Bed of Lies

My weary head and aching bones,
Need a place to rest.
No accommodation really fits,
Or passes my comfort test.

Feeling like a sleepy cat,
Slowly circling a lap.
Searching for that proper spot,
To curl up for a nap.

It no longer fits me well,
That old usual stand-by.
Looking forward to the satisfaction,
Of some regular shut-eye.

Never knew how much I liked,
Sleeping in a bed.
It's not until I lost that spot,
That I got it through my head.

Comfort doesn't always mean,
Happy and healthy too.
It keeps me stuck in one place,
Knowing what I always knew.

CATharsis

Today I met a cat named Stein.

We hit it off right away. He followed me around while I cleaned his human's house and stole pets and scratches from me whenever he could. We quickly developed a rapport. He would let me love on him while he perched on his cat-tree, then run into each room, just a few paces ahead of me and jump on the highest and most obvious piece of furniture. I'd give him a little love and attention before graciously and apologetically kicking him out.

We did this in a few rooms before we reached the bedroom, where he promptly plopped himself on the bed, exposing his tummy for what I assumed to be, affectionate rubbing. In cat-lover fashion I threw caution to the wind and proceeded to rub his tummy, knowing full-well that I was playing with fire. There's something about rubbing a cats tummy for longer than about three seconds, that causes them to go buck wild on your hand, tearing it up like so many stuffed mice.

With this knowledge in mind, I tempted fate and rubbed Stein's tummy anyway.  I'm sure you can guess what happened next. He snapped forward, grasping the heel of my left hand with one of his (ironically named) canine teeth and tore into my flesh, as if he were trying to pull meat from bone. Surprised, despite my suspicions, I puled my hand away, sucking air in through clenched teeth and muttering feline-directed obscenities at the same time.

Stein looked at me with bewilderment in his eyes; eyes that said, "What? What did I do?" He had no idea he had hurt me, or if he did, he certainly didn't care. Chances are pretty good that either scenario could be true. After all, he is a cat and as a long-time cat owner and cat lover, I should have known better.

In that moment of mild shock and moderate physical pain, I felt something else. Hurt. Not the cat-tooth-tearing-through-flesh physical hurt, but emotional hurt. My feelings were hurt. Here Stein and I had shared this bond all over the house and the minute we get into the bedroom, he tears into me. How rude.

Is it weird that I allowed a cat to hurt my feelings today? I suspect it had nothing really to do with Stein; however, he was the metaphor or messenger of my emotions. It's not so much that the cat turned on me for rubbing his belly. They do that. What hurt me was that we had developed a relationship, however brief it was and none of that mattered to Stein. He felt he had cause to take a bite out of me, so he did. How many times has this happened to me with people? Probably more times than I could count. 

Quicksand

I'm feeling quite real and raw lately. I'm dealing with a variety of emotions that are coming from all sorts of deep places within me. Much of what I'm experiencing is the same repetitive confusion that I've been trapped in. The quicksand.

If I keep still and don't flail around too much, I can keep my head from going under. As soon as I get restless and begin to fidget, I loose my footing. Then it's time to calm down and regain my composure once more. You'd think I would have figured this pattern out by now and some how outsmarted my emotional brain. Not really. I can't help resisting the feeling of being trapped in the quicksand. I don't want to be trapped anymore. I want to move and be free. Being still and avoiding that fear of sinking... that's slowly killing me.

I have found some small bits of respite in my pit, however. There are these small fragments of my existence, when I get the nerve to really fight. Before I can talk myself out of it, I attempt to thrash and claw my way out. The feeling of movement is so empowering. I'm moving muscles I had forgotten I had. This emotional exercise feels so awesome... but it doesn't last long. Soon I realize that I'm still in the quicksand, fighting and sinking further still. I quiet my limbs and bring my emotional workout to a stop.

When I stop and asses my situation, I realize that part of the reason that I'm sinking into the quicksand is because I'm carrying a lot of baggage that's weighing me down. I need to let it go. It's only hurting my cause at this point and really, it's too heavy to carry around anyway. I can do away with it. I really don't need it. When I get where I'm going, there will be plenty of resources for me there. I can live off of my own wisdom until then.

Once the baggage is gone, I feel myself become a little more buoyant. Keeping my head above the quicksand isn't as hard, yet there's still the problem of getting out. How can I do it by myself? Wouldn't it just be easier if I had a buddy that could lend a hand? Someone who could just swoop in and rescue me. A knight in shinning armor, perhaps? Maybe a crafty hiker out on his own quest? Of course. All of those people sound wonderful, but I'm alone in this and it's part of my journey to remedy this problem by myself.

Escaping from quicksand takes time. It isn't something I can do hastily. Finding my balance is necessary and that's achieved by carefully assessing my situation, calming myself and making slow, but deliberate movements that support escape. Whenever I feel myself sinking, I know I have to slow down, take a deep breath and start again. Shit is going to happen and I'm going to feel as though I'll never break free. If I let the negative thoughts take over, I'm doomed for sure. All I have to do is keep my composure, use my resources and take it slow. If I remember to take a break once in a while and recharge my batteries, I'll have more energy to keep fighting.

I'm determined to escape and when I do, I know there is a life of abundance waiting for me.

It's in the cards...

On life's journey, many of us look for guides or points of direction to help navigate us. These guides can come in many forms, from self-help books, to religion, to wise people that cross our paths. Any number of things can be bits of a map that help us find our way through the maze of life. One of these such things is the Tarot.

 

 

 

 

The Tarot has a direct correlation to the occult and can commonly be thought of as magic, but for me it is a guide. I am by no means a trained cartomancer or anything even close. I'm just a spiritually open individual who believes in the significance of our lives in relation to the stars and the possibility that messages can be transmitted to us in a variety of ways, if we open up our soul to the communication, or essentially tap into the connections to the spiritual plane, that already exist.  I believe the tarot is one of these pathways.

 

Again, I am not properly schooled in the ways of the tarot and I don't normally do readings for anyone other than myself. I'm not even sure if I can call what I do a "reading". It's more of a "fortune" of sorts. I focus on something, most often my present situation or dilemma, or just anything that is currently on my heart. As I'm focusing, my thoughts and energy are directed to the deck of tarot cards in my hand. I touch them, manipulate them and shuffle them however I see fit. This process can often be different depending on my state of mind at the time. When I feel as though I have sufficiently fondled the deck to my liking, I must pull a card. I usually only pull one card, but sometimes more if the cards choose me; meaning they fall out of the deck while I'm shuffling them, or an additional card comes along with the original card that I pull. That card, or cards, becomes my "fortune" or message.

 

Because I'm not really great at memorizing what all of the cards symbolize, I use a website to translate the meanings of the cards I pull. It gives me a detailed overview and description of the card and it's significance within a reading. I process the information and apply it to my situation as best as I can. Occasionally I will pull the same card twice or three times within a short period of time (like a week or two). For me, this symbolizes the importance of the message and my previous inability or unwillingness to process the message and apply it to my life.

 

Today I pulled a card and an additional card followed. The tag-along card happened to be the card that I had last pulled... the Five of Swords. My new card was the Five of Cups. Clearly the message of the Five of Swords was not properly received by my stubborn soul and it had to be reinforced today.  

 

The Five of Swords is all about self interest and finding the solution that is the best for one's self... something that I know I've been afraid to do, but have been achieving in subtle ways over the last year or more.  I believe that the most important choice ahead of me in the self-interest department will involve a major change.

 

The Five of Cups is about loss and how loss initiates change and grief is our emotional resistance to change. I have been grieving quite fully for over 2 years now. My grief has changed forms, but what has always remained ever-present is the resistance to change.

The losses I have suffered have spawned quite a few changes in my life. So many of those changes have been the catalyst for positivity, yet I resist change as if it were an evil force to which I have no defense and for all my resistance, the changes continue to take place. I believe they are destined to do so, whether or not I'm playing along.

 

So my "fortune" for this day, which has held it's own small, yet significant bits of change, is that I must embrace what is in my own personal best interest. Often times when I do what is truly best for me, it is also best for the other people involved in my situation. I can not act in a narrow sense, satisfying my short-term urges while ignoring my whole self. This will cause me much pain in the long run. I must also embrace the loss that will inevitably be the catalyst for a major change; a change that I hope will bring me much joy. Resistance is futile and change is inevitable. I can either accept the ebb and flow that is my journey or work against it, dragging myself upstream in a pointless battle against the process and flow of the universe.

Hrumph!

I'm having an angry day. There's nothing in particular that is the cause of my anger... just a series of little things that have come to a greasy, plump head of a rage-riddled pimple in the center of my life. And I can't ignore it. I've been trying to pop this boil of wrath all day.

No luck.

Everything is extremely irritating to me today. Landlords and Baby Daddies, topping the list.     I've decided that there's no way I can be on top of my game today. It just isn't gonna happen. I won't apologize for it either. I'm allowed to have a shitty day, even if my repressors don't think so. I will also have sn unapologetic glass of wine if I feel like it... except there's no wine in the house. Now I'm even more irritated!

Gratitude. That's the thing that is supposed to take presidence at a time like this. If I just focus on what I'm thankful for, I won't be in such a funk. Oh, but really... I'm crabby. Do I have to do this? Fine.

You only get 10 things, because even ten is going to be hard for me right now, when I'd love to punch someone in the throat.

1. My car - which gets excellent gas mileage for those times when I can easily justify leaving the house to just aimlessly drive. I promise I won't go over a bridge.

2. Thanksgiving Leftovers - this bitch is not cooking today. Heat up some turkey and I don't care if you're sick of it.

3. Other people's comitments - get them out if my face. Ok, that's not fair...
3(b). Alone time - helps me decompress and get my serenity back.

4. My kid - because it can be really hard to circle the drain with a pair of sparkling blue eyes staring up at me in anticipation.

5. 4-day weekends - even though this particular one is almost over. I had a decent run and any series of consecutive days that I don't have to go to work is a damn good thing.

6. Work - because I know there are plenty of people who would be happy to have my job. I'm not complaining about work really... it could be so much worse.

7. Being the only tenants in the house for a week - it's going to be quiet and I can appreciate quiet and the taste of what it might feel like to be the only ones living in our home. Some day.

8. Business trips - they give me a much-needed break from the people on said trips.

9. Friends - my silver lining. I have great friends that look out for me and love me, even when I'm a crab-ass. Love you guys!

10. My 12-step program - it gives me the tools I never learned on my own.

Ok... so I feel a little better. I guess the gratitude list worked. Turkey is warming in the oven and a warm shower has my name on it. It's going to be an interesting week and I have a couple things to look forward to. I'm gonna ride that wave for now...