I can't seem to get my mood out of the gutter lately. No end of good, wonderful things are blooming and expressing all around me and I'm sullen and grumpy if not downright pissed off. I'm not sure when it started exactly but any little excuse will keep it going.
I celebrated two years sober yesterday at my home group and connected and reconnected with loads of folks. It was wonderful and unexpected... originally I didn't want to go. I putzed around and got my car serviced, bought some plants (which I just realized are still sitting in the car) and decided to get my nails removed. That sounds funny, right, but most women know what I mean. I was finally fed up with dealing with long nails, beautiful as they are... functionality was more important. Anyhow the lady at the nail salon was boarder line violent... seriously.. I have nail gouges from the dremel tool to prove it. I was MORE MAD AT ME for not saying anything and still tipping her. WTF!!
Other people enjoying life ticks me off too. I'm headed to a conference and I'm speaking later in the day so I need to grab my boot straps or whatever and yank up. I guess this is the result of too much selfish - self centered time alone? I'm grasping here. I was hoping that writing would help. It is SOO much easier to type now, it's actually a joy to type without the claws!
I guess I can go rescue the plants from the car. Spend some time smudging and releasing all this anger, sadness, and bitterdom then get a shower and get on with it. Thanks for listening!
I've been surprised to find how many people have NOT heard of this book / method / journey. I lived in California on Venice Beach when I first heard of and bought the book. It may actually have been a therapist from Colorado who recommended it... not sure, doesn't matter, it was a lot of years ago when I first heard of it.
I never managed to finish the process... it's a guide to a 12 week journey to uncover, unshackle, discover, find, remember, your inner creative being or child. No surprise I never finished it - but I did find it again... an amazing God Wink type experience at the Barnes and Noble recently.
How to access that elusive internal creative genius is the purpose of the journey, for me anyhow. One of the primary access points for this journey is writing and something she calls "morning pages"... 3 pages both sides, written, long hand each day. There are no rules about what to write and no one will ever read these pages. It's basically an intense venting discovery process that happens as you force yourself or allow yourself to pour out stream of consciousness on paper. Now I've known the value of writing since 1979 or before when I first started a diary. The wonder of it is that the more you do it the better the result. I've seen a marked improvement in my own internal sanity, as measured by myself of course - hee hee... a bit subjective but the point is I feel better. I've also noticed that like a good set long standing exercise routine is sorely missed if it's missed... I miss writing and notice a difference when I skip it.
I figured out during the course of this morning writing a nice daily routine that I can choose to adhere to or not. It's nice because it encompasses so many of the toys and tools that I've acquired over the years. The buffalo skin drum, the abalone shell and sage, the various prayers and positive thought books... daily reflections and an opportunity to actually do step 10... a daily inventory in a weird and wonderful way... the photos below are Post-It note type flip chart pages... (LOVE IT!! Instant Whiteboard!!)
All this yap just to explain why I haven't been writing here as often. I've found I'm even more free on the hand written morning pages... no web or image distractions. Not a single thought about any potential audience comments or lack thereof. I've nearly filled up my biggest, thickest spiral journal!
(turn and face the strain)
Oh, look out you rock n rollers
(turn and face the strain)
Pretty soon now you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time.
I'm in a bit of a ranting mood yet again. It feels like a secret that is kept by everyone as they get older... a club that you only get to by aging, in person. No knock at a green door, secret password or magic key - you just have to arrive on your own power, at your own time. I keep blaming this experience on being smober and sober but I have a sneaking suspicion that it was about to pistol whip me in any case. I just decided to lump a bunch of earth shattering, life tipping experiences all in the span of a year or two rather than sanely spread them out a bit. Sure, no problem, menopause, career change, and stop drinking and smoking, why not!? Jolly good! I guess better to rip that band aid off, right? Get it over with. Alrighty then!
I'm casting around for an owner's manual of sorts. I'd like one, at least for this physical body of mine. I get that each person's experiences are unique and I've taken a particularly odd path, but everyone gets old and the same basic things happen. I went to my OBGYN this past fall and the woman spoke in fucking whispers... like it's a secret. I wouldn't make this up. Apparently my pussy is destined for dryness, but there's a pill or potion for that. WTF!? They have a test now to see if you're still fertile and I guess you can take estrogen for the hot flashes. No thank you, very much man made hormones scare the piss out of me. What else is bound to go south? Sagging - literally going south!... for sure... trouble getting up and down the stairs or off the floor. Shit!
Sorry this is a selfish, spoiled-childish, pity party for one. It doesn't change a damn thing. All there is to do it deal with it, make the best of it, move on. If I want information I'm sure it's available, I just need to Google properly. I just did, by the way, and YEP, plenty of info, too much, actually! The thing is I'm was just working up to taking care of the body I had now it seems I've got a new - "improved" version!
"Grateful, am I, to be above ground," as my Grandfather used to say each morning. "Getting old ain't for sissies," as Grandma Kay would quip.
Born & raised by a workaholic - still recovering!
I decided back in November 2015 to make my poetry available and journal online. I'm not exactly sure what "blogging" means but I am quite sure this is an online journal. Feel free to read on with an aire of open minded curiosity. At no time do I intend to offend, judge or pretend to know anything really, I'm just an observer and explorer, as we all are. Feel free to "boldly go" through my observations and perhaps it will spark or inspire. Comments are off because I don't want to be worried about political correctness when I'm writing. I'm not thinking about "you." I'm just writing because it feels "right". Feel free to enjoy or surf on.
Fibber McGee's closet!