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This came in my Go Gratitude email today and I always say why reinvent the wheel, so I’m going to share the wish with you!

May your brilliance be reflected in the eyes of all you meet.
May the blessings of Life be felt in thought, word and deed.

May you drink deeply from Wisdom’s cup.
May you see the gift in every challenge, the sacred in every step.

May laughter roll your belly as you delight in Creation’s mystery.
May you breathe freely, Love deeply, rejoice wildly and create
passionately.

May you be at peace, whether your bowl be empty or full.
May the Light of Love shine brightly upon your soul.

May you listen deeply within, faithfully heeding the guidance of Spirit.
May you wake to dream each day, remembering NOW is all there IS.

May you feel the energy of co-creation flowing through each hand.
May you remember to honor and give thanks for our Motherland!

May you experience the bliss of a well-lived day …
Forgiving ignorance; releasing regret, guilt or shame.

May you be sovereign, and to thine own Self be true.

Get Your Wings

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It was a great album by AeroSmith and something I’ve been thinking about for several days. I feel a theme coming on it’s about transformation I even created a new page about a transformation I’ve been going through over the past year, actually since I started blogging and during the time I took off from writing on here. I always write, sometimes it’s stories and that is what I have been working on a story of transformation. A lot has occurred to me over these months and some of it is worth posting.

I have scenes that play over and over in my mind, like old movies and these have kept me stuck in the past. I think we all do. 2 such scenes involve interactions I have had with significant men in my life. One day as I was walking down the hallway when I was 10, I looked up and saw my father in his usual seat at the kitchen table, eating. Seems he was always eating, or preparing to eat. A big man. An Old man, and still just a man, he was in the habit of saying whatever he thought without censor. He was also in the habit of extending his pinky whenever he held a cup. He was dark skinned with hairy knuckles and black rimmed glasses. I didn’t like looking at him and liked his manner of speaking even less. Often his tyraids went on for several hours, during which I would zone out. He liked to call me unconscious and felt a strong urge to get my attention by slapping me in the back of the head.

On this particular morning as I walked down the hallway towards the kitchen I averted his glance, said good morning and attempted a bee-line down the front stairs. He barked out, “Your getting so fat you look like the broad side of a barn!” Your mother and I are going to put you on a diet and I will pay you $1.00 a pound for every pound you lose. From then on I was feed pre-specified meals and could not eat what my brother and sisters ate. I lost 30 pounds. Thus began a life time of self recrimination and stupid ass diets.

Fast forward to the second scene that plays over and over in my head. My Ex on the eve of our decision to part ways and a night I spent crying. I wrote a post that highlights the beginning of that evening called, “The Vagabond and The Poacher“, but what happened next is not something I have been able to write about until now. You see when we came home that night he informed me that he had compiled a list of pros and cons to help him decide whether or not we should stay together. When I asked to see his list he said it wouldn’t be a good idea and that showing it to me would be in a word, mean. So I asked him to tell me what his conclusion was and he said that pros and cons were about equal, except for one item, basically a deal breaker. He told me that I had a beautiful face, but that he was disgusted by my body and could not have sex with me. I was, of course, devastated and spent the rest of the night on the couch with a box of kleenex. He spent the night sleeping soundly in our bed. I had already been replaced with a younger, slimmer model, and while I had a strong intuition about this, it took a while to confirm it.

There is a reason I am sharing all this and it is about getting your wings and transforming into someone who can look in the mirror and see themselves as the best thing since sliced bread. It’s about transforming into someone who doesn’t give a shit about what other people think. It’s about transforming into someone who can fly, finally, after years of crawling along in a cocoon of victimhood, self deception and denial. You see while I recognize how awful the men in my life were, I also recognize that they gave me a gift. This may sound odd, but something in me rose up against what they were saying and said, this is more about you than it is about me and if you don’t like me you can leave. But, and when I did it I was blaming them. I was taking it all personally and so I got hurt, even though I knew deeply that it had nothing to do with me at all.

People often believe that transformation is something that should just happen, you know you wake up one day and you are better, but I’m here to tell you that this is the furthest thing from the truth. Transformation is a harsh, ugly, painful experience that once gotten through will leave you feeling refreshed and alive. Yes, do think of the butterfly who must knaw it’s way out of it’s shell, or the baby chick, or reptile. They fight for it and if you are looking at it via time lapse photography it might even seem quick, but we don’t know what’s going on inside that shell, nor do we have any concept of what time feels like for that being.

Getting your wings is all about acknowledging those distractions that keep you in the cocoon. Is it food? Is it alcohol? Is it drugs? Is it Coffee? Is it sex? Is it television? What the fuck is it? We all know what it is we just don’t like to admit it, but it’s back there scratching away at the shell whispering. It says if you stop doing this you will fly!

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Sounds a little hokey, right? Maybe a little too romantic, too dreamy, not fastened to reality as it should be? Some people would say that taking your dreams literally without dissecting them sets you up for a let down. Carl Jung believed that you are everything in your dream, that dog, that table, that sunset, that ray of light and the darkness that sometimes prevails. He asked you to look at your surroundings, are they backlit with sunshine or gloom, lightening or clouds. What is the setting? These can often determine your subconscious landscape, that which exists behind the scenes of conscious reality? Do you fly? Do you die? Do you feel happy or distressed. I like working my dreams using Jung’s analysis, it lends insight into what I’m in denial about, or what I’m repressing, and generally I dream a lot. Often my dreams are like novels with chapters and characters that coalesce to form stories. I have, in the past, kept a dream log. I was fascinated by the life I was living in my subconscious. Fascinated and sometimes a little sad because there weren’t as many bright and shiny days as I’d like. There was a lot of turbulence and the landscape was gray. After awhile rather than recording all my dreams in a journal I simply wrote down those that felt very, very real to me, and even if I couldn’t figure out what they meant I knew some information would reveal itself to me later. Our dreams can truly inform us if we allow them to.

Since I am so familiar with my dream life I take notice when the canvas changes and I take particular notice when I am given a very specific message in a dream. One night about 3 weeks ago I was awoken from sleep after dreaming about a man who was so attractive to me, so much fun and so protective that I felt filled with joy. I felt like a child again playing with someone who I felt very close to. It was, in a word, delightful. Now, if we go with Jung’s way of analyzing this experience, in the dream I had met another aspect of myself the loving, strong, playful child. This man was strong and I felt protected in his presence. I felt safe. And Indeed this feeling was/is a gift to myself to know that inside me is a strong and loving presence.

This night upon waking I also was given a poem, really a kind of rhyme that I wrote down and expanded upon in the days that followed. It describes the man of my dreams. In the days and weeks prior to the dream I had been toying with the idea of dating and I believe this is what prompted my subconscious to spew out what it was I really desired in a man, those qualities which would endear him to me and the qualities I posses that would endear me to him. We attract who we are inside. I’m going to post it here as a way to validate that part of me that dreams, that part of me that exists, but is not always taken seriously by me. It is a reminder that the answers are inside us whenever we decide to acknowledge them as real!

You’re soft enough to hold me

And

Strong enough to let me roam

You’re patient enough to get to know me

And

Independent enough to live on your own

You’re man enough to know what love is

And

Boyish enough to make me smile

You’re old enough to understand life

And

Open enough to laugh at it all the while

You’re rich enough to know what really matters

And

Free from work enough to have a good time

You’re passionate enough to really enjoy kissing

And

Connected enough to know that making love is divine

You’re romantic enough to court me

And

Sweet enough to bring me flowers

Your clever enough to get me thinking

And

Funny enough that together we laugh for hours

You’re aware enough to know your own feelings

And

Contemplative enough to share them with me

Your honest enough to live with honor

And

Candid enough to know what the consequences of lying will be

Your instinctive enough to read these words

And

See, that the qualities I desire in you are the same ones you see in me

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Okay, okay, okay! Let’s start this out by asking a good question about sex and the urge to have it as an impetus when we are gearing up to date again.

As you may or may not know I have been putting off dating in order to give myself a chance to determine what I like, I’ve been dating myself first, and I have come to a determination of what characteristics I want in a man, what I value the most and also what type of person I would be compatible with. To my mind this could be a tall order to fill, since I’m pretty far off from the traditional “gurl” and can be quirky, odd, free-willed and independent to a fault. Plus I tend to be a loner and have difficulty believing that I could find someone who I would want to see every single morning, bad breath and bed head and all. And I have decided to put myself out there and see who I meet. The venue you ask? Well, what else but the internet for me? I’m basically a recluse in a town where your choices of available men are 2, the Rednecks and the Jocks, well there is some odd bred in between the 2, but they are hard to find, usually married or just plain weird. You do have your geeks, but they are off somewhere at computer conventions, I think.

But I digress. The thing is when you’ve been single for a long time something starts to happen biologically, maybe it’s the biological imperative, I think I’m too old for that. Maybe it’s a monthly hormonal imbalance. Maybe it’s just plain human to want to get your groove on with the opposite sex. Whatever it may be, I’ve been having a lot of it lately, and this gives me cause for concern, since there ain’t no way I’m jumping into bed with some normally un-dateable dude just because I have an itch I need to scratch.

I know there are women out there who are going to think I am not into the feminine movement because of what I’m about to say, but frankly Maude, I don’t give a shit!

The way I see it, no matter what you try to tell me or convince me of, men and women are biologically different, and equipped differently as well. I thought I would point that out in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s this difference in equipment that makes the sex act a completely opposite experience for each partner, duh. Let me splain, you see when women have sex they are taking in the man’s energy, when men have sex they are expending energy. Now, I don’t know about you, but I want any energy I take in to be fully qualified to enter. This goes for the people I surround myself with too, but it is most important when I’m deciding who to couple with. Nuff said!

So even if your hormones are calling, don’t date that dude unless he is well qualified, because you’re the one who has to deal with the repercussions later, and a hot bath won’t get it done.

As a result of all this thinking and reminiscing about errors in judgment I have made in the past I’ve decided to make a list to help you decide if you’re just too horny to date safely.

· You’re a 46 year-old woman who thinks about sex as much as a high school boy

· Your mind begins to wander whenever you see something long and cylindrical

· You’ve cycled through 12 sets of C batteries and 9 sets of doubles AA’s and you and the guy at the porn store are on a first name basis

· Formerly un-dateable dudes seem oddly alluring?

· You believe you could make millions by developing a perfume named, “Odoor-D- Sex”

· Paying for sex makes logical sense

· You actually know “why the caged bird sings”

· You have developed a deep empathy with cats-in-heat

· You would give your eye teeth to catch a ride on the back of a motorcycle

· You and your stationary bike have developed a personal relationship

· You haven’t had a “headache” for years

· You keep checking your calendar to see when your next Brazilian is, the last one was so erotic

· The cashier at the grocery store keeps asking you why you buy so many cucumbers

· Chocolate has lost it’s appeal

· You have amassed a large collection of Thongs, but don’t remember buying them

· Anything that vibrates is gold

· People keep asking you why you are so jittery

· You buy men’s cologne to spray on and then keep smelling yourself

· You go to home stores and strike up conversations with random male employees

· Tight jeans feel good

Word to the wise or soon to be wiser, if you can answer yes to 5 or more of these statements you may want to reconsider dating until the urge passes, and it will pass, especially if you start cruising some photos on one or more of the dating sites, this is enough to make a sane woman stone cold sober. This should be a very interesting experience for me . . .

vote

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You know what? I don’t consider myself a political person, not remotely, and with the last 2 elections where I did actually vote I felt like my vote didn’t matter, but I’m still gonna get my ass out there this morning and try, try again. I’m hoping we can turn this whole thing around. Yeah, I still have hope, it’s dangling by a thread, but it remains and while it does I’m giving the whole system another chance to work in favor of people like me, people who actually work and pay taxes and blah, blah, blah. I even got my neighbor to vote and she has never voted, not once in her life. If there’s a voice left in America I think this is one way to use it. So let’s have at it! Nuff said!

In a recent study, conducted by someone out there, it has been determined that most pets absolutely detest Halloween. The 69.4 animals questioned, most of whom were dogs BTW, could give you a list a mile long as to why. Most felines had no comment except to admit that they couldn’t wait for all the rucus to Fucking just end,  and then they sauntered off to a distant hiding place to lick something.

Top 9 Reasons Canines Cited for Their Dislike of this Festive and Fun Event Were:

  1. Canine Stress Disorder (CSD) for having to exert so much effort guarding the house when Strangers came to the door.
  2. Enlarged vocal cords and accompanying sore throat as a result of barking and growling. It was noted that consuming copious amounts of water did not help.
  3. Urinary problems and frequent wetting from drinking all that water! Pet owners also complained.
  4. Everyone gets to eat except them. They wondered who made up that stupid, F-ing rule about no chocolate for dogs.
  5. Children who point and grab to get in that touchy – feely thing.
  6. The freaks at the door who look stupid, but who think they look “really cool“, Duh, they don’t!
  7. The stink of rotten pumpkins. It never gets out of your nose.
  8. Constant chaffing and itching from being costumed without fabric softener.
  9. And Finally, most pets surveyed said that after several hours in costume they began to become disoriented, losing their perspective on the primary self. This manifestation is known as Pet Identity Crisis Syndrome, (PICS) wherein your pet believes he is someone other than who he or she is. It is very confusing to the animal who often wants to take on a new more flamboyant persona. Some pets even refused to be undressed and would run and hide and whimper in an attempt to avoid it.

Pictured below are a few of those willing pets that were surveyed and who agreed to be photographed. They are undergoing pet therapy with a qualified pet whisperer who helps them return to their former selves. If you believe your pet may be suffering from this disorder please do not attempt to reorient him by yourself, always seek a qualified pet whisperer.

Many were heard to say, “This just isn’t funny, I know I look funny, but it isn’t funny!” They walked off mumbling that they would never be the same and mentioned they would also like to have more choice and variety in wardrobe options.

The study concluded that before you dress-up your pet you may want to be informed of the possible consequenses to his or her individual consciousness!

Keeping this in mind ~

Have a Happy Halloween!

I cannot believe so much time has passed since my last post! Even though I thought I might be able to read and at least post comments while I was recovering it simply did not work out that way. I have learned that with the availbility of pain killers it is just too easy to get caught in a cycle of not wanting to do anything, but continue dosing. Sadly, while the pills numb the pain they have the unfortunate side effect of numbing the mind as well. I found while I was on them I could not focus to read or pay much attention to anything except the drone of the television in between sleeping. I chose to take Precoset, which has been called Hilly-Billy Heroine and while I certainly enjoyed the momentary euphoria it brought I did not like the side effects so as soon as I could I weaned myself off of the drug.  There has never been a time in my life where I wished more that I was independantly wealthy so that I did not have to return to work only one week after surgery. It sucked hard is all I can say and I have been working everyday since, sometimes with limited hours just so I could make some money! The apparent down-side of being self employed.

So now let me tell you about the surgery itself and the outcome. Can I just say that I was so scared on the morning of the operation, I had to be there by 6 am, that I was literally shaking, and that right before the surgery, in pre-op, I was asked to change my consent form because the first one was not filled in properly and was a mess where I had written that no matter what I did not want a hysterectomy. I was still allowed to write that, but it just had to be, “neater”! I consented to only having a hysterectomy if it would save my life. I also did not want the tumors sent to pathology while I was in surgery, much to the amazement of my family and friends. Fibroids are rarely cancerous, so I was not concerned. In fact I didn’t become concerned at all until I woke up in the recovery room crying. I was in so much pain it seems useless to try and describe it. From then on my hospital experience seemed like a fucking nightmare! The care I received, with the exception of a few gifted nurses was so sub-standard that to get into it would take pages and pages. So I’ll just say the place was filthy and the personal were not familiar with the word empathy, and once I could walk my whole mission was to get home. That happened mid-morning of my 3rd day. Their was a patient advocate who was as appalled by my care as I was and she actually sent me flowers with a note that said, “We are sorry that the care you received did not meet your expectations.” She called me at home twice to see how I was doing, but in the kind of drugged stupor I was in the conversations are unclear to me. What I didn’t like about the note was that it implied that my expectations were possibly unreasonable and that the expection of quality care was asking too much, or maybe I just don’t like the words “my expections” because it puts the blame on me. She never did admit, even though she was witness to it, that care was far below par. I’m not sure if she could commit that to writing at all and I also appreciated the gesture.

I was also informed by my daughter, after I was in my room that I had, count em, 19 fibroids removed. Even though I knew I had a “fibroid utereus” no where in my wildest imagination could I dream up the number 19, it’s an odd number for Christ’s sake. I was thinking at the most, one really big one, 2 mid-sized ones and 3 smaller ones, 6, an even number. I also was not allowed to see my doctor on the day of the surgery and the patient advocate actually referred to him as, “God”, she said, “You want to see your doctor? You mean God, right?” I simply thought your doctor would check on you after performing such an intense surgery and would tell you to your face what had happened, but he told my daughter the breifest amount of information and suggested in a very strong voice that the best thing for me would have been a hysterectomy. To that I say, Fuck you! I said it with a smile, does that count?

Anywho, on the bright side I found with regard to choosing a surgeon, a narcissit is best because the surgeon I chose who lacked personality made up for it in skill, and I was later told by one of the other doctors in his practice that while my surgery took only 90 minutes it would have taken any other surgeon 3 hours to complete. I lost a pint of blood, but you could double that loss by choosing a surgeon who is less skilled. And while I didn’t like his bedside manner I still thanked him because he did an incredible job and even though it hurt to a spectacular degree, the incision is perfect. I think he could side line as a plastic surgeon!

So I am finally on the mend, the patholoyg on my tumors was performed and they were not cancerous, and for your viewing pleasure I am posting pictures of the tumors they removed. If you have a weak stomach or simply don’t like looking at graphic photos of tumors please stop reading now! I like to see what was inside me and I must say the large tumor reminds me of a human brain, or alternatively a dinosuar egg. The Doctor said he would take the pictures for me, but only with a disposable camera so they are not the greatest shots, but what I love about them is how unedited they are! You can see all the used surgical impliments, the dollar store plastic bin they loaded the tumors into and the mess all over the floor. Certainly the operating room is not the “theatre” it’s proported to be.

So Without Further Ado: