Sunday, February 23, 2014
Maybe you tie yourself up in knots over being kind enough, happy enough, patient enough. A good enough wife, mother, boyfriend, son, grocery bagger. Well, I feel your pain. I doubt I've met a person who couldn't empathize with this strange, painful habit. And the ones who insist they are perfectly happy and I don't know what I'm talking about, I keep my eye on them. O.o
Do we like this masochistic behavior? Do we like the pain and agony we bring on ourselves? Oooo, better yet, how about inviting someone to do it for us? Oh, yeah. I can see your eyes rolling back in your head at the thought. Let's put ourselves out there and see how bad it can get. *choked moan of pleasure* Nothing feeds the pain monster like a little creative BDSM, me thinks. We like it in some bizarre way. (No offense to those who enjoy sexual BDSM; just using it as a metaphor for our sado-masochistic tendencies)
We must like it, or why else do we indulge so damn often? *raises hand* I'll be honest. I have been torturing myself for days over my latest WIP (work in progress). The first draft is complete and I'm sick over this and that and the other thing. I have gone so far with my overthinking that I am now in the negative nether regions: My work is crap. I am crap. All is crap. Shitty mantra to be repeating, isn't it?
And if that isn't enough, I've invited people I know are good at tearing into me a sneak peek. Spank me harder.
My stomach hurts and all I want to do is curl up and watch endless reruns of Doctor Who. Now there's a great show! The writers are fantastic, the actors are fun...why can't I write like that?! *simpers*
Yeah, I know. Disgusting. *rolls eyes at self*
The truth is, this is all about ego and our learned need for pain. It may not feel good, but we're conditioned for it. Our egos are these incredibly fragile things. They crave validation over and over...its endless! There's never enough praise, thoughtful feedback, or kudos to satisfy it's bottomless void of need. Ick! And when there's not enough praise, we succumb to the dark need to torture ourselves.
Whenever my thoughts turn to "not being good enough", I know its my ego talking and NOT my soul. You know why?
Because our souls don't worry about what other's think or even if our work or art is good enough or even palatable to everyone. Our souls do what we're here on this earth to do and enjoy it. Our souls grin every time we paint a picture, write a story, balance a check book--if that's what we're meant to be doing. Our souls know that we are enough as we are in any given moment, that we are perfect in our imperfection and it is enough to be doing our work, our dharma, our art.
It's our damn egos that want to be spanked and humiliated. Damn, egos.
So, maybe I need to change my mantra back to: I do enough. I have enough. I am enough. Om Shanti.
Yeah, that feels better already.
So let your light shine, even if it scares you to death. I'm going to be right there beside you, cheering you on. You've got great things to do. Go do them. No one else can do what you do.
By the way, YOU do enough, too. YOU have enough. YOU are enough.
Om shanti shanti shanti
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
"Blessed are the weird people:
poets, misfits, writers, mystics, painters, troubadours: for they teach us to see the world through different eyes." ~Jacob Nordby
I had a conversation with a friend today as I worked on balancing her energy with essential oils and touch. The energy work I do takes about thirty minutes and it was plenty of time for us to get to a core issue in both our lives: being our authentic selves. She brought it up and I was amazed. I mean, I'd just posted a couple days ago about getting myself out of my self-imposed cage and BLAM! As usual, the universe conspired. (BTW, I asked her if she'd happened to read my blog the other day and she did not, so there. :-p )
I shouldn't be so surprised, though. If I've learned anything over the past twenty years, its that the Universe does indeed conspire. It throws us into circumstances we need to be in. It brings us to people we need to talk to. It practically buries us in exactly what we need most AND we have the audacity to complain about it. Let's be honest. When was the last time you welcomed the chaos required to shake you up enough to crack the walls?
And that's what needs to happen if you want to embrace and be the real you. Walls have to crack. Cages must be rattled. And its one hell of a wake up call when it happens. It feels bad, scary, uncomfortable. It makes us mad, afraid, insecure, and dare I say, vulnerable. *shivers*
But the cracks are how the light gets in, my friend. And we need that light to grow. Yes, we do. And we need our cages rattled on a regular basis. Being stuck inside the persona we've crafted eventually starts to feel wrong, but it also is what we're used to. So, we're loathe to shed the ill-fitting skin. So cracks, baby. Shake ups. Earthquakes. Quiet conversations with friends in the yurt. We need them if we really, really mean to be ourselves.
When we feel like who we truly are doesn't fit the norm, we need something extra to stir us to take action. And when do we take action?
When we don't like what's fucking going on, damn it. We have to be so uncomfortable, so unhappy, so miserable we are willing to get up off our asses and do the work required. There's no other way, I'm afraid.
So misfits, go forth and don't fit.
Poets, tear your heart out and splat it down.
Mystics, explore extraordinary experiences and states of mind.
Painters, fling some paint and see where it sticks.
Writers, bleed on that page...or laptop.
Troubadours, you French medieval lyric poets, you, compose and sing in Provencal on the theme of courtly love.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
I've been told I'm oversensitive, weird, hippie-dippie, and plain wrong. I've been told I'm going to hell, I'm a little off, I'm their most bizarre friend, I'm this, I'm that for so long and by so many people, I stopped talking about my interests, beliefs, and even my opinion on the latest news-worthy events. There are a few select human beings I do share with, but that is because I know there is little risk with them.
They get me or at least are okay with my likes and dislikes, obsessions and opinions, and my tangent of the day, hour, minute... But I'm trying to step outside the boundaries I set for myself a long time ago. I'm really trying to free myself from the cage I only let myself out of when I think no one but my soul tribe is watching. I'm still not sure how far I want to go with this.
I mean, how many of you would be willing to strip naked and parade your tender-est bits before the judgmental hordes?
So, if you're reading this blog, be forewarned:
Crazy stuff might happen.
Strange stories might be told.
Pictures may appear that you're not sure you want to look at.
It's going to get a little nuts.
But if you brave it and free your own mind, maybe, just maybe we'll both learn not to care what other's think. Maybe we'll both learn to let our hair down and be okay with not being okay. I mean, none of us are fully what we appear to be, right? Or is that just me? Hmmmm...well, here goes...see you on the flip side...
Saturday, February 15, 2014
|Available on Amazon|
So, after an online chat with a friend about favorite comic books, I went back to one of my old faves, Tank Girl! Woooo hoooo! It's been literally years since I went on adventures with her. Two years to be exact, because that's when I lost all sense of balance in my writing haze. After a lifetime of reading, watching T.V. and movies, and sitting around campfires both listening to and telling scary stories, I devoted myself to finally, finally finishing those novels that have been haunting me.
And then I found this on Amazon:
|Available on Amazon|
And blew my book budget for the month. *sigh* I need help. Is there an online Nerds Anonymous I can join?
Have you read Tank Girl or Hellboy? Are you as in love with them as I am? Please, please, somebody...anybody...tell me I'm not alone in my obsession....anyone...Bueller?...Bueller?...
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Sometimes, I can't succinctly explain the quiet revelations I have. Maybe its because they are in the wordless voice of God or the Universe or my subconscious. Translating them for others to understand only works when I write fiction, not explanatory essays. So, I'm not going to try. I'm going to quote Pema Chodron and share an excerpt from my latest book, Samadhi, and let you decide what it all means.
Namaste, dear friends.
Without the maras, would the buddha have awakened? Would he have attained enlightenment without them? Weren't they his best friends, since they showed him who he was and what was true ? All maras point the way to being completely awake and alive by letting go, by letting ourselves die moment after moment, at the end of each out breath. When we wake up, we can live fully without seeking pleasure and avoiding pain, without re-creating ourselves when we fall apart. We can let ourselves feel our emotions as hot or cold, vibrating or smooth, instead of using our emotions to keep ourselves ignorant and dumb. We can give up on being perfect and experience each moment to its fullest. Trying to run away is never the answer to being a fully human being. Running away from immediacy of our experience is like preferring death to life. ~Pema Chodron
Excerpt from Samadhi, Book Three in the Love and Light Series
“Cross the bridge.” Wolf’s voice floated to her on a breeze. She looked wildly around but there was no damn bridge anywhere. What were they talking about? Her legs went weak with dizzy dread, and she fell to her knees. She clasped her hands tightly, tears splatting on her white knuckles as she bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
“God?” she whispered. “I don’t know if you’re actually there. You know, I’ve had a hard time believing any deity worth praying to would allow all the horrible things that have happened.” She swallowed down her pride and broke into a sob. “But I don’t know what else to do except…pray. I’m lost, God. I…don’t know what to do. Help me because I am all out of ideas.”
She knelt in the smell of baked pine needles and warm, damp earth. Crickets chirped and a whippoorwill trilled, and she cried harder, remembering the feel of Heather’s lips. Or was it a thousand years ago when Wolf made devoted love to her? As she remembered, lost in the sensations, both physical and emotional, of her brief life with Wolf, all sense of time and place slipped away. As the memories faded, she fell into a dark, quiet mindlessness.
And in that state, she heard a voice. It wasn’t speaking words for her ears; it was talking to her heart. And it told her that all would be well, whatever direction she chose. And she chose home. She chose life. She chose Wolf and the baby. And she chose Heather and Christian. She chose this life, however fraught with peril and complications. It had always been her choice, she understood in a new way, a soulful way, regardless of the events beyond her control.
It was always her choice to live, despite the fear, and she knew now without a doubt in her mind where her hope rested.
Where her peace came from.And that their love would last forever.
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
Available NOW on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords. . .UNDENIABLE, The Serendipity Duet Book One.
If you read The King Series and fell in love with Rafe Brooks, the bad boy who tried to steal Tasmyn's heart. . .here's the story you've been waiting to read. What happened after graduation? How did Rafe get over Tasmyn?
**********************For Rafe Brooks, running from a broken heart means losing himself in alcohol and women. Lots of women, none of whom will remember him, since he has the ability to manipulate their minds and make them forget. Numbing the pain works until he meets an irresistible redhead with secrets of her own. She offers him the opportunity to join forces with an organization that will use his powers for good rather than his own amusement. Jocelyn rocks his world with her unapologetic passion and makes him believe for the first time he just might survive heartbreak. When a mission takes the two of them undercover to infiltrate a commune with suspicious activity, they discover it's just the tip of a plot to cause world-wide anarchy. Hiding their extraordinary powers and real identities is crucial to staying alive. For Rafe and Jocelyn, when life is uncertain, love is undeniable.