tonight my soul has been pricked.
for years i have avoided the whole “writing business” business. i’ve written loads of poetry, several kid’s books, and started a great many other works that i have not yet finished. but the process of trying to pitch myself is somewhat overwhelming, and i give up before i begin.
i think it’s the daunting pressure of greatness hovering over my ego that does me in. i worry that i won’t be taken seriously. that my work will not be good enough. i worry that i am not great.
not everyone is going to be great. i know that is not the whole of the writing world. but i feel i have a story for someone, somewhere, that will move them to tears, or quicken them to action, or spur them into a new way of being. i feel i have something magical for someone, some magic boost of energy or hidden weapon they need, and i worry that i will fail to shine the light in the right direction. my world – inside my mind – is full of mystery, magic, shimmering life, and impossible realities, and i worry that there is no way i can possibly translate what my experience is to another through a measly work of fiction. words fail me, and i cannot always paint the picture i wish to share.
but then i remember. not everyone is great. not every writer is brilliant. but the STORY may still be brilliant. with all my short comings, insecurities and procrastinating tendencies, i am just a tool the story uses to make itself known to the world. and so i tell myself:
less ego…more writing.
or Why I Must Never Be Angry
There are several emotional states that are universally known to man, regardless of race, religion, education or overdue fines from the library; Fear and Anger are just two of them. But today proves to me why I have a longstanding Fear of becoming Angry.
I started off this morning in a testy sort of way. I had a weird dream last night, that involved a lot of running from people, hiding, trying to avoid being initiated into the sex-slave-trade business, and breaking through windows to escape from crazy men. Clearly, waking up I was a little off my center, and slightly touchy all morning. When I got to work I was sort of in a panic state, with my heart beating hard, my breathing exaggerated and difficult, and sort of shaky. Not just because of the dream, but because I actually HAVE done a lot of running, hiding, and avoiding in my life, and be reminded in my sleep is not a ton of fun.
I told my co-worker I was grumpy. She nonchalantly smiled at me and said, “OK”. Whew. One down, 700 more to go. Cause it being a Saturday, I was fairly likely to encounter that approximate number of people in the next six hours. Right away my foul mood seemed to impact my environment. My other co-workers said it had been fairly slow all morning, however as soon as I clocked in things starting going haywire. Lines of people came out of nowhere, strange requests popped up having to do with people losing their pants, and suddenly I was re-reminded that it was in the Full Moon bracket (two days either side of the full, and the full, and sometimes I throw in a few extra days when lingering effects still persist). Then one of our computers froze.
“This is your doing”, was sort of the message I got from my boss. I couldn’t deny it, really. I have been known to set car alarms off just from walking by. I stood next to a computer one day minding my own business, and it hopped off it’s ledge and started smoking when it hit the countertop. When I’m in a good mood things can go really smoothly; all the lights suddenly turn green when I’m driving along the road; my sports teams win as long as I cheer them on. Of course, if I have to go to the bathroom they will suddenly throw an interception, but when my mood is high, I seem to be able to impact things around me. And the reverse is true as well.
Which is why I tried very hard to never be angry. People will tell me that anger is just an emotion, and it doesn’t matter if I’m angry, because everyone is at some point. But they haven’t seen the things that happen when I’m in a bad mood;
like things breaking for no reason all around me, or clocks and computers seizing up, or … well, today, when all hell breaks loose as soon as I come to work. So yeah, my big Fear is my Anger; I’m kind of afraid of being some sort of a Stephen King novel,
or horror movie character. I’m like, “don’t make me angry…you wouldn’t like me when i’m angry”
what if this life isn’t what i think it is? what if it IS more like a Twilight Zone than people want to believe? what if it is just a scripted experiment, and i’m just a body running the maze, with an already decided outcome and a short time in which to determine the path i choose. which may lead to the same outcome the other path leads to.
so why am i stalling? why am i afraid of my own power? my own magic? my own voice?
time to live like this crazy life might actually change itself around my actions. time to live like i’m in a dystopian novel, but I’M the writer of the ending.
time to fully be me, and let all of the magic strands of me do what they will…
to be continued…
on me and call the FBI to apprehend those in my household ~ this was a Polar Bear nose. Of the Stuffenad Animaleus genus. I made a display at work that was meant to encourage volunteerism; stuff like joining Habitat for Humanity, or World Wildlife Fund, or the Nature Conservancy. That kind of thing. We have all kinds of books on volunteer vacations and I thought it would make a good display, so up went all the endangered toys: leopards, wolves, and polar bears. I put up a few super heroes and tried to imply that you would gain massive mystical abilities by serving your community. I’m pretty sure no one was fooled by this chicanery. While preparing at home for the display, the nose popped off the polar bear, so I just had the mamma bear cleaning the baby bear at work, and no one was the wiser.
Except my sister, when she found what she thought was a random dog nose laying around the house. Now I know there are people in the world who would just say to themselves, “dang it, my kid broke another toy” or “ackk, the vacuum will NOT like THIS”. And yes, these things are logical responses.
But having a life full of wonder involves re-thinking your typical responses. Yes I can just pick up the nose and throw it away, or put it and the broken bear in a bag to give to a charity, or set it aside to mend. But life is so much more magical when I take a moment to reflect, and look at the nose on the carpet and ask myself: what kind of boogers would come out of a carpet’s nose?
driving in to work today was sort of like being delirious. i’m not the biggest fan of winter, cold weather, or freezing my toes and/or nipples off. i’m a Southern California kind of girl, and still think of winter as something rainy and foggy, with an added inconvenience of sweatshirts and actually having to wear socks for a change.
last night was the first snow of the year, and it DUMPED on us. (pictures coming later this evening) we must have gotten six inches or so, and despite the reality of this snow coming with COLD, it was quite beautiful this morning.
the trees lining the road were all dripping with white, little leaves or berries poking their heads out of the mush. familiar, mundane streets sparkled in the sun covered in a dusting of diamonds. and the Michigan sky – usually a flat blanket of grey overcast – was a bright cheery blue, making me forget that winter is evil, and almost convincing me that this season has some value and merit.
of course, we’ll see how i feel in february…
but for now, it’s beautiful.
The sky darkened above me today, while I walked my walk through the streets. Clouds filled up like pregnant ladies and burst their bundles all over me, soaking me from head to toe.
I don’t mind. Walking through town in this rain is interesting, though. Streets normally full of traffic-rushing and lunch-getting are quiet and calm in the rain. Looking down the street there should be hundreds of cars headed my way, but instead there is a vast expanse of shiny asphalt, reflecting back lights and shimmering like a magical path in a fairy tale.
I smell toast as I pass the houses and cars; and coffee, and also some bagels wanting some cream cheese. I smell the delicious scent of earth and dirt, as I meander through Poncho Park. There is something sweet here – perhaps a sugary treat dropped by a child – dancing next to aromas of cigarettes and exhaust fumes. Warm concrete wet with new rain, and the touch of moist grass to top off the mixture.
I heard recently that the sense of smell is the weakest sense in humans. There are times (i/e: when working with the public) that I would appreciate a weaker smeller a great deal. I, however, have super smell, and can often identify a brand of perfume just from walking into a building, or the smell of an egg salad sandwich eaten six hours ago, but somehow still lingering about the lunchor.
This super power allows me to enjoy a million little things that go unnoticed by others: someone lighting a candle on a rainy day, perhaps to sit and read a good book by; the fresh laundry smell that squeezes through the house and brushes my nose with its clean, happy scent; and the smell of life, which seems to be toast and coffee for me – scents that say it’s time to get up and start another day. Live. Be alive. Go make something of this day.
“Tick-Tockery” is one of my favorite words.
Years upon years ago I read Gregory Maguire’s engrossing book “Wicked” and fell madly in love with the character Alphaba. This book was one of the few that imprinted itself so strongly on my being, I came away thinking of the world, looking at the world in a different way. It’s like the book gave me a whole new sense to work with – a seventh sense, since I already have a pretty good sixth sense – or opened a door in me that showed me how to travel to different realities. When the book was turned into a musical, my sister and I went with a dear friend, and it was extraordinary. If possible, maybe even better than the book.
The stage was set with lovely designs that incorporated many of the ideas in the book. If you hadn’t read the book you might not know why the hell there was a huge clock on the stage, but the set pieces all had meaning and charm to me. And there were these lovely clockworks and gears, and I called them “Tick-Tockery”. I said, “oooo, look at all the Tick-Tockery they have!”
Since then this word has come to mean:
Yummmm…I love it all…
today at work it’s a zoo. literally. there are animals from the zoo here, and a man who makes gourmet popcorn, and right in front of me, a magician!
the good thing is: he’s very entertaining. kids are howling with laughter. clapping rings through the halls. howling and laughter and merriment.
the bummer is: i can’t see him! i’m out in the hall manning a station and i can HEAR him but not actually SEE him. but really it’s kind of fun, this way i can just IMAGINE all the magical wonderness that is happening.
and since that’s mostly what i do with my life anyway, i couldn’t be happier.
Not always easy being me.
People don’t always get me.
Even my own people.
There’s something about me –
something magic –
That makes kitties want to sit on my
lap for a massage
That makes my team score when I cheer
and lose the game if I leave to go pee.
Something that makes the camel in the
zoo laugh at me and come closer to be
And I can’t change that.
I don’t want to.
Yeah, I’m my father’s daughter.
Yeah, I’m prone to fantasy thinking
and teetering on the border of
reality and insanity.
Yes – I jump in the pool and may
actually drown before I can swim
my way to the oasis.
But this is who I am.
Balls to the wall.
Heart on my sleeve.
Eyes in the sky.
I’m a believer
and a magician
and a lover
I can’t be all that and rational too.
My sister and I love movies and TV. Say what you will about the power of television and its ability to turns brains to mush; we find this form of entertainment magical. Watching a TV show like LOST, Fringe or Survivor often leads us into lengthy, interesting discussions. We get mad and yell at competitors, comment on how cute Jeff Probst is, then sit and analyze the sociological behaviors of the players and wonder how we would fare in the game of Survivor. Would we turn catty and evil, and backstab those we built alliances with? Would we try to fly under the radar, or be so obnoxious that we got booted off the island first? Would we be able to braid our underarm hair by the time we got home?
Movies are good for our brains as well. It doesn’t seem to matter what the genre is or what era the movie is from, we continually discover new information about ourselves and our world, and often find nuggets of spiritual challenge, growth or revelation. Not to mention the fun of movies. The fantasy. The magic.
One day our friend offered to lend us a movie they’d rented. Cool. Who doesn’t love freebies. We just had to be sure to get it back in time, and drop it off at the right rental store. No problem. The movie runs, we are engrossed, time flies. Maybe we forgot what time the place closed. Maybe we started the show too late. Maybe the movie was so amazingly eye-opening that we had a four hour discussion about life, and vowed to advance our spirituality and karmic levels immediately. I don’t recall, but suddenly it was very obvious that we had to get this movie back to its rightful home, and do it NOW.
Pressure situations aren’t always a great time for us. We get tense, snappy, defensive and worried. We don’t always like to be rushed, or pushed, or nudged. We don’t like to be hurried. Hurrying makes us forget things, like bottled water that I will need two minutes after starting the car out of the driveway. Or glossy lip balm, because my lips might feel chapped, or I might find a cute stranger that looks like he has something on his face that needs to be cleaned. With my tongue. So supple lips are important. I hate being rushed. I never want to be ill prepared for a potential spontaneous make-out session. But this day was different. This day our magical television training paid off.
As we headed down the road and started to break the speed limit, I said we should pretend we were driving Wonder Woman’s invisible airplane. No one could see her plane, right? It’s invisible. She can go as fast as she wants, and all anyone will really know is that a woman in a star spangled bathing suit and red go-go boots is flying through space somehow. Whose going to arrest a half-naked woman in sexy foot wear? So we pictured our car as the invisible plane, and we sped like demons through the streets. Zoom past this guy, Pow past that one. We flew down the roads in record time, and our super hero driving got us to the drop box just before the villainous Late Fine was able to make his presence a reality. Being invisible has its advantages. Hmmm, plus I could kiss a lot of strangers that way.
I’d better go purchase some more lip gloss.