My Brain just Exploded...

After last night's dream, naturally, I'm thinking about it. I deciphering it. I'm pondering what I wrote about it and what it means...Dreamer...Dreamwalker....What IS that? That's part of my problem, you know; not knowing EXACTLY what that dreamwalker thing means. So I'm cooking supper and getting ready for work tomorrow cause I got called in and YAY work. (Not really, but YAH money!)

I was thinking and remembering my friend who talked about discovering what's hiding behind the fear, wondering what it might be and that's when it happened.

My brain exploded all over the place and now I'm going to have to clean up the mess and then paint. That's a helluva notion, me having to scrape my own brains off my office walls and ceiling and then paint...Humph. Wonder if there's a guy person that you can hire for that? Cause it's not fair that I have to explode and clean the mess I made of myself. Right?

Now let me backtrack a little so I can catch up with myself. Sometimes I go too fast. It makes me run...usually in the wrong direction.

When I started this blog it was with the intent of starting my own business so I could work from the comfort of home. I didn't want to get rich or anything; just make the same amount of money that I was making before the woman I used to (and sometimes still do) Care-take moved in with her niece and I lost my job. I took some courses...that I hated because it was all about invading and intrusive ways of making money. Not helpful if what you're really looking for is just a way of starting a business and figuring out what that business might be and then how to do that in a way that makes your heart sing AND helps others too. BONUS!! Happy Dance!

I discovered the Fluent Self because Fabeku mentioned her. It's where Havi and Selma (A DUCK!) talk about getting unstuck with your 'stuff' and about figuring out ways to do your thing and process your stuckification at the same time. That was good. She rocks and I'm not just saying that because her business partner is a rubber duck either! My favorite blog so far is when she had a conversation with her blocks and...well, it went like this:

"I asked about what was going to happen next and my fear said I had to go do some deep work with my second chakra and then I rolled my eyes and then my fear called me a pussy."

That still cracks me right up! (It did you too, right?!)

Havi has been helpful to me. (Thanks and more stalkings to you, Havi!) I was delighted to discover that her writing style is just as irreverent and crazy as my own and that she holds nothing back. She lets it all hang out there because...she's working through her own stuff and practicing. I was really, really glad that I wasn't the only nutcase goof ball in the interwebs doing that. Plus, she makes me laugh and gives me really good ideas without making me feel bad about the fact that I have stuff that I'm working through and want to do my THING too. Yay!

And big yay to Fabby too, with chocolate, because he's been trying to tell me that forever...sometimes with words, other times with things to do, sometimes with neat SOUND things and sometimes...just sometimes, he has to call in the BIG GUN and sick Frank and his boots on me. (I probably owe him some big long apology for being a shithead or something...wonder if he'll settle for my cat, who's part ninja?)

Then there's Wren who's been after me for years to just shut up and get on with it already.

I have a note sitting on my desk right in front of me this moment that says: Wren, Fabeku, Havi WHAT'S MY THING? (And do I know any people with normal names?!)

The problem was...I didn't know what my thing was. And every time I learned that it was something called dream walking my brain would go: WTF is that? It's one thing to have a thing and know what it is cause then you know how to do it, or at least have an idea about how to do it...But other than to go climb in bed and sleep and dream and that couldn't be right?! I had no idea what dream walking meant...till my head exploded.

The explosion came after I was thinking. (Yes, in direct conflict with what Fabby told me!) I was thinking stuff like WTF is dream walking? How do I do my thing if I don't know what it means? Or what it is. Or how it works. How do I do what I don't know how to define? Like...I'm a writer, that means I write stuff. Easy! I'm a dreamer, that means I have dreams and I know a few things about how they work that I can share with others. Easy! I'm a past life therapist, that means I help people get in touch with and work with their past lives. Easy! I'm a tarot reader, that means I do readings for people using tarot cards. Easy! I'm a dream walker, that means I...WTF?

And then something weird happened that was this:

To which I replied: ????

And then THIS happened:

And there it was!

MY THING!!

I kept getting caught up in the thinking that tried to define and limit dream walking to a single thing. I separated DREAMING from the tarot, reincarnation, herbs, writing, listening, herbs and then further separated all those from each other and categorized them as things that were NOT dream walking since I didn't know what dream walking meant. I mean, really, what do any of the strange and wonderful things that I do and love have to do with this dream walking bit? Nothing, that's what! So if it isn't them then I was wrong to even have studied them and I've been wasting my whole life on them when I should've been doing and learning this other thing called dreamwalking, like the dreams kept telling me over and over...till over doesn't even sound like a word anymore.

Sure, I was dreaming all the time and the dreams were telling me things, teaching me things, awesome things; usually involving all these OTHER things, but that was just because these other things were on my mind. It didn't mean anything. Right?

WRONG!

And THAT'S why I was stuck! I was limiting myself by thinking I had to be ONE single thing but, none of the things that I do - alone - meant dream walking to me...including the dreaming! So because dreamwalking meant none of these other things, I thought it must mean something else so I was wrong to be doing the other things when, the reality is that they are ALL part of me being and doing the dream walking thing.

MY THING!!

Dream walking can't be defined because it isn't something I do it's something I AM. Being a Dream Walker simply means being my SELF! It's not a doing thing...it's a being thing. Doing things comes out of the BEING it. All the weird, crazy things that I do are what Dream Walking is about. And the dreams that teach and guide these other things and me are how they all fit together and THAT'S what dreamwalking means. By doing all these other things AND listening to what the dreams (and plants, stones, trees....) share with me and then sharing that with others I'm dream walking!

I found my thing! Woot!!

How about d'em apples!?

Resistance is Futile: Can't Fight the Moon Light

A lot of what I've written here so far has been about my struggle with my inner Kooky Pook. A lot of that struggle has to do with me wanting it to go away and instead it hangs around, giving me feelings and dreams that drive me crazier than I already am.

I've been ranting and raving about Kooky Pook and how to kill it and the nightmares that have been driving me insane are all simply telling me that I AM a Kooky Pook and need to accept that about myself and just get on with it. I had talked with a very special friend about this...I'd asked if he knew how I could "knock the stupid out of me so that I could just get on with it." He told me it didn't have anything to do with stupid or knocking it. He said it had to do with finding out what the fear behind the stupid was.

I went to bed with that question and discovering the answer on my mind.

Dream-fessions

Last night I dreamed that I was in the basement of my house and the shadowy figure that often appears in invades my dream space was rushing me around, telling me to hurry up. IT was coming! I didn't know what IT was but it sounded bad and, certainly Shadowy Figure was freaking out about it. So I was throwing things in a car and, since I don't drive, Shadowy Figure was behind the wheel and blithering on about IT and we had to hurry.

I looked out the front window and the sky was brilliant blue and there was the moon, all full and glorious. I didn't see anything else. I looked out the back window and there was moon, all full and glorious. I didn't see anything else. I thought it was strange that it was both in front of us AND behind us and, because that's a kind of strange and wonderful thing, I woke up inside the dream.

Shadowy Figure didn't seem to notice that I was now awake. Instead, it just kept blithering. I couldn't understand anything it was saying other than this IT was a dangerous thing that we needed to escape. Somewhere in there I realized the IT was the MOON, which woke me up a little more since I like the Moon. It's given me some awesome dreams. (Yes, I blame it on the moon and may have to hunt down that video just cause.) But now that I was awake instead of just dreaming and going with the Freak Out I studied the moon that was both in front of us and in back of us and thought: Well, how in hell are we going to escape something that's behind us, chasing us when it's also in front of us, waiting for us? Obviously, there's no where you can run in order to get away from something that is not only behind you, driving you forward, but that is also in front of you, waiting for you to get there?! You can't fight the moon light! (which was the song that the moon was singing to me in the dream. OH! The MOON Sang to ME!!!)

About that time I realized that even though we were peeling rubber we weren't getting anywhere. The car wasn't moving. The scenery around us wasn't changing. The only thing that was going on was that it was day time before us and night time behind us and the moon was the same exact moon and it wasn't moving. Ignoring old Shadowy Figure I thought about the moon and what it meant to me and that was (is) dreaming. But it wasn't just dreaming dreams it was something called Dream Walking. In running away from the moon I was running away from Dream Walking...whatever that is. Then it dawned (ouch the bad pun!) on me that the moon was ME. Dreaming is ME. I'm Dream Walker. And I was running from myself and I can't escape myself any more than I can escape the moon because no matter where I go, or how fast, there I am! I looked at the Moon saw that it wasn't anything to be afraid of. It wasn't a monster, despite what old Shadowy Figure thought or felt. Shadowy Figure obviously has issues! I looked at the Moon and thought it was big and bright and glorious, in both skies, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. I liked it so much that I asked it to stop freaking out Shadowy Figure and then maybe, just maybe, we could get things rocking and rolling. Wouldn't that be cool?

I woke up.

Becoming a Listener or...Did you just Talks?!!!

There was a day when I didn't have a problem talking with plants, stones or anything else for that matter. Ah...those were the days. Long hair was in for BOTH genders. Music actually rocked and had a message. Owning a set of tarot cards and quartz crystal was considered cool and funky. Making your own candles was a fantabulous hobby. Everyone was talking about the New Age and it seemed the song Age of Aquarius was actually something more than a groovy song. ESP cards and bending spoons were being talked about and experimented with at the dinner table...sometimes during supper!

I'd been listening to 'things' talk forever without batting an eye. I remember my mother asking me to talk to some plant in her garden that was misbehaving and see what its problem was. I would and she'd solve the problem then I'd go back to climbing a tree, roaming the woods, or teasing my little brother. I never thought a thing about it except for when I asked my mother why she didn't just ask the plant herself. She told me that she couldn't hear them. That she couldn't do it made me feel like a weirdo. Being a weirdo was NOT cool and being cool, in those days, was very important.

I got busy with the growing up, getting married, having and raising a baby. Some time in the 80's my son reached an age where I actually had some free time to myself. Since I had a rather New Agey sort of mind I began looking into psychism, went back to exploring reincarnation, and playing with the tarot, crystals and stones I'd been collecting through the years.

One of my friends at the time was into channeling. I wasn't really interested in that but it gave me an excuse to go with her to a little store called Yes! Books with it's Cafe, No! She wandered off her way and I wandered mine. I was thinking about channeling and wondering if that was what I was doing...if I was hearing the voices of discarnate beings. (ooooo creepy and who were these beings and why would they be talking to me?) About the same moment I was wondering that... there was a disturbance in The Force.

Okay, so I made that part up since, I don't think the Force had even been heard of yet here in my little reality. My family was still hung up on Captain Kirk's Star Trek and there were rumors of The Next Generation being whispered about by all us. Yeah, we were behind the times but it was a good thing; we had waaayy more fun than families who already had money and owned their own VCRs - which we were convinced were some sort of mutant 8 Track tapes with pictures that we'd have to click through. So yeah, The Force came later for us, after we moved to another state and had our very first VCR experience. In those days we had a little more money that had come with our relocation to Florida. In those days you went to a store and rented the VCR and the movie. We chose Star Wars. And boy, could I tell you some stories about the new fan-dangled microwave oven (which I still have and use) entered my home and I had the terrors of becoming radioactive from invisibly glowing food!

....Ooops, I rambled....

Anyways...back to my adventure at Yes! Books. As I wandered down the aisles thinking about the creepy idea of discarnate beings talking to me, and wondered why and how such a thing worked and why were people, like my friend, paying beaucoup bucks to attend seminars to listen to these spirits talk when there was a distrubance in the aisle that I was walking down. It felt like a mini earthquake. I looked up just as a couple of books fell off a high shelf. One hit me in the head then landed on my feet, open. The others landed in a neat pile beside me.

After my initial, ouchie!, I picked up the open book and was amazed to be reading about what a Sweet Pea plant had told some lady. The book, it turned out was The Findhorn Garden. The other couple of books were just as interesting, talking about communicating with clear crystals and animals. (By Garudas, or something like that, maybe?) And a couple by a woman named Machael Small Wright, who created the Perelandra Gardens in Virginia. I bought all the books for a whole six bucks and was happy as hell to think that even if I was nuts, I wasn't alone and that maybe - just maybe - there was something useful to be done with this hearing things talk.

I devoured those books over the next few days then went out back and started a garden. I even left a wild area which I promised not to weed or mow or even go into IF the nature spirits would help me with this, my very first garden of edible munchies. I divided the garden into two sections. In one section I planted things in with a conscious connection to the plant or seeds that I was using. I planted the other section without any such connection...just stuck the plants or seeds in the ground according to the directions on the packages. Then I waited. My next door neighbor gave me some lettuce to plant so I added that.

The things that I planted with conscious intention: meaning I asked each thing if it wanted to be planted and where then did what it said; blossomed and were huge and amazing. The things that I planted by just following the package directions...meh...not so much. Some grew, some didn't. There was a weed problem on that side that didn't happen on the conscious side of the garden. There were also lots of bugs and moles that didn't cross the line (which was an invisible one drawn in my head) to the conscious side of the garden. Huh. There was something to this conscious co-creative stuff. SWEET!

One day I wanted some lettuce and tomatoes for a sandwich so I went out and picked some. I grabbed some of the lettuce that my neighbor had given me though I thought it looked odd for lettuce. (I was only familiar with heads of lettuce, this wasn't that.) She said it was romaine lettuce. Whatever. Lettuce is lettuce. I got the veggies inside, washed them off and took a bite off the lettuce. I promptly spit it in the sink muttering: "You are the worse lettuce I've ever tasted! Gross!"

Then I turned to go do something like get in the fridge when I heard a voice as clear as a bell say: "That's because I"m not lettuce. I'm an endive."

I looked around expecting to find someone like my neighbor or husband or son in the room. Nope. I was alone. My hair stood on end as I turned back to the sink, walked over and looked in and, in a very quiet voice I asked: "Did you just talk?"

It then repeated what it said and told me a few ways it was usually used. I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a couple minutes then ran for one of my gardening books. I looked Endive up and do you know that it was right? That plant actually knew what it was when I had never even heard of it before.

And that's what got me hooked on Listening.

Stuff Talks...Who Listens?

I talk to plants.

I also talk with plants because, well...they talk back...IF you listen. I listen a lot.

Trees, stones, crystals, almost everything talks. Even the four winds, snow, water, and sometimes...my apartment. I bet yours talks too. Mine especially likes to talk when it's time for me to clean the place, or fix something. Sometimes my apartment can be down right demanding needy. How about yours?

Lots of 'things' talk. Not very many people listen. Some do...Findhorn is a case of people listening closely to the plants and land. Perelandra is another place that listens and makes use of what is heard. Stephen Buhner listens to herbs. I'm not alone in my listening. These others are more comfortable talking about it openly than I am though. They've even written books about their experiences.

This blog is a direct assault on my fear about talking about just exactly how Kooky Pook I am. In other words, even I think I am nuts. And since I think I'm nuts I decided it's kind of silly of me to be afraid of YOU thinking I'm nuts.

I talk to plants and stones and trees. A friend of mine talks to stones and crystals, among other things and...SOUND. (He has no problem being a Kooky Pook either.) Havi talks to walls and fears and a Duck...no offence meant, Selma! (I bet Selma simply responded with a !) So...we're all nuts and...um...neener neener. So there! (sticks out tongue for good measure.)

Okay. My deep dark secret is out! Or one of them is. And I'm still alive. YAY! (I'm pretty sure my heart rate went wayyy up there for a couple minutes though!)

Talking to plants and such isn't such an odd thing, really. Maybe what's odd is hearing these things talk back.

Near as I can figure - cause my head really likes to try to figure things out or the rest of me gets scared - everything is made up of vibrating energy. Energy has wave lengths, like on the radio. We can tune into certain stations. Some stations come in clear, others are fuzzy, and still others are nothing but static. If you blow a dog whistle you're going to tick off all the dogs within range of that sound...especially the ones closest to you and the whistle. Dogs that are far away might not hear it at all...depends on how good their hearing is and if they're in range or not. I think the reason I can hear many 'things' is because I'm extremely sensitive to sound and have a broader array of sound vibrations within my hearing range.

The nuts part is this. Sometimes I don't think I'm listening with my ears but with some other part of myself. I once read that Elephants have excellent hearing not in their big floppy ears but in their FEET. They can 'hear' vibrations from miles and miles away because they feel it...like a tuning fork. I think my kind of listening is like that. I don't always hear with my ears, I hear with my body...maybe my energy body. I don't know how to explain it better than that.

Next time...Becoming a Listener or...Did You just Talk?!....

(TAKE THAT, FEAR!!)

Bite me, Bitte...

Now that I've worked through a lot of my 'stuff' I'm feeling oddly silent inside. I've done this kind of work before (recycling!) but this time it feels different. It feels...better. The silence isn't me running around in my head screaming: "OMG What have I done?!" I don't have the sense of having made a mistake that I have to take back. I don't feel like I have to start over. I don't feel bereft or like I've screwed up again. And I'm not doing this thing that I do that I call 'Tree Barking' wandering around looking for something else to fill the holes I've created. This silence is full of peace. I can feel my heart beating, instead of thundering. I think my BP has dropped. My belly ache when away. My 'head' is quiet.

Shhhhhh.

This morning I watched a movie that I normally would never have watched called Fairy Tale: A True Story. I NEVER watch tv during the day. EVER. (Let alone movies about fairies.) I talked with one of my neighbors who is moving out. I hardly ever do that with my neighbors. I'm a recluse...or usually am. I fooled with Tippy, His Royal Highness, the cat. I lazed. It's now going on three in the afternoon and I'm not feeling stressed about anything.

WEIRD!

I chose the graphic for today's blog because that's a pretty good depiction of what's going on inside me. I feel like the door is open before me and all I have to do is step through. I can't remember the last time I felt like that. AWESOME. I was just looking around the office...okay, so what I was actually doing was spinning in my chair. I like spinning. Deal with it. :P I was spinning in my chair looking around at all the changes I've made in here since I first got bitten by the bug: I'm doing it wrong. Meaning my life. Meaning living it. Meaning Enjoying it. (Mmm, bitten was a very apt word there, now that I'm re-reading this before pubishing it. Ha!)

The story of how I got bit by the 'Doing it Wrong' bug is kind of funny.

I was at work and my sister-in-law dropped off some groceries and laundry for the woman I used to take care of. She mentioned the movie Twilight because her daughter had lent it to her. I'd never heard of it so when I got home I looked it up at Amazon and discovered it was a series of books for teens and tweens written by some lady named Stephanie Meyers. I popped on one of the books, since it turned out to be a four book series, and took a peek inside. I read the first couple pages and went away because I don't like very many books written in the first person and because it was written for the Young Adult audience. Obviously, I'm an old adult and wouldn't enjoy that so that was that...so I thought.

Somehow I ended up watching the Twilight movie. Mr. B was watching it with me and, knowing that he doesn't like horror type movies and because I was pretty sure I was bored with everything except looking at the forest and Edward's face...cause, yeah, he's gorgeous. (Plug for Rob Pattinson!)

....uh......where was I....Oh yeah! Sorry. Got distracted.

So hubby and I were about twenty minutes or so into the movie and I suggested we give it up. It was too slow. (Mr. B likes action flicks.) He said he was fine: "Just settle down there, wiggle worm." I settled down and somewhere between that twenty minute marker and the end I got hooked, lined, and sunk by the Twilight Saga.

My birthday came a few weeks later and what did my Honey give me but the boxed set of the four books in the series. I took the first one to work and devoured it on my breaks. It isn't that they're written well, or that there's action, or...well, I can list a whole bunch of things that are wrong with the series but I don't care what's wrong with it. I don't know what it is that makes me like them. I can blow holes in the plot without trying very hard. Bella really is annoying. I can list things that other adult readers complain about. The thing is, I didn't care. I didn't care SO MUCH that after I read the series I turned around and read them again. They remind me of when I was a tween and heavily hung up on the day time series Dark Shadows. (Horrid stuff. Really! Bloopers in live television. Blatant bat strings even.) But I cared about the characters. And that's why I like the Twilight Saga; it made me care about the characters which allowed me to totally suspend my adult and serious mind and become a part of the story line.

Yup. Hook, line and sinker.

I enjoyed the series and the effect it had on me. It woke up some sleeping part of myself...the one that can play and pretend and set aside the world, if only for a few minutes. That's frakkin' magic of the highest order in MY reality!

And that's when I started to remember my writing and my stories and my characters and that I missed and cared for them. That's when I remembered how much fun it is to lose myself in the creative flow of making up a story. So yeah, I'm a Twiligher and proud of it.

Last week my son took me to see New Moon. OMG yet more eye candy - the scenery is totally awesome...yeah, you thought I was talking about some other kind of eye candy, didn't you. hahaha I WAS! There's more action, better special effect, deeper story lines and improved acting and...did I mention the eye candy? Yep. I got bit by the bug and I'm glad I did. It woke me up when I didn't even realize I was sleeping.

Don't ask me to choose between Team Edward and Team Jacob though...unless there's a Team Jasper.

Hello World!

It's Monday. It's raining...again. I'm still in my jammies and getting ready to make supper after Mr. B gets home from work.

I did a lot of self-work over the weekend. I made some choices that I might take back later but, I don't think so. I talked with my friend Em for three hours and had a blast. We don't get to talk much. And today I made my very first Dammit List and that was scary and fun all at once. I figured that since I damn things a lot I might as well try my hand at a full on Dammit list. It's all Havi's fault, but she'll just blame it on Pirates...or Selma, the Duck.

I'm feeling much better about things today in my continuing adventure in how to make a living on-line without driving myself insane. I gave up the idea of entering the world of Healing. (Reiki, Energy work, herbalism, etc....) Doing healing work for a living just doesn't resonate jive with who I really am. Just the fact that I went into those fields driven by the idea of finding a way to make a living doesn't work. It wasn't the right reason for me to learn those skills. The motivation was wrong...and selfish. And, yeah, that's hard for me to own and confess but it's the truth and I said when I started this blog that I was going to do, and say, and own hard things. So this is one of them. Dammit.

Turning to learning healing modalities as a way of running away from my fright about becoming a published writer was not an okay thing to do. Forgetting that I wanted to be a writer and filling that hole of forgetfulness with all this other stuff for the last fifteen or twenty years was not okay either. Fooling myself and then complaining because my life sucks is just plain goofy. Of course, my life isn't going to work if I'm running around doing all sorts of things that my brain thinks are logical but that are NOT what my heart loves and longs for...well that's just...KOOKY POOK!

So I have released my inner Kooky Pook so that it can fly to where its nest truly resides and I have embraced my Inner...um...Writer.

Phew.....I said it right out loud. I may need a tranquilizer now.....Breathing....

Just because I won't be pursuing healing as a career doesn't mean that I won't be using those skills and applying them in my own life, for my family and friends. That's the good part of it; I don't have to feel like I've totally wasted the time, effort and money that I've invested in these things. I can also use what I've learned in my writing. Bonus! So I don't feel too badly as I look back...I only feel a little bad. That's an improvement over how I was feeling when I first started looking at myself and my life honestly. I was feeling like a complete loser. Now I just feel a little sad that I didn't catch on to the game I was playing with myself sooner.



Along with learning what I'm not, this weekend, I also learned what I am. I'm a dreamer and that's one of those things that falls squarely on the shoulder's of Kooky Pook and, sometimes WooWoo. That's all right. Dreaming is and has always been a large part of my life. I'm not going to stop talking about that or learning more about how it works and ways to consciously work with it. I owned embraced my Dreamer this weekend.

The other things I owned werer my fetish for tarot cards and my penchant for past life exploration. The Tarot is something I've done and played with since I was ten. The past life explorer is as old as my dreams. These are things that I've chosen to keep and to continue to talk about and explore. For a little while these two were touch and go. It took me a while...and a marathon phone call with my friend, Em, to get to the place where I was able to accept that these things, like the dreaming, are things that, quite possibly, are simply things that I do for myself. My personal guidance system. They're keepers because I have never waivered from being interested in them and excited by them. So I will also continue to write and talk about them. And I still might offer up readings to others who might be interested. If I have a group of Right People out there somewhere...insert music...then they will also be interested in these things and will find their way here. Woo Hoo for Right People!

The last thing is the writing and, before the day is over, I'll write something about writing. I'm looking forward to that. In fact, right now, with all this straightened out and my new Dammit List, I'm feeling pretty good about just about everything. So it was a hard weekend but it was a good one too.

Now off to that supper making thing that I do about now.....

Where's my Joy Stick?!

By nature I'm a pretty happy camper. I can find the humor in just about any situation. I'm especially adept at finding the humor in the worst situations. People call me all the time, flipping out in one way or another, usually on the verge of tears, and I get them laughing. I've even been known to get people laughing when it is most inappropriate to do so...Ever see a laughing jag hit five people at once during a funeral? I have. I initiated it.

It's a gift.

Having a sense of humor and being joyful aren't the same thing. I'm not great at being joyful. I used to be but I lost my joy stick a while back and now I'm trying to find it again.

While I was writing the Kooky Pook series I promised myself that this weekend would not end without my having made some serious progress through my Inner Garbage.

People go through cycles. The trick to cycles is that they re-cycle. Everyone I know has cycles that they re-cycle every frakkin' year. That includes me, that's why I get to swear about it. In the previous blog I spoke of some of my re-cycling. It sucks. I hate it. I do not love it. I do not want to wrap it up in nice white fluffy clouds and let cute little angels fly it off to another realm where it can be healed and released. I just plain fucking hate it. It annoys me the way playing a record and hitting a skip that causes a repeat in the song used to annoy me. Thank god I discovered the coin trick. Putting a dime, penny, nickel or quarter on the arm holding the needle gave the needle a little more UMPH to dig into that skip and smooth it out. All better.

That's what I've been doing all weekend, since Friday really...fixing the skips in my inner records. I did pitch a hissy fit. I wrote to several friends last week asking for some guidance. I did not hear back because, of course, my hissy fit timed perfectly with the holiday so everyone is busy. And maybe some of them recognize this re-cycling of my personal shit so they're just waiting for it to clear. It usually does, given a few days. I'm not impressed with the hissy fit, or recycling, or my friends either, for that matter; hence the whole: "I ain't budging till I figure this out, right or wrong." thing. I want some joy...dammit.

It's all right. I work alone most of the time anyhow so it isn't really a big deal that no one else wanted to play. I'm used to it. Plus, I have tricks! I was supposed to work this weekend and wasn't looking forward to it, and lo and behold, it got cancelled. Yup, some universal co-operation there, thank you very much PTB. I have music that helps chill me out. I have a stash of chocolate mini mints that takes the edge off my belly ache. I had a funeral Tuesday that distracted me for a while. I spent quality time with my son and husband on Thanksgiving Day. I have a course that I'm taking that's about working with the chakras. We're just finishing up studying the root chakra - which is probably what stirred up this whole mess anyways - yay course! It's working! I meditated. I went through my dream journal and regular journal. I sat in silence. I did a guided metaphorical meditation. I did a journey. I breathed. I wrote in my journal.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that we don't actually know what we think or believe until we write it down. Once we see it black and white, and read it, that's a whole different ball-game from ethereal thought forms floating around in the ether of our brain. When you write things down in a journal you spill your guts. You tell it like it is. You practically vomit whatever is rolling around in your head that's making you nuts. You will write things - as long as you're sure no one will see them - that you would NEVER say out loud. You'll write things that you would even be ashamed to admit to having thought to begin with. That's the cool thing about journal writing...especially on the computer. Write. Spew. DELETE. All better. It's at least like a quarter on the handle of the needle digging out that bit of dirt that's clogging up the vinyl and causing the damned skip or repeat. Woo Hoo!

I explored patterns and made some choices. I don't know if I made the right choices, or even good ones, but I made the ones that feel right for now. I faced some truths about myself and my path and I actually feel better for it. I have removed some things from my life, at least for now and maybe permanently. I have replaced the holes that will be left by those deleted things with other things that I've wanted for a long while now.

The result of all this inner work is that I'm starting to feel happier deep inside myself. I've kept the things that work: tarot, reincarnation and, of course, dreams. I've made room to work with those things on deeper levels. I've tossed out the healing work except as it relates to the things I'm keeping. I feel no remorse or loss about that whatsoever. I've replaced that...or filled the hole that it will leave in my life with writing. I feel more hopeful than I have in a long time, more at peace with the journey of my life.