Things

Are evolving. The holidays are approaching. I don't have as much dread about them as I did a few weeks ago. It is what it is. You do what you need to do.....and so it is - the rally.

A Retort

Due to an “Anonymous” commenter – thoughts of religion were triggered. I am not a religious person. Spiritual, yes. Religious, no.

I was brought up in a very ‘devout’ Catholic family. I was baptized. I made my first communion and confirmation. I went to church every Sunday. I was in the damned choir. I ‘itched’ my entire way through it. After my confirmation my parents told me that I was now old and educated enough to make my own decisions about religion. I never went back.

Here’s why.

I believe in me. I believe in those that are my family and friends. Those souls that journey with me through all of the ups and downs. I believe in blades of grass, human behavior, and reactions to actions. Things that I can see and touch. I believe that you get what you give. I believe in karma and energy. I believe in reincarnation. I have seen the soul of my deceased friend in his nephew’s eyes. I believe that you will come back time and time again until your soul finally gets it right and can move to the next level of spirituality that the human body cannot possibly contain.

I don’t believe that religion; that my religion is about being told what to do. I don’t believe that a church should govern choices of the soul or that any human or scripture should tell a soul there are commandments to live by because it is our own journey, our own lesson. I do not agree that anyone should judge whom I do or not sleep with or love. My soul is not to be coveted. I do not believe in guilt. I believe in consequence. I don’t believe that there is hell. We do well enough creating that in life. There are a million reasons that I don’t believe in a formalized ‘religion’ and I sure as hell don’t believe that 5 Hail Mary’s and 3 Our Father’s will make wrong right. Ever.

All that being said, I respect religion and the belief that others have. I will pray to the god of others for them – and for myself, I will seek clarity through action – I don’t pray. That is my right. My choice. I do not purge my thoughts; ideals, ideas or spirituality onto others and what I don’t appreciate about so many organized religions is the entitlement that they carry. I didn’t ask for your opinions – I don’t give you mine –.

But what does your God teach that I don't already practice? I am honest, I work hard, I love, I help, I give, I give back, I do unto others as I wish to have done unto me....what is it that you offer that I don't already know. Chances are - my enlightenment far surpasses any firey bush on a mountain.

I know perfectly well what will ‘save’ me and it does not exist in a book, or a church, or a prayer. It exists in me. It is knowledge. I don’t knock on your door handing out flyers. I don’t comment anonymously on your blog telling you to save yourself this way or that. I would come to you, hold your hand, hold you if you were hurting and offer my spirit – offer my shoulder and anything else that I had to offer to help give you light – not anything more or less because that is what we as humans need. Humanity. Not the idea of something better – because this is it and this is what we are. I wouldn’t hide. I would tell you this is I, and I will help you – I will listen. Me. Not God. Me. In all of my fucked uppedness. Me. And I would show my face because I am not afraid to stand raw and naked here. If you are so confident in what you believe and you stand by your truth as I stand by mine, why do you hide? What are you afraid of if your God is all knowing and real and you clearly have no problem stating his case – what are you ashamed of?

In the end, it’s about personal choice. Ever heard to not talk about religion or politics? There’s a reason. It’s a personal right. One that should not be disrespected. Respect me as I am and how I choose to navigate through this life I have chosen. My religion is of the self. My church is the ocean. My church is where I find peace and it has nothing to do with statues, crosses, pews or books. I don’t tell you where to find yours. I am good in my skin and my process. I didn't ask for guidance on another way and I am left feeling confused as to how writing about my life, my process, my 'self' transitioned into someone believing that it was their right to project their own ideals?

I could go on and on. Enough said.

(if you're wondering where this stemmed from - see comments on last blog)

P.S. - Anonymous - I don't judge you for your opinions. I appreciate your belief. Don't be deterred from sharing thought and emotion - just not religious belief. If that makes sense? To me, there is a difference.

Can social media keep you young?

I was driving to work the other day listening to an interview with an author discussing our obsession with 'staying young' - this is primarily an issue with women as we contemplate ways to somehow maintain a lineless face exhibiting no history of our stories - as if this gives us character or beauty? However that's a completely different blog so back to the topic at hand (as I lovingly apply anti-aging serum).

So, this whole fountain of youth discussion got me thinking about ways to 'stay youthful' and obviously, social media came to mind. I truly believe that social media is a tool to 'keep us young'. It's by no means a fountain of youth but in many ways, it does in fact keep the mind and the spirit 'youthful'.

Look at the content that we as a collective group share across all boundaries regardless of age, title, status etc. - Often times the content might just be silly, mocking politics, the state of the world, or it can be pertinent to the world of social media marketing that I exist in. Regardless - we are sharing - the conversation never stops. It keeps my mind tuned and active on a constant basis. That has to beneficial? How many people, friends, relatives and colleagues do you know that now participate in communities, blogs, have a Facebook page, etc.? Most I presume. I even saw my mother had created a Facebook page the other day (she'll be 60 on Friday)! Social media engages people and although many of us use it at a vehicle for education, many utilize it for fun as well.

Point being - social media is bridging a gap between generations and cultures. It allows for the older to connect with the younger - stay in tune and 'hip' to what's current and it allows for the younger to learn from those who have broader experiences to share. There's a flow as opposed to a barrier.

Each time my 'Twitterrific' pops up and I see an interesting post or note, I read. My mind is constantly being stimulated. The best trick to keep the mind and body young is to remain active - and so in that regard I'm doing my best to stay fit - wouldn't the assumption be for anyone utilizing social media on a regular basis that you would reap the benefits as well? So perhaps on some level, social media is one of the answers to the long sought after fountain of youth? Drink from the cup - (even though it often times might over flow-eth), and you just might be around a bit longer...

Now, if I could just figure out a way to burn some significant calories and get my heart rate up while blogging, Twittering, Facebooking and the like....hmmmmm

Rambles

It comes in waves. This process. Good days, bad days, mediocre days. Just days. I feel very ‘hazy’ lately. Not in my actions, but internally. My friend Holli tells me that I’m ‘blocking’. I know she’s right. Something isn’t getting through that’s supposed to. I’m not sure why but I have a complete inability to ‘open myself up’ to the universe.

I am blocked.

How do I know what to do about that? I’m not sure. I’ve tried all of the standard approaches. Maybe what I haven’t really tried is just being. Just accepting. It’s clear that my path right now is getting right with this so called solitude but I am resisting it at every turn. Why?

There’s this rage lately. Like, I could smash everything to bits. I am not a person who feels rage. But its there. Like a burning fucking inferno its there. I feel completely filled with this unpronounceable rage.

There are seven stages of grief. The anger bit is only stage 3. I’m screwed. 4 more? Seriously? This process feels like a million miles and there isn’t an end of the road in sight. I am trying to get it – but I just don’t.

And for inquiring minds, yes, I’m smoking again. I suck. It’s disgusting. I feel like shit, they taste like shit but it is what it is right now. It’s stormy here these days. What can I say?

Check List

There is a song by Bon Iver. The last line says this, “Your love will be, safe with me.” At this moment in my life I am not sure if there are words that make more sense.

Isn’t that what we all really want? People to protect the love that we give them? I mean this on every relationship level. Friends, family, partners, etc. For me however, as of late, I think it means or speaks to more of what I am seeking from a ‘soul partner’ perspective.

I have had amazing relationships. Don’t get me wrong, I am blessed to have loved who I have loved – learned all that I have but the ‘recipe’ so to speak I guess hasn’t found its way to the perfect match. I’m still trying. I still believe because I need to. I have to believe in love and that in some ways, it does and will conquer all. I have to believe that regardless of my many failed attempts, “He” does exist and “He” will find me, or I will find him or we’ll find each other. Maybe we already have? I don’t know.

On many levels perhaps what I believe in, seek or hope for is unrealistic but it’s my story and I guess I want the fantasy. The guy who just happens upon my doorstep one day and is the one that just stays – not because he’s a stalker, or insane or because I’m too tired of being alone but because there is just no other place that makes much sense anymore without each other.

What I want is this:
Someone who believes in himself just as much as he believes in me. Who doesn’t need to be saved, or fixed. Who possibly thinks that when I walk into a room his soul feels a little bit more at peace. Someone who has fought his demons and won and a very long time ago released his baggage and opened his soul up to whatever it was that the world was going to offer him. A man who is that, a man that fights for me – especially when I don’t have the energy to fight for myself. Who kisses me every once in awhile like its the first time he's ever kissed me and whispers stories in my ear when I can’t sleep. A being that would never utter a harsh word to me or about me (most especially in front of others) and thinks its truly endearing that I cry about everything. Someone who is secure enough that when I come home from a day of work and log onto the computer for 4 more hours worth of work just kisses me on the forehead and pours me a glass of wine because he just knows that my career is part of how I define myself and something that I need.

Is it foolish to want these things? To believe that there is someone out there that thinks my OCD is absolutely charming and wants nothing more than to sit in the kitchen, watch me cook, kiss me on the back of the neck and tell me about his day because he understands it’s my art, my therapy, my release? To hope that there is someone out there that can make me laugh and hates himself when he makes me cry? Someone who understands that our home is our serenity and it’s our sanctuary from the world to build a foundation of intimacy and it shouldn't be filled with 'issues' or 'drama' or all of that other crap that people clutter their souls and their home with.

I can’t be insane for wanting someone who is the first person I want to call when everything goes wrong and more importantly, when everything goes right. The boy who surprises me with tiny little expressions and thinks that in the right light I could be the most beautiful gift he’s ever been given. The one whose intellect and wit astounds and amuses me. The boy who I would never doubt because his love is solid. Because he is solid. Because he understands that love is a gift and I give him everything back in return. Because we might not be perfect but it’s good . Real good and together we make each other better people. And he will keep my love safe with him because that's just the type of guy he is.

Unrealistic. I know. But a girl can hope. Right?

Paint. I wrote a blog way back in the ‘MySpace’ days about ‘painting the walls of the self’ – changing color and all of that other existential bullshit. As much as I try to get away from it – I still fall into the philosophical crap.

Jack moved out so I’m trying to re-do the house. Create this whole therapeutic spin on everything. Her moving out was the last piece of all of the ‘endings’ and so it is that I am now alone. As much as I know it was time for her and I to venture on, she is missed. The echo’s of each room as I walk around are in some ways this rigid cold – in others, a bit of tranquility. Me, myself and I. So I have decided to paint – add colors. My house (the self and the soul) have been neutral for so long….it’s just time. I try to make it this process – this renewal. In the end it’s just tedious bullshit that makes my hands, my fingers, my arms and everything else tired. I don’t want to keep re-doing shit. I just want it to be the way that I want it to be. On all levels.

But alas, tis not the way of the cards that have been dealt.

There is something about coming home each night, painting, putzing, sitting and staring at the walls envisioning. There is something nice about making something your own and getting your hands dirty doing it. There is strength in making the decision to change your life and following through on every level – regardless of the anguish factor. At times there is strength in my solitude.

The irony about all of this is the beauty that seems to stream in, within the darkest of moments.

It would be impossible for me to take the conversations I’ve had over the past few weeks and try to replicate them. They have been these very intense, cathartic, wrenching and at times very simple conversations with people that seem to be crawling out of the woodwork. Faces I have missed – Faces that are a constant familiarity as well. Souls that I love. I see it like this. We have so many soul mates. They come into your life for a reason – certain times, certain circumstances. Sometimes they leave, sometimes they find you and they are always a part of you. Sometimes they are a sporadic presence. Regardless, they are part of your soul, part of the journey and sometimes it feels really fucking good to see their face again and so it has been, in this hellish renovation process of the home and soul that there have been glimpses of light in the most unexpected of moments.

For those that are sharing in these moments, the diatribes, the tears, the neurotic laughter, the evolution and the just 'being'….I am so grateful.

I still can’t see the forest through the trees or whatever the hell that means but within the rumbling I believe a sense of calm has evolved. Light will come. All be it as slowly as the pieces fall into place, they are still falling. Each day as I paint these walls, make things new and different it transcends into my spirit a bit. And so it is, you just keep moving until you stumble back onto the path of the life it is that you were meant to live.

It’s all about the rally.