Wednesday, February 12, 2014

stairway at eustis st.
Recurring dream:

I am with Mike
or someone else
or alone 
and I need to get back to my home

I am aware that it has changed that it is unrecognizable and 
I want to find it anyway in spite of being lost and

unable to convince anyone else of the need that I have to find this place 

And even when I find it I am not there.


Saturday, February 01, 2014

Talking to myself, collage and mary doll finish 3 and 4

Happy February to all
     I wish you all a month of self love and positive inner monologue. May all of the things you think and say to yourself in your thoughts and actions, your voice and the whispers in your head, be loving and gentle and kind.
     That is what I would chose as a superpower. Kindness, so that every one I meet could soften into a state of self acceptance and self love. 
Nineteen. I am a rider of Bikes.

     I wish you all, powerful gentleness and gentle power. And I invite you to say one good thing about yourself, to yourself, each day. I did this during the month of January and it has been a continuous source of connection, inspiration and an anchor of positivity during the long days of winter. Whether you write each day in a journal, or do as I did and write them in the notes app on my phone, does not matter as long as you do it. 
     It is a powerfully simple and effective idea. This is not an idea that originated with me. I read it somewhere that someone did this each day on a piece of paper and put it in a jar and as it accumulated it became a wonderful resource and inspiration and at the end of a year they had a powerful pile of affirmations.  
     I took the suggestion and I am in turn offering it to you. It does not have to be a brilliant thought, just something nice that you might say to a friend to support them. 
One day I wrote that I had a clementine for a snack instead of a snickers bar.
(Eight. Had an orange with lunch today. Making good choices.)
 As simple as that and yet it stayed with me for a month and it was a gift to myself that did not cost a thing, one I could share with a friend at work and now I am sharing with you. 
     Other times it has connected me to things that I had completely forgotten about and I am grateful to remember. 
(Nine. I show up. David Reed  gave me a worry stone when I was 13. Since then I have collected stones from here and there. You will find them in my house, the big and the small. Some from India, from Captain Nair, a co worker t the airline where I worked.  Some from Lenox Massachusetts,  Windsor Mountain School-the stone wall in the driveway. Some from the Housatonic River when Mike and I went hiking on the Appalachian trail. Some I have kept from way back when, maybe even the one from David Reed (who lived on Mass Ave in Cambridge. I passed his house when we were there a few months ago-or at least where it had been.  When I see the stones in our house I recall the context of he time when I received them and it reminds me of who I have been and who I am.)

Some times they are a response to something I have been told and I need to correct it so that I can correct my course and steer where I want to go.
Twenty Five. persevere. I finish things. This is Number 4 for 2014.
Twenty Three. Organized. Miss Dempsey, My eighth grade home room teacher was a fossil who wrung her hands and scratched them constantly. Washed them all day long. Spinster virgin Irish catholic teacher obsessive compulsive. She taught me how to parse sentences on the blackboard, teaching me the organization of language. I have always remembered that was this first thing I liked doing in school.

Today on this first day of February, a month wherein Hallmark and the advertising industry has declared us all lovers and chocolate eaters, I am declaring it a personal month of love for ourselves. We do not need a lover to be beloved. We love ourselves.
(Twenty two. I was born on Sunday, November 4, 1956. I am a cloud in the morning sky overlooking the Gulf of Mexico at 7 am. I am a wispy cloud spirit artist. I am a Healer ) 
Twenty Eight. Today, as I make french onion soup for later, and care for Mike during his recovery and prepare the dough for the non pecan pecan rolls my daughter has requested, I am a nurturer.  
What will you tell yourself today?