embracing healthier, more constructive belief systems, and then regress to the point where it seems no progress at all has been made? forgive the catholic references, but it's the only thing that comes to mind. but it's like during the inquisition in the 14th century, when a pagan would convert to christianity and then relapse back into paganism. such a person was declared relapso or relapsa and burned at the stake. such a regression was unforgiveable...in the eyes of the church.

now, i'm not saying that it's unforgiveable. but it's the only comparison i can make. it feels just as devastating, although considering my pattern i really shouldn't be surprised. once more, in my desire to believe in the best of people i loved and cared about, it made me blind to just how stupid i was being. do i give up caring about people like that? no, obviously not. but there's an obvious problem, because i keep believing in people who end up being the wrong people. i have a serious lack of good judgement when it comes to people. i try too hard to believe they're capable of too much. ...i don't know what you would call a character flaw like that. it causes me a lot of grief. of course, the holosync student in me would tell myself that my grief is just me focusing on what i don't want: in this case, focusing on my disappointment.

i never get used to the sense of betrayal. insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. however, how the hell do i avoid this and not grow so cynical i end up not believing in anyone? people say they want help. they're sincere. i help them, they accomplish difficult and phenominal change...then when the difficult part comes...you know, the part where you have to hold the tension long enough for the old ways to die and the new life to emerge (and if you've truly been there, you know how it can feel like forever)...they let go and say "fuck it." i boost them up and say, "can't stop now!" and i get a boot to the head. i don't want to be so cynical, so removed from my heartspace and empathy. but i don't want to keep ending up in this place, either.

i tried to be supportive. i tried to be tough when they asked me to be. you know, the whole "if we seem to be slipping, give us the boot to the ass we know we need." every time i've done that, however, i've pretty much been told to fuck off in some form or other. it feels like i've been asked to simply be a fair weather friend, to support them when they're doing good, but when they're fucking up i better as hell keep my mouth shut.

love doesn't work like that.

of course, love doesn't ignore you when you say, "i feel disrespected." so i suppose i haven't been receiving love from them for a while, anyway. i wasn't looking for recourse or anything; i simply wanted to be acknowledged, to be heard. of course, in retrospect, they've been regressing far longer than i've been willing to admit, so i suppose being ignored shouldn't be all that surprising. the self-absorption kicked in long ago.

love isn't all sunshine and puppies; sometimes it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah. i've grit my teeth through many a broken hallelujah. i've done it in memory of all those people who were there giving me support and believing in me. i've also worked damn hard at excising my pride, crutch of the insecure. we're talking the ego-centric pride, not the genuine pride of a job well done, or of conquering writer's block. i've done so much work, difficult and unseen, so i can continue to grow and help others i find along the path.

i never would have gotten here without people who wanted to help. i continually try and fail to express that gratitude for them.

it makes me sad. i've seen it coming. i've known for a long time it was coming. i prayed fiercely that i was wrong and looked the other way. looked for what else it might've been that i was feeling and sensing. part of it is the simple fact that, when i was sick and crazy and the world was falling apart, i had people who believed in me even when they really had no cause to. even when i was quite the queen of batshit. *ks* even jumped in the car with me so i wouldn't jump off the 205 bridge. crazy. yeah. and they were there for me when i didn't deserve it. if they hadn't, the gods only know if i'd be alive. i had to give what i'd received, to "pay it forward," i suppose. i feel a very strong desire and drive to pay it forward. i'm so grateful to the people who believed in me; they made such a difference in my life. what if i could be that difference for someone else?
on the off-chance i can, i never wanted to miss an opportunity.

i had to be there for them. it was like a calling...and it was love. and i get told to fuck off.

i'm in the wrong business. i shouldn't be helping people who are one foot in the gutter looking for enlightenment. i should be looking for people who are already firmly on the stairway to heaven and simply need company on their own way up.

i'll never make a good therapist...but i'd make a fantastic life coach.


every day we learn a little more

have you ever had a dilemma, or a question, or a puzzle, and went to bed thinking about it and in the morning woke up with an answer?

yeah, that's never happened to me.

instead, i'll keep a question or situation in the back of my mind and go about my business. sometimes i'll have an answer in a matter of a few hours. sometimes it'll take days. sometimes, it even takes months. i measure every answer against my intuition, against the feelings my gut and my womb will tell me, so i know if i've arrived at the correct answer.

it might be slow --infuriatingly slow to people who just plain don't understand-- but it works for me. and it never guides me down the wrong path, and along the way i discover smaller insights that contribute to the final answer.

i wait, and watch, and inevitably See. and i usually end up seeing more than i really wanted to originally, but that's the price i pay for always searching, for being a revolutionary freedom fighter, for being a servant of --and under the charge of-- the goddess.

the last few days i've been wrestling with something...not too big, but as my irritation's grown, it's gotten bigger itself. and now, this morning, i finally See why. and my body's telling me something's gotta change.

remember how the other day i said details were pending about something? well, *ds*, *ks*, and i had a friend move in with us while he got back on his feet after getting out of a really, ferociously messy marriage to a psycho hose beast. honestly, for a while i was having flashbacks to *sy*'s ex, and it was scary. i hate women that are so totally wrecked and an embarrassment to the uterine divine, and who refuse to do anything to fix it.

we'd been rather close, since it's difficult not to deeply empathize with a parent who's had to leave behind their kids in the name of emotional health and sanity. he'd made a few comments about how he had "hopes" that he and i'd get closer, but i just shook my head and chalked it up to the simple fact that i'd been the first person in years who made him feel good about himself. it's entirely human to grow attached in that way to someone who makes you like yourself. i even told him this, and i told him those feelings had nothing to do with me. i figured it was a done deal, and once he got here, he'd focus on what matters: mainly, getting back on his feet and focusing on his children, with whom he now has to form a long-distance relationship with. the gods only know i know how much work that entails, and how much it can kill you inside.

but instead, he continued to make advances. i drew the line and said it wouldn't happen so long as he had drama in his life, and such an emotional basket case of an ex. that's just too much unhealthy baggage for a revolutionary freedom fighter, and all that drama would get all over my go-go boots, and on the walls, and in my hair. do you know how much work it takes to wash drama out of your hair???

now, i'm proud of myself for finally having learned to draw clear boundaries and protect myself from the slings and arrows of outrageous drama. i really am. even as soon as less than a year ago, i would have just let my discomfort grow, and not said anything, until i did something crazy like explode in anger and say hurtful things to chase him away. but my boundaries are clear, the definition of them being "no drama beyond this point."

lest i go into anaphylactic shock. i'm allergic to drama, and bullshit, and fucktards.

then he went and pissed me off --deeply insulted what i thought was genuine respect for me-- by trying to manipulate me and "trying to make me" do something i really didn't want to do. and i felt deeply angry, and lied to, and manipulated, and most of all...i felt insulted. it was an insult against everything i'd heretofore done for him, given him, and been for him...and he went and believed he could make me do anything.

so i've spent the last few days stewing over these things, trying to figure out if it's anger i must deal with alone, if it's worth getting angry about, if i should say something, if it's worth saying anything at all, if i should just "let whatever happens be okay" and let it go, or what.

and one of the small realizations i've made over the last few days is that i still haven't learned how to express anger. no, that's wrong. i do know how to express anger. i don't know how to bring anger to someone else. i still worry about how they're going to react, and i realized that --in worrying about that-- i was trying to take responsibility for their reactions. their reactions aren't my responsibility.

when i'm angry, and someone pissed me off, when i bring it to them, i still feel the anger, express the anger, channel the anger. i'm accused of "losing my temper" or "being unreasonable," when i'm simply giving them the anger they deserve. i'm not going to go, meek and humble, and say in a polite, sweet voice that i felt angry, and use those stupid "i" statements they tell you to use in therapy. THIS is what made me angry, and i am STILL angry, and it WILL be made known, gods damn it all to the seventh hell!

considering over the past few days i still envision myself bashing him upside the head with a baseball bat, i think it's safe to say i'm angry at him for the disrespect and want nothing more than to tell him off for it. who in the goddess' name ever thinks they could make me do anything?

apparently, for all his admissions of how much he respects me, and loves my personality, and admires my strength and wisdom, i'm merely a woman he can manipulate into doing what he wants.

feel the wrath of the vengeful harpies of delena's inner goddess, you sonofabitch. no one except No One violates me like that.

...and yet i know i'll probably say nothing. i'll make pardons --like he has enough on his plate, he's been through enough-- and simply write him off. it's unhealthy. but i simply don't know what else to do. i don't know how to bring my anger to the people who deserve it, and not let it go full bore. in my mind, i've been wrestling with a lion, trying to come to terms with where this anger belongs, how i should deal with it, and i realized finally that this lion isn't anger. it's Fear.

i'm afraid to express myself, most especially when i'm angry. i feel betrayed, disrespected, and raped of value. i felt that same way working in the grooming salon, and my back gave me so much trouble there were days i was actually crippled and couldn't walk.

all last night my sleep was interrupted by violent back spasms, and i woke up this morning very nearly paralyzed from the waist down. my legs wouldn't work properly, my back was afire in murderous pain, and i Saw then i've always carried my deep-seated, unexpressed anger as a back-breaking burden on my back. i carried my bio-family's anger, my own anger, big *c*'s anger, my in-laws' anger... this time it didn't take months to build up. my body let me know inside the span of three days.

this has me way angrier than i thought. i feel lied to. he holds me in no esteem, no value; all his "respect" and admiration and attraction is merely in regards to his own ego, and how i made him feel about himself. and he's so in love with himself --with his pain, with his drama, with his new lease on life-- that he not only threw back in my face a gift i was trying to give him in friendship, but tried to manipulate me. the rejection of my gift pisses me off, but i can live with that. i shall simply give him no gift ever again, if he's going to throw them away like that.

but i'm afraid i'm blowing it out of proportion. i know *ds* and *ks* will see it that way. but then, i've always known they just don't "get it" like i do. in some ways, i've written them off, too. but i'll be outnumbered 3:1 in this house, and no one will see the wisdom. my anger will be devalued once again, only now i'll look like an ass and a stupid, drama-saturated female, as well.

at least, that's my fear. it's based partly on fact, however. and i woke up with crippling back pain. i'm not being true to my feelings, or myself, and i'm mis-carrying my anger. i admit, the rejection hurt, too. rejection always hurts. i should say something. but i know i won't.


one small step for the Heartbreaking Work...

...one giant leap for me and my creative process.

the other day i wrote about that little voice that crowds you and demands to know, "who do you think you are?" and i decided to simply stand up and declare, "THIS is who i think i am, who i know i am!" and i just did it.

at first i was tempted to explore who that voice sounds like, who it resembles, where it came from and how long i've been letting it tag along. but i stared at those couple of paragraphs for a few minutes, reading and re-reading them. they looked really good. they were written well. and they were totally beside the point, so i chucked 'em.

the only point was who i think i am. who cares where it came from? all that matters is that i packed its bags and sent it on an extended vacation to hawai'i. a voice that grating, nagging, unhappy and unable to be satisfied definitely needs a trip to hawai'i even more than i do.

have fun, little nagging voice. come back when you're rested, tanned, and eager to show off souveniers.

i'll be over here, conquering a chapter in the Heartbreaking Work that had kept me in writer's block for fifteen months!

you read that right: i conquered my over-a-year-long writer's block.

i just did it. just like i said, i just sat down and wrote, and i didn't care about whether it was good, or legible, or publishable, or marketable. i didn't care. i just wrote. all that mattered was the creation. let the fingers fly over the keyboard and who gives a damn what comes out.

incredibly, what happened was that i fleshed out a character that was entirely theoretical up until now, discovered new motives to my antagonist that i had no idea were there...things that made this hatred of my heroine intensely personal. i saw the first interaction and definition of the dynamic between heroine and antagonist.

it was beautiful.

i am so damn proud of myself! i took myself out for mongolian to celebrate, sang "comfortably numb" by pink floyd and "all these things that i've done" by the killers at the top of my lungs in my car on the freeway. i wore my hair down in public (it's so long i always tie it back), enjoyed the gorgeous weather with the windows down and the sunroof back...and just reveled in the feeling of accomplishment.

you'll see my name on the bookshelves only too soon. "what [wo]man can conceive and believe, [s]he can achieve." --napoleon hill

damn straight.



...life's been so normal it's almost sad. i've had no big "aHA!" moments, no quirky little events which trigger larger thoughts, no major upheavals inspiring me to burn heaven to the ground once again. just...life.

it's actually kinda funny. i've been working with the avenging vulture goddess energy, walking in the shadows of kali and lilith for so long that a large part of me wonders if i'm not caught in a rut and should be whipping out my sickle, covering my body in war paint, and attack with vicious love anything remotely resembling stagnation in my life.

another part of me wonders if i haven't grown so accustomed to the death goddess energy that i'm not slightly addicted to the savage pruning that happens every time i burn heaven to the ground. what's wrong with dormancy? of letting lie fallow to rejuvenate, insulate, germinate...? winter is fast on autumn's heels, and everything goes to ground this time of year to hibernate. if i'm not mistaken, pruning at this time of year usually leads to the death of the plant, yes?

yet i'm still looking for things to hack off at the root with my sickle. i'm still looking for old ways to challenge, for destructive habits to gouge out. a part of me feels i'm failing, because i'm not finding much and my life is quiet.

the death goddess in me is kinda dismayed because there's nothing left to prune.

it's funny, if you think about it. there she is in me, sickle in hand, dreadlocks stiff on the ends with dried blood, bone bracelets and anklets rattling, thrumming in herself as the drums of war sound deep and fierce...and the battlefield's long since been emptied.

all that's left is green grass and the whispers of the fallen, with a lone flagpole bearing a white flag waving tiredly under the halfhearted winter sun.

and yet there's another part of me, a little more visceral, which i feel in that place behind my heart, and in my solar plexus, and just above my womb. it's more driving than any instinct, as if it's older than instinct. as if it invented instinct.

it's the need, the desire, the drive to create. it's almost savage, that wild and visceral feeling of the primal source. it's not as comforting as demeter the milksop who wept for her daughter night and day. it's more demeter the powerful, demeter the terrible, demeter the almighty who could withdraw her hand from the earth so nothing would grow...until the father of the gods himself had to come as supplicant at her feet. she would never let on that she needed to create as much as he needed her to create...but once she did stretch forth her hand again, it fed something within her that no one --not even her daughter persephone-- could touch.

that's how this is.

i was positively moved last night, undeniably. i literally jumped up, ran to my room, and took down the box containing the afghan i began crocheting last winter (which i never finished because *m* bought me the wool i was using, and i didn't even want to think about him). i took it up once more. and then i was moved again, and took out my dragon and da vinci tarot cards to work. i crave winter squash and vegetable soups. i crave my mexican culture, want to hear its music and sing its language. i sit at my computer and pound out paragraphs and paragraphs of the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. i'm channeling reiki again.

it's pouring out of me almost as if i can't control it, like it has a will of its own and had grown impatient with me waiting for a time when the laundry's all done and the apartment's clean, when the dishes are put away, my bed is made, the marketing and article writing's done, the phone calls are over, the cat's been petted, i'm not driving someone somewhere... i made the realization not a week ago that i will never have the "extra" time to set aside for creating, for writing and crocheting, and i resigned myself to it.

it seems the whirlwind creatrix goddess within has other plans, and will not allow me to resign myself to leaving my creativity behind to die.

and so...i surrender. i am its conduit, and don't give a damn whether it's publishable, or beautiful, or marketable, or even reasonable. i'm not feeding publishers, or admirers, or buyers, or even the little logical voice inside my head. it's feeding something deeper, more ancient, and closer to my true Self. i'll let the avenger vulture goddess hibernate this winter, while the cozy warmth of my winter cave --stocked with stores for the long cold-- feeds the other goddess within.

so mote it be.


so...who am i?

i was over on brandi the space cowgirl's blog and she had this absolutely wonderful post about the nagging voice(s) in the back of your head that show up when you think about being more. y'know, the voice(s) that put their hands on their hips, or raise an eyebrow, or lean in really close and say, "who do you think you are?"

if you haven't, go read it now. i'll wait.

it's kinda funny, because i had just gotten finished writing an email to the lovelylicious jane over at the painted house about that very thing. except i talked about it in mythical and metaphorical terms.

leave it to me to be an old fuddy-duddy wannabe-intellectual about it, huh? =)

then again, perhaps that's just another expression of the voice saying, "who do you think you are?" to me.

it always comes from just over my right shoulder, just inside my peripheral vision, this voice. and it's always two feet taller and bending over to crowd my personal space, to whisper in my ear, "who do you think you are?"

then the other parts of it start coming, about how that piece will never be good enough, about how the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is actually the Gutwrenching Work of Staggering Embarrassment and will never be published, how i will always suck at this entrepreneur thing and will never make a dime, about how i'm not as smart as i like to think i am and should stop pretending....and on and on and on.

and i always believe it, and it always gets the best of me, and sometimes there's nothing i can do except just bow, and scrape, and listen to it with my whole heart...

and that's when i need to ignore it the most. however, ignoring it never really ever did anything.
maybe i should confront it? i've always been very good at being defiant. whoa, my bio-parents can tell some stories about that! if i ever wanted to do something, i usually went right ahead and did it, damn the torpedoes, and took the consequences no matter how they came.

i wonder what happened.

i can't really say that i grew up, because that usually means that you grow wiser (shut up, i like to think so). but there's always something which gets in the way, especially in the way of my writing. there's always more laundry, more house cleaning, more articles to write, more advertisements to put up, more phone calls to make, even more time to spend with the family...and my creativity gets put on the back burner and grows cold. maybe i grew...soft? bent-over? tired from the other voices, the real ones, asking me "who do you think you are?" that's entirely plausible. i thought i was over that.

no...i AM over that.

starting right now.

so...who am i?

i'm a divalicious Funkmaster. i'm a revolutionary freedom fighter for Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love. i'm armed with my pink pleather go-go boots, pink headband montera with the springs and pink flashy hearts on top going boing! i'm a fucking AWESOME writer, who's going to bring my story to thousands upon thousands of readers all over the world, and they're going to see the same thing those closest to me do: all my talent. i'm a phenominal singer, even if i just sing in the car when no one else is around. i'm beautiful and voluptuous and shining and worth so, so much.

THAT, my little arrogant voice, is who i am.

who do YOU think you are for trying to bring me down?



CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Last June, Neculai Ivascu was re-elected mayor of Voinesti, a Romanian town he had led for almost two decades. The only problem was, he was dead. "I know he died," said one of the villagers who voted to return him to office, "but I don't want change." I hope you won't go that far in your resistance to the forces of evolution, Capricorn. It's time for at least some of your old ways of thinking and being to expire, and there's no wisdom in trying to prop them up. My advice is to be brave: Gracefully agitate for transformation.


needless to say, this week's influx of brezsny wasn't received well at first. i sat here for a few minutes thinking of the most "colorful" language to express just how not-well it was received.

then i started thinking about it and, to be quite honest, those forces in me have been shifting --or ready to shift-- for quite some time. i've been doing a lot of thinking (not deliberately!) and realizing that some of the things i was holding onto are a little outdated.

and no, we're not talking "fashionably retro," here.

however, it's also brought quite a bit of sadness into my life to think of those things that no longer serve me. especially when they were things to which i was quite dedicated for the longest time. however, the natural progression of my life is showing me that perhaps it isn't exactly in the cards for me anymore. or maybe i'm just not really quite the same person i used to be deep down.

most of it's been centered around careerlovemarriagechildren, and how much i wanted all four, and all four to be "just so," and "just so" to be happy and miraculous and everything i ever dreamed of when i was younger...within reason. i was allowing for reality. i really was.

but with each passing day --the more i see the relationships around me-- the more i realize just how happy i really am unattached and unfettered. i have my routines, my style, my freedom. my bedroom is decorated just the way i like it. i don't have to share leftovers. i don't have to make room, or compromise. i'm free to do what i want, with whom i want, when i want. my honor is answerable to no one but myself (aka. i can sleep with whom i wish, hang out with whom i wish, and ignore whom i wish) without having to consider things like closing myself to the world of possibilities out there.

not only that, but i discovered that i've developed this very serious allergy to drama. we're talking anaphylactic shock, here. the moment there's a breakdown in the communication sphere, or the synergistic dynamic, or the honesty, or the harmony, or the respect...i'm gone. i'm not willing to work it out because i don't have to. nine times out of ten it's going to be a waste of my precious, irreplaceable time, energy, and emotions...and why would i want to do that?

the chances of finding Him, the Love of My Life who is at my caliber in strength, maturity, character, intelligence, loyalty, and chivalry are slim. finding a man who is in as much love with my zany and strange, Funky nature as i am is difficult to find. he's going to have to adore how odd i am, first and foremost. my quirks, eccentricities, and off-the-wallness are going to have to crack him up, and inspire wild thoughts of radical intimacy in him.

and the respect will have to live on, at all times. when there's Respect, most of that other drama-filled bullshit just can't grow. it's non-conducive to the growth and maturation of insufferable drama. the moment respect dwindles, i'm gone faster than you can say, "where'd she go?"

but really, i've just slowly come to the realization that i love being me, just the way i am, and i really don't want to change it.

...unless that's what mr. brezsny's talking about. but then...loving my single, mother-to-only-one-child life is a change from my "careerlovemarriagechildren" focus i had early this year. i was determined to make it my reality, and i was in perfect alignment with myself, my soul, my desires when it came to this. now? i don't really, honestly think i want to invite the chaos of more children into my life, let alone the chaos of a man.

i like dating with no commitment. is this awful of me to say? am i shallow? am i selfish? am i afraid of commitment? ...well, i don't think i'm afraid of commitment, because as soon as someone with a real pair steps up, i'm right there meeting him brass for brass. and i usually stay the course far longer than anyone i commit to.

so no, not afraid of commitment. afraid of being trapped, maybe. afraid of attaching myself to what turns out to be yet another loser? definitely. even a newfound drama-free chick like me isn't immune. we're just not as susceptible.

so...i dunno. i don't know what the change and evolution is here that i'm not supposed to be resisting. maybe i'm just full of crap and it's actually talking about an area in my life that i haven't even considered.

that's a definite possibility.

double take?

hey dad!

y'know, i just wanted to say "thank you" for the absolute fantastic genes you passed on. these sanchez genes are really fantastic, i think. the last few months i've gotten a ton of compliments, people telling me i'm pretty, i'm beautiful, how intelligent i am, etc. i've kind of (only kind of) gotten back into the dating world. nothing serious, just going out and having fun and enjoying myself, and one thing i hear *very* often is, "how is it a smart, beautiful woman like yourself is still single?" of course, i laugh and just say thank you (while in my head i'm saying, "because i know better!" ha ha...) but i just wanted to say thank you. sanchez make some really great people.

i love you!

i sent this email to my bio-dad yesterday afternoon, and actually got a near-immediate reply. in it, he told me that he's been dating too --nothing serious, just going out and doing what he wants to do, and having fun. he says he's really enjoying this "old...new me," as he put it, and equates it to when he was around 25, only much wiser this time around.

then a bit later, i was in the car with *ks* and it hit me...

...my bio-dad and i are out dating...

...at the same time. kinda disturbing.

kinda great. ...but kinda disturbing.

i mean, i'm not one of those daughters who's going to agonize about her father going out and dating --oh gasp!-- or anything like that, and certainly not going to blubber about the indecency of it all. actually, i'm ecstatic that he's as happy as he is, and that he's really gotten out and enjoyed life and rediscovered the joys that are out there. since the divorce, he's really been a different person and it warms my heart immeasurably to know he's so happy.

i know it just can't be --because you can't change the past-- but a part of me wishes for many reasons that my bio-parents had split up when i was still in grade school, preferably earlier. preferably before i hit preschool, in those days when *k* would pick me up out of bed in the middle of the night, bring me to her bed, and huddle with me and cry while our parents fought. i remember only being confused, wondering why there was shouting, and knowing whatever was being said was very serious and was scaring my big sister. i knew it was affecting us kids (it was only her and myself at that time). i knew bio-mom threatened to take us away. i know they fought about *k*, who wasn't my bio-dad's but i wasn't supposed to know that. i knew a lot of things back then.

perhaps all of us would have been filled with an entire universe's expanse-worth of happiness if my bio-parents hadn't stayed together as long as they did. for their reasons --whether or not they were right, or logical, or inspired by love-- they didn't, and we have the Today upon which we find ourselves standing.

standing firm, i'm glad to report.

it just...it was a small awakening, i suppose. my dad's out there, having the same revelations (somewhat) and experiences and inspirations that i am. he has more life and wisdom to draw upon, but i think i'm doing all right for myself. sure, there's a lot i still have to learn, a lot more i still have to put into practice, and tons i will never understand. but for now, i think i'm doing pretty good. and so's my bio-dad, and that really is a comfort.

you go, dad. you go.



she looked at me, red tattooed face almost glistening as if the red ink were fresh...or as if she had been upon that battlefield with me. amazed, enthralled, i slowly turned my head to look at her. she smiled, and let go of my hand.

i hadn't even noticed she'd been holding it. had she somehow given me the vision...?

"that was from you," she said, her voice lilting and hypnotic. "it was none of my doing." and she looked at me as if she truly had heard my thoughts. but then she smiled and the fierce countenance of the vulture goddess disappeared, and the impish gleam of the revolutionary trickster goddess flashed in her eyes. "you truly are one of us now, sister." she adjusted her skirts --which still dripped slightly with a red that stained into her skin-- and tucked her legs beneath her. she folded her hands and leaned forward, toward me.

it had been so real...the smell of horses, the sound of my men beating their fists against their armored chests and rattling their swords and spears, the feel of my blood pulsing through my body charged with battle lust, the terror and exhilaration of fierce battle...the exhaustion and exhilaration of learning the secret to taming my Inner Flaming Narcissist...

"...have you given any thought to which sect of us you feel most at home, sister?"

her question jolted me out of my reverie. as i looked at her, i saw in my mind's eye every single sister of the pomegranate priestesshood i had met up to that point.

there was the gentle, soft-spoken sister that greeted me when i first stepped onto the grounds of the menstrual temple of the funky grail, smelling of amber and rose dust, pomegranates and peace; the pierced one with the blood-red pendant who spoke to me of anti-role models and rent open my breast with her sickle; she who met me in Valley-in-the-Glade, who first called me "sister"; and the one who sat beside me now, with tattoos of a very different nature, marking her as a very particular sect within the pomegranate priestesshood...those who go into the death.

those who understand the simple yet intimate dance of Life and Death and Rebirth; those who look Death in the eyes and smile at Her eons-old companionship; who are comfortable with their robes dripping with staining blood, taking on the drips and patterns of blood --of life and death-- upon their own bodies; those who understand the balance of All Things...

...those for whom i have a deep affinity, in their eyes.

i looked away, down at my toes deep in the cool damp grass by the blood river, still holding the vial of water-turned-blood. ...i'd never turned water into blood before.

"yes, sister, you have. this is what you don't see," she said.

"you're in my mind," i said. "how?"

she smiled again, tucking a narrow dreadlock behind her ear. the bones and beads decorating the ends of her dreadlocks clacked softly. "it is you who is in mine, sister," was her reply. "we are all within each other's minds, connected through la salvaje dea, 'the wild goddess.' all there is to do is open your mind, which you do by nature of your soul, sister, for you are already open. in fact, you have always been so. those years when you believed yourself so closed, so cold, that was only your outer trappings, for you could never hide what you were.

"how is it you could hear, for a decade and more, la salvaje de la dea call to you?"

i pondered her true question, how it is i had felt deep within me the true Wild nature of the goddess through all the shit and doubt, and all the lies that had been fed to me. i had believed myself to be dead to it all, yet She had called, quietly at first. it had taken me long to understand the true song i was hearing.

now, the pomegranate priestesses called me "sister."

it was a good question: which sect did i feel i most belonged to?

...i thought about it for a very, very long time.


countdown, and countUP

this is iGoddess post #399. next post is whopping #400 which means...absolutely nothing. other than the fact that i've had this blog over a year and my average is less than one post a day. my first reaction is to say, "kinda blah, don'cha think?" but then again, i suppose it's better than being one of those people that talks all the time but really doesn't have anything to say. all iGoddess really is, is peeking through an open window into the inside of dee's wonderlicious and zany mind.

also...today's tuesday. T-minus 3 days and counting. maybe. details pending.



CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Check out this excerpt from "Those Who Do Not Dance," by Chilean poet Gabriel Mistral: "God asked from on high,/ 'How do I come down from this blueness?' / We told Him: /come dance with us in the light." I love this passage because it reminds me that nothing is ever set in stone: Everything is always up for grabs. Even God needs to be open to change and eager for fresh truths. Furthermore, even we puny humans may on occasion need to be God's teacher and helper. Likewise, we can never be sure about what lowly or unexpected sources may bring us the influences we require. What do Mistral's words mean to you, Capricorn? Imagine you're the "God" referenced in the poem. What blueness are you ready to come down from, and who might invite you to dance in their light?

i had to sit on this one for quite some time.

the line "even God needs to be open to change and eager for fresh truths," didn't sit well, especially. of course, i set it aside and let my subconscious think about it for me, so i could worry about such things as the Wrath expansion coming out, and my messy apartment, my ribs popping out of their heads and stabbing my lungs while i slept (ow...). y'know, the nice mundane things.

and then...with all the subtlety of a pronoiac miracle, suddenly i woke up and wanted nothing more than to start waking up in the a.m., go to the gym, re-devote myself to business and the grand art of allowing the universe to be wildly in love with me.

and then...just like that...manifested in my reality was a google ad staring me in the face that afternoon --only ten minutes after i'd gotten out of bed-- that led to exactly what i'd been looking for. i just had to make the decision. i just acted. the universe had provided, except this time it threw this chance at me and told me to go long.

i'm still running, and that's the point.

so if i'm god, i was in this blueness and feeling removed from everything, feeling like a failure, feeling detached and unmotivated. i hadn't even considered what bret had suggested. in fact, until he mentioned it, the prospect of being so in touch with nature's cycles that i was reflecting them hadn't even crossed my mind. but i do that. every year. i even get wrinkles, crow's feet at the corners of my eyes and crescent moons around my mouth, the closer we get to yule...that disappear the closer to beltane we get. ever since i'd started following the moon's cycles and really paying attention to the wheel of the year --with its seasons corresponding to our holidays-- this has been a regular thing that happens every year. and yet every fall i always forget, and i'm always surprised when i slow down and start to shut down.

thanks for reminding me, bret. you're a doll and i luv ya!

but i think i was also like the people God was talking to, in my horoscope. the real me, the Funkywild, the pronoiac in me. i was calling myself over to dance in the light. i really wanted to. i wanted to get out of my unFunk, out of the quagmire i was exhausting myself trying to slug through.

i also decided to combat it inside my body as well, not just in my mind and spirit. so i went over to the wonderiffic and utterly miraculous dr. schulze and bought his basics for cleansing and detox. i'm long overdue, and i think that's a huge contributor to my sluggish lackluster, and my fatigue. well, that, and all the taco hell i find myself recently addicted to. gotta cut that out.

so i'll still follow the seasons, still hibernate a bit this fall...but in history, this was also the time our ancestors (and not even all that long ago) were attending to the final details of bracing for the winter. they packed away, stored, provisioned, got out the heavy boots and thick blankets, and in general dug in for the winter. well, i'm gonna dig in, too. only i'm gonna make provisions and dig in and get serious about Freedom Revolution. i'm gonna use the quietude of fall and winter to connect with my body and get cozy with the idea of warm socks, wool afghans, and serious business practices.

...and i'm gonna let in the light for my mind. spiders and dust bunnies were starting to accumulate in the corners.


notes from the universe

Delena, what is it that you'd really, really like to see happen in your life, but have not visualized in a really, really long time?


Well, let's just say, conditions are now favorable... and it's time to rock and roll.

Go on,
The Universe

Visualizing, Delena, can make a world of difference.

okay, okay...i get it.


what a cute little universe...

yesterday and today i spent a huge chunk of time on a new business model, including a new domain name, auto-responders, and massive, massive training. i decided to be my own agent of change, a wellspring from which magical manifestation of Funkalicious determination, drive, and faith bursts forth like a tropical hot springs geyser of Divine Yayness.

and i've been working on a lot, and not just from the business side. i've been making the slow change from utter nocturnalism to diurnal tendencies again. i'm headed back for the gym, working on pilates for my back. and i'm working on the mental shift to get out of the unmotivated quagmire that's had me for the last couple of months.

...and then the universe sends me this awesome little sticky note:

Investment Advice for Turbulent Times

Kindness pays HUGE dividends, Delena, materially and ethereally, forever and ever.

Love on,
The Universe

Live longer, laugh louder, sell more widgets, Delena.


my precioussss.....

tonight at 22:00 pacific, GameStop will open its doors for the midnight release party of World of Warcraft's newest expansion, Wrath of the Lich King.

oh, be still my quaking heart. the adventures of onai continue in northrend...after installing.

i am Delena of the Funkywild....and i'm a Druid...


for you, boho...

so boho mom's comment about wanting dragon stuffies got me thinking... i was like, "dude, it's so easy to find them. they're everywhere!" of course, if i came home with every single dragon stuffie i laid eyes on, i'd have no money for everything else. especially considering some of the prices i find attached to them. but they're wonderful, i love them, and i give each and every single one i have a loving home.

everyone knows they can't ever go wrong giving me a dragon stuffie. it's even better than ice cream...

so i give to you, my dearest bohippian funkmaster of the dancing gypsy feet....my dragons.

this is with my camera phone, so they're not fantastic. but there they are,
all six of them.
(hehe, you can also see a corner of one of my anime wall scrolls;
that particular one's cowboy bebop.)

the big blue one's named mungo. his story has a happy ending,
but its beginning was sad: he sat at the store, alone and unwanted,
for 8 months after all his other friends were bought and taken home.
i looked at him, and he smiled and told me his name, and it was,
"okay, buddy, you're coming home with me." mungo's so cute. he makes me laugh.

yes, those are hearts on sweetheart's tummy. she was my valentine's day
gift to myself. she looks like a pink hippo in this pic until you
realize her wings are pearlescent and therefore kinda blend with my pillow...

and there they are, my trio of trouble:
tiberius, thelonius, and bob.
they rock.

of course, those are just my stuffies. those don't include my infinite army of figurines, mugs, pendants, pictures, and books. and not all of my stuffies or figures have names.

of course, dragons are kinda like that. when they're good and ready, they'll let you know what they want you to call them. like, thelonius is always changing his name. he's been 'philitetes,' and 'higerion,' and 'agamemnon,' to name a few. even this morning he said he wanted to be called 'archimedes' now. oi vey...

and i have a pair of candle holders, and they're just "the twins," or "the boys." that's all they'll tell me. and boy, they've been through the ringer! they've survived fire, five moves, and the loss of limbs. *mj* fashioned little prosthetic fingers for them out of his modeling clay, after one move knocked a few off and they disappeared in moving foam and chaos. they were always grumpy to begin with, but now they're downright surly. i love 'em...

dragons. i love them, and they love me.


there is no spoon

yeah. i just found this and wanted to share. nothing more need be said.

Everything you've learned in school as "obvious" becomes less and less obvious as you begin to study the universe. For example, there are no solids in the universe. There's not even a suggestion of a solid. There are no absolute continuums. There are no surfaces. There are no straight lines.
--R. Buckminster Fuller

y'know tagging's illegal in some states...

so this guy tagged me. he really is a great guy, this guy. but bret, you stinker! so now i have to play the game.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

oi vey...random things about me? what if you've been dubbed the Random Queen of Zaney WTF? by friends, and "wow, that was random..." is as common to hear as, "hey, dee, wassup?"

hmm...random things about me...

1.) i can stick my whole fist in my mouth. the whole thing. just...don't even ask how i found this out...

2.) my li'l sis *t* and i (and sometimes my li'l bro *aj*) text each other with random movie quotes or lines from songs. we've exchanged entire songs this way, from the time warp to willy wonka, the amazing chocolatier, and even quotes from the princess bride and other fun movies we enjoy. it's a fun game; i highly recommend it. lots of inside-jokes and memorable memories come to the fore. yup yup.

3.) i still love (and have a small collection of) stuffed animals. "my stuffies," i call them. quite a few of them are dragons...surprise surprise. one of them's a hand puppet; a 3-headed hydra, whose names are Tiberius, Thelonius, and Bob. yeah, you heard me right: Bob.

4.) my sexy, mean strap-on queen sheree drew me this lovely picture of me as a mermaid --a huge smile on my face-- with the Funk in one hand, and my little joymines in the other. i still have it.

5.) i really do want pink go-go boots...

6.) my bio-dad used to call me la amazona, and used to say i was born to the wrong family. i should've grown up in a log cabin deep in the woods somewhere, and someday i was gonna grow up to marry me a mountain man and have strapping, paul bunyan children. every year when fall comes around, when the leaves are vibrant yet piling up in drifts on the side of the road and carpeting everything you see to the horizon...when nights grow longer and days grow colder, greyer, wetter... when the parkas and the flannel and the thick-soled boots come out...when men neglect to shave because it's warmer that way (which i don't mind, because facial hair is so effing sexy)...i always grin, or flat-out laugh to myself because i remember what he used to say. i can hear his voice calling me "amazona," and i say to myself, "mountain man..." look where i ended up living! while totally in left field about a lot of aspects about me, his firstborn, on that one i'd say he was pretty dead on.

....just don't know where ima marry me a mountain man.


....now comes the part mas dificíl: actually tagging six people.

1. azzy, the Ultimate RP'er of Frakking DOOM. omg. her mad rp skillz will leave you sobbing and hiccupping, complete with snot running down your face, as you realize just what an utter n00b you are compared to her uberiffic awesome-liciousness of RP mastery. in other moods, i also call her my muse, and sometimes my idol. when i grow up, i wanna be as cool as she is. you merely look at her, and you are knocked back by the mystic power of her pwnage.

azzy, sugar baby honey pie, you effing rock.

2. my greggo. i think he's the only man i've been so devotionally and solidly in love with for the longest time in my life -- evar. honestly, what else can you say about your best friend who truly has been a best friend? we've run the gamut of emotions and stages in a deep friendship, struggled with issues that really only brought out the issues we were struggling with inside our own selves. can't stand each other, bicker, fight, hurt, love, compliment, bolster, support, listen, cry, tease, aggravate, give... been there, done that. i might not be in love with some of his choices, especially not his choice to shackle himself to a cold fish i have to force myself not to insult at any opportunity. i don't love his tendency to be drawn to sick women with Issues. i can't stand that he refuses to entertain the possibility of believing that he can outshine the stars. but...i love him. he's my greggo. and all those things i can't stand come with the package, and make him the man i've been in love with longer than any other man in my life. and there's so much about him i love that i think i'll just spend the rest of our friendship naming them all.

how's that for commitment and devotion, babe? i fucking love you...

3. nydia, nydia...oh, how i love nydia! nydia the craft-art lady. and that's "craft" in both senses of the word, wink wink. she's just so phenominal, and i love watching her work. she brings the spirit of witchcraft home like few people i know. and she's so brilliantly creative and confident, self-aware, and her mind is just fascinating. i love creative people. they get my own juices simmering. with nydia? it's steam!

4. goddess leonie. when they say a picture is worth a thousand words, they don't remember to think about leonie. what happens when you see a picture and it takes your breath away? what happens when you see a picture and words are stolen from you so you can't even remember how to speak? longing and wonderment and joy and inspiration so deep and raw is why they invented art, and music, and dance. some things just can't be expressed in words. every time i visit there, i walk away reminded of how special i truly am.

5. divalicious mich. i want her centeredness. hands down. want want want. but it's not an envious want. it's more i simply look up to her and wonder what secret she knows that keeps her so...centered. and even though we've never talked, i can almost hear her inside my head...laughing at me...telling me that i already know that there is no great and wonderiffic secret to know. she'd tell me i already know, and i'm rockin', too. she's just so Funktastic like that.

6. jane in the painted house. if i'm ever in her neck of the woods and craving a cuppa java, fresh air, and a walk in-around-and-about those cute little stores off the beaten path, i can bet she'd be game for it and our day would be filled with so much fun, laughter, and trading old war stories for our own entertainment. you know, because we're such rockin' hot, divalicious soul masters now that we can laugh at our own fucktardedness. this woman rocks. she's been through so much, and lifted herself so high. there's no award high enough the human race has to offer. and i love her gift with a camera. she's so brave and real in front of it. i'm not quite there yet. but it's another thing (of MANY!) to admire about her.

(7. and boho mom, you know i luv ya. i'm one of your biggest fans. i'd have tagged you, too, but you already got yourself good and tagged. but MWAH! *blows kisses*)

there. i've done been tagged.