Here is some of my prose from last year. Have a great weekend!
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 […]
I took an Excedrin for the morning’s headache, got back in bed and did some Wim Hof Migraine Breathing. Three cheers for our pal, Mr. Hof!!! The pain vanished, and the caffeine took me back to the words of my dear mother, God rest her soul. “We live in a sex cult.” Yeah, right out […]
I loved that, as soon as I walked in the time-honored door, profusely late, you were concerned that I’d gotten lost, in trouble, or something else.
Mmmmm. That’s the good stuff. I’m going there and staying in that sterling feeling. It’s a crack memory in my brain. No one can take it away. I keep a pile of those in a festive drawer for a rainy day.
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.
Because we doubt ourselves too much so we are reassuring ourselves by saying it.
Because others who doubt themselves doubt us and say it!
Because others project their experience of being shunned for being or doing something that was wrong, onto us.
Because “if you make a mistake, you are forgiven”, isn’t widely practiced.
So, now I try to catch myself and say, “Lisa, do what you feel, study what you feel, write what you feel and use the best skill you’ve got. That’s all you can do.” I’ve got a lot of skill and I’ve paid the piper so I have no reason to doubt myself. Whether anyone will listen and understand has never proven to be plentiful. So what?
And now, when someone criticizes me harshly when I meant absolutely no harm and never do, I know that they have not forgiven themselves for being wrong or someone else has not forgiven them for being wrong or vice versa.
It closes the heart.
Wow, the feeling of being around someone with a closed heart and lots of conditions, or an open heart and few conditions, is night and day.