Thank You for Gratitude

I started Gratitude Friday’s back in April of 2013. I haven’t been consistent with keeping up on posting with it. Yet I maintained every Friday a few minutes of my day to review what I was grateful for. It took me months to build up to five things. For me, that reflects how deeply entrenched I was into negativity. My marriage was on the rocks. We were looking at divorce and wondering how it had all come down to this.

I ran across a blog that outlined the practice of Gratitude. It resonated with me and I decided to try it out. It became a matter of stubborn pride to find things to list. I knew something was seriously wrong with me if I could not list five things in just a week.

Now, I list three things every morning. I could list more but I choose to limit it to the top three things every day. I’ve seen how this changed me. When I say ‘thank you’ I know what I am thankful for and it’s deeply felt. I’m a much happier person. I have three things to look back on every day and three more to look forward too.

The world really has expanded wide open for me. To see the world with eyes of gratitude – is to live a life of joy.

I woke up to this when in the middle of the rather painful emotional experience, I was able to turn and say thank you for this experience, and I meant it. For in that moment, what was pain transformed into a lesson learned, an experience that belonged in the past and I was now standing beyond its grasp.

Gratitude is not an easy path to walk. It offers no advice except to be grateful. It offers no advice on how to choose to be grateful or what to be grateful for. It offers no condemnation if one is not grateful or if they are. It is just a journey, to explore what one is grateful for. What we discover has always belonged to us anyway.

I find I return to gratitude when going through difficult times. I like reminding myself that there are good things in this world and that I appreciate them. So, this Friday I once again turn towards Gratitude.

I am;

I am grateful to be alive in this day and age.
I am grateful to wake up and see this world as it is and know I have the chance to change it.
I am grateful I am not alone in this world, that there people who dedicate their lives to the betterment of all humanity.
I am grateful for the love I have in my heart, for the love I have shared and for the love I will share again.

Thank you all for enriching my life.

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Bloody Fucking Hell

Patheos Pagan, owned by an evangelical Christian corporation. is now censoring their writers. Here is a post they deleted.

via [repost] Read This Before Patheos Deletes it. — GODS & RADICALS


Just hit the link and read. I’ll post my reaction in a day or two after this all sinks in.

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What are the things I learned as a child?

I learned that gifts would be taken away thus I learned to refuse them first.

I learned that I owned nothing thus I would watch my most precious possessions given away and I learned to hide that which was most precious to me.

I learned that I was powerless to those in charge of me thus I learned my words and thoughts meant nothing.

I learned that it was the wants of others that would always affect my life thus I learned to read people in an effort to give them what they needed before they asked.

I learned that things of the world were sinful thus I learned all my childish wants were as well.

I learned that participation was being a part of the world thus I learned to watch and stand apart from everything.

I learned that there was no one there for me thus I learned to only rely on myself as I was truly alone.

I learned that my presence was undesired thus I learned to wait in the shadows, hiding not hoping for a kindness.

I learned that kindness always had a price thus I learned that paying that price was often too costly.

I learned that love was just a word thus I learned to mistrust words and watch actions instead.

I learned that my childish joy brought pain thus I learned to bury my joys and not experience them openly.

I learned that I could trust no one thus I learned I could not even trust myself.

I learned that I was little in a world of bigs thus I learned to walk unseen.

These were painful lessons and they are causing havoc on my life.

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WTF just happened? 

Oh’s No’s! It’s a backdated post! This one should have been published around the 23’rd of December 2016.

I hung up on him. And spent the next twenty minutes in shock, hugging the hell out of my blanket and arguing  with myself. What the hell had I done and worse, why had I?

I chalked it up as yet another one of my many many mistakes. But a few things stood out from the conversation. I had never felt he approved of me choosing to be a mother. It was just a few words and it lifted a weight from me that I had not realized I was carrying.

I did a lot of thinking last night. How to formula a proper wish, one that doesn’t include selfishness or unduly benife me. It has been something I have thought on in the last few days and I finely got it done. And then I promptly fell asleep.

But the letter was sent and responded too. And it stuck in my head the wish I had set free.

How do I make sense of the tears that ran down my face or the calm assurance his voice brings or how every word is searched for inflection and meaning?  How do stop my brain from emptying out at the sound of his voice?

Something changed in me. How am I responsible for the things I’ve done, that I’ve done as a collective? Yet I’ve agreed to be responsible for what all of me’s said and done. Good gods it’s tough.

I don’t understand why I’ve said or done what I did. Brain and heart still in battle but somehow heart is stubborn beyond beyond.

He’s right. He knows it and I know it. He sees me for what I am.

Funny part is, nothing and everything changed.

It feels like clarity. I know I’m not fully all there. I still have problems. But I know its a problem so I’m kinda
Yeah, we are choosing to publish this as well in its unfinished form.  This was written in a spare moment between chaos. 

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Welcome To The Future

Lessons from the Hanged Man

Somewhere deep inside I’ve been processing a lot of things, a lot of issues and reviewing a lot of lessons. So much that I’ve had a bit of a theme percolating up from the depths.

From a phone call that left me in tears to later on a dream that made things clear, it’s been a strange strange year inside my world of 2016.

I choose to withdraw to be quite deep inside. It was needed in a serious way. I needed to pull back and stop leading with my heart and emotions but more than that, I needed to stop being drowned under the stream of everyone’s desires of me. So, I choose to drown. Down at the bottom where the mucky mud is sticky cold and squishy between the toes, where the last bubble of air rises slowly yet twinkle rainbow sparkles as light dims sickly green before flashing bright stars as ears ring and lungs burn aching to inhale sweet air; there I was watching, feeling and letting myself drown.

There is a moment where everything is crystal clear. Too often it’s a moment too late to return to sweet air. This time, this one time, this drowning is metaphorical.

I discovered something.

I’ve always wondered what kind of person I truly am. I’ve known that in moments of crisis the solid truth of a person shines true. I talk a lot of shit at times. Friends an family know my quirks and how I can get. Yet I never had a solid grasp of how important the real Me is suprisingly solid.  I change so much on a day to day basis, finding bedrock, finding the cornorstone is momuntal.

One week before Yule, I had a house fire. Well, my oven hickuped and spit out jets of sparks as it was busy arc welding bits of itself. Talk about being caught off guard! I had just turned it on a half hour earlier to warm up the house a bit when IT happened.

It sounded like someone had set off a rotohammer right beside my ear as I watched the lights dim and white power smoke instantly filled the house as my lil one screamed the oven was shooting sparks! As all the damn bloodly loud alarms screamed, I ran to shut down the breaker box before heading for the fire extunisher. While pulling out extunisher, I got my lil one to gather up the dogs, herself an coat, my shoes and stuff and headed back into the fray, shaking like a leaf.

I should back up a bit to explain something. I’m terrified of fire. Totally parinoid of house fire and I know where it’s from. Every time a fire alarm sounds, I’m busy beating down panic, racing heart and hysterics and I still have to act and Think rationally. Talk about multitasking under stress!

But this was a code Red super critical. Autumn in hot seat, all parts aware, awake, recording, and me being a big girl, a brave girl. You know, this had to happen when I was having my moment to primp and be just me.

I had always thought that in the moment when it came down to it I would be ruthlessly uncareing. That it would be me out to save my skin and of my family. That anything or anybody  else was doomed. But then I saved the dogs. No, it’s not a duh.

There is a love hate relationship with the dogs. They aren’t even mine. They are my sister’s dogs. And I’ve had to train them according to my will. On top of that, I’m allergic and the hairs are sharp enough to be splinters in my (oh gosh please don’t laugh) thin skin. At most they are a constant annoynace. I am unable to love up on them too often as it exerbates the symptoms I’m already suffering. It’s funny, dogs respond to love in training yet I’ve trained them. That’s a side track, something interesting for later.

The thing is, I belived I was a cold heartless monster deep down inside and that all this shiny emotional love stuff was just polish on a turd. (Shh, I know what I said. I’m not say I belive that, now.) Until in the middle of my litteral worst nightmare, I saved the dogs automaticly.

Love, care, concern came automaticly.

Revolutionary, I tell you.

We all spent the night in a hotel to come back the following morning and assess the damage. The coil burned out and arced. A cookie sheet left in the oven helped control the sparks and echoed the sound like a bullhorn. The smoke was the element being burned up in the arcing as quite a bit of it was gone in seconds.

And I may have set this in motion accidentally months and months ago when I went on a deep cleaning of my oven. Those elements as it turns out should not be bent. Tiny cracks caused by bending will lead to eventual failure, most of the time not as spectacular as this was!

Lesson learned. Or was it?

The following weeks I kept getting hit with moments of clarity. Moments where I was being shown or had my attention drawn to about who I really am. Part of all of this led to a phone call that left me in tears. And then the dream that night.

I’m not sure I want to go into that dream here in public. It’s a big NSFW dream. (I know. Shame of me for teasers.) But it was a dream that had meaning and in it I was hung upside down, in terror, fear, revulsion as a part of me was also calm, clear and comfortable. I was being hung upside down, bound a la rubber kinkster style (winks) with my left leg crossed just like the Hanged Man tarot card. Yeah, me and the deep have our style of talking. This was like a flashing, teasing me to see if I caught it yet.

I, the Fool, was hung on her cross of her own making, dying in her fears yet lived and brought back a spark of knowledge, that which is what and why she hoisted her own petard on the yardarm in the first place.

Sometimes we have to drown. Sometimes we have to get to the place where the worst has happened because in that space we can look out and see the best is yet to come.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Welcome to The Future.


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Happy Friday

I just put on bbq pork in the crock pot. I made my homemade bbq sauce and it is tasty! Only problem, I never seam to make it the same way twice. But I didn’t come up here today to chit chat about food although it’s a bit related. I want to talk about the Magic School Bus.

I love the show. I didn’t watch it as a kid, well because I had strange parents. But I did spend my early adulthood watching kid cartoons like the Magic School Bus and Rugrats and loved every minute of it. Lately, I’ve had Ms. Frizzle stock quote “Take chances! Get messy!” ping pong around my brain box.

I’m learning how to apply this, only now at this age. Strange how that is. I’m quite a bit of a perfectionist. It has a huge downside. It usually means nothing gets done if I feel I can’t get it right, the first time. And I found a way to fight it in a very odd but fun way.

Minecraft. I can already hear half of you laughing and the other half scratching their heads. Okay, Minecraft is an open world game which means beyond the quick beat the dragon, there are no goals set out. Which means you have to exercise goal setting, planning, and drum roll please…”Take chances! Get Messy!”

I’ve had to push myself to play and get messy, to take risks, to welcome mistakes as the learning lessons I teach my children they are.  And with these lessons in hand and tucked into my belt, I geared up and went into the Nether.

The Nether scares the hell out of me. I can’t explain it. It feels so silly. The place is full of ugly red blocks that burn, roaming screaming ghosts that sound like mad cats, zombie pig men that you just don’t want to touch least they pack up and kill you, roaming flower carrying zombies which is all sorts of wrong, fireball ball shooting flying electrical engines  called blazes, they remind me of electrical coils and gosh I have no idea what else. But I pushed myself to go to this terrifying place just so I could mine some ores so I can tick off a few more things of my self imposed goal list.

It’s taken me a few days to mentally prepare for this. I got my gear as best I could. Into the Nether with enchanted hardened leather armor, a bow, my sword, my hammers and pickax, I felt so under prepared. And then it was anti-climatic.

I fought a few battles, shot down the shooting flying fireballs, ran and hid from the Ghasts, killed a bunch of zombies and mined, mined, mined. I didn’t die. I went back home with all my loot. With a heavy wipe on my brow, I was glad it was over. But it wasn’t too bad.

I followed Ms Frizzles advice “Take chances! Get messy!” Thanks Ms Frizzle.



For the curious, I’m currently playing single player mod pack from FTB Hermitpack
and no, I’m not planning on becoming a YouTuber. I’ll leave that to the pro’s. 

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Shades of Seasons Past

Some pains sadly sink in to repeat
year by year
like ghosts on the water 
revisiting battlefields. 


I’m fighting my own ghosts of the season. Seams Isa has more than a few to cast shadows from now till June. My own ghosts I carry are doubly burdensome, these ghosts of November and December.

I do not know why so much memory is tied into my body. It matters little who of who I am, the tick-tock of time still catches up and leaves me with unsettled feelings, aches, pains and worst, flashbacks.

My hand can not erase
mistakes that I create
time is unforgiving
may your heart be so 

I had assumed that a year would be enough time to heal certain wounds. I was wrong. These wounds of the heart may never heal. And if that is the case, I still must carry on. Forward is the only way. Forward into the dawn.

Remember me, they cry
silver shadows beckon me
Remember me, they cry

These shades of seasons past
cry out to me
leaving tears to taste 
yet again

Like old soldiers 
toasting the dawn

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