Ping Pong Ball

Photo by me

It’s 7:30 am.

Sitting in my cave eating gluten free rotini with meat sauce and gobs of cheese.

I have to leave for work in an hour.

I have nothing to say. No ideas for a post. My mind feels fragmented.

D-I-S-C-O-N-N-E-C-T-E-D

There’s a ping pong ball in my brain, bouncing around, igniting random thoughts.

I’d like to unzip my skin and step outside for a bit.

It’s one of those mornings where meditation feels bland like rice with no salt or butter.

The information I read does not invoke emotion. It’s dead in the water.

The most poignant thing rolling around in my spaced out brain: “Don’t FEEL spiritual, BE IT!”

No matter the “feelings”, truth will remain truth.

I could spill forth a run on sentence of thoughts that make no sense. The fear of going to an outing with a couple I clean for is like being a child and seeing a teacher outside of school, it socks you in the gut, because it shifts your comfort zone so radically, how do I shift from being the cleaning lady, to being dressed up and having fun? How do I let go of the irrational fear? For most of life I’ve seen birds of prey soaring above my car as I drive, a reminder to soar, to not give up, to believe in something greater, lately I see numerous birds of prey and they are ALL sitting in trees. No soaring, perching. Am I being reminded to rest and trust the process. To cease trying and to be? Why is there such a fuss when a famous person dies when hundreds, maybe thousands of deaths go unnoticed around the globe. They are no less human than those in the “spotlight”.

Bouncing bouncing bouncing goes the ping pong ball of thought.

Today is just one of those days.

The Awesomeness Of Awe

Photo by me

Letting go.

Relaxing into life.

The results provoke awe.

There’s a spot I like to visit near the home I clean every Friday. I stopped there a few weeks ago and while getting back in my truck, I heard “Hey!”.

When I first moved to Colorado, I took a job at the homeless shelter in North Boulder. There was an intelligent young man who was participating in a program to help him get back on his feet. He happened to be the one who urged me to up my cleaning rates from $25 to $35 an hour. (In this area $35 is still relatively low)

I had an overnight shift and wondered why he didn’t check in.

Long story short, he had a bad night. He phoned the shelter and I was on the phone with him until 3 am. He was drunk, on meds and threatening suicide.

I never saw him again.

2.5 years later the “Hey” I heard was this young man.

He had been wanting to apologize to me for the past 2.5 years. I had wondered if he was alive for the past 2.5 years. My coworkers and I held a candlelight ceremony asking for his protection.

Funny thing is, it was a cold windy day, and I wasn’t planning on stopping.

He wasn’t planning to drive all the way out to this particular spot and take a long lunch break.

Letting go.

Relaxing into life.

The results are awe provoking.

The Manure Of Life

Photo by me

Bloom.

Where ever you find yourself, no matter the circumstance: BLOOM

Each and everyone of us is capable of kindness.

My first thought when I opened my eyes this morning was “I fucking hate life.”

Second thought: “Don’t believe everything you think Mare. Now get your ass up. Get out your journal and cue up some meditation. Today is in your hands. You can either wipe your ass with it, or make the best of it.”

Bloom anyway. Bloom because we all hate life at some point or another. Bloom because it feels better than walking around like a sourpuss.

Bloom because we all feel like negative assholes and do our best to cover it up. Bloom because you believe in being authentic and you know damn well your authentic self is down to earth, loving and kind.

Sometimes life feels like a pile of manure.

Let’s not forget that manure is chock full of nutrients that plants need. Manure keeps plants healthy and green.

So Bloom baby! Soak in all that shit and bloom.

Poo Poo Magoo

Jase lured me out of “the cave” at 5pm to do the above puzzle.

I spent Sunday in the cave with the blinds shut, leaving for brief moments to pee and feed on junk food. Yes, junk food. Sometimes a girl has to live on the edge. Considering, I feel the same regardless of what I eat, I do indulge from time to time: Cookies with coffee, 1/2 a cheese pizza, chips and dip, champagne, and the book “how to build a girl.”

All junk and all delightful. The book is absolute trash, but in a good way.

Oh, and Jase handed me a grilled pork chop sometime around noon and said I needed protein. Literally, handed me a pork chop.

No plate, no fork and knife. Just a napkin, and said eat.

The healthiest thing I did was read in Gabby Bernstein’s “Super Attractor” and did 2 meditations where I learned the name of my guardian angel is Emily.

Yes, Emily. It means “hard working and industrious”. Fuck yeah, you have to be to watch over my ass.

Last Sunday, I made the grave mistake of leaving the cave, which resulted in me cleaning the house and trying to walk on a trail. In other words, trying to be “normal”.

Both resulted in further fatigue and pain. I then began the work week at an unimpressive deficit of energy.

Not wanting to make the same mistake, I remained a cave dweller until the sun began to sink. If I stay in there with the blinds closed, I feel better about missing the day. It tricks my brain into believing it’s perpetually night.

We still have no answers as to why I’m falling apart. The doctors are working on ruling everything out.

This morning I set up a science lab in the bathroom. I shit in a paper hat and put my excrement into viles with popsicle sticks. It was both humiliating and disgusting. Off to the lab with my poo poo magoo to check for parasites.

Angel Dust: May Be Hazardous To Forgetfulness

How quickly we forget Spirit.

Yet, we are never forgotten.

We run.

We leave a cloud of dust in our wake.

Spirit gently guides us back.

Yesterday, at my retail job, a customer asked me to hold out my hand. She placed something in it and said, “This is magic, put it in your pocket and go do something fun. This is meant to make you feel good.”

I put it in my pocket as I was asked to do. After she left I went to the restroom to see what magic had been bestowed.

A $50 bill. What a kind gesture.

Funny thing is I had been reading about Archangels over my morning coffee.

I know that I know that I know, the lesson meant for me is: “help will show up in unexpected ways. Not on my timeline and not according to my outline.”

My job is to ask, and invite Source to be a part of my life.

When we align ourselves with Source, and focus on love, the rest is taken care of.

Asking for guidance creates movement.

Mighty Modification

Photo by me with my refurbished Canon

You’re never as crusty as you think.

Pull away what’s dead in your life.

New blooms are on the horizon.

You are still you, only the blooms renew.

Yesterday at my retail job, one of the managers complimented me on not losing my personality, though I don’t feel well. She commented on how the “energy” of my being has not changed, I still make her laugh multiple times through out my shift.

What a lovely comment.

I’m thankful that the tempest within has not spilled onto those around me.

I’ve been upfront with many in my life as to how poorly I’m feeling. I believe there’s healing in being authentic, truthful and open about life’s struggles.

I’m not as crusty as I thought I was.

I carry the fear of affecting others negatively. I especially worry about Jase and the hit our life has taken.

I can’t be adventurous in the way we are used to, but we can make modifications.

MODIFY: make partial or minor changes to (something), typically so as to improve it or to make it less extreme.

Currently we are working on bringing “happy hour” to the house.

Our plan is in it’s infant stage, but we want to make each day of the week something fun to look forward to.

There’s something magical about having a focal point when you’re not feeling great.

Peppered Peter

Jase here. It was said in our loving nursery rhymes that….

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. I can’t really speak for Peter. At least not the Peter from these kids stories. I can only speak for another Peter. Mine, and what devastating results I had by picking up a few Jalapeno peppers to put in my Pho yesterday for flavor.

Ya see Mare and I went out for lunch to get some Vietnamese noodle soup known as Pho. It’s all the rage out here in Colorado. You can find it on every street corner. During lunch i joked to Mare….”hey babe remember to tell me to wash my hands later in case we are feeling our oats and decide to get a bit frisky”. We had a great laugh and forgot all about it.

That’s the problem. We forgot all about it!!! When we got home I had to pee before throwing on my bike shorts and going out for a ride. As much as I forgot about my unwashed hands, the jalapeno pepper oils didn’t forget they coated my fingers.

Five minutes later I felt like i rubbed BenGay ointment or maybe isopropyl alcohol on my junk. I had an inferno raging in my spandex tights. I rode my cyclocross bike for about two hours. The extra pressure on the nose of my saddle coupled with the abrasive sliding back and forth as I was climbing kinda took my mind of the burn in one area and spread it to the lactic acid in my muscles.

But, when i got home and hit the shower, the blaze started back up. It was like when you eat “atomic” hot wings and you take a drink of water. It doesn’t do crap for you mouth. In fact it feels like it spreads the burn to other areas. Same with the shower water. It intensified the burn.

As we all know from wings, you need blue cheese to extinguish the flames in your mouth and lips. Unfortunately, we didn’t have blue cheese in the house to put my junk in. We only had ranch dressing and well we only had enough for our salads last night…..