One) As someone with a sensitive respiratory system, I will have to wear a mask every time I go out. Even if that means just to my car, and from the car to the store. This goes for my daughter too. Not caring at all how I look in a mask. Makes me want to tell people how precious their lung tissue really is. Lung regeneration is very minimal. I'm coughing as I type this. The air quality is far from moderate, it's unhealthy and hazardous. I stay in, but miss the blue skies. I pray for those that are experiencing such pain and loss. I don't light candles this time. Full body prayers.
Two) More dreams and a dream from another where I made an appearance. I think to myself how dreams can be such potent messages from the dreamscape mostly for us, and how rarely they are for the other people in the dream. They serve us individually. Some can be prophetic, but that's not typical. Fascinating.
Three) My favorite part of creating an online course is sharing my voice in podcast like form. It's the beautiful art of storytelling to me. I love telling stories.
Four) He offers to pay for the two books I've been wanting to get. He tells me to hurry and order them on Amazon so they can get here before the holidays. Books, art supplies, stationary. Those things easily steal my heart.
Five) I get the grocery shopping and holiday dinner ingredients in one trip. We usually do this together and I was very reluctant to go alone, but I did and I'm glad. We always end of saving money when I go at it alone.
Six) Vanilla beans...$12.95 for two beans. Why did I not remember? Last year, we felt the recipe needed a real vanilla bean...this year, not so much. Then I google and realize they actually have a complex maturing and curing process. They are from an Orchid flower and are hand pollinated! Like, what?!
Seven) I call Mom today. She answers by saying my name with excitement. We chat for 20 seconds, then she passes the phone to mi tia (my auntie) and then mi tia passes it to my father and I'm repeating stories. It's funny, and sweet. Then back to my mom. I really need to visit them very soon. There is a bit of disappointment on the other end of the phone when I tell Mom we're not traveling to spend Thanksgiving with them. I miss them. So much. Christmas. I will be there for Christmas.
Eight) Grief. There is so much loss lately. How can one not feel grief in the air. Not to mention the sadness that comes around during the holidays.
Nine) I still see the moon. The glow through the smoke. A reminder, a witness.
Ten) This quote today.
"Reliving the thrill of our own conception..." -Alice Walker
One) Connections. The energetic weaving of things. I notice it. A coming together. I'm opening doors. I am the loom.
Three) I'm preparing to step out of an old shell. I have an idea of what to expect. There are people I adore that might not like what I do and who I'm becoming. They may damn me. They may think I've gone backwards. In a way I have, just not where they think. I can't wait for them, and they shouldn't feel like they need to wait for me as well.
Four) My new mantra: Embrace the Paradox. The paradox being me.
Five) Hawk. Twice.
Six) The air quality reads: unhealthy for sensitive groups. That's my daughter and I. Staying in as much as possible. Dinner and movies with popcorn in our favorite bowls sounds like a good idea.
Seven) Two tiny glass vials of glitter. Green Christmas trees, white iridescent snowflakes. Wait...one more tiny glass vial of bright red chunky glitter. I need all of these. Not sure if it's the actual glitter or the glass vials with cork tops that I like the most. Maybe it's both.
Eight) To do: website update + altar renewal. Kind of the same thing.
Nine) Waxing crescent 5 percent. Moon in Sagittarius. Sun in Scorpio. Who plans a course to start the day before mercury goes into retrograde? This human right here.
One) beginnings are my favorite. Starting over moments are my thing. I will go as far as crafting a ritual to honor this newness because it feels sacred and important. The problem is I am a lover of the dream time and of visioning. I can cling to the illusions in rapturous amazement. All the planning and idea mapping is a language I am fluent in and can remain loyal to this practice of new beginnings.
Two) Consistency is what I like and I'd like to explore this a bit. I want to see what I'm made of and discover what stories stay hidden inside of me that can be set free.
Three) In my communications class this week, a portion of essay #2 was due. I spent three-four days torturing myself trying to choose a topic. Just when I think I had it, I couldn't write about it! I went from, "the value of community," to "feminism," to "slime!" You read that right. Slime. Young entrepreneurs in the Slime making business. Wheeet?
Four) My dreams this past couple of weeks have been so very insightful and eerily accurate. Snakes one night, jewelry shopping another night, cheetahs and my vacay with an Instagram influencer. In the middle of the night, when I can't record a dream in my journal, I reach for my phone and quickly note my dream on this free, easy-to-use app, called: Dreams Diary
Five) Finding a system that works for you is so important as a creative person, yet so challenging when everything out there is geared towards telling you how to do the damn thing correctly. I did a google search: "can people excel at life even without a consistent routine?" This, after I already noted in #2 that consistency is key. I found only one article so far, but I'm not so sure it's answering my question. I'll be exploring this one...to be continued.
Six) 9:42 Friday night. My eyes are heavy as I type this. Sleep is next.
Seven) The leaves are beginning to drift off, one-by-one from the cherry plum tree in my backyard. The colors are luscious. Deepest red, plum, cherry dark, oxblood, burgundy, the darkest of purples and burnt umber.
Eight) I wear clothes until they are literally holey af. When it was my reality for most of my life...to "go without," it's hard to transition out of that. Now I have the privilege to go out and get what I "need" and, my idea around this is, that I really don't need much anyway. I experience guilt. I'm sure my mother and her mother, and her mother's mother felt guilty too. A sort of ancestral discord if you will. Especially, when their families were full of many hungry mouths! Poverty is dense and heartbreaking. Easier said then done as well. It's a consciousness, or a mindset. I am learning and I have so much more to say about this, but right now it's just an (after)thought.
Nine) Voting. This shit better work.
Friday Afterthoughts is a new blog series that I'm experimenting with. The idea came to me years ago, but the courage to write it never came, the instruction manual never arrived, no bouncy and enthusiastic writing or business coach came on the scene telling me to write the blog series because it was my destiny. None of that. In fact I greatly resisted it because I thought it had to be and read a certain way...a "perfect" and "good" way. Which really is some fake-ass-shiz my ego tells me.
I love writing as long as it's casual writing. Is that a thing? I enjoy journaling, keeping a notebook with random thoughts, experiences, dreams and ideas. I could do rough drafts, brainstorm and draw up idea maps for fun and just be content in that phase of the writing process, but it's time to get some practice in. Because, isn't that what writers do? Write. Isn't that what artists do? Create.
This makes me think of blogging. Blogging has changed so much, in fact does anyone still do that? Blogging, to me feels flexible. There is room for mistakes. Room to messily write out your guts and express all those opinions you been holding tight to.
So...here I am. Writing. Or Blogging?
There is more to this story. Especially the title, but I'll get to that later. I hope you find some inspiration here within the madness of my thoughts. Friday afterthoughts are random. These posts may occur weekly, but most likely sporadically. Always on a Friday. I share my current thoughts, the things I might be mulling over. New insights or discoveries, my experiments, books I'm reading. The current dream-story I'm crafting. Enjoy!
One) my current existential question or crises, depending on how you wanna look at it.
My revised translation regarding life-living is: a series or stories, experiences spun into the meaning we give. Depending on the sum of those experiences, a consequence or action may occur or be required, so we alter our stories all the time. We switch in between the dimensions of our storied life in order to continue on breathing in a well thought out or beautifully dreamed up reality. But, when that reality pierces us, blindsides us, harms us- we pay attention. I'm looking at all the connections lately.
Still with me? Okay, good.
Two) collage. It's where my overthinking brain untangles and softly drift away into the background. When my awareness realizes...nothing. is happening.
Three) Death is never going to make sense. Sometimes I find myself trying to explain to people how death isn't concerned with it's meaning.
Four) Speaking of . . . I've been into this song lately by Ibeyi.
Five) Favorite drink as of late: earl grey latte, aka: iced London fog. If you are local to me, Foxwood Coffee & Tea has the best in the area imho. It's called a "Frisco Fog." Also, get the California bagel. Cream cheese drizzled with pesto and topped with a big slice of (heirloom) tomato. Seriously delicious. I also like foxes so I'm a big fan of this family owned cafe.
Six) We sit on the couch together, our bodies side by side. We hold hands. I think to myself of how fortunate we are to have found each other. I feel a wave of gratitude rush over me. I look at him and his eyes meet mine as if he knew exactly what I was feeling in that moment.
Seven) This dog. I finally mastered her barks. There is a particular low "warning bark" when a random passerby be it a neighbor jogging past or a delivery driver gets too close to the end of the driveway. She has a tiny bump of a bark when she wants to come back inside after a potty break. A little squeal and dance when she wants out. A short muffled bark in the morning to wake us up. This dog. She has trained me well.
Eight) The intensity of my process lately has required that I clear space. I just didn't think it would be so dramatic, but the liberation is incredible. More on this later.
Listening and observing is one of the ways of my being. I've been communicating with the unseen since I was child. Many of us do, but we mute these conversations and move them into our heads. Making them private for fear of being deemed crazy. Because God forbid we talk to ourselves! That to me, seems crazy; cutting off the connection to seem sane. Our experience of the world is always alive and active, abundant and overflowing with sacred information.
And even though, I share that, I've also learned how to blend and seem "normal" while remaining open and connected- privately. I don't feel bad about this. This is a power I've learned to harness. At times it seems like I am talking to myself, but most likely I'm talking to some being, a spirit or a manifest. When I was young, this was not supported. Because there wasn't a framework for it. It was just labeled as "weird". Sometimes, I think about how challenging this may have been for those around me as a child. They didn't know how to respond to this. I get it. And I wouldn't want it any other way because I think they were responding in the way they knew how. This pushed me out of the tribe into a place where I met teachers/mentors. Those people who walked the edges and shared a similar story took me under their wings.
The gift in this can be mapped and understood as the great hero's journey. Everyone is on this journey. There is lots to share on that and everyone has their own individual connection and meaning to it, but I'll share quickly here my words.
The gift is how I can return and bless those with a language to understand, take in and realize. Because I come from different angles of living, I can compassionately offer a familiar language, reaching in and soulfully feeding those that hunger for this.
The space holding I provide offers those a foundation to lean in and unfold. I hold gently this, by revealing my own humanness.
The questions you are asking, are also my questions and the answers are within our reach as we share story with openness.
This exchange between you and I is a gift. We are shaping meaning into existence and clearing pathways that are aching to flow.
The gift is in the remembering that you too are an open channel and I am a reminding messenger.
Let's stay open to the unseen. Even if you have to edge a little in at a time. I'm here for you. This gift is also you.
I create as a way to navigate my life's journey. This is my personal and spiritual practice. In fact, all this other "living business" filters through my creativity. Each time I find myself at the art-table, I am gazing into a mirror. I trust it...deeply. I trust it to show me the way, to reveal the higher road or to knock me down when surrender is a really good option.
Creating helps me:
reflect, investigate, map, assess, release, reconnect, commune, heal.
Some day soon I hope to share more about my journey as an energy practitioner. There is a simple explanation as to why I am open to this way of walking in this world; this open communication to these energetic multi-realms. It was an initiation that didn't look like one and to tell you the truth, there are many that continue to present themselves as doorways in which I must step through. The simple explanation is: trauma broke me open and the need to survive became my lessons. I became hypersensitive; a sensing soul to all those subtle energies, that eventually became my guides. My soul was cast and over the years I've been shamanic-ally pulling back the layers revealing the tightly knitted web that gently houses my essence. It's the part of me, and the part in you that is untouched, sacred, holy, pure, eternal. Art making is a way home to this. A way back, centered into this realization.
The image below is a captured moment of my creative process. I call this the crap-painting stage. I say it with a frustrated tone as well. I call it this because when I am face-to-face with the things I perceive to be awful, ugly, dark, shadowy (within myself) it manifests onto the canvas. I am not saying this is "THE" process for everyone, I am just sharing my process here.
How can I say there are these damaged parts and pieces of myself, you might be thinking.
And, I'm responding with yes, of course there are these unmet pieces of me, sometimes hidden in the shadows.
Most of the time, I don't even have a clue what they might be because I'm too busy projecting them. And, I haven't met anyone who doesn't do this (jus-sayin). This is just one way to notice them and bring some conscious light to them. I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing, unless you are not willing to look at your part in it. Which, again, isn't easy. I know...I know.
This is a stage in art-making or life-making that is formless, unknown, in between. It's the grit and grind before the smooth and shine. This place always feels challenging. I have no control and I feel so powerless. I don't know what to make of it. I'd rather throw it out and start over. I want to quit and deem myself a sucky-artist. Never having to take responsibility for my own expansion again.
Ever experience this?
Well, dear tender-heart...please stay with me here,
What's happening here is: I've forgotten to see the beauty in the cycle or in my creative process. My vision became blurred by the illusion of perfection, And perfection cuts us from many different angles, For example: the false illusion to a permanent happiness or worse, a great fear that we won't be accepted, loved or seen.
This is some huge, deep work. I know this, because this is my current work. But, there is hopeful movement making its way through. It's all such a journey to be taken in and held with reverence and grace. Hold that so-called "ugly" art with compassion because it's just the early stages of becoming or emerging.
Just like you.
"We are not meant to be puny with frail hair and inability to leap up, inability to chase, to birth, to create a life. When women's lives are in stasis, ennui, it is always time for the wildish woman to emerge; it is time for creating function of the psyche to flood the delta."
Welcome to my Virtual Journal. Here you will find #fieldnotes of a Medial Woman. I write unabashedly imperfect, mostly short, even one-line word play. I share story. I share- first, my process. I view my life-living as a grand experiment and I am taking notes, mapping a trail with moments, stories and synchronicities.
I write about...
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