Sunday, August 27, 2017

What the Faith?

Faith is like a scientific experiment. It's your controlled substance you plug the variables, the thoughts, actions, situations that govern your lifes choices. Faith, God...whatever you want to call it, doesn't waiver.  Its that fixed substance that will be waiting for you to accept its presence, patiently waiting.  The thing that Does change are the variables, the actions, thoughts that bounce around in our heads, like kids jumping on a feather bed.  The cluster fuck we test our faith with.
I have to see, remember, utilize what I've done to see with open eyes how faith works.  How box breathing and prayer aids an unaided will.  Where defiance softens and courage strenthens.  That, my friend, is Faith.

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Whats My Part

Alright.  It's been a couple days since I spoke to you, sweet blog o' mine.  Have I been good to you? No...sigh. neglectful as f but still remember where you live.  You live in my mind; my twisted, beautiful, sometimes complacent, always repectful mind.  Though I seem to have misplaced my pen, I haven't misplaced that thing called Change.  Change is like the lint you can't seem to get off your favorite sweater.  It follows you, taps you on the shoulder when you think you're alone or in the "all good" mode, and shifts the gears on lifes vehicle (like that one?!) and spins you out into new & vastly undiscovered territories.  God how I loath change.  and lint.   Or do I?  Do I really dread change or do all of those lazy-assed complacent cells in my body really crave it?  Do they feed off of it like hungry larvae because they secretly crave the things I fear most?   The answer is an undoubtable kick-in-the-head Yes.
A lovely human walked into the shop ( oh yes...since I've last written, I've changed jobs, got fired, got hired, met boys, ran from boys, ran from girls, buried animals, wept profusely, moved 8 or maybe 9 times, drank alcohol, stopped drinking alcohol, ran from more people and...found-lost-and found my chi.  Now that you're caught up, no more questions. thankyouverymuch).  So what was I saying before I so rudely interrupted myself?  oh yeah...
A lovely human came into the shop, and after said duties of both of us were done, we talked about life, crystals and Life in capitals.  That should be the name of my business: Life in Capitals.  Anyway....She was and is and probably always will be a life coach.  Not the hey batta batta kind, but the I-want-to-help-you-get-off
your-ass-kind.  I think we could help each other greatly.  Talking to a real person, as in a face-to-face kind , would be useful.  I would much rather have a relationshipish face-to-face kind of person in my life instead of a virtual kind of human (thus this virtually inhuman blog I'm typing must be a dream. or a nightmare my single fan is experiencing.  Sorry fan. You count.  you really do. I will surely send you a token of my appreciation for following me.  You virtually matter.  you really do ) :)
Seriously though.  I value work and technology, and new experiences that can be handled via computer, but I truly think the human race is failing to see how incredible and incredibly important it is to see each other in our totality. not just virtually.  How do I know my fan is legit?  It may be my fan is a spy or an axe murderer who reads my blog when the're in the bathroom .  Who knows?   When I meet my fan in person, I will firstly bathe them in compliments and offer cookies and tea, thanking them for their support and virtual wisdom and commitment.  I will then plunge into the why side of their following , as part of me is fucking insecure, which should really be one word - fuckinginsecure. The fuckinginsecure part of me will tread water just a titch because being secure is still being able to acknowledge and periodically wallow in said insecurity.  It reminds us where we've been (hiding) and where we stand today.
My point is...there is no point.  There is breath that I need to feel when my fan talks to me.  There is eye movement and body language they tell me when I'm telling one of my would-you-get-to-the-point sagas.  We are both sages and students.  We are both aligned to give and receive information in order to grow and bloom and discover and experience the oh-yeahs in life.  Not just sharpen their reflexes to dodge and delete.  Technology is  beautiful, but human touch is much More.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Just over a month has passed since my last entry. I'm surrounded by friends that want the best for me; my trusty rogues, flying high in the sky.  I watch with wonder as they help me put lifes fires out and add fuel to my own joie de vivre.  Opening myself up, exposing myself to a life where the glass can and should be half full is a blessing.  Letting the glass-half-empty practice wither is so gratifying and timely.  I've come into a life where there is loads of possiblity just waiting for me.  I cannot go back to who I was.  Spirit has planned this all along.

The present scenario I'm "living" in has shown me a lot.  It has taught me that a truly cluttered life starts with a cluttered brain.  Seeing this property littered with shit is an immensely accurate portrait of what is going on in the owners brain.  I've experienced her clusterfuck of rants, and instead of spewing back with the same dark force of energy, I check myself.  I make sure my side of the road is clean, so to speak, then reply accordingly.  It really isn't all that difficult when I remove the desperation and focus on the solution.  I do not and will not function in an environment where being a bully is more important than being a compassionate human.  There is no room in my world for idiots.

Yesterday is over.  I am done with forfeiting my dreams in order to make others happy.  Living from place to place, I put my animals in jeopardy just to have them with me. Saying that I could take the best care of them was prideful, as I know they have come here on this earth to love and be loved, no matter if it's me or another lucky person.   Their next owners will fill them with a life that they deserve.  I simply couldn't do it anymore, as I was compromising my needs in order to think I was saving theirs.  If I truly love animals, it is an honor to find them a home that can care for them, be there for them, give them all that they need while also living their own life well.
It is indeed one of the most painful losses, but I have to realize my dream.  In order to realize what I've been put here for, I have to step out of the way and let my heart be heard.  I have to find me; the creative part of me that is deep within the core of my being.  I have not been honoring myself and looking at what I need to bloom.  I've just put the seed in the bottom of a hole, covering it with excuses and fears instead of enriching it with Truth, Wisdom, Positivity.

The sacrifices I made yesterday have left me completely flat emotionally, but when I see and re-read The Alchemist, I remember that the fuel I need to energize again isn't to be found in a pill, wine, negativity.  It is found when I see what lengths I went to make necessary change.  I did hella things in order to be happier, so now I have to bless the experiences leading up to this very moment I'm typing to you, dear journal, and see what is next with fervor and excitiement, not jumbled nerves and crying.  I have see my tears in different categories: it is greatly healing to cry when there is grief, loss, pain.  There is a time and a place to share these things, and I must get a better handle on my floodgate of tears shed at the drop of a pin!  There are the tears of excitement, where your face is blissfully hurting from realizing your goal, seeing hardwork rewarded or...reaching or pursuing your personal legend.  The tears that are the most disturbing and run out of every pore of me at any given moment are the tears of forecasted fear.   I call it that because they futurize the unknown horizon and think the worst is about to happen.  I mean, I have lived in allllllll kinds of precarious scenarios - you would think that these prepare me to receive Any thing without being fearful.  There is a time and a limit the Universe allows for upset and fear.  It is at those times where I am not supporting my calling and trying to control my environment.  I came here to realize something my parents did not.  I came here to be of service, to be happy, to make others light shine makes mine shine greater.  It is my time..

Monday, October 24, 2016

Sept 13 - 2016

I'm sitting here in the cold draft of a nightmare soon-to-be over.  The air is as thick as the thieves while vultures circle overhead,waiting for my departure.  The vultures I speak of  can't help their narcissism.  They were surely born with a penchant for stealing souls, corralling their victims into their bottomless well to draw from when they needed power.  I am not a victim.  I am light, I am Presence, I have a soul that is bound with chords of strength and grace.  I am captivated by a nack for survivng - surprised, but not surprised, by every feat of compassion beyond measure I've endured.  I will beat her vampire sucking spirit to the ground with my courage and grace.  I am Leah Morrah.

The life she took was merciless.  A Sensless act of irresponsibility, which in some cultures, she would be killed for killing.  Some cultures would muzzle the perpitrator.  I would like to hold the vision of both the deadly dog and it's merciless owner to be muzzled, but again...I,m on an energy saving spree, not an energy mindfuck.   My boy didn't ask for anything but love and time in the sun.  There was no reason for him to die, as he was the epitome of all Things Beautiful in this World. But what if it's a message of something greater? What if the gods were protecting him from something much worse?  What could Be worse, I guess, would take an unnescessary shit load of energy I need to preserve in a bottle; a jar for emotional emergencies only.  To waste time and convert energy molecules into sad ones is just not practical.  I am a rounded emotional being tying to fit myself in a squared practical hole.  ouch.

I Know I have angels watching over me.  Mark the Mighty swooping in and saving the day ! ... he definitely needs a cape :)  A little Indian woman, Rekha, showing me ways to channel my strength, inviting me to festivals celebrating Life. The simple beauty of a small Hindu temple.   G & I swaying to words we can't read or pronounce, but understood just the same.   The music may be in a foreign tongue, but still felt and recognized as Spirit moving through us.   A message from Spirit to grab what Is and run from what Is Not.  

If I can continue to successfully peel these layers of fear from my being, all will be revealed.  I've been bathing in a sea of victim this and worry that for years.  Now is the time to get naked.  Now is the time for my true form to take root.  Now is the time for Love as strong as steel and as smooth as silk to envelope my naked body and clothe it in robes rich in wisdom and purpose.  This is my time.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

I haven't written for nearly a year. Though I'm not here to make up for lost time, I am merely here to make up with myself.  I have not been an attentive partner.  I've neglected everything that matters; my psyche, my belief in others, but especially the belief I had in myself.  I used to be a fighter, a negotiator, my own advocate.  Now my brain is fuzzy, I trust no one and I go through my days like I'm thumbing through a boring book of fiction.
I read this wonderful work by Dr Brenne Brown on Shame.  She did an interview with Maria Shriver that sounded like she was reading Me. "Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging'.   If she could actually interview me, what would I say?  Would I be able to share from my gut, a different part of me?  One that is stronger, sounds better, a clearer defined part of me that I didn't know was inside?

The thing is, Magic and Shame don't go together Magic is oil to Shame's vinegar.   I have let shame into my life, and it has worn out its welcome.  It's time to sweep that guest out of my house, as it is just does not fit with my decor!  I really do think changes happens when I let myself be open -  I just allow my whole being to be porous, soaking up the entirety of the promise or the possibility, or too-good-to-be-trueness of another. But in this phase of my life, I have not left any space or energy for me.  In other words: I've wasted so much time holding space for people and the problems they bring to me, I've nothing left for myself.
 
I re-read my entries and feel like they all sound the same.  The shake-up needs to happen!  I need to stop carrying the black cloud around and just leave it for Eeyore.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Don the cape

I had yet another Light bulb moment.  I Am a Writer.  This realization knocked me clean into Kentucky and wasn't something that happened overnight.  It happened probably as soon as I was old enough to put two words together and make my first sentence. I was a Writer even back then.  My only fan was my sister.  my quirky confidant; we were twon polar opposites stuck in a family that thought girls were useless and reminded of that notion.   Endlessly.  My sister, who is 6 years older than me was like the Poster Child of Nerdom.  She could've probably won awards for it, but instead, was bullied and messed with because she was smart and different.   I love every bit of that Nerd, because she taught me to write and to think and to Dream.  She taught me that just because I was cute and blonde, I needed to use my brain not my looks, because sooner or later, the hair would turn colors (she checked Daily!) and my looks would change.  Thanks, sis...thanks a lot.
In addition to my tutelage from my sister, I wasn't doing normal kid things like the other kids in my 'hood. Instead of making tree houses and pretend bat caves, I was sequestered on one of those lawn chairs of the 70's, where you wear the imprint of the webbing on your ass all day.  I studied the thesaurus.  Yep,  I became a wordsmith at the ripe old age of 6.  I would sit there for hours looking up words and writing poems and stories.   I got accolades from my first grade teacher for my poems and even got published in the local newspaper.  I still have the article to this day - 'Squeaky the Mouse' made it in the paper next to the ad for gas for a buck and the obituaries.  My poem, "War, War...What is it for?" made it as far as my first grade teachers bulletin board, as the subject matter was too advanced for a kid like me to write about.  It dealt with the atrocities of war from the innocent eyes of a 7 year old kid.  Mind blowing that it was over looked and misunderstood, but I was a kid in the Midwest, so go figure.  
Over time, I've written and scraped many poems, kept more journals than there are volumes of the encyclopedia.   When I was unattached, I used to befriend guys online to test drive my stories.  I had given up finding a guy that understands me for Me, so instead I seasoned my dialogue with just the right kick to keep them wanting more. They fell in love with my writing, but never got as far - or as near - as looking into my eyes and seeing the depth my heart could truly go.  I put a limit on my spending as far as my writing went. I was very frugal with my stories and poems, as I knew if I 'sold out', I could never really have my souls secrets to myself anymore,.  That's why they call them secrets after all.  I preferred to be a bit of a ghost writer to these men that swooned over my words, as the confidence faded when time comes to actually meet the someone that has fallen...for my writing.  The risk of maybe someday someone Getting me was a tightrope I was not quite willing to walk.  How about if they reject me - say my work is stupid?  No way, no how. I always kept a metaphorical baseball bat at my side in case someone failed to see my tender heart lay behind my mellifluous words. 
Fast forward to my Light Bulb moment.  That thing I was getting to that I had to take 3 or more paragraphs, before editing, to explain.  The thing I need to focus on is not if my writing wins other people over, but if it wins Me over.  I'm not looking to fall in love with a reader, because then I would become the 13th Disney Princess and become animated and buxom.    I needed to fall in love with myself, with my writing; see that I have purpose and unleash my guarded heart, not settle for Mr. Almost.  .


Once burned
lessons learned
twice shy
stupid guy
wants to look for something more
sounds like Macys closed at 4

Told me he's a fragile man
Can't you buy that in a can?
Think I'll put him on a shelf
Sell him for a penny
Give him free if you don't mind
I'm calling in his nanny

More is betta
so he said
I though that meant in money
Conquests are a dime a dozen
 I don't think its funny 

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