Time of Need
Expectancy is the root of all heartache.
William Shakespeare said it best. Expectation is also a great teacher because it can, through vast and varied disappointments and betrayals, show you the true colors and shades of light and dark in a person. As of yesterday morning, I had a whole different idea planned for my Monday blog. It is amazing how the space of just a few moments of realization can change your whole course of thinking. But this is life.
The best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything from anyone.
I am not here to go through a series of things and thoughts and people who have disappointment me, because I am so far away from all of that right now as the new day comes and once more I am grateful for the new time I have to work towards what I have been building so carefully. I surely have been my own share of disappointments to others. There is no one safe of sparing the feelings of this uncomfortable and sometimes crippling range of emotions.
I have been shown the truth of personalities and all the way down to the bones of some people lately, and this is something I have been working on my entire life, not only to protect myself but to protect the ones who I have put here on this earth. My flesh and blood, replicas of what is truest and the best and the worst of me. My three sons will always trump any other humans on this planet. I do not care how far away I go, or how far away they go. They will never be outside of me in the way that those outside of me are, if that makes any sense. Any mother will agree. Even those old mothers who cannot remember what day it is, or what they should be doing or saying at any given moment, they know what cannot be written or expressed. They know what they know inside of their own hearts, no matter how much it may be heavy or hardened or broken.
Easter Sunday has been a difficult day for me ever since my father passed away, almost seventeen years ago. My mother has never had another companion in her life since then. Many of you know she is suffering from dementia and now, many other physical issues have come piling up one by one. I have been a grave disappointment to her more times than anyone in her whole life probably. I have not been much of a "good daughter" until recently, in my own opinion. I have taken the responsibility of her emotional state in my hands and then have it burn me so badly that I must drop it and walk away. I truly do not want to abandon it because I am a firm believer in "What goes around, comes around."
I have lived my life believing that I never want my sons to feel the burden of my emotional anxiety and deep sadness because it is not theirs to bear. They will and do have their own internal issues and struggles and heartaches that I will never know anything about, because, unlike me, being "mother", they are spared that eternal madness and elongated emotional turmoil that comes with loving them so much that I refuse to drag them down into the depths of what they will never know or see within me. I can only hope that through my sometimes humble and sometimes extravagant displays of written emotion that they can know me far ahead into however long it takes to understand that this is done in many layers of thought, insight and the bitter interrogation of my own self. It is done in tireless reams of paper and ink and words that is the truest I will ever be able to articulate for them, what is not only inside of me, but what they inherited by being my children.
Realizing what was important and what was priority yesterday, I was sorely disappointment and deeply saddened by a trail of things that have been leading up to this one painting I have been illustrating in my mind of my expectations, and I am not living up to them for one reason or another. Mostly because there are so many painful milestones along the way. One after another, I see stakes being driven into the ground of a reality that will always be the same for us all, the pending death of those around us that we care about, or not care about. The deterioration of relationships and alliances and trust that we thought would always be there, or at least be there when we needed them the most. The expectation that people would be able to realize when these times were, or at least feel when those times were, and be more understanding, compassionate or aware. It is the expectation that kills you. Breaks your heart so deeply that you pull down heavy metal doors that you cannot lift back up again alone. Not that you would want to, after trying so hard to trust again.
So you do something simple. You walk. You drive. You turn on the radio and before you do, you say to who ever is listening, "PLEASE. Give me a sign that you hear me. That you will help me, even though I am locked in this dark place with the doors all pulled down. With thorns in my heart and sides and tears in my eyes. PLEASE."
You turn on the radio. And the beginning of the song plays softly. Reminds you of all the other times you heard it. And the tears in your eyes roll quietly down to that place in the base of your throat. You pull over and watch the sunset on a day where there is joy to be found everywhere but in your own heart. You drive by the cemetery, you don't go in. You drive by the places you have driven by literally hundreds of thousands of times, and everything looks like a stranger.
In the midst of the darkness of uncertainty, there is a place where SHE ALWAYS ANSWERS. There are empty pill bottles and hearts full of a pain that cannot be pacified by anything tangible. No one can tell another person how to help that sharp and excruciating thing inside themselves how to stop influencing their current or pending relationships. If I come across as depressed and extremely emotional, it is working here. It is coming out in the words, and it will come out in the music, and in art and poetry and it will come out. It will be part of the seashore and the forest and the very air you breathe when you are next to me. And no one can tell you that its going to be alright unless it is you. Deep inside of you, you are the only one who can know that. If you need help, you must ask. You must ask those you know are willing to help without a hidden agenda. Those who won't use it against you when you need it the most. Those who truly are on your side, who appreciate not only what you do for them, but what you are made of.
I needed help, and I asked the One I Trusted Most. And SHE ANSWERED. Over waves of the radio, She answered. Over the realization of names and words and connections that only I was meant to hear and read and see. She answered. On this broken bed with this enormous dog in the light of another Monday morning with tiny sparrows along the old azaleas and bright yellow dandelions, She answered.
And I will be alright. Over and over again I will be alright.
I am grateful, and blessed to have the anchors of my sons to keep me afloat on a ship that continues to sail on a sometimes very thick, dark, deep black ocean. It is I that owe them something, not the other way around. It is I that must allow them to have the freedom to become everything they wish for the potential to be. It is through me and my example that I work so hard to show them, that yes, they can do it. No matter how long or hard or painful it may be. Many people do not take the chances to live for themselves and allow those they love to do the same. It is there where so many little red threads to our hearts are overworked and broken. I am not like other people.
Until next Moonday...
xox C 333
Many of you know that I have been a waitress off and on for many years since I was eighteen. In all that time, one thing has not changed. When you are about to start service to a table, the first thing you ask in regards to serving is what anyone would like to drink. Top two answers: Coffee and Water. But this is what puzzles me. Sometimes I am asking if I can get someone something to drink and they say, "No, nothing. Just water."
I am a "Water" sign. I ask these deep seemingly meaningless things that perplex me to the point of an OCD mentality. When you said, "No, nothing." I think, "Okay. No drink." Then you add on, "Just water." So, Yes. You do want a drink. You want water and you want it probably to be clean water. I do have to get a cup and put ice (more water, just frozen) in it and bring it to you. Preferably with a straw. Or, water with lemon. It's those water with lemon people that truly do appreciate their water, yes? Nine times out of ten, yes, they do. But it's those people who ask for a "round of waters" for the table when they don't even know if everyone even wants water. It's those people who ask and leave the glass completely untouched. I am not sure that anyone thinks about such things like this, but as a supporter of the Poland Spring water delivery service, I do appreciate my water and I do read labels and I also do not ask for water that no one intends to drink, nor do I ask for water that no one else has agreed silently to drink. Doesn't mean that anyone will pay any attention to this, but, I am one of those people who recycles many things, many ways...and this is another one of those ways that I try to conserve what I believe is an important resource that we take for granted. Like it is an endless supply. Like the rainforest and the ocean...
I have become overwhelmed lately as my energy and intake of the conditions of the world around me has been a spinning vortex of complexity that I cannot seem to keep a firm enough grasp on. It seems that I am not supposed to, where within here lays the messages. It seems that at some point in the near future that there will be a shift where things will follow a more harmonious path because I have been saying no to all the other things that cause my body to react in vaulting stretches of stress. It truly is the small things that do add up to the biggest results, and by actually proving it to yourself, a truest realization, you do tend to see this more often than not if you are dedicated to removing the stresses from your life. No matter how painful they may be. No matter how many people or things it may involve.
Writing has been and will continue to be a driving force in my life, and always has been exactly the kind of companion I have needed it to be. I have been becoming ever closer to its magical allure and comfort to the point where I literally could crawl out of my skin if I didn't write. I become ungrounded and easily flustered if I spend too much time away from these journals and stories that I write. I become defensive about the time I need during the week to maintain the schedule I have worked very hard to achieve and am very unwilling to bargain with that time. As I am also unwilling to bargain with the time spent with my sons.
Just like the water, it is not an unlimited supply of time. It is like making your way across a bridge and knowing that at the end of it, it is the end of it. There is no extension, but there is a gate. It is there where my muse and I have been meeting far, far away from this land of internet and social media, and for that time and that unlimited supply of inspiration, I am grateful.
xox C 333
Full Pink/Wind Moon > Tuesday April 11 th @ 2:08 am
It's been eight months of writing once a week, on Mondays...with only two times where I didn't make it and wrote on Tuesday. It's been much longer than that that I have had the idea that social media is a silent killer of my energy and this morning as I scrolled through the feeds I had that same familiar feeling of sand rushing too quickly through a very fragile hourglass.
Then it was on to the emails and one came across my sight that was the sign I was looking for. So, just as I had promised to write once a week on Mondays (Moondays) in light of the creative work I was doing with my jars, I have now made new promises to other creative work that must be done . Or else.
The smallest changes and choices lead to the biggest results. I choose to not confine myself and although I love sharing the things and places and ideas and inspirations that I personally favor, I feel like a red balloon with a slow leak. My energy is sapped by images and words and ideas that seem to be none of my business. There is a gnawing feeling that I have spent too much time in too many cycles that I have outgrown and if I am not careful, I will never step away and begin the new ones that hold hands outside of the social media circles, such as in real life. Too much time spent staring into screens and comparing and having not the slightest notion of anything too far away. And besides that, I am a Scorpio, like the beloved Sylvia Plath - who was a fellow Scorpio, and who I can identify with on so many levels through her work that I am slowly going through. Enlightenment beyond the grave of her life, I find comfort in so many of the things she wrote that I got a tattoo of one of her many famous lines.
So with that, on this third day of April, 2017, I am making the change I have been saying to myself that I was going to make, at the right time. I am moving away from many things that no longer serve me, and things that rob me of energy that I need to support the creative and inspirational projects that impact my life and those I have the strongest connections to. I believe that energy goes where attention flows, one hundred percent. I believe that I have a handle on what the next steps are that I need to take and that I do not have time to be afraid to climb the stairwells that are set out before me, covered in dust and dreams that have hovered above me for years. Today is that day. I hereby refrain from random social media posts and will continue to post the Monday blog, which will not be random. You can bet on this, you can be sure I will keep my word to this, and I look forward to writing a better quality blog post, or perhaps more than a Monday blog post, but at least once a week, if you are at all interested, I will be here.
Until next Monday...Until soon
xox C 333
Monday again. A lot of people don't like Mondays. As a waitress, I have learned to love Mondays. I am grateful for Mondays. I am grateful for the business of the restaurant I work in and I am grateful that I am able to do this kind of work. It is beneficial to me at this point because I don't actually sit down often. Sitting down still makes me feel lazy, tired, relaxed. Which sometimes we all want to feel. It makes me antsy, makes me feel like I am skimping on something else that I should or could be doing.
I have also noticed a spike in my ability to feel the energy of others, and in a busy restaurant like mine, I have felt doors of energy open and close in a way that makes me actually dizzy, faint. So I now embark on alternative ways to protect my own energy and I see that the smallest changes make the biggest differences. It is important to be prepared to go into a place with so many people. It is like going to a fair or a church or a gym but the energy is very different in these buildings. In a restaurant, people come in and haven't eaten in hours, or sometimes all day - and groups of them can be very challenging. I have heard people say, "How hard could it be to be a server? All you are doing is writing things down and bringing plates and glasses back and forth." If you have half a brain, this job is not for you. You need a whole brain, patience, time management skills, a sense of urgency, ability to speak to all levels and ages and races of people without prejudice. All of this, and more, like the ability to assure and reassure, to understand and be understood - are the basic skills required for such a job. I never really understood the energetic toll until I became an energy worker on the level I currently reside at.
To embrace this way of life that I have built up around me, I see that being authentic has become a virtue. It has become a goal and I don't have to compete with anyone but myself. It has become a soft path that I walk over and over in meditation, which has in itself become the way in which I have been able to reshape and hear what I have been needing to hear, not necessarily what I want to hear. I liken this to reading my own tarot cards. They tell me the truth, and sometimes we are too tired for the truth. Lying about what needs to be done is easier. But this lying to yourself takes its toll rather quickly. Becomes this big blazing ball of barbed wire that needs to be addressed and instead of standing aside and letting it pass on by, we get trapped inside of it until we are willing to get a hurt a little bit and come out of it. The vulnerability and accountability is uncomfortable for awhile. But it passes. As everything passes. That is the only thing that is certain. That everything begun, will end.
I take comfort in this, as the transitions of many things occur. I know there is a time and season for everything, and no matter how I want to create and continue and build some kind of momentum, there are phases that cannot be ended just because I am tired of them being what they are. Just because I want to transfer one habit for another, even the smallest diversions take an effort that can build up and break down. That can hinge on frustration and fury and then futile energy that sizzles up and asks me to just sit down, relax. Which is the most annoying thing anyone can say to me.
So while I am waiting for endings and beginnings, I am listening to a voice that cannot be heard by anyone else but me, and that is going to be the one thing that saves me and helps me continue to heal. It has helped me immensely already this year, and I never fail to be amazed at the way that I am shown proof that there is a whole other way to go about this as long as I stay faithful to the creative process being shown to me. To the organic and energetic way of learning that everything I have ever asked for has shown up, in one way or another and that the realization of this is something that I only learn more about when I am quiet. When I am listening. When I am authentic.
Until next Monday...
xox C 333
Soon I will be getting my next tattoo and some people will love it, others will hate it. I have acquired a few new books recently that are helping me to consider why I am doing what I am doing, and what it is for. All of it. And I find poems coming at me, coming after me. Some so fast that I cannot capture them. Visions of things that I want to paint but have too many obstacles in the way, for their own very good reasons. Some of them are born in the fires of anger and regret, and I know that I have a blistering bad temper that has the tendency to melt things into nothing. And I hate to write when I am like that. But here I am, after the intermission of the movie I went to see with good friends and two of three of my sons. I wanted to wait again to post this until tomorrow...but the blog says MONDAY. I hate not doing what I say I am going to do, and I need to really start writing this sooner than Monday as the weekends are long work hours and I know better for the most part.
I work hard on that anger and animosity. I work hard on patience. Don't we all? Don't we all have something that enrages us to the point of doing and saying things we regret? Don't we all have things that make us so depressed and anxious that we shut down, close up and forget that we need to wake up in the morning and start it all over again? I write and write and write about all the things I am grateful for, and it's not that those things are taken for granted or forgotten, because they are most certainly not. But in those moments of complicated emotion and exhaustion, those things and thoughts and people become jagged shadows amidst the smoke that surrounds me and I cannot see through it. I am lost in my own sabotage, and even though I can hear the voices around me, what I can feel is what makes my breath get held and those feelings become something everyone can feel.
And that's why I write. Because it saves lives. Especially mine.
And I cannot get into specifics about the blistering rage that sometimes stands inside me. Subdued until something flashes at it, a dry wind that come across someones lips or someones energy. Those who know me have told me about it, and it doesn't surprise me but it does make me question its origin.
No one can stop it except me, and I'm not special. But I am dedicated to it. I'm too stubborn and deliberate to let it go but there are those steps that are on fire and the certain bridges that I thought I was not going to be able to burn that I am tired of revisiting.
So, please excuse me while I take some time to burn some shit down.
It's a messy job, and I'm willing to do it.
See you next week.
xox C 333
I like how my timelines on Facebook remind me both of how far I have come and how far I have yet to go. I like the frustrating and complicated processes of moving ahead as you feel like you are falling behind. Kind of like the snow, it is a force that cannot be avoided. It is a sense of trust that the Universe is much more powerful and instinctual than we are. It is the sense that we are tiny yet large. We are both happy and sad. We are diverse and strong and weak. In our core, we are One, the Same matter makes us up.
We learn that being frustrated and angry drains us. We feel exhaustion from stress and pain and disappointments. We feel anxiety and nervousness and it can change how we view the world and our work and our future. We feel we are undeserving or targeted or cursed. We feel that no one could possibly understand what we are going through and we feel that we can no longer go on this way. Yet we do. We continue on...most of us continue on. I won't elaborate on what I have been reading about suicide lately, and no, I am not suicidal. I am a Scorpio and I feel things down the darkest shred of whatever you may think Hell is supposed to be. And of course, I am grateful because that gives me plenty to write about.
The Full Moon was Sunday, and it has come and gone. Daylight Savings Time has again, come and gone for another year. The blizzard will soon be over. We will talk about it for awhile, like Hurricane Sandy that came and devastated so much, The only time I have lived on the East Coast and lost power for multiple days. Now this town is going to raise their taxes 4.5% next year and we are going to somehow pay to rebuild that pavilion that we have already paid for once already. $42 million. Wonderful. This town is not the place I grew up in. It is barely recognizable now, so unrecognizable that I traveled out of town to grocery shop because literally, the breed of people that now reside here are so alien to me. I would rather not have high blood pressure while trying to concentrate on reading ingredient and nutritional labels.
Do you have good memories of the holidays just past? Have you kept your resolutions? Have you given up something for Lent? Are you ready to give up, give in? Are you still depending on something outside of yourself to make you happy? These are just some of the questions we all commonly ask and share. We are all the same, yet swirl with so many multitudes and levels of differences...and when we meet on one common issue, it feels like a miracle. It feels like we have hope, strength and despair because all of these things exist together. All of these things, the earth, the sun, the clouds, the snow...the dilapidated pavilion (which really pisses me off...a distant memory of my mother walking its shore, beach fries and lifeguards in their red suits tainted by the ignorance and greed of the wealthy) these things that are showered with things we can do nothing about...shaded by those things we can - like knowing we are not alone and that there is someone out there who can understand this...even if it is not the person we desperately want it to be...for all of this, I am grateful.
Thank you for reading...
See you again next week
xox C 333
I have had to adjust my focus several times over the last couple months for this New Year and all things are becoming clear one switch at a time. I broke a streak of 90 days of meditation because I fell asleep, I think that was last Monday night when I blew off Bates Motel and the Blog post. Simply exhausted from all the circus like events of life in general.
Making small changes like listening to music without words (Corynorhinus (Latin): Big Eared Bat) has allowed me to ride on a train of momentum that is allowing growth and revision for The Forest Labyrinth manuscript. Drinking a different kind of green tea because the more popular name brand tastes like grass and because green tea has great properties for your internal systems. Switching to a different kind of coconut almond creamer with a touch of sugar to cut down on regular white sugar which I recently learned could possibly be bleached through the bones of animals.
Less is definitely more. Just five minutes of meditation can do a world of difference. A remedy that you used and lost track of. Minimalism and awareness. Things changing because everything was staying the same for too long. Like pushing that boulder again, up a mountain. Now I feel like I am standing next to it. Like I can paint on it some words that I want to inspire someone else with and when I am done, I will push it and watch it go down the path that I am going to follow next, trying not to crush anyone on the way.
Things gain momentum and inspiration and go through their cycles. The daylight becomes longer. People get a little happier for a little while longer as it gets warmer. But not too warm. And honestly, we have had such a mild winter. We complain it's too cold, it's too hot. It's too this, it's too that. About shit we have no control over. Kids get stolen from their families by family members who murder their wives and beat their friends. Like ten minutes from here. Anything can happen at any time. Is it random? Was the little girl who was probably six or seven wandering through the grocery store by herself who looked up at me with a trepidation in her eyes random? As I watched her walk and look down every aisle to find her mother and then not find her, I asked one of the staff to look at her, do you think you could help her find who she is looking for? Because, honestly, if I were a predator that little girl could have been in my trunk and halfway to across town before the mother or whoever even knew she was missing. It was because of me that they paged her mother over the intercom while I watched and stood in line for a good fifteen minutes. Tonight.
Random, random and random.
The Full Storm Moon is this Sunday at 10:54 am. At 2 am, Daylight Savings Time occurs. I am hoping for the best as the season and time leaps forward. I am hoping for continued insight, intuition and inspiration, and I hope that for you, too.
Until next Moonday :)
xox 333 C
Once upon a time, my son was gifted a little box full of tadpoles. There were 18 tadpoles and one died before he turned into a frog. All the others sprouted arms and legs and climbed up out of the water and onto fake plants and low rocks so that they could live in the glass habitat that we designed for them. One day the first frog died, and he was in the water, belly up. We took him to the lake in the forest. I told my son that I was letting him go back to the earth through the water, from where he began. He said to me, "Mom. He is already dead." I said, "I know. I want him to go back to where he came from." My son look perplexed but was happy as we watched his tiny frog body float gently away.
I went to the pet store and they told me how delicate frogs were to raise. I said ok and started asking more questions. I started misting them twice a day, fresh spring water all the whole time. Rocks, boiled lettuce when they were still underwater. Fish food, pellets. Then came the flightless fruit flies. After that, the crickets. It is still the crickets. It is nine months of crickets. And heat lamps. Daytime blue, Nighttime red. It is a oasis watering dish and a cricket guard water tank. It is special rocks we find when we walk out in the forest or at the seashore. (We are currently down to 8 live frogs.)
I say to my son, "Come here and look. I have bad news. One of your frogs has died. Look at him." He looks and says, "Oh, my God. That is terrible." I tell him, "It's okay. Everything that is alive dies." He should understand that early, right? So he can appreciate the quality and quantity of a life, no matter how small and quiet. I tell him we are taking him to the forest to let him go into the stream like the first one. Others have been buried, one got flushed. This one, he looked like he could still be alive and was perfect in his little casket of napkin and plastic bag with the Angry Bird on it. We let him travel away, my son walked alongside the stream until he couldn't see him anymore. We thanked him for being with us his entire life. We thanked him for teaching us how short and special life can be. I told him that the time he was alive was the same amount of time it took to grow a human baby and that sometimes, not all human babies make it into the world before they are ready to be born either. I am going to blame it on my nature as a Scorpio to be obsessed with and fascinated with science and death and I teach him things that I wish I had been taught. I teach him the truth, early, so he cannot animosity in his heart like I have.
My son tells me as we are walking about his dreams that he has while he is asleep, he says, "It doesn't matter because they are not real." And I let that sink in. Dreams are NOT REAL. Which makes me think of the book by Shonda Rhimes, The Year of Yes. She is a brilliant lady with amazing insights and lovely real emotions and sentiments, the creator of Scandal, Greys Anatomy and How To Get Away With Murder. She talks about dreams and how lovely they are, but staring at them in your mind and never doing anything about them, gets nothing done. Her book is very engaging, and I have found hope for so many things that I have been wanting to string together as things in my own life change and grow and develop, so so so slowly.
So while I am teaching my son a myriad of things, and I realize there are so many dreams that are on hold - I begin to wander back into the forest to ask for the advice that I need to hear to stop that hold and remember, myself, that everything alive dies and that dreams that get held onto, forever inside stuck in a glass environment with lots of things to only just sustain them and keep them eating, drinking and breathing...will most likely die in that one place...prematurely yet protected by a mother figure that won't let them out into the world to find out for themselves if they are capable of making it or not. That everything that is alive dies. That dreams are not real. That death is mortifying, as my son says...and that life is all too often overlooked by dreams that keep us all asleep...
Until next Monday
xox C 333
I read somewhere that once you are distracted from a task, you spend an average of twenty three minutes trying to get back to focusing on it when you stop being distracted. I think I have mentioned this before, but just knowing about it, and being aware of it has literally helped me prioritize my time better. As does the realization that something I have been thinking about for awhile popped up in my Pinterest feed to confirm what I have been saying to myself as a productivity method that could help get things accomplished. I have found this Pomodoro Technique to be effective.
These things take time, changing over to new habits and ways of thinking and being. I have been saying to my sons and husband that we have to make the changes one thing at a time. One new way to make something better, and the less cluttered we are, the less things we have to maintain and work on to change. I have seen proof of the things that I had wanted to change in the past and felt the weight of them heavily on my consciousness. I have been listening and reading and gathering facts and information about the way things work that I am concerned about and I incorporate a lot of thought and energy into what I am learning. I am grateful for the use of social media, internet and music to help me integrate things into my life while sharing them with others as well.
I have had people ask me to "unfriend" them and stop posting certain things, and I absolutely just cannot do either of those things. Like in one of my favorite FFDP songs "Never Enough" the lyrics state "I'd rather hate you for everything you are than ever love you for something you are not"
Which comes back once more to the Ego. It likes the clutter and distractions, the negative and gossipy messages. It likes to have someone to blame for everything that is wrong, or delayed or screwed up. It likes to not take responsibility for choices it knows are wrong and makes anyway. But your Spirit, that's the feeling that the Ego wants to disrupt. The Ego wants you to fear the choices your Spirit wants to make. It wants you to drown out all the calm and rational suggestions with something, anything else. It wants you to keep doing the same things you have been doing all along - and, hey, if you are happy - then so be it. But if it makes you uncomfortable, unhealthy, angry, stressed out, or depressed, how can that be good for you? What small change can you make to improve? What can you say to your Ego to make it back down? I routinely tell my Ego to SHUT UP. Just plain out shut up. Or, if I am aggravated, I will throw in the word Fuck. Or fucking shut up. As if I am talking to some Dementor in my brain. Which I am.
The New Moon is coming up on Sunday at 9:58 am with the Solar Eclipse being just a few minutes before it at 9:54 am.
What can you do differently this week leading up to that occasion? Could you donate something somewhere? Could you give time, energy, clothes, food or consolation? Do you need these things yourself, and can you figure out a better way to care for yourself?
Until next Monday, on this particular blog, I wish that you find what you need and make one small change that will lead to results that will raise your vibration and make you feel optimism, confidence and peace.
xo C 333
I get to the settings tab and there is that tempting "deactivate" option. I remember the coldness of seasons past and how the skin on my hands looks pretty dry and aging. Always at this time of year, when that mid winter wind is blowing, does the very real observation of the passing of time and the thinning of skin come to the forefront of my mind. Like things that haven't been done will never be done. Like promises made for the year ahead are so far away. Then, suddenly, in about four weeks or so, the earth begins the smallest promise of being able to be warm and alive and alert again. All my deactivation thoughts may or may not cease to be, depending on the habits I am forming right now.
I am changing a few things at this site, and hopefully as the season changes to spring, everything I have been thinking about doing will start to emerge in steps, one at a time. For now, I am concentrated a just a few major things as I cut out things that I know are not allowing me to move ahead. I find myself complaining about one thing for so many times in a row and I know that this one small step can be made, and suddenly its 78 straight days of meditation, or 7 days of yoga and I know that these little changes will amount to something bigger - a bridge that I have been trying to build that has not been able to stand due to my lack of the correct usage of tools or time or both. Usually, both.
The shop that I was selling my Moon Jars in is sadly closing her doors by the end of February. Most, if not all of my listings in my Etsy shop will be ending if they haven't already this week/month. I have closed down parts of this site, but I am also working on some other new things around here, so, even though I feel like hibernating - I continue on, although it may seem kind of barren. I have established a way to sign in to the site so that you can view the page "Where Three Meet - Poetry and Prose" as I build it up with the work that I have scattered around in too many places. I hope to be able to add as much as I can to this place so that it has a permanent place to be.
So, until next Monday - have a great week!
xox C 333