Walktober (3)

This is an image of the amazing greeting view that met me at the Gate by the Tree of Many Faces. It is still there. It is still beautiful. I checked. The image does not portray the scene. Sometimes images don’t.

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Which ones do we edit because they are not enough? Which ones do we edit because there is a shame that a thing will be seen as bad? I believe in a concept of things being bad and not good enough. I believe that the world is becoming a place where everyone is lovely, and that we all have to lie to ourselves to be such. Every effort is enough. Every action gets a reward.

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But, does it get the right one? A sense of pleasure and satisfaction with the self, from the self and the spirit? If I judge a passion as a way to judge what is right, what about the person that takes up a hobby that is hard and different, because their joy is simply to try a new thing? I can have shame now at not being enough to notice that what works for me CAN mean that something else is false and wrong, or for taking too long to see another way. I am not at all ready to give up the fact that even the bench warmer gets an award. I wonder if competition and worthiness is not the same as a shame. Yes, Kathy I am pondering the shame post.

I loved the post. I didn’t love that I cried. I loved that I cried. So now, I ponder. I wonder if I am attempting to step back, to detach as some say. I used to have vast difficulties feeling or aiming to feel detached. I would shout, how does detached feel? You want me to be a sociopath? Oh! You want me to disassociate, I’m good at that, however the world says that is bad. So I am going to ponder and attach and detach and reattach someplace else until I am satisfied, and hopefully that won’t mean that I beat the tar out of myself.

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I wanted to share all of the wonderful books that I got through Inter-library Loan. I have so many new amazing things to which I wish to attend fully, that I can’t choose. I am also having trouble with focus, fear and worry do that to me. I wonder if it is ok just to admire the heft of each one, the shape, and the feel of the pages. The dent of the text. It is for me.

I walked last night on a manageable loop through a park, around behind the Thomas Taber Museum, onto the Rail Place, through Park Home and back. I think that makes a Tree Place length and there are grasses and many trees and plants, both native and landscaped. It was a nice thing to do after dinner and made it simpler to overcome being stuck and unable to move. I enjoyed it very much, both the freedom from being stuck and the ground so close to home.

PSST! Unsure of how Robin wishes the links to the Walktober Project so,

Ranting about Feeling Abused

I have not been posting. I feel abused. I think I am literally being abused too, aside from the feeling. The things that I want to focus upon, the things that are my passion become lackluster and trite at such times. I get angry about this, as expression to me, is surviving, and then I loop right back around to feeling abused.

I just had a very angry thought about anyone calling me or using the word victim. I swear I will hit anyone who does with something that creates large amounts of physical distress. A person, that through no fault of their own, is also forced by society to feel like a whiny victim if they can’t take it. This forces the person to shut up and not get the assistance that the person might need. What about asking me(or said victim) if he or she might like some help. And then follow through on the offer–even if it conflicts with some internal register of emotions and situations to avoid. Please forgive me there, if I created some abuse of my own. My street is buried under so much shit, that it is becoming very difficult to tell which is my shit, to be cleaned and which belongs to someone else. That belonging to someone else category is a right bitch. I can work my hardest and my best to have the life that I desire–really and not from some crap from a book, and when others in my life are abusive I am stuck with their consequences. This is beyond cruel and I feel powerless to do anything about it.

I twist and I turn trying to do the right thing and accept responsibility for my own reacting, my own fear, my own appeasing–efforts to be myself no matter what, and in so doing I believe that in some ways the abuser(s) are alleviated of responsibility. I feel fear not knowing if the abuse is a concious choice, which would make it simpler for me to make a decision or if it is wrapped within mental and neurological disorder, and the abuser cannot notice that they are doing it. Everyone has a rather vicious opinion on it. They love to share it. The load then just gets heavier. I am not doing it right, again. (please share your thoughts, I think it’s just part of the cycle and I vaguely recall that sharing and getting feedback DO help at some point)

How does a person who has been severely abused in the past NOT view life on life’s terms as abuse? Who defines what abuse is? Is the feeling of being buried a maladaptive reactionary thing from the past that is skewing the view now? If my last question has a yes answer, that will mean I lie down and swallow until I can swallow no more and I wish to cease this existence. I remember, when I was very small and growing up a defiant voice from my middle that would shout when feeling a need not to exist. “Why should I put you all out of your misery!? I will not give you what you want!”

I do not want to be my age coming along as I have, enduring all that I have and having given up all that I have for my children to have to endure abuse like this. I do not know what the next right thing is. If I do know, it just doesn’t seem right, and I keep waiting so that I do not cause injury, harm, or unforeseen consequences to humans unequipped to realize nor to understand them.

The sun is out the sky is one of my favorite shades of blue. The breeze is cold, invigorating. I am looking in at it from the chair at the computer, trapped on this side of the glass. I even resent having to miss such glories to think about it. My writing is an attempt to share this part of my daily inventory with other human beings, to see what might occur. It is too hard to tarnish that good outside of the window with these quivers and tears and shakes of fear and anger. So the last things I have that are good and that never let me down, are also being stolen away. I am in tears.

Nutboogers! Passionate Commitment Bites Me in the A.. (uhm hiney)

DARN IT ALL!

This is my What the Heckle and Jeckle Face!

I made a comment over on Kathy’s blog, Close the Door and Stay Inside All Winter. And then, I responded to another comment. And then, Kathy had her own reply. It’s what happens on blogs quite frequently!

This morning, I got up and began to do my pleasant normally pleasant morning routine. I became engaged before I finished the first cup of tea. Normally, is not my best decision in the day, to do so before having the third cup. Just ask those who know me! I am particularly enjoying a new blog that I’m writing, which I am keeping private, for now. In it, I’m expressing things that I do not often express and in ways that I do not often express them. I think that I like it, though some of the things can feel ugly in parts. And then I get feedback, and the hidden ‘ugly’ bits, just become normal. (OOOOOo….maybe THAT’S ENOUGH!!!—this is directed at Kathy! Everyone wave madly to Kathy)

But every day, as I finish reading or writing there, I come back to the dashboard here and look at the February Passion Creative Every Day 2011 commitment that I made. And I have posted nothing. Well, I have posted many things indeed, just all privately. So, I am accumulating guilt and some small amount of shame–the shame part is odd for me to do. I’m frowning at the little one jumping up and down waving a hand madly in the air saying…look look at meeee I AMMMM working very hard over hear…do you see me do you?!?!?!

We can all take a moment to sigh and shake our heads, maybe even an eye roll at it. Anyway, when I do commit to something BOY DO I!!!!!!! Even to my detriment! And the things to which I commit, I do not even always realize that I have made an agreement with myself to commit, until I come to an internal and unfamiliar fussing, which makes not so much sense. Fine! It’s the wave of sudden Passion that does it, makes me aware, brings a tacit agreement to light. It can then present me with a difficulty making a conscious choice, to continue it, to decide why I took such a thing upon myself to begin with, and can I make it of good use.

AH HA! A LIGHTBULB MOMENT! Quite often, when I am feeling the most passionate about a thing, I will appear on the outside to have shut down. I will go quiet. Creative thoughts and pondering of all that I just typed fill my head, along with the daily–oh look a chickens, of daily life. I can get overloaded. It can feel, to me, as if there are so many seemingly disjointed things side by side, that there is no adequate way to communicate them clearly, to present an entire picture of me at once that is honest and accurate.

I will also add, before I abruptly end this particular post, that the thought….many minds in many places vs one mind in many places. I shall have to make a decision to consider if the expression is needed or if some of it is coming from being ungrounded and me not paying attention to it. Being grounded helps me to filter out things that are irrelevant in each moment. It also lets me be aware of them, if I choose, in a less blender type manner. (and a voice says..yes but what if sometimes some of the things wanting to be expressed are truly important and you are using being grounded as a shield not to see them, because they quite conveniently don’t fit a current idea of who you think you are) Sigh. Thank you wise teacher( and pain in the ass!) I love you.

Creativity Thwarted by Broken Puter!

I’m posting.  I am annoyed.  Ok I’m not annoyed in general, only about certain things.  I am that way, very joyful over one thing or things in general and quite snarky indeed about another.  This concept seems a bit difficult for others to grasp, so, I generally do not try to do so.

Back around Thanks for Giving Day, my computer had a nasty illness, at least one virus and all.  I freaked out with worry–I can be very good at worry about certain things.  The brain and the body have not seemed to have allowed the understanding about how worrying does NO good at all, in relation to these things.  Sooooooooo…I have decided to check worrying about worrying that I worry over certain things, and well then I’m still me, and everyone else is much less inclined to want me to be buried in a deep hole (make that soundproof hole) somewhere.

Well, the day after Christmas my lovely son, virused the computer YET AGAIN.  (go ahead sigh a few times in identification and commiseration)   I kicked myself in the hiney for not having accumulated enough funds for a back up drive for my books and images, but having just been through the worry it seems that my worry quota was filled.  The computer is back at the fix it up chappy place.  This time, I am feeling very stagnated in the creativity zone.  I express quite a LOT of energy in this manner.  I suppose one might equate this situation with a daily long distance runner ending up stuck into a wheelchair and unable to use legs for a bit.  I know I do.  Perhaps this really was what was behind what I labeled worry the first time around and I was so lost that I couldn’t or didn’t, or maybe wouldn’t recognize it.

I hadn’t realized that I had become so comfortable being me, whoever I am, and whatever I wish to express in any given moment.  It keeps me honest with myself and with others.  It isn’t so much that I always feel comfortable expressing to or with others, however, I can write here feelings and emotions and even actions trying each out for size and watching from a distance making better choices.  Ok, maybe not always better choices but for the most part then I’m always clear that I DID see it and make a choice anyway.  Parts of me are muttering and wondering if I really had to be that forthright….YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! 🙂

 

Ha!  Now just look I have in some ways thwarted that thwartation of my creativity.  Feeling sneaky is FUN!!!

Until next time!

Elisa