It tends to be the teacher who minds her own business the most, that seems to also attract the most negative attention from the most insecure ones, or so it seems the case today. As I write this blog I am reminded of the searing, nuclear disruption to my morphic field as she walked in, projecting all of her pent-up frustration about her family life, her weight, her fears, her feelings of needing intimacy and feeling rather unattractive, and decided to contrast that against my cool, relatively composed stoic teacher "it's Monday, let's start fresh" mode, in preparation for the toughest, most ridiculous class of my day: the 7th grade hell raisers. After all, they had to be hell raisers because Heaven hadn't appeared to have smiled on them in the least. Anywho...
I had finally settled the class enough to speak, issuing the game plan for the day's adventure. Suddenly, a large whoosh of calamity rushed in right before I got a chance to speak. Boys were sent out, and a teacher whose name will have to just roll in my mind aimlessly and questioningly, swung her body into my room and proclaimed, "what are these boys doing outside your room?" Her fierce interruption was enough to wonder if the four horsemen of the Apocalypse would follow. I returned with "um, I needed to start class without their interruption. Is there an issue?" She proceeded to tell me how they were interrupting her class (she doesn't have one) and were downstairs making faces in a window (actually, the kids told me what they did themselves). I thanked and apologized to her, not that I could understand why she was in my room on the third floor at all, and she raises her voice, asking, "What are you going to do about them?" Now far be it from me to do this to another professional, so I said in my best tone, " I will handle the problem as soon as I begin class. Thank you for telling me." She yells this time. "because they can't be running around the halls!" "Excuse me, I'm trying to start class!" I answer, this time visibly flustered. "So am I!" She yells, and storms out as she pushed the students back in.
By this time, I realized I'd had quite enough, and didn't need to have that issue bother my hour any further, and yet I couldn't stop the training from rolling because it would have otherwise jumped its tracks. I followed her out, and I added to my frustration, loudly stating, " I have never been so disrespected by another professional and to top it off, in front of my KIDS??" Much to my surprise, this teacher of this supposed 25 years of stature, education, superiority and history in teaching answers me with "so what?" "SO WHAT???" At this point I was just flabbergasted by her response. I got called dumb and insignificant, then tried to say something about being equals, to which I reply, "EQUALS?? OH NO LADY, WE ARE NOT EQUALS. I would NEVER have done that to you." At which point, I stormed back into the room.
Apparently, the Universe sometimes gives us these opportunities to state forcefully to the world who we are and how we are to be treated. When I returned to my classroom, the one thing I felt sure and awesomely solid about, was the fact that I would always, from that point on, hold a solid, loving boundary with those who choose to indulge themselves in the luxury of a whirlwind of projective despair. Alas, though I triumphed in the boundaries department, I epically failed in another, which was the securement of rising above that which tries to oppose us, show us jealousy, anger, or any uncontrolled emotion or act. My fortress was shattered. The lesson that now haunts me is to be the dependable stoic leader, when the chips are down, and to reinforce, at the first sign of attack.
As for that sad teacher? I have a book recommendation for her. It's called Why People Don't Heal, and How they Can, by Caroline Myss. Oh, and I'd also suggest a cup of tea, if this could help to assuage savage nerve attacks toward said victimized, successful goddesses. Namaste.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
To sleep, to dream, to drink tea.
As I type, the empty cup stares at me. I'm thirsty. I am sure this is a metaphor for something, and then again, maybe as arbitrary and capricious as the moment I decided to stay up another minute. I only plan to type for the next two, however, and allow this to be what might be a decidedly unfinished, rambling post about how I wanted another cup of tea, and yet did not oblige.
The fun thing about a blog, is that the typed word does not necessarily need to make sense, although it might help viewers venture back...a bit...or forward...a bit more...I'm still thirsty. Shall I have more tea, or a nap and meditation at this point?
There is one thing I know for sure. Although our minds and hearts read, study and tend to ramble, though there may be something meaningful to this, nothing seems to run so deeply as the mindless, soundless, breathless, detached, and yet fully alive, cup of tea. Cheers to the empty glass.
It's two minutes past my naptime. I may find my tea there.
The fun thing about a blog, is that the typed word does not necessarily need to make sense, although it might help viewers venture back...a bit...or forward...a bit more...I'm still thirsty. Shall I have more tea, or a nap and meditation at this point?
There is one thing I know for sure. Although our minds and hearts read, study and tend to ramble, though there may be something meaningful to this, nothing seems to run so deeply as the mindless, soundless, breathless, detached, and yet fully alive, cup of tea. Cheers to the empty glass.
It's two minutes past my naptime. I may find my tea there.
Monday, April 16, 2012
1a Tea Tryst
The tea sneaks out of slumber surreptitiously in the wee hours, hoping only to disturb those who stir and shift from such liquid ambrosia-like pleasure...
1:22a. I snack on a low carb tortilla, cheese and avocado. I'm not sure of why I'm feeling so hungry, but I do know that afterwards, I choose a fine, hot cup of Gyokuro sencha, realizing my neural stirrings are occurring with about the same intensity as they were when I last posted about tea. Even then, the post was about exactly the same leaf. Funny. Or is it?
Consciousness has a way of bringing things full circle.
I'm thinking that I am quite possibly hungry because I am (a) procrastinating, (b) full of a pot of tea and now my metabolism has been accelerated, (c) I need to drink water instead of eat or (d), I am truly hungry.
But then I realize I had not consumed enough proteins today, and that could also explain the sudden (yummy!) snack eaten at such a time. This is unlike me, and yet, we spent the entire day at an amusement park themed around one of those mini scavengers with big ears and beady eyes. This is also not how a normal weekend for me goes, so much.
I was thinking that the sure key to my success was to eat and work, and that I would be more successful at task completion. So far, all I've managed to do is make myself sleepy, which was probably going on before. And so I sit. And sit. I type a blog which is NOT on my current list of to-dos. And I drink the tea because it speaks to me.
Would you like to know what the tea had the Nerve to say? ...Change. That's all. Just change. Then I have one of those thoughts I go to (my go-to thought) that completely obstructs me from doing ANYTHING ELSE. Or, alternatively, I have a hazy feeling that ends my struggle and folds me over onto my computer console immediately. No, not arsenic, but sleep. Pure, unadulterated, unrelenting, endless waves of nausea-inducing sleep. You may wonder how sleep can induce nausea. Well it only happens when you are a certain willful person who doesn't like the feeling of letting go and allowing something to happen, all whilst deeply loving and accepting that person. But I digress. And there I go typing with closed lids again. That takes some talent and practice.
Tea makes you one with all without anyone asking, apparently.
You see, the tea, she cheated on me. She was supposed to help me stay awake and it looks like she let me into deep meditation. Does this mean path block, obstruction, or simple case of needing to be asleep more than needing to be awake? I go back to my tea cup to drink the last cup. She is cold. Boy is she cold.
1:22a. I snack on a low carb tortilla, cheese and avocado. I'm not sure of why I'm feeling so hungry, but I do know that afterwards, I choose a fine, hot cup of Gyokuro sencha, realizing my neural stirrings are occurring with about the same intensity as they were when I last posted about tea. Even then, the post was about exactly the same leaf. Funny. Or is it?
Consciousness has a way of bringing things full circle.
I'm thinking that I am quite possibly hungry because I am (a) procrastinating, (b) full of a pot of tea and now my metabolism has been accelerated, (c) I need to drink water instead of eat or (d), I am truly hungry.
But then I realize I had not consumed enough proteins today, and that could also explain the sudden (yummy!) snack eaten at such a time. This is unlike me, and yet, we spent the entire day at an amusement park themed around one of those mini scavengers with big ears and beady eyes. This is also not how a normal weekend for me goes, so much.
I was thinking that the sure key to my success was to eat and work, and that I would be more successful at task completion. So far, all I've managed to do is make myself sleepy, which was probably going on before. And so I sit. And sit. I type a blog which is NOT on my current list of to-dos. And I drink the tea because it speaks to me.
Would you like to know what the tea had the Nerve to say? ...Change. That's all. Just change. Then I have one of those thoughts I go to (my go-to thought) that completely obstructs me from doing ANYTHING ELSE. Or, alternatively, I have a hazy feeling that ends my struggle and folds me over onto my computer console immediately. No, not arsenic, but sleep. Pure, unadulterated, unrelenting, endless waves of nausea-inducing sleep. You may wonder how sleep can induce nausea. Well it only happens when you are a certain willful person who doesn't like the feeling of letting go and allowing something to happen, all whilst deeply loving and accepting that person. But I digress. And there I go typing with closed lids again. That takes some talent and practice.
Tea makes you one with all without anyone asking, apparently.
You see, the tea, she cheated on me. She was supposed to help me stay awake and it looks like she let me into deep meditation. Does this mean path block, obstruction, or simple case of needing to be asleep more than needing to be awake? I go back to my tea cup to drink the last cup. She is cold. Boy is she cold.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
It's 2:14 in the morning....
...the FB conversation got boring...yeah, I should probably creep into sleep, that land of the proverbial dreams, the ones I rarely have, but in lieu of Spring, have seemed to have an entire new onslaught of random dream state ramblings and other such antics. But I digress. This conversation was meant to be about tea.
I have gotten into quite the peculiar otherworld state with the tea, so much so, that it has taken my typing tips out of retirement and back onto the precious keypad, memories of her movement await. Here I am...and also here is the tea. I retrace my steps to a possibly simpler time and I see myself pregnant again, sitting at my breakfast table in the early morn, enjoying a pot of Irish Breakfast tea and feeling so grateful that my life is what it was at the time. My then hubby and I shared a two bedroom apartment with a cat and a baby on the way. Everything being retraced, all of the energy there and memories. But what do I remember? That delicious cup of Irish breakfast tea with a bit of evaporated milk and a heavy body to the tea. I remember enjoying the delightful spin I would have as I thoughtful munched on fruit and planned the dinner meal for when the hubby would return to the cave....such a mixed bag of emotions, however raw, still centered around the Master of Ceremonies, the tea.
She and I have had a rather admirable and at times trying and then exciting trysts within the relationship, but it always seemed to somehow work out in the end...my love for the tea and her love for the cup. We would always meet here...in the teapot, the table, the body, the cup, the critic ready to sing her praises for the full bodied, malty flavors of Assam and the brassy, astringent properties of the Ceylon, so on and whathaveyou. All the subtle nuances of tea have left subtle imprints in all the right places in my consciousness, quietly cataloging the moments where, in spite of the vagueness words can bring, she was my life, the color in the pencil, the pigment in the crayon. Realistically, we would never part.
...But then we did which, indeed, turned out to be a rather woeful moment, though I do not think my conscious mind registered this. I think it, in fact, did not register it to the point of completely allowing the tea, after all it had truly done for me, to just slide through my fingers. How could I let it slip away? I feel it had attributed itself to potential weight gain at every bite, every slice of pizza and every bar of chocolate. Had I done this? Well I certainly hadn't realized myself for it. But oh, the bites you get in just when you thought, is this it? Is this all I can take?? Bamm. Then hits the awakening of the consciousness you already possessed, simply because of the meditation of the tea.
It seems that every powerful, cataclysmic, shifting or life changing event creates a chain reaction of events seemingly unrelated to the initial spark, but all intensely, passionately intertwine...the tea being the central point, and the baby the life change, while the relationship was at its crux, or rather, soon to be actualized some several years later, to the demise of the relationship, even as I dared to continue sipping the tea. The loudnes of the boom, the quiet before the storm, as the tea went in, and took me into meditation.
And from it, I drew the discovery of the name Kai, my son, Hawaiian in origin. My middle name Irish, attributed to my current BF who is destined and earmarked for maybe a slather more, and an apartment whose time is come to manifest into a new space built for two adults in the current financial and relationship climate. Only now we are visiting a very green, very costly, first flush premier drink, gyokuro sencha, and sencha premier. So green, so vegetal, so delicious.
I drink the tea and wonder whether my passion lies in the actual hot drink or in the memory and lessons encoded within each cup.
I have gotten into quite the peculiar otherworld state with the tea, so much so, that it has taken my typing tips out of retirement and back onto the precious keypad, memories of her movement await. Here I am...and also here is the tea. I retrace my steps to a possibly simpler time and I see myself pregnant again, sitting at my breakfast table in the early morn, enjoying a pot of Irish Breakfast tea and feeling so grateful that my life is what it was at the time. My then hubby and I shared a two bedroom apartment with a cat and a baby on the way. Everything being retraced, all of the energy there and memories. But what do I remember? That delicious cup of Irish breakfast tea with a bit of evaporated milk and a heavy body to the tea. I remember enjoying the delightful spin I would have as I thoughtful munched on fruit and planned the dinner meal for when the hubby would return to the cave....such a mixed bag of emotions, however raw, still centered around the Master of Ceremonies, the tea.
She and I have had a rather admirable and at times trying and then exciting trysts within the relationship, but it always seemed to somehow work out in the end...my love for the tea and her love for the cup. We would always meet here...in the teapot, the table, the body, the cup, the critic ready to sing her praises for the full bodied, malty flavors of Assam and the brassy, astringent properties of the Ceylon, so on and whathaveyou. All the subtle nuances of tea have left subtle imprints in all the right places in my consciousness, quietly cataloging the moments where, in spite of the vagueness words can bring, she was my life, the color in the pencil, the pigment in the crayon. Realistically, we would never part.
...But then we did which, indeed, turned out to be a rather woeful moment, though I do not think my conscious mind registered this. I think it, in fact, did not register it to the point of completely allowing the tea, after all it had truly done for me, to just slide through my fingers. How could I let it slip away? I feel it had attributed itself to potential weight gain at every bite, every slice of pizza and every bar of chocolate. Had I done this? Well I certainly hadn't realized myself for it. But oh, the bites you get in just when you thought, is this it? Is this all I can take?? Bamm. Then hits the awakening of the consciousness you already possessed, simply because of the meditation of the tea.
It seems that every powerful, cataclysmic, shifting or life changing event creates a chain reaction of events seemingly unrelated to the initial spark, but all intensely, passionately intertwine...the tea being the central point, and the baby the life change, while the relationship was at its crux, or rather, soon to be actualized some several years later, to the demise of the relationship, even as I dared to continue sipping the tea. The loudnes of the boom, the quiet before the storm, as the tea went in, and took me into meditation.
And from it, I drew the discovery of the name Kai, my son, Hawaiian in origin. My middle name Irish, attributed to my current BF who is destined and earmarked for maybe a slather more, and an apartment whose time is come to manifest into a new space built for two adults in the current financial and relationship climate. Only now we are visiting a very green, very costly, first flush premier drink, gyokuro sencha, and sencha premier. So green, so vegetal, so delicious.
I drink the tea and wonder whether my passion lies in the actual hot drink or in the memory and lessons encoded within each cup.
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Nature of Consciousness
Living in Consciousness is a process that builds and develops with time over the course of days, weeks, months, and years. We find moments in life to engage ourselves in, and revel in our successes, and feel disappointment for our losses, all because we accumulate thoughts, ideas, and actions over the course of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years....
We build muscle and regenerate, or deteriorate, depending on where our consciousness lies, over the course of seconds, minutes, hours.....and create new, healthier, or weaker, tissue over the course of days, weeks, months, years....
We become ill, not because we passed by someone with a cold, not because someone with the flu shook our hand, not because of any small child sneezing into the air, but because of our thoughts. How have we observed our thoughts? If we have not deeply reflected on our thoughts then we may have gotten overwhelmed by the mental and emotional stimuli...information running through our bodies. We decided to hold it in or think we let it go. And then it hits...the sudden realization that we are in fact sick, and we ignored our thoughts for days, weeks, months, years....and that we do not have to make this choice if it were for a continual, active state of consciousness that is developed, much like muscle, over the course of seconds...
Changing a thought at any time...it only takes a minute....take the time to reflect on it for an hour, and you might have a pattern in the process of change....take an hour each week and see how you soar....or, maybe you might just make conscious awareness and the direct intention to change a thought pattern an actual identity of its own over the course of days, weeks, months, years....
These thoughts have been yours for at least days, usually years. But like everyone else, you and I may have decided to stagnate that thought a little, not given it much love and attention like everything else in your life that needs love and attention. Nurture. Moisturize. Develop. Train. Stuff like that. So then your emotions start to become this unconscious, reactive entity that you allow to run your life, like a beast, a monster. You wonder why you feel this way and you constantly battle the demons because you have not properly trained your dragon. I don't have to tell you this didn't happen overnight. It happened over the course of..yes, that's right. ...days, weeks, months, years....
So now this thought, this emotion, has become a part of you, like your physical body, and so you think, "oh, this is just what needs to happen." Right? Well, if you want it to be...or...you can make a new decision. Today is good. In fact, this very second, the moment you are in right now, is probably pretty cool to start with. A seed. A tiny little seed with the kinetic potential to grow an entire farm of whathaveyous, all starting from the tiny potential of the seed. After all, isn't that what Jesus talked about, having faith the size of a mustard seed? In fact, when I was little, I wore a mustard seed in a glass heart around my neck. I will never forget that seed. I have since become a tree.
So then your intuition kicks in, and you start feeling things, because you've cleared yourself at the basest level of your existence: your body. In fact, I could call the body the least of these five layers of self, the five layers being body, breath, mind/emotions, intuition/wisdom, and bliss/salvation/realization. The body is where cleansing the spirit begins for transformation. In this body state, we fast to cleanse our will center, our third chakra, the seat of discipline, discernment, and the bridge of the lower mind and essential needs for survival. With fasting, we challenge this center and demand of it the understanding that it will be much stronger and reinforced after this minor challenge, and that we are not our bodies...
We are forced to breathe through exercise, with its quick, short, revitalizing breath, or the long, languid breathing of a tai chi, yoga or other slow practice....we then settle into a prayer or meditation, making us focus on our breathing...the mind and emotions release, open and experience sensations and thoughts without any judgment.....
This gives room for the intuitive self to be realized. This is when you feel God talks to you through everything, every medium, every person, every text, every touch, every thought, every morsel of food...and if God is not talking, you might want to ask yourself why, considering the chatter is constant...days, weeks, months, years....
Opening you into your Bliss, Blissfully. Of course, No-Thing Happens overnight.....
We build muscle and regenerate, or deteriorate, depending on where our consciousness lies, over the course of seconds, minutes, hours.....and create new, healthier, or weaker, tissue over the course of days, weeks, months, years....
We become ill, not because we passed by someone with a cold, not because someone with the flu shook our hand, not because of any small child sneezing into the air, but because of our thoughts. How have we observed our thoughts? If we have not deeply reflected on our thoughts then we may have gotten overwhelmed by the mental and emotional stimuli...information running through our bodies. We decided to hold it in or think we let it go. And then it hits...the sudden realization that we are in fact sick, and we ignored our thoughts for days, weeks, months, years....and that we do not have to make this choice if it were for a continual, active state of consciousness that is developed, much like muscle, over the course of seconds...
Changing a thought at any time...it only takes a minute....take the time to reflect on it for an hour, and you might have a pattern in the process of change....take an hour each week and see how you soar....or, maybe you might just make conscious awareness and the direct intention to change a thought pattern an actual identity of its own over the course of days, weeks, months, years....
These thoughts have been yours for at least days, usually years. But like everyone else, you and I may have decided to stagnate that thought a little, not given it much love and attention like everything else in your life that needs love and attention. Nurture. Moisturize. Develop. Train. Stuff like that. So then your emotions start to become this unconscious, reactive entity that you allow to run your life, like a beast, a monster. You wonder why you feel this way and you constantly battle the demons because you have not properly trained your dragon. I don't have to tell you this didn't happen overnight. It happened over the course of..yes, that's right. ...days, weeks, months, years....
So now this thought, this emotion, has become a part of you, like your physical body, and so you think, "oh, this is just what needs to happen." Right? Well, if you want it to be...or...you can make a new decision. Today is good. In fact, this very second, the moment you are in right now, is probably pretty cool to start with. A seed. A tiny little seed with the kinetic potential to grow an entire farm of whathaveyous, all starting from the tiny potential of the seed. After all, isn't that what Jesus talked about, having faith the size of a mustard seed? In fact, when I was little, I wore a mustard seed in a glass heart around my neck. I will never forget that seed. I have since become a tree.
So then your intuition kicks in, and you start feeling things, because you've cleared yourself at the basest level of your existence: your body. In fact, I could call the body the least of these five layers of self, the five layers being body, breath, mind/emotions, intuition/wisdom, and bliss/salvation/realization. The body is where cleansing the spirit begins for transformation. In this body state, we fast to cleanse our will center, our third chakra, the seat of discipline, discernment, and the bridge of the lower mind and essential needs for survival. With fasting, we challenge this center and demand of it the understanding that it will be much stronger and reinforced after this minor challenge, and that we are not our bodies...
We are forced to breathe through exercise, with its quick, short, revitalizing breath, or the long, languid breathing of a tai chi, yoga or other slow practice....we then settle into a prayer or meditation, making us focus on our breathing...the mind and emotions release, open and experience sensations and thoughts without any judgment.....
This gives room for the intuitive self to be realized. This is when you feel God talks to you through everything, every medium, every person, every text, every touch, every thought, every morsel of food...and if God is not talking, you might want to ask yourself why, considering the chatter is constant...days, weeks, months, years....
Opening you into your Bliss, Blissfully. Of course, No-Thing Happens overnight.....
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Interview With a Date.
Yes, the title is a play on the vampire book because I am reading it. And Oh my Gawd (in my best valley girl voice) it isss, like, soooo scary!! But I am soooo totally starting to digress and I haven't even started.
So I'm probably supposed to be doing homework or something....but I'm not. Okay. I sit and then decide to relish this moment of wanting to run my long, sinewy (I like that word) made-for-piano fingers over the keypad and enjoy the freedom of letting my fingers scream whatever they want...at whoever they want. So this is not a rant to anyone, but none other than "Conversations with Universe," and I invite you all to listen in. Here goes.
What is a date?
A date is something one does with another in order to get to know the person better and see if another date should happen.
Is this an interview for sex partners?
Sure...or spiritual connection, or long term...or so I hear.
Is Date + Friend-D(ri)-end= Fate? Or Date/D('Fr) +idycat-(te)= 'Fraidy Cat?
Oh, it could be one. Or the other. Or both. Or neither.
Aren't there books out there on this equation?
Yes. I mean no. I mean, there's a bunch of books out there, and they ALL have specific rules. It's all this "no nonsense" stuff that is supposed to make sense and automatically work in your life, but so far it seems that Connie needs to write her own "manual."
Why?
Because I want to tweak the rules. My spirit so far seems to have exceptions for every rule because I believe people are flexible, and needs are flexible, Love should be flexible (isn't that the definition of unconditional?) and negotiations can sometimes be successful. Except for when you're negotiating.
This blog is not as interesting as the book Interview With a Vampire.
(But possibly just as spooky)
It's not trying to be, dork. I'm just trying to make sense of what's supposed to happen next. I mean, really, once you're in the hot and heavy throws of passion, something is supposed to dry up and hit you in the face that this person is just right, or this person is just right and I'm not, or this person is just not right and in fact all kinds of wrong and what's more is I'm outta here. Or this person is fulfilling a need for me and I'm gonna keep letting that person fulfill that need and not try to put a name or a package or price tag on it. Try that huh? You female you.
You're getting a little weird. Tell me about a date you've had.
Well, there's one that lasted a day, one that lasted three months or more and one that has lasted for four or more years....
Seriously, really, tell me. What was the date like? What signs are you looking for? What do you want? Do you seriously think I'm a dork? Are there too many questions here?
Woah woah brain! (wait, who's talking to whom?) Well, maybe it's because I have some serious vibe, but I can get into the energy of a person pretty quickly. I love easily. I also can fade away easily, but maybe not for that other person, because of the way I love. ....but it's intense. Not everyone can get with that intense kind of love, although it's what everyone says they want.
The three month date is a friendship (fateship?) in progress...some progress....the one day date was with him and ALL his friends, so since I haven't heard from him again, I'm thinking one of two things: he's either intimidated, or intimidated AND his friends said "out of your league." ...yeah, that sounds good. It's how legends are made. ("Document it! It might not be verifiable!! Document it anyway!!") Every date I've ever had needed time to develop. And as for the one that has lasted four or more years, I'm still trying to understand and contain all of those pieces. Things keep coming up that should be crystalline by now! Could that be why it is (and they all are) still a date and not more?
So then the others....ahh all the possibilities...and yet I sit, with my lovely little guy and a huge stack of excellent books, a computer and a few good friends...
I detect a hint of melancholy, dear one.
Yes. Does knowing what I want matter at this point? I have seen all the signs I would feel could make a really great thing happen with me and another dude, but I've also seen a lot of "wow! woah..." shit that could really just hang it all up for me.
Does this mean you don't know what you want? .......Are you avoiding my question? (man, my fingers just say whatever they want)
I feel I know what I want, but I don't know that it wants me right now.
The man needs to be...secure in as many physical ways possible (grounded emotionally, financially grounded and realistic), honest with his feelings, straightforward with heart, willing to hash it out calmly, must have a deep internal need to serve in some way humanity, in another way me (the way I would him). He needs to feel his spirit guides him and speaks for him openly and without reservation. He must be a leader and willing to "take one for the team" as I would.
I think this is me, so I'd want it to also be him.
Are you taking crazy pills, or do you really think this guy exists?
yes I'm taking crazy pills and no I don't think, I KNOW this man exists, and I know I've been with him and eaten dinner with him and listened to him for long periods of time and supported everything that he is, or at least opened myself up to it.
You should probably do your homework now. I love you Connie.
Yes sir...ma'am....Goddess. I love you too, Universe.
So I'm probably supposed to be doing homework or something....but I'm not. Okay. I sit and then decide to relish this moment of wanting to run my long, sinewy (I like that word) made-for-piano fingers over the keypad and enjoy the freedom of letting my fingers scream whatever they want...at whoever they want. So this is not a rant to anyone, but none other than "Conversations with Universe," and I invite you all to listen in. Here goes.
What is a date?
A date is something one does with another in order to get to know the person better and see if another date should happen.
Is this an interview for sex partners?
Sure...or spiritual connection, or long term...or so I hear.
Is Date + Friend-D(ri)-end= Fate? Or Date/D('Fr) +idycat-(te)= 'Fraidy Cat?
Oh, it could be one. Or the other. Or both. Or neither.
Aren't there books out there on this equation?
Yes. I mean no. I mean, there's a bunch of books out there, and they ALL have specific rules. It's all this "no nonsense" stuff that is supposed to make sense and automatically work in your life, but so far it seems that Connie needs to write her own "manual."
Why?
Because I want to tweak the rules. My spirit so far seems to have exceptions for every rule because I believe people are flexible, and needs are flexible, Love should be flexible (isn't that the definition of unconditional?) and negotiations can sometimes be successful. Except for when you're negotiating.
This blog is not as interesting as the book Interview With a Vampire.
(But possibly just as spooky)
It's not trying to be, dork. I'm just trying to make sense of what's supposed to happen next. I mean, really, once you're in the hot and heavy throws of passion, something is supposed to dry up and hit you in the face that this person is just right, or this person is just right and I'm not, or this person is just not right and in fact all kinds of wrong and what's more is I'm outta here. Or this person is fulfilling a need for me and I'm gonna keep letting that person fulfill that need and not try to put a name or a package or price tag on it. Try that huh? You female you.
You're getting a little weird. Tell me about a date you've had.
Well, there's one that lasted a day, one that lasted three months or more and one that has lasted for four or more years....
Seriously, really, tell me. What was the date like? What signs are you looking for? What do you want? Do you seriously think I'm a dork? Are there too many questions here?
Woah woah brain! (wait, who's talking to whom?) Well, maybe it's because I have some serious vibe, but I can get into the energy of a person pretty quickly. I love easily. I also can fade away easily, but maybe not for that other person, because of the way I love. ....but it's intense. Not everyone can get with that intense kind of love, although it's what everyone says they want.
The three month date is a friendship (fateship?) in progress...some progress....the one day date was with him and ALL his friends, so since I haven't heard from him again, I'm thinking one of two things: he's either intimidated, or intimidated AND his friends said "out of your league." ...yeah, that sounds good. It's how legends are made. ("Document it! It might not be verifiable!! Document it anyway!!") Every date I've ever had needed time to develop. And as for the one that has lasted four or more years, I'm still trying to understand and contain all of those pieces. Things keep coming up that should be crystalline by now! Could that be why it is (and they all are) still a date and not more?
So then the others....ahh all the possibilities...and yet I sit, with my lovely little guy and a huge stack of excellent books, a computer and a few good friends...
I detect a hint of melancholy, dear one.
Yes. Does knowing what I want matter at this point? I have seen all the signs I would feel could make a really great thing happen with me and another dude, but I've also seen a lot of "wow! woah..." shit that could really just hang it all up for me.
Does this mean you don't know what you want? .......Are you avoiding my question? (man, my fingers just say whatever they want)
I feel I know what I want, but I don't know that it wants me right now.
The man needs to be...secure in as many physical ways possible (grounded emotionally, financially grounded and realistic), honest with his feelings, straightforward with heart, willing to hash it out calmly, must have a deep internal need to serve in some way humanity, in another way me (the way I would him). He needs to feel his spirit guides him and speaks for him openly and without reservation. He must be a leader and willing to "take one for the team" as I would.
I think this is me, so I'd want it to also be him.
Are you taking crazy pills, or do you really think this guy exists?
yes I'm taking crazy pills and no I don't think, I KNOW this man exists, and I know I've been with him and eaten dinner with him and listened to him for long periods of time and supported everything that he is, or at least opened myself up to it.
You should probably do your homework now. I love you Connie.
Yes sir...ma'am....Goddess. I love you too, Universe.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Summer Break Blues Rambling
Into an Ordinary State of Consciousness with this post, as opposed to my typical Shamanic Trance...
The alarm goes off. Again? I have to actually get up?
My brain doesn't understand this information. I mean after all, it's summer. What the hell does waking up in the morning have to do with summer? I don't see the connection. In fact, waking up has never been my style, ever since I was very young, I was never a morning person.
I drag my slightly aging body out from underneath the covers and lift my head. My phone rings. "Hi Mommy. Grandpa is taking me to the library. Pick me up from there." Since Gramps is down the street, my kid seems to think he can run me. And sometimes he is successful. Fail for me, win for him. Who's the parent?
It's time for the morning ritual. Breeeeeeeathe. Yooooooga. ....a big glass of water, some sole and one or two apples later, I am ready for the day. I celebrate my eventual rise with two bags of lemon tea and a boca patty on bread, and fresh seasoned tomato salad from my best friend's garden. Ahh, the pleasures of life...and then it happens. I remember the stack of work I've left for myself since I'm in a masters program. I am chained, bound and virtually gagged to this program until I finish, 30 grand later. It pays to be a teacher. Literally. Only problem is, this is not exactly what I signed up for. I should have read the fine print, otherwise I would have realized that saving the kids would just have to wait until I became a millionaire. But I digress.
Limitations, delimitations, hypothesis, and dependent variables all started to flow into a sticky, oozy mush as I studied. Crap. The big crap of the masters program is that here I was, sitting here, having to go through the terror of Statistics class repeatedly, for what seemed like the fifth time in my life. This was my least favorite class, every time. Finite math is like this huge monster running very quickly at me while my legs were always heavy as mud, running away in slow motion. I hate nightmares, and this was a recurring one throughout my life, only the monster had ram horns, big curly ones. I'm starting to think that's another post where I get to ramble about my childhood. So I digress again. I'm a digressor. Er? English class memories...Hmm, never mind.
Man, had I just taken up psychology as I was first inclined to do back in college, I would have this statistical shmistical crap under my belt and handled to the point where all this minutia could have been eliminated. Derailed. Pushed off the edge of a rabid, menacing precipice...but no, back into the book "rabbit hole" I go...and one assignment is completely finished. Now this is an accomplishment for a lazy, hazy summer break that I thought I would never achieve.
I grab a cup of tea, some vitamins and my brain as I head to the bedroom to select clothes for my exercise classes I now have to go teach. Ahh, such is the mundanity of the Ordinary State of Consciousness, that is yet so popular and as "they" say, necessary, to the outer and inner workings of what we're all identifying as Life. I guess that means this post is to be continued...
The alarm goes off. Again? I have to actually get up?
My brain doesn't understand this information. I mean after all, it's summer. What the hell does waking up in the morning have to do with summer? I don't see the connection. In fact, waking up has never been my style, ever since I was very young, I was never a morning person.
I drag my slightly aging body out from underneath the covers and lift my head. My phone rings. "Hi Mommy. Grandpa is taking me to the library. Pick me up from there." Since Gramps is down the street, my kid seems to think he can run me. And sometimes he is successful. Fail for me, win for him. Who's the parent?
It's time for the morning ritual. Breeeeeeeathe. Yooooooga. ....a big glass of water, some sole and one or two apples later, I am ready for the day. I celebrate my eventual rise with two bags of lemon tea and a boca patty on bread, and fresh seasoned tomato salad from my best friend's garden. Ahh, the pleasures of life...and then it happens. I remember the stack of work I've left for myself since I'm in a masters program. I am chained, bound and virtually gagged to this program until I finish, 30 grand later. It pays to be a teacher. Literally. Only problem is, this is not exactly what I signed up for. I should have read the fine print, otherwise I would have realized that saving the kids would just have to wait until I became a millionaire. But I digress.
Limitations, delimitations, hypothesis, and dependent variables all started to flow into a sticky, oozy mush as I studied. Crap. The big crap of the masters program is that here I was, sitting here, having to go through the terror of Statistics class repeatedly, for what seemed like the fifth time in my life. This was my least favorite class, every time. Finite math is like this huge monster running very quickly at me while my legs were always heavy as mud, running away in slow motion. I hate nightmares, and this was a recurring one throughout my life, only the monster had ram horns, big curly ones. I'm starting to think that's another post where I get to ramble about my childhood. So I digress again. I'm a digressor. Er? English class memories...Hmm, never mind.
Man, had I just taken up psychology as I was first inclined to do back in college, I would have this statistical shmistical crap under my belt and handled to the point where all this minutia could have been eliminated. Derailed. Pushed off the edge of a rabid, menacing precipice...but no, back into the book "rabbit hole" I go...and one assignment is completely finished. Now this is an accomplishment for a lazy, hazy summer break that I thought I would never achieve.
I grab a cup of tea, some vitamins and my brain as I head to the bedroom to select clothes for my exercise classes I now have to go teach. Ahh, such is the mundanity of the Ordinary State of Consciousness, that is yet so popular and as "they" say, necessary, to the outer and inner workings of what we're all identifying as Life. I guess that means this post is to be continued...
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