Time doesn't work the same way in the dream incubation chamber as it does anywhere else.
There were no set days or nights, really. Shadows did not lengthen in the evening, nor did the sky brighten at noon. There was no noon, and no evening.
No morning, and no moon.
The sky just darkened, a slow dimming that was hardly noticeable until I realized I was squinting to make out things that had been easy only an hour or so earlier. Once I did notice it darkening, however, the light fell away in the blink of an eye.
In the absence of a moon and stars, there was a vague white-blue light with no source. It was just enough to see by, if one was very patient and sat to wait for their eyes to adjust.
Of course, that wasn't me.
I tripped over debris and skinned my knees. I bumped into pillars and walls until I finally found a sheltered corner to huddle in, my back pressed against the two sides as if that would be enough to protect me. For all I knew, Cthulhu's really pissed-off lapdog could be running around somewhere out there, or a really crabby tarentatek.
That would be fun.
Wishing for the priestess' ability to conjure fire with focus and the wave of a hand, I curled my arms around my legs, rested my head against the wall, and waited for light.
Perhaps I dozed, I don't know. All I know is I opened my eyes and it was a little easier to make things out.
That's when I saw them: eyes. Eyes, looking at me.
I blinked and they were gone.
I blinked again, rapidly as if trying to clear an eyelash out of my eye. They didn't return. Had I hallucinated?
Well, I was in a dream incubation. Technically, all of it is a hallucination.
Existential questions about perceptions of the mind all being hallucinations tried to distract me, but I rolled my eyes at my own inner narcissist taking herself way too seriously right now, and put it out of my mind.
Out of my mind. Ha.
It had happened so fast I almost didn't even realize what I was looking at. Eyes, right over there where a missing chunk of brick in the wall made a sort of window. And then nothing. Knowing that racing to the window would accomplish nothing, I got up and crept along the wall at my back until it tapered to nothing and followed the other side until I came around the backside of the corner where I'd spent the night.
I peeked around the corner. Nothing. Not that I was surprised, really. I followed along the other wall and around the opposite corner and peeked. Nothing. Even the ground right beneath the teenie window was undisturbed.
How...?
Searching my memory, I looked for any details that might've escaped me in the shock of seeing a pair of eyes in these ruins.
Both eyes had fit in this window, so I knew whoever it was had to be small. An adult head was too wide to look straight-on through the small hole. Aside from that, though, there was nothing else I could discern. In my memory, skin tone had matched the surrounding bricks, and it was too dark to pick out eye color or any other detail if, indeed, there had been anything else.
The height of the hole was high enough that I only had to bend over a little to peek through it. So...this being was either super tall and teenie --like some elongated alien-thing-- or it had other ways of getting around. But there were no signs of scuff marks on the wall, or of anything else around the area to give a hint as to how.
Not one.
By then, full light had brightened the ruins and the oppressive silence seemed less a thing alive. I knew better, though. And now I knew there was something else here with me.
Prev Next
1.10.2014
1.04.2014
There is wisdom in Facebook
This just in, by me, on another friend's FB post about saying no.
"Perhaps, then, my goal should not just be to learn to say yes and no when and how I want, but to make sure I do not waver when the insensitive, narcissistic jerks of the world pressure me to serve their egos. And to be unafraid of the waves it'll cause."
Because I do. I cave in for the sake of peace, to be "Fix-It Girl," to make them happy at the expense of my self-respect, because I am able to compromise more than they are. Well, fuck it, and fuck them. If they can't hear my polite no, then I don't need to hear their petulant inner toddler.
My inner Vulture Goddess screeches her approval, and for now does not eat anyone's liver.
"Perhaps, then, my goal should not just be to learn to say yes and no when and how I want, but to make sure I do not waver when the insensitive, narcissistic jerks of the world pressure me to serve their egos. And to be unafraid of the waves it'll cause."
Because I do. I cave in for the sake of peace, to be "Fix-It Girl," to make them happy at the expense of my self-respect, because I am able to compromise more than they are. Well, fuck it, and fuck them. If they can't hear my polite no, then I don't need to hear their petulant inner toddler.
My inner Vulture Goddess screeches her approval, and for now does not eat anyone's liver.
1.03.2014
The Dream Incubation Chamber
As if being back on the grounds was not unsettling enough, I found myself stuffed inside the dream incubation chamber while still cold and dripping with snow.
"Wonderful," I muttered.
I cast about me, trying to get my bearings. There was light, but no real sun that I could see. It was just...light.
But not a bright and shining light. This was a vague and murky light, like the sun past noon on a foggy day after a raging brushfire. The light even shifted as if through smoke.
These were no ordinary ruins. If giants had built themselves a grand capitol and lived a thousand years in peace and prosperity, and then blown themselves to bits with smart bombs and avarice to find ten thousand years later, that would be this place.
The walls were too thick, the partial archways too high. The broken pillars staggered where they fell like so many of the remains at the Petrified Forest in Arizona. The same air of ancient completion hung heavy in the air, as if some great calamity had befallen this place so long ago and was now so completely over nothing would ever happen here again.
Everything had upon it a layer of grey dust. How massive was the destruction upon this ancient city that in some places no two stones sat one upon the other? In some places, only the fragmented side of a building still stood, or maybe part of a two-story building.
There was partial shelter, at least.
The silence was complete. I hated to take a step, my wet, bare feet making a soft crunching noise on the fine gravel and dust. It felt as if by making noise I would disturb the silence, and it would rise up and consume me.
A rock clattering against other rocks sounded off to my right, just behind me. In the silence, it was an avalanche.
I spun around. Only the rising dust told me anything had happened.
And then I felt eyes.
Though I was a returning supplicant to the Temple, I was still an acolyte. My skills and sensitivities were heightened, and I reached out with my senses.
Yes. There.
The subtle pulsating energies of a living body, the subtlest change of temperature in the air around me. Tiny eddies in the air as breath swirled in little currents. The smallest ripple in my surroundings.
There!
I spun.
Nothing.
"I know you're there." It was a whisper. Even now, I hesitated to wake the silence.
Just what monsters had I brought with me into the chamber? Of all my inner demons, I had faced and slain the most prominent in the Inner Demon Tea Party and Imminent Fatal Gorge-Fest, where I had fed and fed and fed them until they ate themselves to death.
...But which had I missed?
Prev Next
"Wonderful," I muttered.
I cast about me, trying to get my bearings. There was light, but no real sun that I could see. It was just...light.
But not a bright and shining light. This was a vague and murky light, like the sun past noon on a foggy day after a raging brushfire. The light even shifted as if through smoke.
These were no ordinary ruins. If giants had built themselves a grand capitol and lived a thousand years in peace and prosperity, and then blown themselves to bits with smart bombs and avarice to find ten thousand years later, that would be this place.
The walls were too thick, the partial archways too high. The broken pillars staggered where they fell like so many of the remains at the Petrified Forest in Arizona. The same air of ancient completion hung heavy in the air, as if some great calamity had befallen this place so long ago and was now so completely over nothing would ever happen here again.
Everything had upon it a layer of grey dust. How massive was the destruction upon this ancient city that in some places no two stones sat one upon the other? In some places, only the fragmented side of a building still stood, or maybe part of a two-story building.
There was partial shelter, at least.
The silence was complete. I hated to take a step, my wet, bare feet making a soft crunching noise on the fine gravel and dust. It felt as if by making noise I would disturb the silence, and it would rise up and consume me.
A rock clattering against other rocks sounded off to my right, just behind me. In the silence, it was an avalanche.
I spun around. Only the rising dust told me anything had happened.
And then I felt eyes.
Though I was a returning supplicant to the Temple, I was still an acolyte. My skills and sensitivities were heightened, and I reached out with my senses.
Yes. There.
The subtle pulsating energies of a living body, the subtlest change of temperature in the air around me. Tiny eddies in the air as breath swirled in little currents. The smallest ripple in my surroundings.
There!
I spun.
Nothing.
"I know you're there." It was a whisper. Even now, I hesitated to wake the silence.
Just what monsters had I brought with me into the chamber? Of all my inner demons, I had faced and slain the most prominent in the Inner Demon Tea Party and Imminent Fatal Gorge-Fest, where I had fed and fed and fed them until they ate themselves to death.
...But which had I missed?
Prev Next
1.02.2014
Back on the Grounds
The snow bit at my bare feet, toes beginning to burn from the cold. Large, fat flakes caught on my eyelashes and dampened my hair. It was snowing at the Temple: plump, wet snowflakes sticking to everything and dampening sound to a muffled whisper.
Ice floes like teenie glaciers floated by in the great river running through the temple grounds. The great fruiting trees lining the banks were bare and stark against the white sky, and not a bird could be seen.
So different, being upon the grounds and hearing not a single cry of an irritated raven. The statues on the grounds were oblong mounds of white mystery, like buttes in the desert. I tucked my head down until my chin touched my chest, wincing as my double chin squished like a water balloon.
I was not the same as when I left.
Why did I leave, anyway?
Oh yeah. The Vulture Goddess had split apart my chest and laid bare my heart to the sun, then left me to bleed downriver and learn to either embrace my role as One Who Bleeds But Does Not Die, or to believe the lie until I imagined my death by exsanguination so well that I died.
My feet didn't make a sound as I walked the path I remembered, my footprints the only thing to mar the pristine beauty of a perfect snowfall.
I was shivering by the time I entered the temple, dripping half-melted snow on the red tiles. I winced at the mess, but there was nothing at hand to mop it up.
"Just leave it."
I spun to my left. She was standing by a pillar, half-hidden by the shadows there. Her feet were also bare, and I saw the hint of red lining her toes. Yearning filled me, and embarrassment, that my feet were still not stained the red of the Pomegranate Priestesses. I wanted it so badly.
"Do you really?" she asked. "If so, why have you not done the requisite work? Something must be holding you back."
I shrugged. "I am still a fool to give this all up if just one person would love me."
"Why?" She stepped out of the shadows, and I saw her hair was buzzed close to her head. She had subdermal implants in her skin, just by her left eye. It was a scroll mark, the Sanskrit a, with an accent over it in red ink. This, I knew, was not the first sound. This was not the life breath of the formless god. This was instead the root word for maya, removes depression, brings hope, sharpens the intellect and talent.
Why would Maya meet me at the door, half frozen and pathetic?
Why, indeed?
"Fool, yes, but not pathetic," she said. The tiny bells on her anklet and trimming her skirt chimed in minor sevenths. An odd chord, but strangely appealing. It drew me in. "You find this supposed love appealing enough to forsake the Menstrual Temple because you do not love you."
"That's what I just said."
She laughed at me. Actually pointed and laughed. "I wasn't talking about you."
Goddammit, were all the priestesses given classes on being cryptic?
"Do you still have the small vial of blood you were given before?" she asked.
I shook my head. "The glass dissolved when I began hemorrhaging, and it all just mixed together."
She nodded. "That can happen. When one does not realize the sacredness of their own, bleeding is seen as an injury instead of a sacred duty."
I blushed. This was not what I'd wanted to hear. I should just go; I would never be worthy to dwell within these walls.
The priestess laughed. "You take these walls with you! Wherever you go, there is the Temple." She pointed. A door appeared across the foyer, small, with no visible door knobs or hinges. It was just a crack in the marble.
"Go now."
"To what?"
"It is the dream incubation chamber."
Well. That told me a whole lotta nothing, but I could tell by her face that was all I was going to get. The sickle tied at her belt gleamed in the gentle light in the temple. A chill raced through me; I remembered my last encounter with one of those sickles.
A line burned down my breastbone in memory.
"Dream incubation chamber. Got it."
"This time," she said after me, "don't run."
I bit my lip. My hand hovered just over the door, and my fingers balled into a fist. This time, she'd said, don't run. If that wasn't a warning, nothing was.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The ruins of a great and ancient city, dusty and tattered, met me. I looked over my shoulder.
The doors were gone.
Next
Ice floes like teenie glaciers floated by in the great river running through the temple grounds. The great fruiting trees lining the banks were bare and stark against the white sky, and not a bird could be seen.
So different, being upon the grounds and hearing not a single cry of an irritated raven. The statues on the grounds were oblong mounds of white mystery, like buttes in the desert. I tucked my head down until my chin touched my chest, wincing as my double chin squished like a water balloon.
I was not the same as when I left.
Why did I leave, anyway?
Oh yeah. The Vulture Goddess had split apart my chest and laid bare my heart to the sun, then left me to bleed downriver and learn to either embrace my role as One Who Bleeds But Does Not Die, or to believe the lie until I imagined my death by exsanguination so well that I died.
My feet didn't make a sound as I walked the path I remembered, my footprints the only thing to mar the pristine beauty of a perfect snowfall.
I was shivering by the time I entered the temple, dripping half-melted snow on the red tiles. I winced at the mess, but there was nothing at hand to mop it up.
"Just leave it."
I spun to my left. She was standing by a pillar, half-hidden by the shadows there. Her feet were also bare, and I saw the hint of red lining her toes. Yearning filled me, and embarrassment, that my feet were still not stained the red of the Pomegranate Priestesses. I wanted it so badly.
"Do you really?" she asked. "If so, why have you not done the requisite work? Something must be holding you back."
I shrugged. "I am still a fool to give this all up if just one person would love me."
"Why?" She stepped out of the shadows, and I saw her hair was buzzed close to her head. She had subdermal implants in her skin, just by her left eye. It was a scroll mark, the Sanskrit a, with an accent over it in red ink. This, I knew, was not the first sound. This was not the life breath of the formless god. This was instead the root word for maya, removes depression, brings hope, sharpens the intellect and talent.
Why would Maya meet me at the door, half frozen and pathetic?
Why, indeed?
"Fool, yes, but not pathetic," she said. The tiny bells on her anklet and trimming her skirt chimed in minor sevenths. An odd chord, but strangely appealing. It drew me in. "You find this supposed love appealing enough to forsake the Menstrual Temple because you do not love you."
"That's what I just said."
She laughed at me. Actually pointed and laughed. "I wasn't talking about you."
Goddammit, were all the priestesses given classes on being cryptic?
"Do you still have the small vial of blood you were given before?" she asked.
I shook my head. "The glass dissolved when I began hemorrhaging, and it all just mixed together."
She nodded. "That can happen. When one does not realize the sacredness of their own, bleeding is seen as an injury instead of a sacred duty."
I blushed. This was not what I'd wanted to hear. I should just go; I would never be worthy to dwell within these walls.
The priestess laughed. "You take these walls with you! Wherever you go, there is the Temple." She pointed. A door appeared across the foyer, small, with no visible door knobs or hinges. It was just a crack in the marble.
"Go now."
"To what?"
"It is the dream incubation chamber."
Well. That told me a whole lotta nothing, but I could tell by her face that was all I was going to get. The sickle tied at her belt gleamed in the gentle light in the temple. A chill raced through me; I remembered my last encounter with one of those sickles.
A line burned down my breastbone in memory.
"Dream incubation chamber. Got it."
"This time," she said after me, "don't run."
I bit my lip. My hand hovered just over the door, and my fingers balled into a fist. This time, she'd said, don't run. If that wasn't a warning, nothing was.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The ruins of a great and ancient city, dusty and tattered, met me. I looked over my shoulder.
The doors were gone.
Next
12.30.2013
The Year of
Back when I was awesome, I used to look back on the past year in all its glory and suck, and give it an overall name to encompass the general theme.
2009 was the Year of the Funky Wow (my name for God, along with Funkalicious Jiggy Snake, and a hundred others)
2008 was the Year of the Delena
2007 was the Year of Secrets, with its Season of Temporary Insanity, Invasion of the unFunk, the writing of the Funky Love Letter of Closure, the Inner Demon Tea Party and Imminent Fatal Gorge-Fest, the Multiversal Jiggy Snake and Funktastic Yayness, Delena of the Funkywild, and my return to How It Used To Be.
Getting seriously ill while carrying Lina pretty much lopped off my life at the knees, and I have yet to return to my inner me.
I think it's well past time, don't you?
And so I return to my great tradition of naming my years in their closing, and focusing on my desired theme and goals for the new year. This has nothing to do with resolutions. This is bigger than resolutions.
This is a r[E]volution.
At first, I admit I was tempted to name 2013 the Fucktastic Year of the Fucking Fuckall, but I realized that isn't it at all. And I refuse to name a year with anything less than total honesty. And if I am completely honest with myself, this was the Year of the Great Revelation.
I have walked through fire and learned so goddamn much that it isn't even fucking funny. I graduated from that thrice-cursed school and can now officially say I KNOW ALL THE PSYCHOLOGY! ('Kay, not really all of it, but dude.) And I came face to face with something I had never seen before. The darkest the human psyche has to offer. I may have blinked, and I might even have flinched.
But I fucking stood my ground, dammit.
And fuck if I didn't learn that I have a lot of self respect, goddammit, and I truly am one badass motherfucker.
And so thank you, 2013. You sucked fucking sweaty gorilla balls, but thank you for everything you taught me with all the mercy and gentle forgiveness of a wasabi and habanero enema. Fuck you, my friend. Fuck you.
And thank you.
But no, seriously, fuck you.
And now I usher in 2014, which I declare will be the year of no compromises, of kicking ass and taking names, of becoming the woman I have always wanted to be and never believed I could, of finally exercising my right to say no --and yes-- however I want, and turning on its collective fucking ear the conventional and toxic ways I used to define myself according to society's values...because Delena of the Motherfucking Funkywild is back, and she's breathing some serious fucking fire.
Namaste, motherfucker.
2009 was the Year of the Funky Wow (my name for God, along with Funkalicious Jiggy Snake, and a hundred others)
2008 was the Year of the Delena
2007 was the Year of Secrets, with its Season of Temporary Insanity, Invasion of the unFunk, the writing of the Funky Love Letter of Closure, the Inner Demon Tea Party and Imminent Fatal Gorge-Fest, the Multiversal Jiggy Snake and Funktastic Yayness, Delena of the Funkywild, and my return to How It Used To Be.
Getting seriously ill while carrying Lina pretty much lopped off my life at the knees, and I have yet to return to my inner me.
I think it's well past time, don't you?
And so I return to my great tradition of naming my years in their closing, and focusing on my desired theme and goals for the new year. This has nothing to do with resolutions. This is bigger than resolutions.
This is a r[E]volution.
At first, I admit I was tempted to name 2013 the Fucktastic Year of the Fucking Fuckall, but I realized that isn't it at all. And I refuse to name a year with anything less than total honesty. And if I am completely honest with myself, this was the Year of the Great Revelation.
I have walked through fire and learned so goddamn much that it isn't even fucking funny. I graduated from that thrice-cursed school and can now officially say I KNOW ALL THE PSYCHOLOGY! ('Kay, not really all of it, but dude.) And I came face to face with something I had never seen before. The darkest the human psyche has to offer. I may have blinked, and I might even have flinched.
But I fucking stood my ground, dammit.
And fuck if I didn't learn that I have a lot of self respect, goddammit, and I truly am one badass motherfucker.
And so thank you, 2013. You sucked fucking sweaty gorilla balls, but thank you for everything you taught me with all the mercy and gentle forgiveness of a wasabi and habanero enema. Fuck you, my friend. Fuck you.
And thank you.
But no, seriously, fuck you.
And now I usher in 2014, which I declare will be the year of no compromises, of kicking ass and taking names, of becoming the woman I have always wanted to be and never believed I could, of finally exercising my right to say no --and yes-- however I want, and turning on its collective fucking ear the conventional and toxic ways I used to define myself according to society's values...because Delena of the Motherfucking Funkywild is back, and she's breathing some serious fucking fire.
Namaste, motherfucker.
5.14.2012
huh
y'know, i used to post here daily.
when i thought about it, my first response was that maybe i just don't have as much to say as i used to. but immediately afterwards, i thought maybe it was simply that i'm not so self-absorbed as to think so many people would be interested in what i have to say. that probably makes a lot more sense.
the life isn't so chaotic, really. i still spend copious amounts of time at my computer, but it's devoted to classwork, and homework, and research. and when i'm not slaving to school, i'm reading articles on how to be a better writer, or making the rounds on other authors' blogs to try and build my presence online under my pen name.
i really miss blogging. i do. i kinda miss all the f-bombs i used to drop, too.
when i thought about it, my first response was that maybe i just don't have as much to say as i used to. but immediately afterwards, i thought maybe it was simply that i'm not so self-absorbed as to think so many people would be interested in what i have to say. that probably makes a lot more sense.
the life isn't so chaotic, really. i still spend copious amounts of time at my computer, but it's devoted to classwork, and homework, and research. and when i'm not slaving to school, i'm reading articles on how to be a better writer, or making the rounds on other authors' blogs to try and build my presence online under my pen name.
i really miss blogging. i do. i kinda miss all the f-bombs i used to drop, too.
4.30.2012
y'know...
...sometimes i get really tired of all the growth challenges, crucibles, and discovering more about myself. sometimes i just want what other people have: the good relationship, the smooth days, the utter non-event of more self discovery and self sacrifice.
sometimes i just want to be mundane. normal. dull, even.
sometimes i just want to be mundane. normal. dull, even.
4.22.2012
letter to my 16 year-old self
Dear 16 year-old me,
I got your letters. Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. I'm really not much of a letter writer, to be honest. Well, you know how it is: you think up all these really great things in your head, but getting them down onto paper with the intention of actually sending them to people just kind of makes it all seem really stupid and exposing.
I also know that you're craving advice and for someone to see you, and there's nobody there. Even as you tell yourself that's totally not it at all. I get it. I just wanted to share a few things with you that I wish someone had shared with me at your age.
1.) They Really Are Wrong. All those people --yes, all of them-- who seriously make you wonder if you're even worth the air you breathe, they're all full of it. Yeah, you're naive and they get a lot of things that you don't right now. Trust me, that's a strength. I know it doesn't seem like it right now. Being "out of it" is the worst in high school. But please believe me. You don't want to lower yourself as much as it'll take in order to be "in it."
2.) Don't Chase Him. Seriously. He's not worth it. None of them will be, and it'll be just a parade of wrecking balls on your self-esteem. You're a fantastic writer, and I promise you, you will be published some day. It'll happen so unexpectedly that you'll walk around in shock for weeks afterward. You're also a phenomenal singer and pianist. You have a very sharp brain between your ears. The world is yours for the taking. Please appreciate your talent. Do whatever you dream. He'll just get in the way. All of them.
3.) It Gets Better. All that stuff at home? You survive it. You're stronger than you know, and it's not your fault. You'll understand why, and you won't be confused. Instead, take the time to listen to your intuition; it will serve you well in the coming years once you learn how. Learn earlier and it'll save you a lot of time making up lost ground.
4.) Appreciate Your Allies. Your younger siblings are the strongest allies you have. Take more time to get to know and appreciate them. High school sucks, but the less time you wander around stuck in your own angst will be better spent savoring every moment you have with them. In a few short years you'll be in a place where years, decades, will go by in between visits with them, and the phone calls will turn to emails, and then to infrequent text messages. Savor the time you have to go down the hall and hug them any time you want.
5.) You're Stronger Than You Know. Know this.
6.) It's All Small Stuff. All that stuff you hate about high school? It's all small stuff. Don't sweat it. All those power games and popularity contests, the stupid teachers and feeling lost, it's all a rite of passage. Besides, it's not like you'll ever want to go to any of those lame reunions anyway, to preen and prove to all these people who never made a difference in your life that you're better than they are ten, fifteen, twenty years later. It's all the same drama and you're better than that. You know who your friends are. They're still around, and you love them. I know it's awkward at that age, and nobody gets your sense of humor except your strange family and your two closest friends. You're not a dork! You're off-beat and see things in unique ways. Guys will find this irresistibly hot in your late 20's and early 30's. But before you get all giddy, re-read #2 again for me.
7.) Forgive. All that stuff with your parents is tough, yeah. But I can promise you in ten years you'll gain a new understanding of the larger picture and just how hard and complex, and cruel, the world can be sometimes. When that happens, you'll work really hard to not only forgive, but to gain a friendship with your dad that you'll treasure.
8.) Keep Going. You aren't crazy. The rich world inside your head really is more vivid than the one you live in. That's okay, and never you mind what they say about it. All that time you spend inside your own head, with your own thoughts, is actually really great training for the insights and appreciation you'll have a bit later. Only maybe, if you learn to value it now, you'll save me about fifteen years of wrestling all that self-doubt. Call it enlightened self-interest from your 33 year-old self. =) Oh, and keep those awesome skirts and bell-bottoms. You might be the only one now, but that look comes back in a few years and I would kill to be able to find those fabrics again!
9.) Trust Your Instincts. I know, this one kind of goes along with learning to trust your intuition. But in a couple years, if you trust your intuition, you'll save both of us from a night of trauma that will leave its mark on us. And when you're just shy of your 31st birthday, it'll save you two years of desperation and misery when you do the wrong thing in your effort to do the right thing. Being a single mother is not so bad. And yes, you can do it.
10.) Never Lose Sight of the People Who Love You. You'll know who they are. The amazing thing is that they're everywhere. You will love them so much you will invent an entirely new family tree and graft it onto your existing one just to fit them all. There are some dark days coming ahead, but if you take my advice you'll avoid the worst of it. Giving the benefit of the doubt has never served you, and you know this already. People do show their worth by how they treat you, and it's not "rude" to stop letting them trample all over you. It's strong. If you disagree, see #5 again.
And even if you take all this and toss it to the four winds, that's okay, too. You will see us through, and we turned out just fine.
4.10.2012
zomg!
Okay, so I just got an email from a publishing company to which I had submitted a novelette about six months ago. Of course, I heard nothing back from them, so I figured it was rejected. Well, this email of theirs told me that it was a shame they hadn't received the contract they'd sent me, or heard of my acceptance to their offer. So I immediately emailed them to tell them I hadn't received anything. But I was in their accepted folder.
I might still have a contract. Cross your fingers. Pray for me. Anything.
And Mitch and Jane, I know you've been reading and commenting. Lately I've been trying to wind down and recover from that awful class, and then got hit with a cold. I'm better, and getting back to my old self. I just wanted to say I'm not ignoring you, and I've appreciated all of your encouragement and wisdom.
And GAH!!! PUBLISHING! I might finally, finally, realize my dream. Published author. Pray. I know I am.
EDIT: They accepted it! They loved it, were just as dismayed as I was that I'd never received my acceptance letter and contract, emailed me with a new one within an hour, and....yeah. I'm going to be published.
I might still have a contract. Cross your fingers. Pray for me. Anything.
And Mitch and Jane, I know you've been reading and commenting. Lately I've been trying to wind down and recover from that awful class, and then got hit with a cold. I'm better, and getting back to my old self. I just wanted to say I'm not ignoring you, and I've appreciated all of your encouragement and wisdom.
And GAH!!! PUBLISHING! I might finally, finally, realize my dream. Published author. Pray. I know I am.
EDIT: They accepted it! They loved it, were just as dismayed as I was that I'd never received my acceptance letter and contract, emailed me with a new one within an hour, and....yeah. I'm going to be published.
4.05.2012
maybe
maybe there's a light --finally-- at the end of this tunnel. last night i turned in my final assignment for my statistics class. right now i'm sitting at a 82.88%, pulled up from a 78.3% three weeks ago. there's still last week's grades and group project scores not entered, so i'm not out of the woods yet. but at least the oppressive stress and resulting physical depression are lifting.
ps. thost group projects? yeah, did both of them myself. turns out this most recent one last week is because, of all my group members, i was the only one left. everyone else had dropped out.
ps. thost group projects? yeah, did both of them myself. turns out this most recent one last week is because, of all my group members, i was the only one left. everyone else had dropped out.
3.23.2012
what's in a name
i was kinda tempted the other day to change this blog's name to "confessions of a raving bitch," but that's already taken, sadly.
i'm having one of those "knock shit over left and right all over the damn house" days. right after yesterday discovering that i've been working on the wrong chapter all week for my statistics class, so i've done absolutely FUCKINGZERO work that i actually should have been doing. and, of course, since it takes me all seven days of the week to barely squeak by with my homework, classwork, and tests by the skin of my teeth anyway, realizing that i have three days to do all that was too much. i almost submitted drop-out forms right there.
i'm so tired of feeling like such a failure of life itself. pretty much from the day morning sickness hit when i was pregnant with Little Owl, i've been falling short left and right. she's 18 mos now; that's a lot of falling short.
when my financial aid check finally came in, i bought a juicer and a whole ton of dr. schultze's products to begin the huge detox project i've been needing. by day 2, i felt a little better. today's day 3, and the radioactive cloud that was fogging up my brain is gone. numbers aren't twisting themselves around to look like other numbers as often (which is how i screwed myself into doing totally wrong homework in the first place), letters sometimes actually make sense when i read them, i have some energy to go out and run an errand or two, and yesterday i haven't needed (like desperately needed) a nap despite waking up three hours earlier than usual.
and last night i listened to my holosync soundtrack for the first time in over two years, fell asleep with absolutely no trouble, and actually relaxed a bit. my school nightmare isn't crippling like it was last night. it's still overwhelming and i don't feel confident that i'll be able to do anything at all, but at least i don't want to curl up into a ball, cry my eyeballs out, and completely give up. how come no one ever told me that trying to get my damn degree was going to make me feel like worthless shit every damn day?
i never even re-enrolled because i wanted to. i did it because i was tired of being the stupid, pointless member of the family. i did it because i was tired of, "you're so smart, why didn't you ever do anything with it?" i did it so i could get a stupidass piece of paper to show that i'm something. and because not having any degree at all meant that i was trapped forever in the most menial, meaningless, lowest-paying and rewardless jobs for the rest of my life, which was just another way of saying that i am without merit or worth without a degree, and i was tired of it.
but seriously, fucking seriously, all i want to do is finish my fucking novels and publish them. and there's no time left over after taking care of: homework, Little Owl, the house, and getting just enough sleep to keep me running. and believe me, i trim sleep around the edges so much every so often i realize that i've whittled it to nothing and need a few days of dear-God-please-i'm-just-human, curl-up-and-wish-the-ground-would-swallow-me-up sleep. then it's back to scrambling desperately trying to only fall a little short.
no time for living.
i'm having one of those "knock shit over left and right all over the damn house" days. right after yesterday discovering that i've been working on the wrong chapter all week for my statistics class, so i've done absolutely FUCKINGZERO work that i actually should have been doing. and, of course, since it takes me all seven days of the week to barely squeak by with my homework, classwork, and tests by the skin of my teeth anyway, realizing that i have three days to do all that was too much. i almost submitted drop-out forms right there.
i'm so tired of feeling like such a failure of life itself. pretty much from the day morning sickness hit when i was pregnant with Little Owl, i've been falling short left and right. she's 18 mos now; that's a lot of falling short.
when my financial aid check finally came in, i bought a juicer and a whole ton of dr. schultze's products to begin the huge detox project i've been needing. by day 2, i felt a little better. today's day 3, and the radioactive cloud that was fogging up my brain is gone. numbers aren't twisting themselves around to look like other numbers as often (which is how i screwed myself into doing totally wrong homework in the first place), letters sometimes actually make sense when i read them, i have some energy to go out and run an errand or two, and yesterday i haven't needed (like desperately needed) a nap despite waking up three hours earlier than usual.
and last night i listened to my holosync soundtrack for the first time in over two years, fell asleep with absolutely no trouble, and actually relaxed a bit. my school nightmare isn't crippling like it was last night. it's still overwhelming and i don't feel confident that i'll be able to do anything at all, but at least i don't want to curl up into a ball, cry my eyeballs out, and completely give up. how come no one ever told me that trying to get my damn degree was going to make me feel like worthless shit every damn day?
i never even re-enrolled because i wanted to. i did it because i was tired of being the stupid, pointless member of the family. i did it because i was tired of, "you're so smart, why didn't you ever do anything with it?" i did it so i could get a stupidass piece of paper to show that i'm something. and because not having any degree at all meant that i was trapped forever in the most menial, meaningless, lowest-paying and rewardless jobs for the rest of my life, which was just another way of saying that i am without merit or worth without a degree, and i was tired of it.
but seriously, fucking seriously, all i want to do is finish my fucking novels and publish them. and there's no time left over after taking care of: homework, Little Owl, the house, and getting just enough sleep to keep me running. and believe me, i trim sleep around the edges so much every so often i realize that i've whittled it to nothing and need a few days of dear-God-please-i'm-just-human, curl-up-and-wish-the-ground-would-swallow-me-up sleep. then it's back to scrambling desperately trying to only fall a little short.
no time for living.
3.18.2012
the one about hiroshima
yeah, that was me about a week and a half ago.
this class is killing me.
i called it my "emotional hiroshima." of course, this pic was perfect because --if you're so inclined-- you can see the clown face right in the mushroom cloud itself.
such absurdity in the face of something we take so seriously. that's probably how i should be looking at it. my life won't end if i fail this class. sure, i'll most likely be kicked out of school because of my crappy GPA, which means i'll be stuck with student loans and nothing to show for it, still amounting to nothing but a high school diploma in a family with nothing but multi-degree holders. hell, my baby sister's in her Master's program right now. and sure, it'll do a number on my self-image because let's face it, it's not like i'm really all that confident right now or feeling like i amount to anything worth counting. so far, i'm everything my parents drilled into me was beneath me. so maybe i'm pinning way too much on this class and my successful completing of it.
on the other hand, maybe i'm not?
mushroom cloud. bozo's face. sure, there might be nuclear winter, but at least the cloud's laughing, right?
3.11.2012
chewing cud d'frog
so i'm taking this statistics class, right?
yeah, it's kicking my ass with boots the size of the moon.
i feel like the hugest failure. i can't keep up in class. it eats up so much of my time that Little Owl is being deprived of attention. i'm short-tempered from being sleep-deprived, stressed-out, and living in this constant state of panic. if i fail this class, or even get a D and need to repeat it, i'm going to be kicked out of school because i've already had to repeat 2 classes.
it's eating me up. i hate it. i don't know what to do about it. i'm staring yet more failure in the fucking eye and it's winning.
yeah, it's kicking my ass with boots the size of the moon.
i feel like the hugest failure. i can't keep up in class. it eats up so much of my time that Little Owl is being deprived of attention. i'm short-tempered from being sleep-deprived, stressed-out, and living in this constant state of panic. if i fail this class, or even get a D and need to repeat it, i'm going to be kicked out of school because i've already had to repeat 2 classes.
it's eating me up. i hate it. i don't know what to do about it. i'm staring yet more failure in the fucking eye and it's winning.
3.04.2012
the iGoddess hatchling: the making of
it just occurred to me, just now, that maybe gestating the iGoddess hatchling took absolutely everything out of me emotionally and spiritually that was good is because, just like my fat stores and fluid and energy, her umbilical cord was also attached to my Funk because --as the most loved, anticipated, empowered, enlightened, cherished, magical child ever born-- she needed everything i had and more, because her own inner bonfire of juicyFunk is even more bombastic than mine will ever be?
i forgot we are triune beings: body, mind, and spirit. there i was, thinking i was just physically growing a child in me when i should have remembered she was connected --is still connected-- to my entire being?
as a pregnant woman needs to take supplements and pay attention to her calorie intake when she's pregnant and increase it to accommodate a fetus, i should have also been taking Funk supplements and increasing my own caloric Funk intake.
and i didn't.
3.02.2012
iGoddess II: The Search for Funk
lots of things going on. some are, for once in the history of iGoddess, not something i can freely write about here. i know, i know: this violates the sacrosanct idea that there are no secrets here on iGoddess, no suppression and no shame.
well, a practiced and well-versed Funkmaster knows that nothing is sacred. at some point in the future, i'll bring it all to light and laugh good-naturedly at my foolishness and endeavor to use it in some spontaneous bit of outrageously fantastic performance art.
in the meantime, tho...
the Funk and i are so far removed at the moment --and this moment has lasted a little over two years-- that i rather feel agnostic. there's been such silence for so long that i'm doubting my memories of Juicy Funk and the Jiggy Snake. did i hallucinate? was i mad? does it matter?
i said i'd be writing here more, and then i never came back. lots of stuff. more Burning Heaven to the Ground. and gestating the iGoddess Child became a spiritually wasting illness. it sapped so much out of me, my spirit is a dried husk.
more than one person's made the observation that the blazing bonfire that was Delena is now rather like a small mound of cold ash.
i don't want to be a barren wasteland of nonFunk. i don't like that i can't reach down into the depths of me and summon up a squeak --let alone a roar-- of juicyloamy, bombastic mindsplosions of gutteral passion. i don't like that there are no depths anymore at all. i've become a two-dimensional WYSIWYG.
so i'm coming back here, the closed circle, returning to the beginning. i've gotten out my bible, the televisionary oracle, as well as a few other books. i set up another supersecret blog to write about what cannot be written here, just so it has somewhere to go. and i'm going to plot my rejourney as i search out the Funk once again.
this land of grey agnostics sucks. i want Funk-gnostics instead.
[i also went back to my old URL because going back and editing all those links in three years' worth of blog posts was just too much of a pain in the ass.]
well, a practiced and well-versed Funkmaster knows that nothing is sacred. at some point in the future, i'll bring it all to light and laugh good-naturedly at my foolishness and endeavor to use it in some spontaneous bit of outrageously fantastic performance art.
in the meantime, tho...
the Funk and i are so far removed at the moment --and this moment has lasted a little over two years-- that i rather feel agnostic. there's been such silence for so long that i'm doubting my memories of Juicy Funk and the Jiggy Snake. did i hallucinate? was i mad? does it matter?
i said i'd be writing here more, and then i never came back. lots of stuff. more Burning Heaven to the Ground. and gestating the iGoddess Child became a spiritually wasting illness. it sapped so much out of me, my spirit is a dried husk.
more than one person's made the observation that the blazing bonfire that was Delena is now rather like a small mound of cold ash.
i don't want to be a barren wasteland of nonFunk. i don't like that i can't reach down into the depths of me and summon up a squeak --let alone a roar-- of juicyloamy, bombastic mindsplosions of gutteral passion. i don't like that there are no depths anymore at all. i've become a two-dimensional WYSIWYG.
so i'm coming back here, the closed circle, returning to the beginning. i've gotten out my bible, the televisionary oracle, as well as a few other books. i set up another supersecret blog to write about what cannot be written here, just so it has somewhere to go. and i'm going to plot my rejourney as i search out the Funk once again.
this land of grey agnostics sucks. i want Funk-gnostics instead.
[i also went back to my old URL because going back and editing all those links in three years' worth of blog posts was just too much of a pain in the ass.]
10.28.2011
i'm taking it back
in my quest to inject massive amounts of Funkalicious awesomeness back into my life and stage a r[E]volution in my own life, i've been throwing my own version of what boho mom calls a "feng shui tantrum."
i decided that in order to focus more on abundance and gratitude, i had to focus on what it was that i had so much of in my life that i could give it away with joy and love. you cannot give what you do not have, so rather than focus on the lack of things in my life, i'm focusing on what i have to give away.
in this, i've begun sorting through all of my possessions --and even Little Owl's-- and am parceling away 10% to give away. if i'm so lucky and fortunate and blessed to have more to give away, then give it away i shall. i've been going through my books, clothes, movies, baby clothes, toys, and even my time. i'm giving it away.
today i found a piece of paper hiding at the bottom of a huge bin of clothes i was sorting out. it goes to show just how long it's been since i truly went through the whole thing with more than just a cursory sift to find something i wanted. i've been sitting on a wealth of stuff! lucky me, i was able to give away half that bin. i'm excited!
but even more than that, i had to share this. it's beautiful, and i think it was just waiting for a reemergence at the right time. it was the proto-Temple, the place before the Menstrual Temple of the Funk Grail...
by the sacred power inherent in the very blood, bones, and breath of every Woman here, this is now sacred space. the ground beneath our feet holy ground. this is our place, the blessed womb of the goddess.
She of Ten Thousand Names stands with us, and each of us is Goddess. therefore begone all you insidious voices that poison our goddess hearts! begone the voices which laugh at us, which call us worthless and stupid. silence, you voices who whisper we are ugly, or fat, or lazy, or foolish! we shall not listen to your hateful lies one moment more, for we are Goddess! beautiful and wise and filled with the holy blood of woman, so that we shine as a beacon for our sisters who are lost in the darkness those voices create!
our circle is cast. that which glorifies not the sacred feminine shall not enter!
so the fuck mote it be!
this was written in 2002. i might've been trapped in a lot, but the proto-Temple was in my heart already.
it always was, i think.
i decided that in order to focus more on abundance and gratitude, i had to focus on what it was that i had so much of in my life that i could give it away with joy and love. you cannot give what you do not have, so rather than focus on the lack of things in my life, i'm focusing on what i have to give away.
in this, i've begun sorting through all of my possessions --and even Little Owl's-- and am parceling away 10% to give away. if i'm so lucky and fortunate and blessed to have more to give away, then give it away i shall. i've been going through my books, clothes, movies, baby clothes, toys, and even my time. i'm giving it away.
today i found a piece of paper hiding at the bottom of a huge bin of clothes i was sorting out. it goes to show just how long it's been since i truly went through the whole thing with more than just a cursory sift to find something i wanted. i've been sitting on a wealth of stuff! lucky me, i was able to give away half that bin. i'm excited!
but even more than that, i had to share this. it's beautiful, and i think it was just waiting for a reemergence at the right time. it was the proto-Temple, the place before the Menstrual Temple of the Funk Grail...
by the sacred power inherent in the very blood, bones, and breath of every Woman here, this is now sacred space. the ground beneath our feet holy ground. this is our place, the blessed womb of the goddess.
She of Ten Thousand Names stands with us, and each of us is Goddess. therefore begone all you insidious voices that poison our goddess hearts! begone the voices which laugh at us, which call us worthless and stupid. silence, you voices who whisper we are ugly, or fat, or lazy, or foolish! we shall not listen to your hateful lies one moment more, for we are Goddess! beautiful and wise and filled with the holy blood of woman, so that we shine as a beacon for our sisters who are lost in the darkness those voices create!
our circle is cast. that which glorifies not the sacred feminine shall not enter!
so the fuck mote it be!
this was written in 2002. i might've been trapped in a lot, but the proto-Temple was in my heart already.
it always was, i think.
10.21.2011
love thine enemy
when i sit down to do my pilates and yoga exercises every day, i rest my hands on my knees and close my eyes, take a deep breath, and just spend a minute in stillness.
it's a minute meditation, but it helps to keep me connected to my intuition. for that, for me, is where i hear God (God being, of course, my own intuition). and if i didn't spend that moment reminding myself to remain steadfastly in touch with my intuition, then i would soon forget what it's like to hear God when She speaks. the Divine Wow is always laughing, but sometimes that laughter is as soft as a fall breeze soughing through the treetops, or as gentle as the sweet breath of a sleeping baby.
if you're not careful, you can miss it. i know i do.
a lot.
so last week i was sitting, breathing, and saying hello to the Funkalicious Jive. i had just finished posting a comment in my latest class (Cognitive, Socioemotional, and Developmental Lifespan Psychology) and someone had tossed out an underhanded insult about my answer to a particular question from our professor. my answer was respectful, genteel, and --for those who know me, or have any edge to their social skills-- was mightily cutting. not the deep cut of a brutal insult, but the long and shallow kind that burns.
she really got under my skin. my satisfaction didn't outweigh my irritation at even being insulted like i was, so when i came to say my hellos to the Multiversal Jiggy Snake, my feathers were somewhat ruffled.
"i know, i know," i said. "we are all One, so insulting her is to insult myself. but really, she asked for it."
"now, you know that's not true," said the Funkalicious Jive.
"must you remind me? okay, i know. compassion would not have said what i said. we are all One, so i could have bowed and accepted her answer with love and understanding that she met my statements within her abilities and understanding. and i know you once said to love my enemies, but--"
*grin* "yes?"
"oh holy crap, really? REALLY? it's that simple?" i broke into a wide smile. "THAT is why we must love our enemies! because we are all One, and our enemy is ourself!"
"you got it, cupcake!"
it isn't that we should love our neighbor as ourselves in the sense that we should only treat them the way we want to be treated because "karma" might take it out of our hides one day in the future. this is not some philosophical exercise, but an exercise in physical truth. not that we shouldn't extend the consideration, gentleness, and compassion to others that we want to see in our own lives; we should. it only makes sense.
but no. it's deeper than that. it's not treat them like you'd treat yourself. We Are All One. we treat OURSELVES as we would treat ourselves!
the universe is all energy. we are that same energy condensed to a slow vibration. so is our enemy. that same energy. everything from the air we breathe to the phantasmagorically fantastic solar explosions of the smallest sun in the furthest corner of the wildest reaches of the universe. the rocks, the chair you're sitting in at your computer, the loving pet sitting at your feet, the bird that just flew right into your window.
everything.
there is no beginning, and there is no end. it is all energy along a spectrum. and all energy is merely the soul of God, encompassing the universe of which we are all a part. if you were to take all that energy and speed it up to the same vibration, there would be no differentiating between a human body and a dust mote. it is all the same. it is all One.
we are all One.
i can reach out and touch my lover, and i can feel the energy between us. it is the same energy. our souls mingle in that touch, our auras combine. we share that willingly. all interaction is an exchange of energy. all energy is soul of Goddess.
the soul houses and safeguards the body. we are the body: the body of the universe, the body of the Funkalicious Jive. and the body cannot be divided against itself. all parts work together in a cohesive whole.
we are all One.
i must treat my enemy as i would treat myself, for indeed, i am.
we are all One.
10.14.2011
for you, boho
my lovely, amazing, brilliant, creative, genuine ingenious bohippian Funkmaster...
i tried to leave you a comment, but blogger is a bitch and says that my response cannot exceed 4,096 characters. i know! the nerve! i thought that, too. sheesh.
so i thought i'd put it here. i mean, there was no way in hell i was going to break it up into two comments, or -gasp!- try to EDIT. hell no.
i love you.
--
I feel your pain, my Funkalicious Divamaster. I feel your sorrow, your despair, your confusion, your sense of responsibility overwhelming you.
My own Funkmobile's been sitting since I was 5mos pregnant. So I *get* it. And my bio-dad's been regularly sending me money, so I get *that*, too. I do.
I love you. I admire, respect, and celebrate you. You know I do. =) So this is all from a place of love and sisterhood from the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail.
You say, "Can we ever gain control of the circumstances that we face?" The answer is yes. You say you subscribe to "thoughts become things," yet still see some aspects of your life as happening *to* you. Remember: We Are All One. It is all One. It is not, "Some thoughts become things." It is, "Thoughts become things.
All of them. I have had to learn this, too. Now I have embraced my role and have changed it.
I'm not suggesting you're not taking responsibility for your life, and all that's in it. You are. Amazingly. Strongly. Confidently. Willingly. ...But not happily.
I know you're familiar with energy work. Our thoughts are part of the energy of the Universe; this is basic. Somewhere, as you focus so hard on hating poverty and resenting it and struggling with it, you are telling the Universe, "I struggle with poverty!" And the Universe says, "Yes! You do!" And since your focus is there, that must be what you want more of.
Sweetheart, you are swimming in abundance in so many, many ways. Begin with gratitude for them. You know what they are. They feed your soul, give you joy, bring you delight. They lift your spirits, give you a sense of freedom and success and pride. Great!
Begin there. If you're sick of poverty, realize it no longer serves you. Thank it for the lessons it has taught you about life, yourself, your creativity and ingenuity. Just bow and thank it for its lessons. Then, without even saying farewell (because you don't need to expend that energy on it), while still in the spirit of gratitude, turn toward those things you have in abundance.
See the abundance. Thank the Universe, the Goddess, the Great Multiversal Jiggy Snake, whoever you want to. Thank yourself, too, because you participated!
Focus on them. List them out if you must. Whatever works for you, do it. Then focus on that. Go about your life because you must, but don't put energy into it. Just do it, and trust your muscle memory. But focus on the gratitude and abundance. Start there.
It is better to give than to receive? Well, we cannot give what we do not have ourselves. And my dear, no matter what level of government-defined 'poverty' you've been at, if you look back at your life, there has always been money. When you needed it, there has always been enough. Somehow. You eat, you keep your hatchling fed, housed, clothed, and loved. Sure, it might be through help, but there is always money.
Trust that. In fact, your thoughts have made it so. You say, "We'll get by...somehow." Now those thoughts can be more formed, more disciplined. Know with confidence there is always money when you look. Because it's true! Keep that thought. Build upon it.
You have a car. You have transportation. These two thoughts are true. You keep the disconnect in your head because you say, "I can't drive my car," and the Universe says, "You're right! You can't!" Learn to meld your two truths together: you have a car, and you have transportation. You are able to get where you want to go. There is always money. You have tremendous abundance.
Keep the focus. Build it. And gratitude. Always gratitude. And joy. The Universe hears. "Before you have asked, I will have already answered." It just takes a little time because we are in the realm where energy moves at a slower vibration, and we exist inside of Time. It will take time, but just be grateful because you *know* it is already arriving.
Check yourself when you begin thinking, "GAH! It's taking forever to get here!" The Universe will hear and say, "You're right! It is taking forever!" and it will.
We are moving through time. Your abundant life is here, now. Your working, insured vehicle is also there. It exists. You are moving closer toward it through time. Simply Know it Is, already. Smile knowingly, feel gratitude for it, and focus on your abundance. There is always money. Your hatchling is always provided for.
And you, my lovely dear, are always going to be all right. =)
Because you are. And I am grateful. =)
i tried to leave you a comment, but blogger is a bitch and says that my response cannot exceed 4,096 characters. i know! the nerve! i thought that, too. sheesh.
so i thought i'd put it here. i mean, there was no way in hell i was going to break it up into two comments, or -gasp!- try to EDIT. hell no.
i love you.
--
I feel your pain, my Funkalicious Divamaster. I feel your sorrow, your despair, your confusion, your sense of responsibility overwhelming you.
My own Funkmobile's been sitting since I was 5mos pregnant. So I *get* it. And my bio-dad's been regularly sending me money, so I get *that*, too. I do.
I love you. I admire, respect, and celebrate you. You know I do. =) So this is all from a place of love and sisterhood from the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail.
You say, "Can we ever gain control of the circumstances that we face?" The answer is yes. You say you subscribe to "thoughts become things," yet still see some aspects of your life as happening *to* you. Remember: We Are All One. It is all One. It is not, "Some thoughts become things." It is, "Thoughts become things.
All of them. I have had to learn this, too. Now I have embraced my role and have changed it.
I'm not suggesting you're not taking responsibility for your life, and all that's in it. You are. Amazingly. Strongly. Confidently. Willingly. ...But not happily.
I know you're familiar with energy work. Our thoughts are part of the energy of the Universe; this is basic. Somewhere, as you focus so hard on hating poverty and resenting it and struggling with it, you are telling the Universe, "I struggle with poverty!" And the Universe says, "Yes! You do!" And since your focus is there, that must be what you want more of.
Sweetheart, you are swimming in abundance in so many, many ways. Begin with gratitude for them. You know what they are. They feed your soul, give you joy, bring you delight. They lift your spirits, give you a sense of freedom and success and pride. Great!
Begin there. If you're sick of poverty, realize it no longer serves you. Thank it for the lessons it has taught you about life, yourself, your creativity and ingenuity. Just bow and thank it for its lessons. Then, without even saying farewell (because you don't need to expend that energy on it), while still in the spirit of gratitude, turn toward those things you have in abundance.
See the abundance. Thank the Universe, the Goddess, the Great Multiversal Jiggy Snake, whoever you want to. Thank yourself, too, because you participated!
Focus on them. List them out if you must. Whatever works for you, do it. Then focus on that. Go about your life because you must, but don't put energy into it. Just do it, and trust your muscle memory. But focus on the gratitude and abundance. Start there.
It is better to give than to receive? Well, we cannot give what we do not have ourselves. And my dear, no matter what level of government-defined 'poverty' you've been at, if you look back at your life, there has always been money. When you needed it, there has always been enough. Somehow. You eat, you keep your hatchling fed, housed, clothed, and loved. Sure, it might be through help, but there is always money.
Trust that. In fact, your thoughts have made it so. You say, "We'll get by...somehow." Now those thoughts can be more formed, more disciplined. Know with confidence there is always money when you look. Because it's true! Keep that thought. Build upon it.
You have a car. You have transportation. These two thoughts are true. You keep the disconnect in your head because you say, "I can't drive my car," and the Universe says, "You're right! You can't!" Learn to meld your two truths together: you have a car, and you have transportation. You are able to get where you want to go. There is always money. You have tremendous abundance.
Keep the focus. Build it. And gratitude. Always gratitude. And joy. The Universe hears. "Before you have asked, I will have already answered." It just takes a little time because we are in the realm where energy moves at a slower vibration, and we exist inside of Time. It will take time, but just be grateful because you *know* it is already arriving.
Check yourself when you begin thinking, "GAH! It's taking forever to get here!" The Universe will hear and say, "You're right! It is taking forever!" and it will.
We are moving through time. Your abundant life is here, now. Your working, insured vehicle is also there. It exists. You are moving closer toward it through time. Simply Know it Is, already. Smile knowingly, feel gratitude for it, and focus on your abundance. There is always money. Your hatchling is always provided for.
And you, my lovely dear, are always going to be all right. =)
Because you are. And I am grateful. =)
10.13.2011
some new philosophy
lots been happening here.
lots.
i didn't forget this blog right after posting that i would be back. honest. i just had to find my groove.
i won't go into everything here in detail because that would be counterproductive. needless to say, my life felt like it was lopped off at the knees and i was dragging around bloody stumps for a long time. especially after i had been Delena of the Funkywild here for so long, it was a long way to fall.
i got over it.
the thing about being dedicated to the Funkywild and being an initiate in the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail, no matter how far the fall (or the illusion of falling), there is beauty in the barren and treasure in the trash. we learn from pain and pleasure, both. we poke fear in the eye and blow it a kiss. it might take a week to forget the Funkywild and nearly two years to muster the saucy daring to give fear that poke in the eye, but we do.
i'm also coming out here --lastly here, sadly, since once upon a time here would have been the first place this would have been announced-- about the eating disorder i've lived with for the past 18 years. i'm in the "eating disorder not otherwise specified" category, because i always fit neatly into my pre-assigned box.
but instead of denying it, i felt extremely embarrassed and overwhelmed, but it made sense to me. then i started taking responsibility for it and decided to change it. just coming clean about it and letting people know has added a lot of confidence. there's been a lot of support from a few very key people i know i can always talk to. and every day i make healthy choices, which in turn makes me want to make healthier choices the next day, and to continue my momentum. when i have to, i vent to people i know will not judge and will let me vent and then help put my head back on straight.
this, too, helps a lot. i think half my difficulty in this arena came simply because i pushed it all down in some tiny little black well inside of me.
it's all coming to light, baby. i am coming to Light.
my mission here on this planet is becoming clearer, and i'm getting a better sense of what i want to do. it's still vague, but rather than feeling frustration as i have this huge well of passion and excitement with no idea where to direct it, i know i want to live in a manner which brings the Funkalicious Jive to everyone in the world.
because we are all one.
We Are All One.
i said this to someone special today: "how silly we humans are, caught in bonds of our own making, placing arbitrary values on concepts of our own invention."
we are not the drama, but merely the players, and our costumes change as often as our minds. we are not the characters, we are the authors. our pain and rules and convention and propriety and money and minutes and deadlines and obstacles are as real as a stage magic trick; all illusion. we've assigned it meaning, and we can un-assign it meaning, or reassign, or substitute. power is as limitless as imagination, and we are the imagination of ourselves.
i sit and think about this and could almost burst apart with absolute joy. i share my truth and my self, and someone takes me by the hand and loves it so much they run with it. their enthusiasm takes me along with it, and together we feed that excitement of new exploration until the synergy has the infinite energy of perpetual motion and the gravity well draws us both together. and together we create. and in creating we become. and in becoming we create...
some new philosophy, indeed. i think i'll call it Love.
lots.
i didn't forget this blog right after posting that i would be back. honest. i just had to find my groove.
i won't go into everything here in detail because that would be counterproductive. needless to say, my life felt like it was lopped off at the knees and i was dragging around bloody stumps for a long time. especially after i had been Delena of the Funkywild here for so long, it was a long way to fall.
i got over it.
the thing about being dedicated to the Funkywild and being an initiate in the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail, no matter how far the fall (or the illusion of falling), there is beauty in the barren and treasure in the trash. we learn from pain and pleasure, both. we poke fear in the eye and blow it a kiss. it might take a week to forget the Funkywild and nearly two years to muster the saucy daring to give fear that poke in the eye, but we do.
i'm also coming out here --lastly here, sadly, since once upon a time here would have been the first place this would have been announced-- about the eating disorder i've lived with for the past 18 years. i'm in the "eating disorder not otherwise specified" category, because i always fit neatly into my pre-assigned box.
but instead of denying it, i felt extremely embarrassed and overwhelmed, but it made sense to me. then i started taking responsibility for it and decided to change it. just coming clean about it and letting people know has added a lot of confidence. there's been a lot of support from a few very key people i know i can always talk to. and every day i make healthy choices, which in turn makes me want to make healthier choices the next day, and to continue my momentum. when i have to, i vent to people i know will not judge and will let me vent and then help put my head back on straight.
this, too, helps a lot. i think half my difficulty in this arena came simply because i pushed it all down in some tiny little black well inside of me.
it's all coming to light, baby. i am coming to Light.
my mission here on this planet is becoming clearer, and i'm getting a better sense of what i want to do. it's still vague, but rather than feeling frustration as i have this huge well of passion and excitement with no idea where to direct it, i know i want to live in a manner which brings the Funkalicious Jive to everyone in the world.
because we are all one.
We Are All One.
i said this to someone special today: "how silly we humans are, caught in bonds of our own making, placing arbitrary values on concepts of our own invention."
we are not the drama, but merely the players, and our costumes change as often as our minds. we are not the characters, we are the authors. our pain and rules and convention and propriety and money and minutes and deadlines and obstacles are as real as a stage magic trick; all illusion. we've assigned it meaning, and we can un-assign it meaning, or reassign, or substitute. power is as limitless as imagination, and we are the imagination of ourselves.
i sit and think about this and could almost burst apart with absolute joy. i share my truth and my self, and someone takes me by the hand and loves it so much they run with it. their enthusiasm takes me along with it, and together we feed that excitement of new exploration until the synergy has the infinite energy of perpetual motion and the gravity well draws us both together. and together we create. and in creating we become. and in becoming we create...
some new philosophy, indeed. i think i'll call it Love.
5.09.2011
memories, dreams, and reflections
a while ago, i figured that this blog had seen its last and it was time to retire it. after all, i didn't have the time anymore to sit and listen to my subconscious and, really, to be quite honest i'd never seen nor heard hide nor hair of a baby in the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail.
not to mention i was planning on starting up a parenting blog, and i tend to drop the F-bomb on this blog quite often when it fits. when i'm in a pique, i tend to drop F-nuclear-bombs. sometimes five times in a sentence when i'm really on a roll.
and F-bombs are quite unbecoming of a crunchy, modern aboriginal mama.
however, i miss this blog. thank you, good-bye, end of story.
i.
miss.
this.
blog.
waitwait...
i.
miss.
this.
fucking.
blog.
so i'm bringing it back. i miss listening to myself. i miss my authentic self.
so it took me nine months to be reduced to physical survival. that'll happen when pregnancy nearly kills both you and the baby. fevers approaching 105 degrees, losing 35 pounds in a trimester because morning sickness decided to turn into life-threatening hyperemesis gravidarum, passing out in the kitchen, being too weak to form a sentence, emergency room visits every week. last time i had a baby, i died bringing him into the world.
a whopping ninety seconds of afterlife. gestating just doesn't agree with me. like orange juice right after brushing your teeth. or like my tia nena's baked beans.
so i can see where my heretofore rich inner life and practicing pronoia could get pushed to oblivion as i tried to just bring Little Owl to term. and then came being mama. i've been mama, diving headlong into babywearing, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, sewing diapers, learning how to do everything one-handed because Little Owl refuses to exist anywhere but on my hip as I go about housework.
i love being a mom. well, i love being Little Owl's mom. but i think i'm finally lifting my head back up to see the rest of my life in perspective. babybabybabybaby doesn't occupy my every thought, waking or sleeping, any longer.
i miss being me. i miss baking and singing and writing and visiting the Menstrual Temple. i miss my inner Funk, pronoia, and eating frogs. i miss kicking my Inner Flaming Narcissist right in the ass. i miss sneaking out at night, pomegranate priestesses, and going sacred cow-tipping. i miss brushing my hair, brezsny-on-the-blog, and mexican food.
so the blog is back. or, rather, i'm back on the blog. expect some redecorating here in the next few weeks, maybe. this place might no longer be called iGoddess, either. not sure. not that i'm not still an iGoddess --because i am-- but iGoddess has always been about memories, dreams, and reflections. (thank you, Jung, my hero)
welcome.
welcome to weirdness, dreams, questions, observations, and F-bombs.
welcome.
not to mention i was planning on starting up a parenting blog, and i tend to drop the F-bomb on this blog quite often when it fits. when i'm in a pique, i tend to drop F-nuclear-bombs. sometimes five times in a sentence when i'm really on a roll.
and F-bombs are quite unbecoming of a crunchy, modern aboriginal mama.
however, i miss this blog. thank you, good-bye, end of story.
i.
miss.
this.
blog.
waitwait...
i.
miss.
this.
fucking.
blog.
so i'm bringing it back. i miss listening to myself. i miss my authentic self.
so it took me nine months to be reduced to physical survival. that'll happen when pregnancy nearly kills both you and the baby. fevers approaching 105 degrees, losing 35 pounds in a trimester because morning sickness decided to turn into life-threatening hyperemesis gravidarum, passing out in the kitchen, being too weak to form a sentence, emergency room visits every week. last time i had a baby, i died bringing him into the world.
a whopping ninety seconds of afterlife. gestating just doesn't agree with me. like orange juice right after brushing your teeth. or like my tia nena's baked beans.
so i can see where my heretofore rich inner life and practicing pronoia could get pushed to oblivion as i tried to just bring Little Owl to term. and then came being mama. i've been mama, diving headlong into babywearing, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, sewing diapers, learning how to do everything one-handed because Little Owl refuses to exist anywhere but on my hip as I go about housework.
i love being a mom. well, i love being Little Owl's mom. but i think i'm finally lifting my head back up to see the rest of my life in perspective. babybabybabybaby doesn't occupy my every thought, waking or sleeping, any longer.
i miss being me. i miss baking and singing and writing and visiting the Menstrual Temple. i miss my inner Funk, pronoia, and eating frogs. i miss kicking my Inner Flaming Narcissist right in the ass. i miss sneaking out at night, pomegranate priestesses, and going sacred cow-tipping. i miss brushing my hair, brezsny-on-the-blog, and mexican food.
so the blog is back. or, rather, i'm back on the blog. expect some redecorating here in the next few weeks, maybe. this place might no longer be called iGoddess, either. not sure. not that i'm not still an iGoddess --because i am-- but iGoddess has always been about memories, dreams, and reflections. (thank you, Jung, my hero)
welcome.
welcome to weirdness, dreams, questions, observations, and F-bombs.
welcome.
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