I’m frustrated.
Trying to get everything done for every one.
Forgetting things.
Running out of time.
So many pulls, so many different directions.

I’m looking over what Chonteau and I talked about.
It’s all about ME!

So how is this all about me?

I want to live simpler. More authentic.
The Universe is trying to help me. I know it. Pushing to give me what I want. What will make me truly happy. But I have all of these obligations. Demands on my time.

I told a friend today, “No.” It really bothered me to say that to her. She wasn’t asking much, but I still said “No, I can’t do that.” I offered her other alternatives. A different day. I know that it wasn’t easy for her to ask me either. Yet, I wanted to respect my self, and my boundaries, and what I needed for me. I told her, “No.”.

Why Did that bother me?

Because I don’t want her to not like me. I don’t want her to think that I am not here for her. That I am not a good friend.

I want to be a good friend. Being a good friend means being there for them. Helping them. Doing what you can for them.

If the roles were reversed. I would not think bad of her. I would understand. I would respect her for taking care of herself. I would be okay.

So why do I think so little of myself for doing the same thing?

In this same day, I made the decision to Not do something for somebody. Not necessarily a friend. The person who wants me to do something for them, for free. The person who has had me do this for them for several years. Without any compensation, or giving back. Except, for the one year, when he made a lot of money, and gave a $100.00. Which I really appreciated at the time. And I didn’t mind all the other years, doing this for him, when he didn’t have anything to give me in returned.

So why do I mind, doing this for him now, for free?

I feel as though he’s using me. He has had seven months to do this. There were times when I was ready to do this for him, had the time, made the appointment, and he didn’t follow through. And it is like this every year. I don’t feel a sense of appreciation, from him.

I know that this is my talent to give. That it is a way in which I contribute to my community. I love to do this for other people, but I dread doing it for him.

If I want to live in more authentic life… Then I have to do those things that make me feel good.

So tonight, I decided that I really don’t want to do this for him. I don’t want to go through this hassle any longer. I want to just cross him off of my to-do list.

The moment I decided to just give back to this person, all of his documents and stuff, rather than expend the time and energy to do this service for him… I felt a lighting of my body.

Now, I just have to give him back as documents, in such a way, that there is no drama. I do not owe him any explanation. I simply have to tell him, “You will have to have somebody else do your taxes.”

Because to create a drama out of this, would not be very authentic. Even though, I am always felt I needed to give an explanation for everything I’ve done. To justify my choices. To make my choices, acceptable to somebody else.

They only have to be acceptable to ME.

Is giving him back as paperwork and not doing his taxes, with no explanation, acceptable to me? Is telling my friend no, and offering her an alternative, acceptable to me?

I don’t know.

Being consciously aware of something is different.  I’ve had moments like this before, so it’s not freaking me out.

Noticing. Not worried about what I’m noticing.  Just noticing.

Nothing big. 

Not for show. Not for outcome. Not for anyone’s pleasure.

Although I’m sure that moments like this can be pleasurable. There’s no predetermined reason that’s trying to be accomplished.

Not slower than any other moment.  Or faster.  It’s just at whatever pace its at.

A breath in.

A breath out.


1. satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury; amends.

I think I am ready to become more authentic. This of course means that I have to own up to a lot of shit, and drop a bunch of masks that I hide behind. Both of which, will show me to be a pretty ugly person to be around.

Which is a judgment of myself – and something that I should atone for as well.

Which leads to a vicious cycle of atonement.

Which leads to hopefully a more authentic self.

But its got to start some place. Here is just a good a place as any.

The problem is that I am afraid to atone for who I am, and what I’ve done in my life, because its some pretty messed up shit. I am not a very nice person. I have a laundry list of faults and personality traits that are crappy at best… and truly hurtful at worse. To admit these things to anyone would make people not like me. I want to be liked.

Problem with that line of thinking, is that while it would be easy to just keep on being this person, who lives behind these masks; and hides these parts of myself from everyone… is that I want to be a better me.

I can’t do both at the same time.

Its time for me to grow and shed these ‘safe and pretty’ masks that I’ve created. To put them down. Bury them. Or better yet, just burn them in a big ole bonfire, so that they can’t ever be worn again.

But I’m scared.

They are pretty masks. They are heavy masks. Sometimes I loose track of which one I’m wearing. Of which lie I’m trying to live. I get caught up in trying to maintain them and present to everyone this idea I’ve created of who I am, that I stumble. I slip up. I accidentally show the ugly parts of myself.

Which makes me question why I am doing this.

Am I doing this whole exercise to just show yet, another beautifully created mask. One that is attempting to atone and become a more authentic Me? Or am I really ready to do the actual hard-assed, nitty-gritty, nasty-tasting-medicine work that is required?

I want to say the latter… I fear that it is just another falsehood.

I don’t know what its like to not have a thought.

I hear people respond to me with: “Nothing.” When I ask them, “What are you thinking?”


How can that be? You have to be thinking SomeThing. Even just the thought “I’m not thinking anything right now.”


Turns out that for some people, the majority even, there are times when their brains are really Not thinking anything at all. They aren’t worried about something. Remembering something. Figuring out something. Making a list of things that they are trying to remember, to not worry about. Their brains are completely silent.

I literally have NO Idea what that is like.

At all.

I have been thinking thoughts for my whole life. Or remembering thoughts, that I’ve already had. Or making a mental list of thoughts that I have had. Or ones that I have to think up yet. LoL

My brain has never shut down. Ever.

Turns out that there is a chemical in our brains that helps us to think. Dopamine. It turns your brain on, and keeps it running. Like gas in a car. Or food in a body. Or carbon dioxide in the plant life around us. Without it… there is no activity.

For those people who’s levels of Dopamine never shut down… they have a different way of dealing with every day life. Some people become frustrated and lash out in their frustrations, over not being able to finish a thought, or a task. Some people have so many thoughts in their brains, that they are afraid that one of them might be important; and so they speak all of them out loud. Some people just shut down, and let their brains wander all over the place, without speaking to anyone around them. Some people have an inability to sit still with all of these thoughts running around in their heads. Some people are able to multi-task, because they are able to think more than one thing at a time. Some people can’t cope with so many thoughts at once, and try to organize the rest of their world with preciseness.

I do some of the above things. I won’t mentions which ones apply to me directly. But there’s more than one of them.

My brain can not shut down on its own. It just can’t. I can however, function in a modern day world because I have over my life been taught to do so. I have been taught to sit down, and get my homework done; because my mother would beat my butt, when I didn’t. This was a form of what is now known as “Behaviour Modification”. Or as my father would do: Take his belt strap to the backs of my thighs, when I failed to clean up the playroom, in a timely manner (of several hours). Most times this was because I would get distracted by something. And one thing would lead to another thing. Which would lead to another thing.

Its not that I want to be distracted, or that I don’t want to finish a task. Its just that my brain gets all worked up and some times its hard to get it to slow down. To find that quiet place where I can just think about 1 thing and not have it then lead to 12 more things. Which is actually better than when my brain gets all worked up over just 1 problem, and the 12 different ways that each choice / decision in the problem, can then lead down 12 more different ways. And so forth, and so on.

Example of how my brain operates on a daily basis:
I’m hungry.
I want something hot to eat.
There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge I could heat up.
I remember when went to China for 2 weeks, and we ate Chinese every freaking day, and I swore I would never eat Chinese again, so long as I lived.
Did I ever tell you the story about when I went to China?
Scott was only a baby, so he really doesn’t remember going to China.
Or even the Egypt trip.
Or the Hawaii one.
Or the England one.
He really got screwed out on those times and places, because he was so young.
But he got all the luxury too, because he was spoiled by the natives.
He once ran wandered through the security in the Tokyo airport. Daddy had an awful time trying to get the people to let him go through, and then back again, because we didn’t have visas for Toyko. We were only stopping through.
Though I have to say that some of the visa stamps are really beautiful pieces of art. Not like now a days.
I wish that I had kept my passports, from back then.
I wonder if my Dad still has our old ones?
Or course if he did they would be in the old lockbox that he keeps.
Or at least used too.
I don’t know if he keeps it any more since their house was broken into back a few years ago.
I should call him and ask if he has them.
He is probably at Zellie’s about now though.
Which reminds me… I am hungry.

The above took all of 4 minutes to type out. It is actually edited down from ALL of the thoughts that I just had, because I don’t type as fast as I think. And I have learned to stop, when my brain gets off track this way. Or as Ozzy would say: on the Crazy Train.

Yes, my brain can be like riding on the wheels of the Crazy Train. With little to no stopping.

Shell Time

Shell Time

I have to say that I have been doing a lot of this in the last weeks… and months. I have been saying “No Thank you.” to more invitations than ever before. I can remember a time when I wished that they would invite me more… now I’m finding that I really wish for more time alone. More time to spending working on my gardens. Time to write. Time to enjoy that Perfect Cup-of-Joe, on my front porch.

There’s a time for every thing under the Sun.
This is my time for some Me Time.

There are posts to be ‘posted’ – many of them written down in my paper journal, and working their way here. There are some I’ve written but not posted in public that really should be opened up. There are some that I don’t have words to express, so they stay hidden away in their fragmented state.

I guess you could say that I’ve been hiding. Well at least these last couple of weeks. Some of life’s experiences have been rather harsher than I would like to admit to anyone… least of all to myself. Hiding seems to help that problem. Its amazing the things you can ignore, here in the shadows of a shell. The things you don’t want to look at. In the world around you. In the people you know. In yourself.

The previous couple of months have found me spending more time ‘living new experiences’ rather than ‘writing new experiences’. Which has been good for me. Which I am oh so grateful for. I am so blessed by all of the people, places, and experiences I’ve gotten to meet, see, and do. I know from having tried it this way for the last couple of months, it doesn’t work too well for me either. I need time to ‘think’ and to ‘write’ and to ‘let go’. It gets too jumbled up in my brain otherwise.

Beyond my normal feelings of wanting to just be quiet, in the normal ways… I have been feeling this pull to sit in the west. To sit in introspection. To be still and quiet. I started feeling it around my birthday. I thought it was just my moontime coming. But stronger than just a normal moontime. It is more than that.

I looked upon the calendar, and the stars, for some clues. To the astrology of the planetary alignments, for some hints. To the people around me, and their knowledge, for some understanding. Not too many answers in any of those places that could explain to me, why I was feeling such a strong pull.

So I looked to me, to where I am… and there it was. Becomes Her Vision. 13th Clan Mother of the cycle that I follow.

I’m 12 now… and on my birthday I completed 12 years of sitting in The Circle. I step up now, and walk into my 13th cycle. I have noticed each year as I follow this path, that I find myself spending a great deal of time with one clan mother, or another. I can remember my 1st year, and the newness of everything in my life. In the circle. How I was just learning my rhythms and how to listen to my own inner voice, let alone the world around me. Then in my 7th year, and the lessons of forgiveness. Both in the people I loved, and in myself. My 9th year. My 11th year. Each one, so colored by the stories and lessons of the next mother in the cycle.

This past year I have felt more gratitude and been shown more ways to count my blessings, than ever in my life. In those moments of doubt, and hurt, I find myself turning towards the lessons of thankfulness, for each one. Knowing that in their teachings, I am shaped into the woman that I am meant to be. I know that there is nothing to regret in my life’s journey, because each ‘so-called’ negative thing, is really a beautiful lesson to be grateful for.

So I sit now, with Becomes her Vision… I look inward and try to see the “Who” and “What” of who I have become so far. I open myself up to the Dream time, and all of the possibilities of “Who” and “What” I can yet be. Which takes time away from the world. It takes time of shutting off the phone and not answering each email as it comes across the wires. It means laying on the sweet grass, in the moonlight, staring at the stars, from which we came.

I’m trying to find a balance between this need and the world.

I believe in Love.

I am a child of the earth. A late blooming ‘hippie’. A flower child.
I am a girl born of the moon. Who dances in its rhythms.
I am a woman of her home. Tending to its gardens. Its inhabitants.
I am a person who believes in Love… because at the core of every thing, at the beginning of every thing, through every thing, till the final moments of every thing – there is Love.

Could I love someone, as much as I loved Barry?

Love is what creates the spark of life in every being. The spark that feeds us. It is The spark. It has no end.
Loving one person, doesn’t make you love another one less. It doesn’t work that way.
There is no way to quantify love. You can’t have more love. Or less love.
Love simple “is”.

Is it possible for me to love someone?

Love has no conditions. It doesn’t rely on some set of rules to make it happen. It doesn’t come and go, based upon what is said, or done, or unsaid, or undone.

Could I open myself up to the possibility of “One day”?

I think I already have… without consciously setting out to do so.

In my life’s journey, (*at least thus far*) I have learned this. I am a child of Love. I am a woman who tries to walk in Love, and of Love, each day. Because it is simply part of my nature. It is who. I. am.

I know that this is vague… and yet, I don’t know how else to explain it. There are so many conversations I would like to have. One day. Things that the person, at the heart of who I am; wants to share.

This belief I have about Love, is just one of them.

Blessings on you this beautiful night.