New Pet

I have a new pet project--Winter Holidays!!  I am preparing for the Winter Solstice, for being visited by dear friends from halfway around the earth, and for Christmas.  I and my space must move some excess.  I have gained several pounds as a late-thirties present to myself.  I've had enough fun with it and I'm passing it along.  Rather than feast with friends or family, I intend to conduct a juice fast.  I'm charging up my camera so I can take before and after pics of myself and my space.

Believe it or not, I am pulling on some online resources for planning a wedding, have a dedicated calendar/project management notebook, a budget, and I'm working on a timeline.  I'm also starting to declutter while I do my planning.  Basically, I'm getting a home Christmas wedding together in the space of about 15 days.  Woo Hoo!!  I've never felt so alive!!!

 

The Lifehouse Keeper

Back when I was little, my friends and I might say during a game of pretend, "I'm her."  We might even get in an argument about who gets to be whichever coveted persona "her" was.  I just now got an image of myself as a lighthouse keeper, and joined in with my inner seven-year-old and said with her in unison "I'm her."  Then we laughed out loud and coined the title "Lifehouse Keeper."

"Ooooh, good one," one of us said to the other.

What's so cool about a lifehouse keeper?

It's an important job.  The people we are here to serve get to range far and venture big because they know that if they get anywhere near our place, they will be able to make it in safely.  We get to spend most of our time in solitude.  We have company many weekends, but not all the time.  We get to love the fact that we are not the only lifehouse in the world, and let that notion go.  We get to travel without leaving home if we want to, and going away for a bit is also a cinch.  It's also more of a sacred office than a position, just as any "being yourself" modality is.  In any case, it's the only "me" we can be, so we say, "I'm her!"   

French Women Have Nice Rooms

It's a fact.  Do your own research.  You'll see. 

November 6, 2011

I woke up this morning, opened my laptop as usual to check and see how my blog post was sitting with the wide world, and couldn't find it anywhere.  "Oh," I thought, "maybe I forgot to cross-post, or maybe I wrote it only on the NaBloPoMo site."  Nope.  The blog-post gnomes made off with it in the night.  Oh well. 

I had written about moving a 5,000 pound granite orb with one hand at the Museum of Natural Science.  I had written about black holes and white holes and the worm holes connecting them, which I pseudo-learned about in the planetarium (really glad there wasn't a quiz after because most of that zshoomed over my head).  Ooooh--that's it!  It got sucked into a black hole!!

Oh,Thank the Damn Universe!

I am now a conspiracy theorist.  The Universe, I swear to pete, is conspiring on my behalf that every teeny tiny little event and every big f***ing deal works together with all the other stuff that I don't even notice, to land me square in the lap of luxury.  Yeah, I said it--luxury.  Silk pajamas and caviar sandwiches?  Better.  See, I am almost totally unemployed right now, in a paycheck way, I mean.  And as such, i tend to feel a bit on the worthless side.  I'm dependent.  The word "dependent" makes me think about Depends undergarments.  Although i know that loss of bladder control is neither here nor there, what the hell does it matter...I have it hardwired somewhere in my brain that "dependent" is both dangerous and also somehow all I can ever hope for.  Not a comfortable feeling to feel, well...f***ed.  What was I saying about luxury?  That Life itself conspires on my behalf to help me notice how exactly how I can slip into the space of welcome and nurture. 

Get Off My Case!!!!

The comparison game sucks the devil's ass, and that's what I've been up to every day since I can remember.  It feels dangerous, in fact, to give myself permission to just be exactly as I am.  I just got an up-close inspection of they way I have tended to talk to myself.  Not purty. 

I've moved up a coupla notches on my priority list.  No one on earth counts on me more for kindness and fairness.   

French Women Do Get Hypnosis

In the past couple of days I have come to get an inkling of a mechanism in me that loves to suffer, can't get enough suffering, and works tirelessly to bring about further suffering.  For me, it manifests mostly as anxiety.  I used to have a huge sorrow, but now it's mostly guilt/shame and obsessive worrying.  I don't think I have ever been honest about that before.  It's just not a very flattering condition to admit to for me.  I've had some fantasy that I'm more spiritual than that, that my faith is in better shape than that, but its not. 

I've been dabbling into the work of Paul McKenna, a hypnotherapist from the UK.  Today on MeTube, I watched him work with a woman who had OCD.  The woman came to recognize that her obsessive cleaning would render her all alone in life, and she had to get more scared of alienating everyone and being all alone than she was of catching her death of cooties from allowing people in her home.  She went time and again into victim thinking, that people were being too hard on her and asking too much of a sick woman.  She finally either faked it to get off the hot seat, or actually started doing the excercises.  Paul had her following a rigid schedule of self-nurture to trick her brain into changing obsessions, getting her in better shape by loving on herself a bit, and getting her out of the rigid coping-with-fear pattern. My obsession is not with keeping it clean, but rather with keeping it numb and manageable.  I am becoming more afraid of what using will do to me in short order and more horrified with what it has already done than with what I might have to experience if mind-altering substance is refused altogether.  Probably a rigid schedule of feel-good excercises would be in order for me as well. 

 

da month--no 1

It's so easy to say "endure"
It's another matter entirely to influence another being in the way of endurance...I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Transcendence is allegedly the goodies reaped from endurance.
wisdom--the fun part
free will --what we thought we were acting under this whole time, but apparently not.
presence--do you kiss your mom with that mouth?
Intelligence?--okay, "uncle".