An ode to 2016, so far

15 11 2016

I haven’t blogged in forever. I have been planning to but as with many things I plan to do I have a tendency to fall into procrastination. A lot has changed with me, my life, the world in general since my last post, and in a quick summary: we moved back to Georgia, spent a summer and part of a fall in the mountains of Blue Ridge, Georgia picking wild edible mushrooms and berries and living simply and decided to move back to Sebring, Florida (our HOME) where my husband is now teaching middle school World History and Civics and I am going to college working on my BA in Elementary Education. I want to write more, but juggling life and adulting is oh so very time consuming. However, this year and the call for higher spiritual growth has led me to a place of wanting, no needing, to live out intention. These intentions include: writing, more art, more connections, learning and relearning the esoteric mysteries and practices of the mind-body-spirit exaltation, and getting health of mind, body and of spirit. I am inspired to create a “monastery of me”: my own personal system for these things, inspired by concepts that I find useful from past masters. It is my intention to work towards this into the remainder of this year and into the coming year. I will conclude these musings with a poem I wrote into the notepad of my phone last night:

2016:

                                                      Days have led to months of rollover

Runaway cart on a roller-coaster

I would be motivated, but I’d rather go to bed

Trying to find a way to get dreams outside of my head

I have the feeling there is more to be done

Instead I spend my time calculating the life span of the sun

I’m putting it off, hoping it will all just happen

But first I must understand the magic of the atom

Longing for what was once connection

I filter through worlds born of distraction

I can’t transfer this one to the next

Inferring all that I can from the text

Solitude brings more questions than answers

How much weight do we place on our masters?

Counting down moments in this waiting station

Our interpretation seems often lost in translation

To climb this mountain there are rules I must break

But with such precision and no room for mistake

Deep breath in, deep breath out

Strip down to just the fear and the doubt

Remember that once all of this was in you

The particles and elements and stellar things too

The illusion of exits increase the inertia

Wars, walls and worlds only fall with assertion

-e

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Reconnecting

31 01 2013

Today, there I was, in my pajamas still, untouched sink of dishes, laundry not hung or folded, studio door unopened, on the bed at 10 am in my PJs while my youngest sat watching Dinosaur Train. I knew I only had a half hour to “get my work done” as I told him, but in reality- I only did a small portion of the research I was planning on doing (you see, I have a new project I’m in the planning stages of, and was shopping around for prices so I am prepared for the investment) but I spent five minutes of that time with comparative shopping or looking up ideas… instead I find myself on facebook. I read the homepage scrolling, I look at my page, I go back, I comment, I message, and wait. I wait to see if anything else is going to happen… my son soon has a full blown tantrum, because his show is over, he wants a snack, I’m in another room on the computer… and it hit me. I am not even sitting in the room with him, not even playing with him, or reading with him. I would have slapped myself if I witnessed this when Sylvia was a baby, when we didn’t have the internet and only 20% of the people I knew were online, when social networking was still a novel concept in it’s infancy. I spent 12 hours a day nearly straight- playing, reading, walking, on the playground, on the floor with her. She was my constant work, my great work, and the entirety of my universe. Well, and learning the ropes of balancing wife and mother. I came across two articles around the time I saw the grotesque state I was in: http://www.handsfreemama.com/2012/05/07/how-to-miss-a-childhood/ and http://www.theverge.com/2012/8/13/3231386/offline-hows-it-going-paul-miller

I am extremely inspired by both, especially the idea of going offline. My big dilemma is that although I may not be even close to a complete online business yet, I would like to be there soon. I have played around with the idea of going offline for business and focusing on the craft fairs, but I want people to be able to find me online. I’m coming to a point of resolution inspired by Katwise http://www.katwise.com/ who only posts rounds of her sweaters to sell once a month. One week a month could contribute greatly to my mental clarity, keeping my online time to a minimum for postings and transactions only, the remaining three weeks of the month be time for production and preparation, family time, me time, couple time, etc. This is all part of my ongoing struggle with sculpting the vision of myself series… this year I’m being realistic and releasing my need for immediacy, taking things slowly so they solidify. I have spent 3 weeks thus far on going meat free and am waiting until next week to go dairy free, I can wean my online problem slowly as well. I will start with weekends only, and take it slow. As I watch the toxins drift from my reality, I hope to find a more illuminated path towards the true will. It’s call is becoming much more audible these days. Image





Today’s Video Blog!

16 11 2012

What I wore for under $5, enjoy!





Laura Moon’s Chili – American Gods

9 08 2012

I totally forgot about Laura’s chili in American Gods! Great idea, I’m going to have to make a veggie version of it on a cool autumn day (do we get those in south central florida?)

Food Through the Pages

“Laura made a great chili. She used lean-cut meat, dark kidney beans, carrots cut small, a bottle or so of dark beer, and freshly sliced hot peppers. She would let the chili cook for a while, then add red wine, lemon juice, and a pinch of fresh dill, and, finally, measure out and add her chili powders. On more than one occasion Shadow had tried to get her to show him how she made it: he would watch everything she did, from slicing the onions and dropping them into the olive oil at the bottom of the pot on. He had even written down the sequence of events, ingredient by ingredient, and he had once made Laura’s chili for himself on a weekend when she had been out of town. It had tasted okay–it was certainly edible, and he ate it, but it had not been Laura’s chili.”

American…

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so it begins.

13 07 2012

Voyage: Part one, day one (or half?)

To summarize(from my hidden, or nearly impossible to find profile…) here in lies my intention(s) for this journal:

Found Objects-

Every journey begins with the pangs of wonder-lust (which, coincidentally is the result of wanderlust gone horribly unrequited). This is the age old adventure story, of the fool’s descent into the seemingly unending, unknowing vast dimension of forward. I feel that every hero(ine) has a story to tell, though that story tends to be older than time itself, and winds as circular and ever predictable as a clock in want of winding. I feel within me a certain (as well as uncertain…) quickening to grow bigger, to fly higher, to dance longer. Chances are, fellow earthling, you are finding this same familiar feeling yourself. The silent alarm clock, like the gilded death-tick beetle cannot be silenced by the snooze button any longer. In this journey, I attempt to take the pieces of self that I find in mirrors, strangers’ faces, lost keys on sidewalks, children with muddy feet, dandelion clocks in the breeze and smiles on rainy days and create the tapestry of found objects that takes all these pieces of me to the places where Icarus feared to tread.

And now, I shall close, for the time being. I tire of glowing screens and humming machines and mechanical hoodoos and voodoos that I understand not. Tonight I will dream in song, and upon the grace of light if tomorrow comes, I will continue this perilous journey to the infinite chasms of being.

my Floridian Jungle secret place(s)

where the ferns whisper in a language that only the moss and lichen can translate, sung out of key by the obnoxious palmettos