when I focus on the shortcomings
all I see
I seek out what I like,
that what likes me comes back.
Byron Katie = amazing.
pixie dust was sprinkled
and then she hands you the jar.
I sprinkle my toes
so I have some wherever I go.
amid the ferns
side by side.
on a tree lined balcony
the city spread out beneath
with the white Persian cat weaving between my ankles.
The coffee is hot
and the cinnamon still swirling.
I am looking off into the clouds
and feel the mist
from the leaves
from the depths
from the forest floor
so far away
so far away
the newspapers will arrive
and I will have some such thing
want to read to me about how the day was done
I already know
because I wrote it.
in the octtage,
the walls speak.
clearer thoughts coming together.
today I saw the white cat about my ankles
crossing from left to right in the mirror of my dressing room.
when I looked down, she was gone.
the persian princess had been smiling.
uncertain about where to be one thing vs another in my world of boxes,
I muddle things up and can not keep them straight everytime.
A lesson which finally resonated enough to stick was that it is the practice and not exactly making it to the finish that counts the most.
Perhaps I knew this as the medals held no triumph for me.
for some reason,
on a new trail
with a different band of women
mist still hanging in the sky
awaiting bright dawn light
I heard it again and it struck.
is where the perfect is found
the other way around.
I must articulate myself wisely.
reading a book by Jean Shinoda Bolen
daydreams about visits to greece
research of history vs. mythology
aching to touch maps and follow the lines of streams
It feels good to have a daydream.
The good is in the practice.
Also, had an idea for a short.
The tale of Artemis, the twin of Apollo
being withheld from her father until it was safe to meet him
and amused he asked her what she wished:
A bow and arrows,
and to find them herself.
Nymphs to follow her
and to find them herself.
Hounds to protect her
and to find them herself.
And the perfect woods, streams, meadows...
and to find them herself.
Laughing, the delighted God granted her this
and off she went.
The hunt for each item as exciting as the item itself
and lost in creating her own world she was.
I always thought it was him,
it very well may be me.
Took a day off from writing, etc, due to a bad food experience and yes, found how easy it is to rack up another excuse. Didn't walk for 2 days, feel awful. Boo.
Going back to thoughts on being media free for awhile again... there is just so much noise coming in and not enough concentration on me.
Delving into what is authentic
is it ok to live in denial for a huge section?
I know the answer as I write this...
yet why do I shy away from truth?
would I council anyone else to live like this?
Stuck in crud. Of my own design.
for 30 years now...
I am not what I expected to be. ..
upon further investigation it turns out I just don't want to work hard for it.
That is ok if I was willing to settle but since I am not, I am my own royal pain.
So, enter meditation and walking and enforced writing. ..
enter ideas of being in that tiny house by the sea (I can hear the waves crashing even if the train rumbles close by & my neighbors wear underoos in the daytime. Big whoop).
or maybe the mountain one is right for me.
tap, tap, tap go the fingers on the keys
coffee and cinnamon please
some swirly skirts
a beaded arm
early mornings on the beach
the bite on a juicy peach
and more blah.
why didn't this publish on time?
dunno, just keep going.
Renewed interest in eatoeating raw.
reading about 5 books at a time:
women's quests in mid-life
saving the family cottage
men are from Mars, women are from Venus
Mary Oliver haunts me,
as does Jean Shinoda Bolen.
Thinking up what I would do if I could do anything... start that leucadia beach circle on Sunday eve
do I really want to be there every Sunday eve?
Seeking a partner in crime for shenanigans...
looking forward to champagne, Dirty martinis, and that freaking mango margarita.
Salt lamp, check.
meditation up to 5 minutes
cracked my self out of bed this am reluctantly however always so glad to go out.
love the cloudy skies, marine layer, fog.
too much sun for me!
23 years ago I had a baby.
Here I am again.
I understand a reason why I am unable to fully live this life and
that many others have known this all along.
Dressing it up,
engaging in diversions
even quite intricate
don't change much.
coloring the glasses.
When the mind is made up
it is made up
even if there is dress up.
because I love dress up.
I had an inkling.
And it rages.
I am good at closing doors
and walking down other hallways.
That its good news.
I cooked a new meal, sweet orzo salad w/feta & carnelized peaches. It was from Hello Fresh, a food prep delivery service. I really like the idea if this thing however all organic coves would be key. Their packaging is far better than the competitor Blue Apron. Regardless, I realized I like orzo lots However the peaches were sort of odd and I am not a fan of cucumber either. I'll toss the recipe but retain the interest in pursuing orzo.
Mailed package to Balin, Happy Birthday! 23, holy crap. What was I doing 23 what's ago? Better yet, what was I doing 24 years ago? yikes. Getting older is...interesting...
Got further in on my story idea.
General gist its down with some motivations still need to bete worked out. Not to bad.
Got re-interested in a writing group.
Reading a book about women's circles... Perhaps there is a connection?
Trouble waking up to walk because of late bedtime. Love dawn. Must get up. Boo.
That's the news i'm willing to blab...
Perhaps because I have always had those things that I needed to do
and now I have time.
Time when I thought I would be finally able to get my own thing done
and I am frozen.
I think in prose
dream about painting
see myself writing songs
imagine the dresses and beads and braids
I don't challenge the status quo
yet I allow myself to be dreary because of it
the great "it"
whatever it is.
and on and on and on and on and on.
I have many things bursting to be said yet
the topic is too much of a challenge to handle
i can not manage how my audience would hear it
and I don't believe myself strong enough to care
so, I sit.
and I do the dishes
and I get fat
and I allow it.
All the news talks of doomsday
and I wait for it
under that type of duress
my skkills would shine.
I live the life that people die for
that people are dying for
ocean crashing a deep blue
Sometimes what is missing
is the nature right in front of me.
Am I going to live this close to the great Pacific ocean forever?
most likely no.
so, more visits are in order.
Plan to be spontaneous
and go Sundays & Wednesday afternoon/evenings
And swim with the fishies.
Yeah, I realize, after reading this over, that I am a very big waste of space.
Time to figure out what for!
Is there anything about me
That makes me Me?
Where do my fabrications end
And my truth begin?
All people can be all things
Proving to myself
Being for the world
Mother vs. Wife
Husband vs. Son
Set about a writing schedule
And GET ON IT ALREADY!
In all cases, when I see something that I find aggravating, I can find the same issues within my own practice.
It is a pain having to always watch myself. To always be checking to see if I am screwing up somehow. Then, I turned 40 and said so what? That was liberating.
Now, I am backtracking a bit to see where I did things that I wanted to do by choice rather than by situational outcomes that just sort of "happened." Ugh. Do I need to do this? No. So, why am I?
Why not just dance and sing and admire the flowers all day long?
Somewhere inside me the same issues keep coming back up and I would like to unpack the baggage and look at it one last time before tossing it overboard. Some bags are already gone. What bags? Some things... double ugh.
I pretty much have an answer for everything.
Perhaps this is why I am annoying. There are many reasons, I am sure, and I don't really care much anymore.
I just would like to talk to someone aside from my own wayward self sometimes. And it is crickets in my home... Crickets.
Well, working on it.
This book I am reading now "Carry On Warrior, Thoughts On Life Unarmed" has far too many sections with undeniuably resonate with me. Ugh. (how many uggghs is that?)
I highly recommend reading.
Dear Future Me: keep reading.
There is a school of thought out here in southern Californis that your thoughts can remap your mind. That there are no bad days. Awesome.
Yet, what about when there are?
Well, in walks Byron Katie to show the unschooled how to really and truly believe what is true..
However, what is left are all the disjointed thoughts that are not proven to be true yet still magnetized by some brain activity - perhaps the subconsciousness - and when can one draw the line at who they are if it isn't what one thinks?
Turned around and upside down yet... does it really even matter?
Today, a good day.
One cloud took a detached look at my ideas on who these boys of mine are and my parenting, so very different, of each one.
One cloud wondered what else I needed to DO for them. This one had an emphatic tone. I found myself struggling. Then, I watched the cloud pass by. I believe I had to allow it to pass or I would have spent hours dwelling, fliking up dream space with chatter.
Pass along, clouds. How varied you are. How you turn from whimsy to tricky back to just thin air.
Sometimes the clouds gather to rain.
I love rain.
So the day doors indeed go a bit better when tasks are done first, or early, and checked off.
Also, I do so like organization and expect to try a paper weekly calendar upon arrival home.
Feeling better about the plank and meditation and man do I love the walk...especially here in nyc, however time for myself is lacking even with a task list/goal.
I am getting a plan together for when my little friend goes back to school.
All in all, progress, and nothing bad or especially hard. Yay.
I did accomplish all tasks yesterday as my day 1 and there were parts of it that sucked. As in, no ideas I had to write about ended up, when finally sitting down to write them, passing the internal "is it good enough" test.
This is a thing.
Something to get over.
A hurdle like this is practice as it comes up again and again.
Each time will be practice.
Time to meditate.
Ugh & om.
I am giving myself a test.
For the remainder of 2015 in order to get my head and heart on the same page, to further and more specifically define my goals and to find out about exactly where I want to go and what I need to do to get there I committ to the tasks below.
Every day until December 31, 2015 I will:
Write for at least 30 minutes.
Plank, stretch, squat.
Brisk walk or run.
I also committ to:
Write and send out at least one gratitude letter each week.
Cook a new meal at least once a week.
I committ to documenting this here.