Demon

There are times, quite often in fact, when we let our experiences dictate the path of our lives. Usually, the bad ones, or the self-destructive ones…it’s surprisingly harder to stand up than it is to fall down. I’m sharing Kyle’s post DEMON for the very reason that I struggle daily with my own demons and it’s always comforting to know I am not alone. Equally so, to have a friend who can bear the naked truth of the dark side of some of our choices yet show there is light to be found…IF we are willing to look. Thank you Kyle.

 

kyle mew

they’re a bunch of fucking natives, and they spout all this hippie shit about self-discovery and journeys into my soul and what-not. i nod politely and agree, but just so as to be polite. i don’t want to offend them, but its all a load of crap as far as i’m concerned. i’m here for the trip of my life. i’ve heard about these mushrooms, ever since i started taking drugs. the most powerful hallucinogenic on the planet. the trip of a lifetime. they are legendary and until now, i wasn’t even sure they existed at all.
i look at the pile of goo the old woman spits onto the plate. i understand why she has to chew the mushrooms first. she has been doing this for years, and there are enzymes in her saliva that will break down the mushrooms and prevent me from vomiting too much. novices have…

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Symbols and Signs ~ Signs and Symbols

Do you believe?

Big question.

There are signs everywhere.

Do you see them as such?

If you do, then you must believe they are signs.

But who determines what the signs mean?

To each his own?

Are there rules?

Some easy ones:

The palm of your hand itches:

You are coming into money.

You are going to have company.

I’ve heard both explanations and neither has been the case for me.

So far, it Just means my damned hand itches.

Ringing in your ears:

Someone is talking about you.

Oh yeah?  Not anything to do with that 44 magnum you used for target practice, because it’s very important you know how to blow that poor tree to smithereens?

Whatever you say.

A black cat crosses your path:

Bad luck.

Well shit, I can have bad luck without a furry black puss within a 1,000 miles…so what gives?

But I’m guessing you get the idea.

Okay, so what of symbols?

Who decided what these ‘designs’ are symbols for?

Can we choose our own?

Can I say I like roosters so I’ve decided they are a symbol of love or happiness or well-being?

No…

The Greeks decided the cock was the symbol of victory over the night.

Hell…if anything I’d say he’s more a sign of him fucking up your morning (no pun intended)

But that’s just me.

We wear moons and stars in our ears…you wear one, he/she will wear one.

The universe is yours or maybe you see the moon/stars in each others eyes?

More like, I’m a cheap bastard and I’m only buying one set, you wear one and I’ll wear one.  How about that?

We wear others too…either ones we’ve chosen, or others have chosen for us.

A bracelet with a circle:

Meant to symbolize the circle of life?

Karma?

Well, besides being ever thankful for the heartfelt gift and the generosity behind the giving…I can honestly say the one that’s been on my wrist for months now, has pretty much been my symbol for life going round in circles.

And personally, that fits.

Or hey…what of a piece with an infinity ∞ symbol:

infinity

Always and Forever?

Hell to the No…not in my experience and don’t believe it likely is for many.

We wear rings on our fingers…left hand, third finger:

Til death?

It could mean death, certainly…see below

Symbol of fidelity?

Sure, but only if you remember to take it off first, or leave it on and face the possibility of death…unnatural death that is.

The beginning and the end with just one?

Sure…one at a time.

You kiss someone and you hear thunder claps and see lighting strikes:

That person is The One; your Soul-mate.

lightening

Um, listen up folks…it means get your ass inside dummies.

I don’t mean to be judgmental.  I do believe in live and let live and to each his own.

But…

I also believe there are times when signs and symbols get in the way of seeing life for what it is; seeing things for what they are.

Not hoodoo voodoo.

voodoo

Not some preordained circumstance formed in the heavens waiting for the right moment to ‘come out’.

No…I think looking for / believing in / abiding by signs is too easy a trap to fall into for those looking for reasons for and meanings to, the things that occur in our lives, good or bad.

shit happens

Shit happens…now there’s a sign I can live with

And I also think attributing symbolic meaning to the shapes and designs of life, can lead you down a path of missing the forest for the trees.

Of letting someone else do the thinking for you.

For me, I’d rather see something for what it is, appreciate it’s natural (or man-made) beauty in its own light, for its own sake, than believe it means something someone I’ve never met…will never meet…and believe knows enough nothing of my life to have a say about what I should think of it.

At least, that’s me now.  No signs – No symbols – Just life

Just a mind wandering and pondering on a Saturday afternoon.

happy saturday

Um, helloooooooo Saturday.  🙂

Enjoy the rest of the weekend.

~♥~

For the Love of a Damned Good Conversation

I was working on a post this morning, having to do with the tons of fun in the sun trying to sell a house in today’s market (yeah, right), when as often happens, a short sidestep away from the center line resulted in being led down another dirt road.  But that’s life, especially my life, as I live for the treks down the less traveled dirt.

This particular step off the line was a conversation with a friend that began with small talk about the Gawd awful heat wave and remedies for sun burns, meandered to the pros and cons of having your home and all its contents spread all over the air waves for any ol’ burglar to scope out, tip-toed into current affairs generally and recent events in the Florida courts specifically, then naturally (!?!) morphed into what it must be like for a child to be raised in a Muslim household that forbids TV, radio, music, internet, and playing with children not of their own religion.

Don’t you just LOVE these conversations that sprout tentacles like a giant squid?  I do…I love the random nature of them almost as much as the feeling of comfort I get knowing we can talk about anything…all at once!  Very stimulating to say the least.

Anyway, post Muslim life discussion, from which we both came away thinking we’d like to try our hand at reading the Koran, the conversation jumped the broom to religion in general.  While one of use believes and the other does not, one thing is certainly true:  Where we find intolerance, bigotry, segregationist thinking, there is usually a religious aspect fueling it.  If we are ever to see the day when our planet’s caretakers can live in true peace and brotherhood…religious fanaticism or extremists, of any kind, must see the end of days.

This of course ‘evolved’ into, well, evolution.  Which as a non-believer in religion of any kind, is in fact, the religion of choice.  Past the talk of apes and chimps, we discussed how humans are shown to have an innate ability to share.  Yup.  Share.  Which of course led to whether being kind and empathetic is genetics or learned, and whether lesser traits, like competing in all respects, is too, learned or innate.  Survival of the fittest after all, with no moral force guiding it?  For the non-believer, the take is that we are just naturally a ‘nice’ animal.  For me, the believer, I tended to agree, but still harbor some doubt.  I do think, that while certain characteristics of humans are innate, most are learned behaviors. Basically, nature vs. nurture.  An old and forever on-going topic of discussion that has its own, very long, dirt path.  We discussed why certain behaviors occur in some animals and not in others.

For instance, the beaten dog.  How can a dog who knows mostly pain from the hand of its human, still find it within itself to lick that very hand the few times it might be extended in what one could only marginally be described as love?  It’s insane.  Yet, it happens all the time.  However, for a child to be reared in the same way, the risk is far, far greater, that the result could just as easily be a non-empathetic psychopath as it could be a loving, thriving, kind, and generous, human being.  Is that a choice? Nature vs. nurture again?  I used myself as an example, and even so, I still have doubts about it…or maybe doubt is too strong a word.

I have questions.

Being a victim of childhood sexual abuse (The year that broke the dam) from the ages of 5 to 14 and a victim of rape at the age of 19, one could imagine that I could have become a bitter, angry, mean-spirited, non-trusting, love-hating person.  But I didn’t (Back on the Road).  I’m like the beaten dog…and I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic here…it’s more a visual aide.  I live a life filled with as much love as there is hate; as much beauty as there is ugliness; as much need for love, both to give and to receive, as distrust of it.  So, it begs the question…was this my choice? Or was I bound by genetics to grow into a woman with a heart and huge capacity for empathy?  I don’t know.

But here’s the rub, and ultimately, the reason for our long stroll down these particular paths…in speaking with this friend, it was pointed out ardently, that I do, in fact, have a wonderful heart, a good and strong personality, a huge capacity for love, and that (this is the key) I’m beautiful on the inside.

Ah yes…the beauty within vs. the beauty without (is that the term? doesn’t sound right, but you know what I mean).  I, for one, actually HATE that phrase.  I love that I am, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a double-edged sword for me.  I fell into the trap long, long ago, that it’s more important, at least initially, to be more beautiful on the outside. It has been my experience, and I just may have to take the responsibility for it  (Delusional Illusions), that people who could not see beyond the surface passed me by without a second glance and without having the pleasure of getting to know me.  I’m not alone.  I’m certainly not unique in my thinking this is the way of things. I say honestly, if it was a choice to be the way I am, it was not an easy one, but for me, the only one.  Why? Genetics? Nurture? (shrugging shoulders still)

So while I do still struggle with this question, the conversation, for all its meandering, did help me see that hard or not, choice or not, I am on the right path.  My path. And if Joe Blow from Kokomo chooses to walk by me because I don’t look like a Playboy centerfold…I say one thing (well, I say it behind his back ’cause I’m nice)…

Fuck You!

We are all beautiful…let’s get to the heart of it, shall we?

IMG_7683

Yes…my photo…and yes, I draw hearts in the snow…and the sand…and the dirt…it’s just how I roll.