love

So, it’s official…

/ autumncircles / 2 Comments

Now I know out loud what I feared the worst inside.

Not earth-shattering news. Not life changing.

Certainly not assumed as much after all these years.

Not even really a big deal.

Really.

Except to me.

When we want so very much, in the deep recesses of our soul, to pour it out and fill it up by whatever means necessary  – it can be achingly painful when some of us are not capable of whatever means we choose.

I have moved in someone else’s world and spoken someone else’s words in the deafening silence brought forth by two simple curtains parting to ignite the eternal human back to the shaman’s fire.

I hope to do that again someday.

With my own words, too.

I believe I can on occasion somehow split those demon-fire joyful dimensions happening inside me down to an understandable linguistic form and quite possibly create something beyond my own understanding.

I hope to do it again, only simpler.

And again, only more complex.

And again, only different.

Until I have nothing left of this body.

Until many bodies beyond.

I am a human by day.

I am a writer by soul.

I am a performer by desire.

No, I don’t think I can dance.

Although, that would be simply wonderful.

But I oh-so-very-much wished I could sing.

I am not telling you this to get pity. And, I have the proof, although I have been unable to convert the video to a format uploadabe, so no trying to placate me with that ole familiar “oh, sure you can!” smile on your face.

I am telling you this because that’s what I do.

Telling is what I am.

No need to mention it again, actually.

I will survive.

And very loudly whilst alone in my car, I might add…

I have been absent. Here is my written excuse.

/ autumncircles / 1 Comment

Not sure if anyone noticed.

Including myself.

I have been absent.

From this blog.

From my writing.

I am not sure where I have been.

Or where I am going.

I am not sure if my journey is creating me.

Or if I am creating a journey for myself.

I could list out all of the many things I have been doing instead of writing.

It wouldn’t change the fact that I haven’t been writing.

It’s not that I haven’t felt like writing.

It’s that I haven’t felt like writing.

I haven’t felt like I had anything comprehendible to write about.

Like now.

“Too much information running through my brain
Too much information driving me insane
Too much information running through my brain
Too much information driving me insane”

I am brain-full.

In fact, it is in overload it is so full.

I am learning so very much.

About who I am.

What I like.

What I don’t like.

What I can do that I always thought I couldn’t.

What I don’t have to do that I always thought I should.

What I want to do and have been reluctant to believe I would.

What I don’t want to do and have been hard pressed to quit.

I’ve discovered musical artists new to me, muscles I didn’t believe I had, endorphins I wasn’t sure worked anymore, new friends, old friends and the wonder and assistance of pharmacology along with downsides I am not willing to accept.

I have also discovered that don’t have a clue how deep my lack of knowledge about myself goes.

“Overkill, overview
Over my dead body
Over me, over you
Over everybody”

Beauty inhales me, beauty escapes me. I live my moments in alternating abject confusion and comfortable understanding. My soul tugs at my body to keep moving in this direction and my body subtly tries to get me to turn back, go another way and lay down. I have a thirst for knowing, learning and being. My eyes well to the brim with baptismal tears more often out of youthful joy yet spill over in aged sorrow.

Love surrounds me, enfolds me and holds my hands securely until the blood flow shuts down to my extremities. There is so much, so varied, so important and none of it mine. Love belongs to the universe and I try with every breath to let it flow through me – I want to experience it, I want to share it, I want to love it.

Some breaths succeed.

Some breaths fail.

And I go missing…

Clearing Out Clutter

/ autumncircles / 5 Comments

Okay – let’s start at the blog ending revelation which is I hold on to stuff –

and by stuff, I mean fabric I envisioned making quilts or curtains from, baby jars to decoupage into cool candle holders, letters from old boyfriends, scraps of paper with partial poems on them, grief, fat clothes, skinny clothes, curling irons and hot rollers from the eighties, ideas of how relationships should work, beliefs on where I should be in  my life, misconceptions on what I should weigh, fear of a punishing god or universe, t-shirts to start a tye-dye business, broken clocks, piggy banks, or vases I vow to fix,  fliers from a show I don’t perform in anymore, henna hair dye I haven’t ever used, pills and otc meds that are expired, emails, my tongue during times when I should actually speak up for myself, glasses from two or three prescriptions ago and various other items or beliefs that could fill a black hole –

out of my fear of being expendable. I don’t want to be tossed aside because I might be broken. Or left in a garbage heap because I am no longer in fashion. Or overlooked because I am not the cutest puppy in the bin. Or accidentally sold in a garage sale mish-mash box labeled junk because no one saw me there. Or even worse – intentionally given away because I was no longer loved or needed.

Yeah, I know – sucks to be me, huh? How do you think it must be for those that live with me? Or truly do love me?

Everyone has their own things that scare them and for some reason, mine is the oh-so-fun combo of fear of abandonment mixed with unworthiness to be loved topped off with a good old fashioned dollop of never-enough. Throw in a splash of survivor guilt and cannot quit until it’s perfect and you have quite the supersized unhappy meal deal from a rat invested hole in the wall that only serves entrees pressure cooked to diamond-like crispness.

Wait. Before you call Oprah to add me to one of her hoarder shows, I am actually a moderate case. I can still walk around my home and my car stays relatively empty of crap (on occasion). The unworthiness helps in this area because it is hard for me to believe it is okay to buy myself that used five dollar pair of pants big enough to hide my ass with the stuck zipper, therefore, I don’t acquire a lot of physical stuff to keep, but usually once I do – it will take years to get rid of it.

Which is where I am today.

Getting rid of it.

I have finally said “Fuck it! I am cramped and tired and need some space.” So, instead of getting rid of my family and friends, or changing my name to Toni Fredericks and moving to Kotzebue, Alaska to start completely over, I have been slowly, in tiny increments, clearing away some clutter from my life.

I have given away clothes I no longer wear because they don’t fit or that I plain didn’t like in the first place. I sold off all of my stacks of fabric that I never got around to making the most perfectly sentimental quit to keep me warm when everyone has left me. I got rid of discount handbags I never use anymore and decorative knick knacks I never displayed. I am tossing out what I think everyone else thinks I should weigh and am working towards my very own happy weight. I have chipped away at the granite around my punishing god and am molding it into a pliably unconditional love of the universe. I have purged emails clogging up my memory. If something upsets me or scares me, I try to vocalize it in the moment instead of holding on to it for ten years and then nearly getting divorced or losing someone I love.

I have a long way to go and many, many more things to purge. I am trying not to look at what I have left to expunge but rejoice in my new found free space. I have allowed myself not one, but two handbag purchases over $100. I bought some new pants that actually fit and flatter the junk in my trunk. I have conversations with the people I love instead of fights. I try to let my emotion naturally flow through me until it has abated without stuffing it deep down like an undercooked turkey. I continue to write, write and write some more about these truths and other revelations I may discover for well or ill because this is just who I am.

Most importantly, I am (hopefully) teaching myself and my children that I can love, be loved and let go – all at the same time.

Will the end result be a zen-garden style home with only a pallet on the floor to sleep and one organic cotton frock that keeps me both warm and cool? I don’t know but I am willing to slip-n-slide, make progress and fall backward and cut myself some slack to find out.

Yippe kay-aye …