[Pictured above] The new norm, unfortunately. I sense that this is temporary. This is a past due Wake-Up call and it's needed more than ever right now. And I’m not saying this because I am dismissing the actual hard and painful stuff happening to our fellow humans right now, I am saying this because I’m feeling and experiencing that hard, painful stuff yet a wiser part of me is, reaching for me, holding me, gently patting my back and softly petting my head saying...I love you child, now come into the comfort of me and be okay here.
I honestly didn't want to add to the overwhelm. Every post out there is demanding the next best ten things you "should" be doing and even all the helpful information suddenly became a burden. Way too much. For us sensitive, big feelers, and those in soul recovery, you may be feeling overloaded and experiencing energy exhaustion. Our anxiety is through the roof, our biggest fears come to life. And, many are having to be out in the world, working, exceeding their energy reserves to keep the world turning. Bless them. Bless them. May they be protected, replenished and well.
I wrote some poetry. With tears and ink. One early morning when all was quiet, except for some bird chatter outside my window. With steaming coffee, seeking solace, I wrote some words.
We stand still.
Time feels different. The air is empty, but soft.
When the realization is that the clocks have not been the observers,
because they've been reciting predictions under a subtle breath.
Everything seems irrelevant, but Life seems crucial,
Almost important enough to be held sacred.
Some just noticing.
Others, ready to create art, new paradigms and brilliant songs of renewal.
We stand still.
We can't see, but we sense the earthquakes in our bodies.
And overflowing channels of worry and anxiety burst like little
volcanoes in our mind.
We keep using sanitizer.
To keep clear all the things we've allowed to happen up until now.
Soiled hands of yesterday's habits.
We stand still.
Because we are too cloudy of information and feel the dizziness
of a life out of control about to swallow us whole.
Pausing only happens to machines, not humans. It is a function
in need of repair.
All the laundry is hung and we try to read for five minutes before
our attention caves and we reach for the next bit
of distraction, the next spoonful of poison.
Because we find it hard to
To be continued. Catch up with me on instagram!
If you are like me...living between cultures you've learned to be a "shape-shifter." You most likely can blend into the background and go unnoticed, but you may also find yourself in a more central position, where you are possibly a teacher, adviser or leader in some way. But, you will always be tested, watched, criticized, corrected. I am "tested" all the time, especially by whiteness. Actually, always by white women. Do they know they do this? I am neither "white" enough, smart enough, indigenous enough, ethically responsible enough, properly trained nor educated enough. If you are a white woman reading this, you may already be thinking about how you are "not like that" at all, but there is this discomfort that rises when a woman of color points out whiteness...and sometimes it's yours. Because whiteness was created to hold you UNaccountable to your own behavior. It also gives you a sense of priority, entitlement and the sneaky belief that all your perspectives and opinions should be the default. Why wouldn't they?
It even has you thinking that because you know something just slightly a bit more than the next person, you have "right" to correct them. This is your culture: You believe you are the "right-way." Why question that? It is your duty to go through life being better than the next person, righting what's wrong, getting the certifications to validate this. It's exhausting. Aren't you exhausted? I know I am. I am absolutely tired. Please believe me, when I tell you that I am constantly tested and corrected like this. To exist in your world and culture, I have to be just the right amount of everything to interact with you. To be your friend. To be respected. To be seen. To belong. But I don't want to. Especially if it's lopsided like this.
If it's not whiteness, it's patriarchy.
If it's not patriarchy, it's colonization.
Same, just different guises and levels of extremities.
I am surviving all of these. I will go beyond. Please don't stop me. Don't stop me with your useless and devaluing ideas. Instead, join me. I'd like for you to join me, but come clean. Don't come for me. I will not tolerate this. Do not silence my voice. Do not silence my experiences. I belong. This is my space too.
This is my experience. Do not tell me it's wrong. I detest that. Because if you cannot even let me have this...what's left for me to have?
One) Hawk. Always inviting me. Same spot every time. Bidding me a good day of clarity and high vision.
Two) It's not as cold as he said it might be. This sweater us fuzzing up where the most movement happens: under my arms, along the sides of my chest/breasts. But, I love this grungy sweater.
Three) About the sweater. This ragged sweater is a she-shed companion, especially in the winter when the shed is doing it's best to keep out the December chill and my little heater is pumping away. I feel like Mr. Rogers when I change into it before working out in the shed.
Four) This tea, I love it so much. Lavender Earl Grey with a splash of vanilla cream.
Five) I finally light the candle. I ask St. Jude and make a sweet-grass offering.
Six) I miss her. I wish things were different and we were still friends. The kind that would spend hours on the phone or exchange ideas over Skype while sipping on our favorite teas. She was my Best Friend. I think of her often and winter always brings on the bittersweet memories. I will always love her and consider her my soul-kin. I told her I would never give up on her, our friendship. It takes so much out of me to allow the death of our relationship. This will be something I will grieve over from time to time. But, still...Love.
Seven) Hope. All I got right now.
Eight) Not too much incense. I only burn half the stick.
Nine) Writing. I'm counting on the words to set me free. They always do.
Ten) A birthday reservation at our favorite restaurant. Every year since I met him.
Eleven) Coyote. Still.
Twelve) She said laughter can lift us out of our darkness.
Thirteen) Grief. Taking it slow for now. I am a soul in recovery...for life.
Fourteen) This quote:
All you need to do to create is: stand out of the way." --Dr. Clarissa P. Estés
One) I kid you not. Seven Crows. We saw them on our way out one morning near a neighbor's house. Actually and literally in an unorganized group in their front yard. And then, later that week someone posted in our online neighborhood group, seven coyotes running in a field nearby a very busy street at 10:15 in the morning. You can't make this stuff up.
Two) I drove twice to the bay area within 2 weeks to meet two very amazing like-minded kindreds that I absolutely adore. It blows my mind how we've gotten to know each other over the years, online first, never meeting in person until now.
Three) I decide to go with the rattle vs. the drum because it just feels right.
Four) I'm totally behind in my Communications class, but I go anyway and watch the first round of creative presentations. Again, I feel like a loser. Going back to school after you've pretty much lived a life has been challenging and hard on those fragile emotions. After all, I did enroll to do the work; the actual assignments, but I've quickly realized that the behind-the-scenes soul work must be done with a diligent, yet soft heart...and all the while reaching for grace.
Five) I let my greys come in. I don't know if I like it yet. I like it on other people, but not on myself.
Six) While book shopping with a friend in a charming, used bookshop, I strike gold when I find the one book that's been sitting in my amazon cart for almost a year now. I quickly take it to the register and purchase it. With a beaming smile, I walk towards the back of the bookstore where the shelves are piled with books up to the ceiling and hunt down my friend. I find three more books that I really, really want. I carry them about following my friend as she scans the bookshelves. I decide last minute to buy the other three.
Seven) Today, I open up one of the books I scored. It's a book by Leslie Marmon Silko. One that I've been hunting down for some time now. I open the first page and see that it's signed by the author. I thank the Spirits.
Eight) This quote from the book, Yellow Woman and a Beauty of the Spirit, by Leslie Marmon Silko.
"We are all part of the old stories; whether we know the stories or not, the old stories know about us."
Nine) The waning moon.
Ten) I'm so gratefully content. I thank the Spirits. I thank Creator, seven times.
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.
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 by moments, stories and synchronicities.
I write about...