What the Faith?

Faith is like a scientific experiment. It's your controlled substance you plug-in too, like one of those nifty electric car stations you see scattered about town.  It's always there, never waivering unless you scrap the whole idea and think you can do it alone.  It'll still be there drumming it's fingers on your life until you wake the hell up and try again. It teaches you patience.  It teaches you sacrifice.  It teaches you that all the shit you've been through is merely a hoop you'll jump through to get to a bigger, more brilliant hoop.   
Some shy away from that word. Eww faith ! It's like saying toilet paper in the 50's - no one likes to say it out loud as it may make people judge you.  I say Who Cares.  If a person is judged by their own beliefs and it isn't harming anyone, F that.  Fear is to Faith as Death is to Life.  If you go around living in a bubble, because so-and-so said  you were a dumb fuck, that dumbfuckishness will shape you to be the absolutely Best dumbfuck in ...Fuckerdom.  If you live in a belief that you can run naked through the mud of life (well, not literally) and see what happens next, know what ever Will happened will be ok, then buddy, you got Faithed.   The belief in a power greater than ourselves is rich.  The unchanging belief that I can do anything if I set my sights toward that goal is Rich.    The things that Do change are the variables; the actions, thoughts that bounce around in our heads, like kids jumping on a feather bed.  If we can take that belief in our pockets and apply good sense and work, we can do amazing things...but we have to see how fear can be the catylyst for change, not the enemy of Life
I have to see, remember, utilize what I've done to see with open eyes how faith works.  I'm not turning into a bible-thumper or a egocentered hypocryt if I have faith.  I'm empowered with a new battery pack, that will take me over the puddles and maybe through a couple too, but I know I'll be okay on the other side.                                                                                         

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.