Another New Years Eve, another Resolution

The clock is ticking on 2017, again this year I hear and read the same things over and over…are we sure its not 2016? Another New Year’s Eve, another resolution. “I will be a better husband/wife.”, “I am going to get my shit together, FOR REAL.”, “I am going to workout, and stick with it.”, etc. etc. etc. Maybe this year take the George Constanza approach and do the opposite, because setting yourself up for failure will lead to guess what, failure. The idea that you will change a habit by approaching the end of every year that is filled with holidays, sometimes stress, and even worse, breakups and divorce, is somewhat irrational. Take it from me, I’ve been there so many times I stopped counting. Even now, I feel the pull to burn out on exercise before the end of the year, or write a post about everything I can think of prior to the ball dropping so I do not completely fuck up my last years resolution of writing everyday…. oops. So yes, I’ve been there, I’ve also made myself so many promises I feel like I’ve cheated on myself. 2017 sucked kind of hard for a lot of people, we have a Pres not many like, and some natural disasters that threw not only many of us through a “what the fuck loop”, but also came as a shock showing us how really unorganized as a nation we really are…but I digress, keep it simple; make the ringing in of 2018 about finding out what not to do. Maybe just float through NYE with a sigh, and a toast, happy that you made it unscathed. Then, February 1st, make that resolution. Let me know if it sticks.

Hi Grief, what the fuck?

At the moment, I am reading three books and listening to a podcast every other day. I say this not to sound smart or give an air of intellectual personification, I am merely giving a glimpse into the manic mind that I call my daily thought process. I read, listen, write, observe, cringe and repeat. I have a need for exuberant amounts of information so that I exhaust myself into submission, enough to finally relax and just be. My most thriveful writing comes about when I am running, I know that sounds cliche…honestly it’s the worst possible moment for “creative me”, because as soon as I stop running.. poof, its gone. Every word, clever antidote, heart pulling metaphor is in the past and no matter how hard I try to get it back it’s gone, watching the cursor blink, I can drink wine, eat, nothing brings it back. However, sometimes a subject nags me so much that I finally give in and start to peddle away at the key board, always in the dark…I’m a Scorpio it comes with the territory., and the digression begins.

Subject nag this week is grief. I LOVE and hate grief. I love it because its universal. We all do it and it will attack every single one of us at some time or another. Its is the worst possible feeling in the word. Whether it is a death of a loved one, pet, or a breakup, the same chemistry happens, the same empty sensation, the same blackness of loneliness of sad sweeps over our entire being. We don’t even know how to console someone who’s grieving. We step around them and never ask about the obvious. We tell them it will be ok, and moving on is good. Is it? I grieve over things and people that have very little existence in my life. I hold onto a book or pen because if I let it go, the person who gave it to me no longer exists. Someone will always grieve. Someone will always die. Maybe that’s why I feel connected to grief. Its an inevitability like death. It WILL happen. Do not try to out run it, it will always catch up with you. Perhaps if we just let it move over us like a fog rolling in, it will just take us then leave as softly and swiftly as it came in; but we don’t. We fight it, and pull back the memories of what once was, the thing, the place, the person. Even social media does not let us forget. Facebook has a great way of letting us relive those people, places and things even if we do not want to. “Remember this day?!” We see the memory and scream, “NOOOO!!!!” grief just tapped you on the shoulder 5 years later to remind you its still there. My father has early stage dementia. He remembers, and forgets. He thinks some people are others, and then he thinks he somewhere else. It’s somewhat comforting in a sick and twisted way that one day I could actually forget who I am, or at least think I am 19 again. My grief for him is real, and intense. I want to scream and shake him, and stab myself with my pen as I fill out forms to get him assisted living. I don’t want this for him, but its not my life. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it other than he says he’s bored, and sometimes a little sad because of the confusion of who’s who and when’s when. I wonder why I care so much, why my grief feels so real. A friend of his told me that we see our mortality in those who are ill. We don’t want to feel mortal or reminded of it. Am I grieving my mortality? That seems to be a legitimate question. I want grief to take a hike, and go torment someone else for awhile. I prefer my insensitive nature to my sappy, heart ripped grieving one. I dealt with grief really well as a child, I would cry for days and listen to terribly sad music, I made sure everyone knew I was on the brink of insanity, then it was over. As quickly as it began, I was back to being a pain in the ass and angry. Simple. Now, I ponder the why’s, what ifs, and the who cares; is this all there is….I find the thought of sending out messages of grief for those grieving somewhat cruel, however I am guilty of this type of behavior. I have even googled “How to console someone grieving”, that’s pathetic!! I made a decision to just be authentic. No one cares if I am sensitive to their grief. Hell when I am grieving I am like a drunk teen just wanting to be alone with my hair pulled back. Weird analogy but it sticks. My grief was the thorn in the sides of people I knew loved me, but they couldn’t pull me out of it. So guess what? They got angry and bored. They wanted me to stop, move on, be strong, forget about it. I hear myself saying the same words to those who are in the depths of the black hole of grief and I cringe. I want to apologize for being a typical human and wanting to Clorox wipe your grief away. I want to cry with you, and drown myself in bottles of wine, or whatever your poison. I want to smoke a pack of cigarettes, and sleep until I wake up sobbing. If this isn’t your type of grief, then I feel bad for you. This is the grief I love, solely because on the other side, especially for me, is a step up.

So I say grieve on, let it out. Tell everyone you know, “Fuck off,  I’m grieving!”

Is Social media a cesspool of inaccuracies?

In one word, yes. Social media seems to be a lose/lose situation in most respects, even for those who think they are winning, they have 1 good day for thousands of bad. Why? Because they are constantly viewing and being viewed by people who have little or no knowledge of any subject other than main stream social media, and I use that word in the exact context of today’s society repertoire, inaccuracies.

Let me preface this post by saying several things, I am not a political advocate of any kind. I am a humanist. Look it up if you are unaware of the meaning. Also, I refuse to succumb to anyone’s agenda, being of sexual orientation, race, religion or national origin. Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way let’s begin with the protests…dun dun duuuuunnn.

The protest of the flag, or how it was originally brought to the public’s attention by kneeling during the national anthem has gotten good and bad attention. Firstly, historically kneeling has and always will be a sign of  deference and respect. Think about it, when in church mass, we kneel in front of the Lord. When Dr. King and about 250 other protesters were jailed for marching without a permit, before they marched themselves off to jail in the spirit of the nonviolent protests King led, the marchers all joined in prayer by kneeling. They were not kneeling in protest, they were kneeling in prayer. The evil spawn of social media has taken it upon itself to destroy something beautiful and taint its meaning.

So my point in this discussion is not that I am against any type of legitimate, peaceful protest. My disagreement is in the media twisting and turning photo’s and historical documentation to fit their agenda. Its disheartening and forces those who are unable or already working towards abruption to siphon the bits and peaces of racism out of peaceful content and distort it into bait for mob mentality. Kapernik has views, we all do. I have views on how children of all races are treated and abused, how women are degraded on a daily basis, views on how hard working immigrants work the worst and lowest paying jobs, yet still do not have the rights that citizens who are on welfare enjoy. I choose to write out my views in a manner that is true to who I am, not confusing and if it is confusing to some then I am open to discussion. I will not alienate anyone on any terms or grounds. That is true freedom of speech. I do not believe any form of media until I am well versed in the subject at hand. We have become a society of idiots, sadly we can create anarchy with a single Facebook post, or glance of our twitter feed. If a group of people want to kneel during the national anthem which was adopted more than a century after the Declaration of Independence was signed, then give them that right. For me, it doesn’t make sense but perhaps that their way of showing their beliefs. Perception is everything.

There is a reason we study history, it is for times like this when we know the facts, we know what our rights are as American citizens, we realize that a post on twitter is bullshit when it is and another is truth and just. We have a president who uses his emotions to get his point across, we have people who hate him and believe he should be impeached. So let’s hit on that subject for a minute. Instead of yelling, IMPEACH! First realize that the reason we have this impeachment process in order to relieve a President who has committed high crimes and misdemeanors (treason, bribery). If a president does not pay taxes this does not qualify, if a president rants and raves that does not qualify. I could go on, but I won’t because I believe and hope that anyone reading this is smart enough to understand the laws of constitutional impeachment and if not google is your friend. We live in a country that hates its President and loves him at the same time. That’s true freedom, I voted for Hillary and I stand by my vote. Freedom.

Now that we have had a short history lesson, and hopefully some of our type happy friends will review and perhaps even footnote their source prior to submitting some asinine comment or post regarding their political agenda, lets hit on sexual harassment. YEAY!

Being a woman of somewhat attractive nature I am not at all foreign to sexual advances, whether they were in the workplace, school, or just grabbing a coffee. I am however very confident and do not fear telling someone to fuck off if I feel uncomfortable in a situation. However, there have been times when I was very young when I was unsure of my boss being a little too touchy, giving a shoulder massage when I was at my desk; so I am sympathetic and also outraged at the news that a woman has been raped, groped, and harassed by someone more powerful (stature). Yet, I feel that social media has gone over and beyond making it a strange phenomenon on grouping each individual in one set of criteria. Why is that? To me, I feel that hatred more than love is being spread. Let me go into detail here so I do not get a slew of hate mail.

Hope Exiner d’Amore came out publicly to say that Harvey Weinstein raped her in a hotel room. Do you know who she is? Probably not. This happen back in 1970. Fast forward to 1997 when Rose McGowen accused Weinstein of raping her in a hotel room at that time.  Fast forward to 2015 Lauren O’Connor accuses Weinstein of sexual advances during that time. Do you know who she is? DO you care? And if you do not, why? There are several hundred women out there, I believe, that will never come forward. Why? I will tell you. They will not come forward because it has become white noise. Social media has bombarded our senses with over coverage, of false information and nit picking when the real issue is women for women. Why not come forward prior to this time in order to protect other women? I want to hang Mr. Weinstein by his balls and cover him in delicious honey while bees and ants torture him, but I am astonished at our women not having a voice! Use your voice!!! You know the saying, “Your money or your life?” chose LIFE.

Yesterday I read a snippet which prompted this post. Kevin Spacey has been accused of sexual harassing a young actor when Spacey was 26 years old, he is now 58. The young actor, Anthony Rapp, who is now 46 never came out and said a thing prior to the Weinstein cases. Why? His accusations from the social media states that Spacey laid on top of him yet the young 14 year old left prior to anything else happening. I am a parent and my first reaction was, where was this kids parents? Why was he at a party with young adults. I remember being 26 and being pretty fucking stupid at times. Spacey apologized and continued to say he didn’t remember, however he is appalled that he would behave as such.  In our state of blame everyone and hang them out to dry, Spacey has lost his entire career in one small second. In a blink of an eye, its gone. The young man stated that he felt standing on the shoulders of the others who came out was the right thing to do. I agree, however why now? Spacey also stated that he wished that Rapp had contacted him sooner, as I assume Spacey absolutely does not remember the incident. Do you see what I did there? I made about 20 assumptions based on random, not quoted information. When someone says, I could ruin you in a minute. I have to believe this to be true from what I see in today’s world.

We as a society have lost all compassion. Race, gender, religion, country of origin.  People hate people. Humanity as a God given right has been obliterated by others agenda. Even my own. I am going to slip off my soap box and do my best to teach myself how to live without being succumb to social pressure. My distaste for every word I read has me contradicting my one love mantra. My meditations are disrupted by images of blame and rhetorical finger pointing. I only hope that one day we will all shut up and just be silent. There’s much too much noise and not enough true journalism.

I miss the days of truth and justice for all; or perhaps there never was.




Quietly the world moving in its flow around me, listening to the wind, watching the clouds and remember how much you would love it. I sit in regret that the peace that is on offer was something we could hardly see through the tangle of lies and eyes looking another way, at things of craving and want, when all of it was right next to us….a hand, arms to hold, fingers to touch.

Listening to music that makes me cry. I find melodies of others that I fall in to bodily, my chest heavy with the pain of your absence. I wander deeper in to the pain because it somehow feels like reverence, confirming my belief that it was once real, you and me. As if I know through the stars the things I can’t express and will be drawn back to me on an orbit, at my final stage of grief.

Writing words that are never beautiful enough, never truthful enough, never loving enough, never sad enough. Words that make no difference whatsoever to any of this or anyone. But these words, that hold a desperate hope that you will read them and it will “ignite something inside you that burns only for me”; says the insanity that now haunts my mind.

Stupidly dream of some unseen way in which this can all be ok, make it ok….make it leave forever and me at peace. A way that I can forget what is now ingrained on my soul. Not notice the feeling of not being chosen anymore, laughter is a far distance memory…only taunting me in symbols and signs of us, I divert my attention pretending to not see it. I check unending for a message from you, a gesture, a revelation, a glance on the horizon of a sunset you perhaps watched. Pray that you’ll have changed your mind and that you’re alone and want me there, sickening to believe and tortuous to a loving soul.

I long to create moments of fantasy with you, throbbing for a way that I can, somehow, keep a part of you. I can’t feel sensual without feeling you anymore and some part of me hopes you’re feeling that too. I ripple at the thought of you. Your skin, your smell, your lips. I crave you visually because you’re all I see when I close my eyes. But instead I settle for the shallow, pretending it’s you…a body of nothingness.

I long for someone else to explain it all to me, to tell me what to do to escape the inescapable; the inevitable truth.

I am aware all there is to see when it comes to a world without you, shallowness of depth, the darkness swallows me up whole. But my heart won’t believe what my mind so obviously announces. I have become perpetually stuck in a loop that, intellectually, I know I must cease. And no matter how much rejection I feel, how many unfathomable images are seared in to my mind, how obviously and clearly you express desire for something other than me; me…a shadow of someone you walk through…no longer in existence.

Life moves on, moments of clarity, joy, excitement….and yet, its still there…aching inside waiting to explode..stuffing it down reminds me that I can keep it together. Smiling, as the blackness moves over my heart in ways I’ve never experienced. The others are a holding place, where you once were, where I used to send my love, my body and my soul….to you. Sitting in an abysmal reality , writing about nothing, its gone.

Who is God and why are they late?

Nothing comes easily to anyone, I’ve learned this through trial and error in this human existence. I believe when people turn to something bigger than themselves it is usually around a time of painful experience or a loss of believing in what they may have thought was their reason for existing on this earth. The “Who am I?” questions is one of the forefront progressions to the “Who is God?”. I, myself have never had a belief in God or a being of any sort. When people would say, “I am Love, I am one with God.”, I didn’t understand. This notion made me uncomfortable, tightness of my chest and a feeling as if this was a lie. However, I wanted that for myself so much; clinging to the idea of being love and one with each person in all essence of the meaning, instead of constantly looking outside of myself for some crumb of happiness. How I could feel or be this way was the obstacle I didn’t seem to be able to conquer in both my mind and my spirit. My practice of meditation, reading, healing from my coach(es), years of inputting the thoughts that it is absolutely possible to be your desires, manifest love in all ways, emit the source energy you were born with out into the consciousness of each individual you come in contact with, is true. Yet, how can I believe this? What was blocking me from feeling or seeing this fact that certain people have accomplished?

I decided to find a way to come to the realization, not only to create space in my home but to let go and explore the creativity in myself in order to allow in all that was waiting for me, that for years I pushed away with doubt, fear, and lack mentality. I continued to find a way to losing the habit and belief that I was not worthy of God existence, Christ consciousness, and inner peace. I took time off of my social media habits that did not enhance this space, I enrolled in 40 days of personal revolution with Baron Baptiste yoga, I made a meditation space that encompassed each embodiment that I resonated God spirit and true love with to promote my journey to what I set to accomplish. I took the time to go slowly through my day, understanding that each judgment I put on myself I put on others. I made it OK to be sad, mad, or fearful, knowing that this is all part of being human.

After 40 days, I felt exhausted, frustrated and not much different. I still had the questions, I still had the days I missed meditations, and journaling. My only real achieved goal was finishing my 40 days of personal revolution yoga practice, and I didn’t feel unusually ecstatic about that either. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I feel enlightened or even slightly more peaceful? All I felt like doing was sleeping. So I did. I rested for 4 days after my accomplishment, I laid in bed and did nothing. I let myself be OK with rest. What came of this resting period was this; God is not a being or something that we have or possess, God is space. If someone asked me, “What is God?”, I would say its this….its all around us. For me, holding on to time was the culprit of my anxiety, fear, and lack. The universe, life, or whatever name you want to give it was not working on my “time” schedule, but what I came to realize is that time does not exist for those who are one with Source or God. Time is infinite, even after death. When we die we do not wait for our loved ones because time does not exist. This simple concept gave me so much clarity and relief, I felt as if a 100 lb weight was lifted off of my chest. If you look around you, we are all battling time, yet it is an unnecessary battle and will continue to be a losing one if you allow it to control your life and the true gift of your humanness. I am talking about the time we give to everything, our children growing up, our jobs, our vacation “time”, our money, our age……God and time do not mix, there is no possible way to be with source and count the seconds. So how does this relate and enhance my life? I know that my desires will be manifested in a way that was meant to in my life, each door will open and close on its own and I have no control over any of it. I will still have my human needs fulfilled, and even have some disappointments, but the pure essence of living is in the present moment of each encounter, each smile, each picture I take, each word I write. Take the seconds, minutes, and hours and let them go….the view from this space is much more beautiful than I would have ever imagined in life.