Have you ever taken time to just think? It can be hard to do with so much on our plate. Even if you aren’t doing anything, you just feel to busy. As a moody teenager, it always feels hard to so, but sometimes I like to just lay down, relax, and think. When you take time to think you may realize, have I made the best decisions? Have I been doing what I should be? How long has it been since i last had fun? Have I done the stuff on my bucket list yet? As the everyday person, we never want to push our limits, never want to step out of our box, never want to stop. Maybe it’s time to change that?
Here is what I want you to do, try something that relaxes you. Sometimes we may not know what relaxes us and if that’s the case then maybe you shloud try and find out. Today I got paint rocks with my dad, my sister, and Mare. I sat there for 3 hours letting my imagination run wild (but still calm of course). Maybe you like sports or drawing, whatever the case though, make some time to do that. To enjoy and relax yourself!
Act without doing; Work without effort. Think of the small as large and the few as many. Confront the difficult While it is still easy; accomplish the great task by a series of small acts.
The Master never reaches for the great; thus he achieves greatness. When he runs into a difficulty, He stops and gives himself to it. He doesn’t cling to his own comfort; thus problems are no problem for him.
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.
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.
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.
Today’s adventure was the hospital. I gave the elderly man at the front desk my information. I could have sworn when he looked at the gal and gentleman next to him he said, “Imogene”.
A grin broke out on my face. Bubbling with enthusiasm, I blurted out, “Imogene! I love that name! That is such a great name, who’s name is Imogene?”
Jase standing next to me, “No Mare, imaging.”
Me, “I know honey, Imogene, isn’t that a great name!”
At this point, I was perplexed why no one behind the counter volunteered themselves as Imogene. Why no one was sharing in my excitement. Why was everyone looking at me like I pooped my pants?
Jase, “I-M-A-G-I-N-G, imaging honey, no one’s name is Imogene.”
If you’re familiar with the book/movie “Fried Green Tomatoes”, the name Imogene holds a special place in your heart. Much more than “imaging” ever will.
I’ll now hand the keyboard over to Jase to regale his take on this mornings exchange:
Jase here. Honestly there’s not much more to say. Mare was out of pocket; a total comic relief this morning. After she heard what she wanted to hear…the name I-M-O-G-E-N-E, she stood around looking like the only kid on the playground who didn’t get the punchline to the joke.
I’m allowed to poke fun of Mare. I tease her and say she’s not really a Ginger or Day Walker (with all of her cute freckles and gorgeous red locks of hair that stretch down to her butt). I say she’s more of a blonde dying her hair red. Or that she lives under the world’s deepest rock. Why? Cause she rips on me too. I’m pretty clueless. I have book smarts like math and physics, but when it comes to practical knowledge, that’s a different story. I have the street smarts of June Cleaver. But together….well we make up one well rounded brain…lemme just add a very good looking brain at that.
Mare here again.
There’s something about genuine laughter that lightens the heaviest of situations.
On our drive to the hospital, we listened to one of my favorite tunes. The lyrics help direct me to a better place. They remind me to honor all emotions and that we’re all in this together. Oooo this song gives me the “goosies” every time.