It is the STRANDS of time in our DNA not the hands of time on a clock.
I absolutely appreciate Melissa and Yolanda’s daily attention to my multiple daily posts. Big thanks. I have a total of 2500 posts on here now.
However, the last 5 days my views have really dropped. Even with multiple posts. I have no incentive to keep giving time and effort to this important subject matter if people ignore it, for whatever reason.
I’m off to do more writing and tagging. ✍️ Good luck finding what you’re looking for.
Lisa T. Red 13 Cosmic Skywalker. An Initiating tribe. 🧐🥳💯💪✌️
Does the life inside my head, when I’m not writing, count as my Life?
Or do I have to go outside and be around people to observe and participate in that stuff in between writing for that to count as my Life?
Or does the time I’m just being empty-headed, doing and thinking nothing and not writing count as my Life?
I think it all counts. Thoughtforms tend to be phantasms but they’re really not ya know. The preponderance is on the action in our society but it’s not that way for writers. Thought forms are picked up by the mind and manifested into the cells of the body.
When the sky is gray, like today, or it’s snowing, all of nature brings a variation that causes lip licking and nose blowing with a temperamental euphoria that distinctly tastes like the air. I love the smell of the crisp air in Michigan winter. This is my life in between writing.
I just want to drink my Earl Grey tea and sit in my chair writing my latest musing. When my mind is swirling, my body won’t.
For now, watching the rhythmic drips from my roof out my window will do.
I roll around in my warm bed by myself like a dulcet silken bag of potential poetry spoken into an imaginary lovers ear. Or I could sing to him. I haven’t had that opportunity yet.
I’m happy…really. It’s abundant, nurturing, warm, and close to the earth.
I find the peacefulness of being by myself in a relationship with myself to be magical. I can surf the waves of words that sit below my navel and bring them up into my stomach to digest with my breakfast, then into my heart where my son, cute animals and gentle firemen reside and express it through the voice in my fingers.
Put me on a secure raft in some warm tropical waters and that’s where I am.
Sure, I have to cook, chew my food, do the dishes and take out the trash, but that is atmospheric seasoning to where my percipience is really focused.
My perception is in my body which is still feeling the dream I had last night like a crab secure in its loose-fitting, restful shell.
Only the inspiration of a local tree could suggest I stand up and walk out the door made from it’s relation. The trees get used and splintered for our delight with the fantasy of solid things. My world is really liquid, empty space full of potential.
I’m stalking a case for spring in the autumn of my middle age.
My assembled energy is diametrically opposite that of needing the validation of an amassed group of imposters pretending to agree so they can drink together later.
It’s not that I don’t like the group, or that I don’t occasionally have a very dry martini, I just don’t viscerally need the group. They get exhumed energy from each other; even demand it threatening social castigation, as though there would be any real loss there.
I haven’t figured out how to affix myself to a rumbling male in my present condition.
In addition, my mephitic eighteen-year-old son will be moving out of the house soon to go on his way to sow his oats and beans. My peaceful environment is proliferating.
As I think back on the men/mates I’ve adored and who have adored me, as vain as that sounds, it was called love at the time and then it turned into territorial civil war and possessive jealousy.
I’m pretty sure that uncorked behavior is common and some couples like it that way but some don’t. I don’t.
It’s just that, in this new paradigm of sitting in my body and owning myself, that adoration doesn’t feel like it’s all it’s cracked up to be.
It feels as though I’ve forged an alliance with a fawning cat whose nursing by pushing its paws into my chest.
Maybe it’s just the mood I’m in.
When a man starts to adore me he wants to own me, my time, and my body, like a puppy!
That’s been my experience with every man I’ve been with except this last guy I dated. He left me in the dog house neglected, but at least he didn’t bug me. I know there are all the ideas about giving your mate the space they need, but then the real emotions of amorous desire creep in.
“I want you”, “I adore you”, “I need you”, “I love you”, “I miss you” becomes a medieval prison!
I used to think I wanted to be adored by a man with high self-esteem and all the pheromones I need to be turned on, but now I’m not so sure.
I love my life, my work, my friends, and my home. Maybe all of that adoration would be oppressive! I’d have to respond after all or that would be rude.
Professional sex workers are as important to men as professional therapists, counselors, and psychologists are to women. If relationships mean the world to most women, and they do, then they like therapists who help them navigate the choppy waters. Women are more complex than men. We are also given more freedom to express our emotions in society.
The same goes for men with professional prostitutes. Men are simple. Prostitutes are likely the top women on his list because they’re willing to do whatever he wants and needs to please him with no relationship so he can continue being dedicated to his work and money. Today, at this moment, that could be considered toxic masculinity. I’m really not sure. I’m observing the issue. That’s love and that’s heaven for him, just as relationships are for women.
Yet think about the fact that in American society, sex is not considered loving, is degraded, is ultra-natural and is considered to be far below bonding, relationships, and love. Two men, I’ve spoken with absolutely agree that sex can be like defecation to them and that’s fine with them. Anything physical to men is far more novel than it is to women. No woman I’ve talked to would view sex that way in a million years. Sex is spiritual and emotional for us and it really is toxic for a man to ask us to be any other way. Women that agree to that hate men.
But men are supposed to submit to female values which are widely considered to be superior. Are they? Or are these values biased? Are women’s sex values ever toxic? Like, only marrying a man for the child she can give him, the father role he can play, and the money he can provide while she does that? Isn’t she using him?
I have no position on this yet but I am examining the issue because I have very intelligent males friends (more than one), who believe it’s perfectly fine for women to be professional sex workers and treat me like they wish I was one, free of charge, no emotions. I’m not. I’m a human being, a woman with a warm heart, and a professional therapist. But the men that come into my office treat me like I should be a sex worker, unrelenting. The events in our society seem to be making men even more aggressive than before on that score!
What’s a good woman with a good heart to do who likes bonding and love? We live in a fallow garden. Our children grow up and move on with their lives. We have to cultivate doing what we love, have our own money and work and our own homes. It is a mistake to trust men or to rely on them for anything if you’re a good-hearted woman.
Above all, take care of your health. You’re the only one really keeping an eye on things. That’s the reality, only no one wants to admit it.
Digital Artist Sandra Bauser
Time fades into oblivion
One memory, one vision of you and I feel whole again.
I remember your voice, your smell, the feel of you next to me.
In time, it was so long ago, yet to my mind, it was yesterday.
My love for you is as natural as my heartbeat.
I might be digging into the oracles foundation for 10,000 years.
No, wait, 20,000 years…or
How old are the human species?
6 million years, our ancestors-approximate. 200,000 years, modern humans
Well, the earth is…4.5 billion years old and we have the DNA from every living thing in our cells that ALLOWED itself to evolve on the Earth before we did.
Every living thing, every plant, worm, insect, animal, and cell that came before us flowed with the soil, the water, the mud, the detritus, the sludge, the fire, and ice…it just….was.
and it allowed itself to be on the earth, working synergistically together, no wrangling or fists, it allowed itself to be what it was because it didn’t have a mirror…to EXAMINE….and think…”What…do….I….think?”
We are a moaning, creaking tower of human thinking. Towering human intellects decide that resistance is the most constructive course and I’m on the wrong side of the pond or the field if I see it differently.
Maybe human thinking is overrated if it cannot LET the living thing NEXT TO IT JUST BE WHAT IT IS. These Red people are just confused. They don’t understand. Wow, how unacceptable and new for a human being to not understand. They are evil because they are scared and don’t understand? You’ve never been scared and not understood something? You’re a THINKER and you always understand everything!
Not everybody thinks all the time. Some people feel, sense, and intuit all the time. People do different things.
Can I please, just be a blade of grass, or a quiescent pool diving deep because I now have gills?
I’ve decided it makes more sense to devolve so I can stop thinking.
When I think, then I decide to resist…breathing, seeing, feeling, intuiting, knowing-everything that ALLOWED NATURE and it’s cooperation to harmonize before I existed, my thinking is just better. Not.
Because human beings think so much they’ve stopped feeling so much and knowing so much so that now they are this thing call civilized and think they’ll do civil disobedience to procrastinate jumping into the crystal water and having fun, knowing what they want…
they want their gills back.
My oracle said, “Human resistance works! Look at this example” And when I go back millions of years to the beginning of evolution, I was able to take a nap in peace next to a frog.
(The frog is an ancient species, far older than humans, as are many animals and plants.)
The night was lovely,
As soon as he walked in the door we wanted to inhale each other…raw attraction for months now. Sometimes you wait to see if it goes away. It’s not going away.
But we didn’t go there because we’re “developing” our bond so that we’re both emotionally happy with ourselves and feeling centered…
So, I contained the tide of passion for the next forty-five minutes.
We sat on the couch, looked each other in the eye, so hot, talked about our kids, so warm and loving, opened Christmas gifts to each other on January 18 and drank peppermint tea.
We were each charmed with our mutual bestowals.
This was loving and literate foreplay between two artists. Not to lead to sex exactly, but very possibly and very mutually.
This was heart foreplay, not to be taken lightly. I kept talking and he stopped me mid-sentence and started the delicious kissing before he had to leave.
Why is he starting the kissing before he has to leave? Why?
Then he half picked me up and threw me on the couch!!!!
I felt like a startled cat and giggled like a fresh teenager.
Mind you, we’ve already been intimate, but I’m an artist. I’m a lover, an authentic, intelligent woman, warm, sensitive, deep. No regular man is going to do for me. This has to be an…
eccentric…
super intelligent…
foxy face…
a strong body…
sweet, wonderful kisses.
I love his hair and his lips.
So….back to the story.
Wow…we had these little whisper chats with each other…
Ahhhhh, it was all good, as he lay next to me but…
He has a sort of broken heart, the kind of disconsolate, forlorn vibe that starts to sink like a rock and close the heart shutter that started to burst open.
I am… so aware of what that is.
It warns a man…don’t…go there…she will eat you alive…
I swear, I wonder if that’s what he thinks.
It could be other emotions but we women, or maybe just me, sometimes think that men are heartless.
This one isn’t. He’s a writer too.
He has to mend his broken heart and I totally, absolutely, understand
that demolished rupture, the broken mirror, the belief in self that
just says…I don’t love myself enough to love you.
I feel like a failure. I’m not good enough for you.
It’s the trouble with the world.
How epidemic is the guilt, the sorrow, the cynicism, the pain______
And the woman’s garden lies fallow.
You can march and resist all you want about this man who is supposed to be our leader who grabs and insults women. Most men are like him…not connected to their heart and addicted to something. It’s the men’s fate. Most women act from their hearts. It’s in our bodies.
I think each woman just needs to be loved by a man (or woman) with an open heart who we can love in return and I really doubt it exists.
Religion teaches men to hate women unless they marry them and then control them. Then they feel even more free to hate them.
It’s never going to work. Men are based in ego and women are based in love.
These are the first few paragraphs from my book “Healer” which will be published in 2017.
I have a roving passion for putting the pieces together when it comes to my history and relationships. I can sit with it pensively if I have some tea but that gets old. It’s too curious not to talk about it.
Many people who know me would say I’m a deep thinker and that I think an awful lot, that I’m different or odd. Excessive introspective rumination can be hard on the body and fattening to the ego, but if the heart is involved, I’ve found that it balances out. I feel I do balance out my passion like two people on a teeter-totter. It is much more fun if your weight is about equal between the mind and the body.
Being a writer, I’m not the kind of person to just let the puzzle pieces float in the air like fireflies. I want to grab them, bring them down to earth and figure out why they glow by themselves. I’m not sure why my life has been so fragmentary and synchronous compared to others but it has. I don’t resist it. I accept it and even try to be nobly entertained by it. I hope I can offer you a different perspective and show you another shrouded angle that you’ve never heard of to give you pause.
I did plenty of raucous, carefree, haphazard living in my youth that was far from serious, but my quality of life went up when I balanced it with being focused and serious as well. Life isn’t all kittens, flowers, and platitudes. Sometimes you have to buy a plane ticket and fly somewhere you’ve never been before; even meet people you’ve never met before. No matter where I went, I felt like someone was watching over me and I was safe. I wasn’t particularly taught that as a child but I can’t remember feeling any other way. That feeling is like my favorite sweatshirt or my favorite pair of silky dress pants that hang well on my waist.
Continued in my book, available on Amazon
Well, first off, as it is on Earth for most people, the losses, traumas, and deaths pile up to the point where you might not want to be here anymore. I m just being honest. Sometimes we all feel like it’s ridiculous, like this last election cycle. WTH? Then I check in with myself and say, “Nope, I m still having fun, enjoy my body, sex, food, friends, my son, my work, the seasons, music, you name it.”
My question in the midst of it is, “How can I make sense of this suffering I witness most others going through and my own?” The first thing I do is realize were all in this together. No one, anywhere, is immune from the soul lessons here. I don’t believe in fortunate or unfortunate, lucky or unlucky. Don’t ya think we make our own fortune by our choices? It’s a big well we can dip into with our mind and heart. When I dip into that well, that’s how I connect to Source.
It’s universal to want to connect emotionally and physically to others. I feel that is an inclination from Source and I let my body feel it. Making art together, cooperating, joining together for a just cause. All of that connects us to Source because Source is in us.
I don’t recommend feeling sorry for yourself for too long or you won’t get the wisest use out of your limited time in the body. Everyone goes through the dark night of the soul. You could use that experience to grow. Feel the depth of it, go into those emotions and what other people think of your “negativity” be damned while you’re figuring it out. I did it by myself and called on my friends. I didn’t use a counselor, although you could. I journal and I wrote a book.
I’ve been hooking to Source energy every day for about 25 years now in all of those varied ways. I make sure I live in a peaceful, non-violent environment. I eat well and exercise so I like my body and can feel its rhythms. In this way, I can watch my breath as I close my eyes and drop my mental focus. Now I pay attention to every body part starting at the head and going down. I have a body balancing technique I use that includes color and Reiki.
I affirm to Spirit/God that I m here to serve and love all life. I affirm that I promise to love myself as best I can in order to do that. I give myself permission to detach from people that are not loving or loving to me or don’t like me, then do something called “bless and release” instead of cursing or hating them. If I focus/pray about one person, a flood of intuitions come in about that person because I am in receive mode from Source. I see people and events unfold like a movie and it’s been happening all of my life. I note all of that in my memory.
I wish well for everything in front of me no matter what state it’s in. I ask for a revelation on specific issues on which I have a question and always listen for the answer. The universe knows I listen and respect them💜. They impart information to those that believe and listen.
So, love and take care of yourself, join with others doing something creative that you love, accept that everyone goes through a dark night of the soul and you’re not alone, have as much freaking sex with whoever you want to stay healthy, and follow your intuition. Don’t hesitate to walk away from people who don’t get you or don’t like you. You’ll know because you’ll feel bad around them.
You can rampage it on this planet and be free. It’s not worth it to follow, obey, or sit it out because it’s going to be over before long anyway.