My broken, happy heart...breathtaking new territory

So, does anyone remember a few months back when I said I had discovered the most profound love I could imagine and that I knew it was a risk and that my heart might get broken, but I didn't care? that it was worth the risk? That for me to truly love, I needed to love for free and only in doing so could I love entirely with my soul? Actually, I don't think I ever phrased it that way, but that fits...

It turns out, that was entirely, wholly, without any shadow of a doubt, TRUE.

To experience another human being that you can wholly be yourself with, warts and all...with no worry of being judged or awkward or less than...to know that you are accepted exactly as and for who you are because you are who you are...well, I am here to tell you that is priceless and rare and I have never, ever experienced it in a romantic context ever. Or any context really. No matter how much other people love you, they generally want to know that you fit into a certain container that defines you to them.  We all do that, I think.  And this is a disservice to ourselves and to our fellow humans because we never really truly get to experience each other...to know...to give each other space to just be.  

So for me, to know there is someone on the planet that I can say ANYTHING to, share my darkest secrets and weaknesses with, admit my flaws, laugh my ass off with, love my soul out with, share silence with reverence and respect, and recognize that the very knowledge that they exist makes me come alive - well, that is fucking extraordinary. The closest I have ever come to that is my beautiful Williamsburg-Raleigh-Cali tribe.  They are beautiful, amazing, accepting, giving, and I love them to the bone.  They might think I'm a little weird, but they love me for it, even if they don't understand it.  Damn, I dig that.

My heart has learned so much over the years with so much trial and error...(more error than not). And I couldn't be happier to be sad right now.  Does that sound insane to anyone else?  But really...if you have read any of my rambling stories,  you know I skip to the beat of a different drum and that sometimes I piss you off because the shit I say that matters to me and that what I believe and say either scares you or resonates with you on some level that you don't want to admit to...or on the other hand you get it totally, because you have traveled through your own soul a little bit (or a lot) and you understand that the conventional, cookie cutteresque existence we've all been taught is the only way ISN'T the only way.  You know I'm not everyone's cup of tea and you know I probably repeat myself an awful lot...but if you are reading - it means something to you on some level, so let me just say thank you, from the depths, for that. If you find yourself challenging yourself even a little bit and thinking about taking a leap of "fuck it, I'm alive, and I want to live every breath of my life like it is oxygen, because....IT IS." (should I have hyphenated or hashtagged that? Fuck it.)

And so, yeah....my well traveled heart is broken. Into tiny little pieces that upon breaking had no idea what to do with themselves and so they decided to stick together and whisper gently to remind me that I am the luckiest person on the planet and that I am filled to the rim, no...overflowing with gratitude.  Endless rivers of gratitude that I can swim in and feel the stars and hear the colors and marvel at the unexpected phosphorescence and the orgasmic electricity channeled by shamanic healing that leaves me laughing through my tears.

So, you may be asking...if it was so damn profound and amazing and wonderful and all of that, then why is your heart broken? Why is it over? Are you delusional? Kidding yourself? In denial?

My answer, may not be as prolific as I would like it to be...and I will try not to make you roll your eyes by overusing cliches...but it all boils down to this (I think, but what the fuck do I know?)....I don't think any of us have any idea what we are doing here and we all live with fears and shadows and self hatred that we never share with anyone and that we maybe never even admit to ourselves.)

Was/Is it timing? Did it serve its purpose? I know all things are transient and all things change and all things end eventually.  Except love.  That kind of love.  I believe THAT kind of love will remain as a beautiful healing energy that from time to time those who are most in need and are open to it, will receive little micro-reverberations to help them through a hard time.  I truly do believe we are all connected.  I believe a long term union from the short term union I experienced could actually give so much healing energy and power into the universe grid that the simple fact of knowing that it is possible gives me a phoenix-like resolve to keep going, keep loving, keep sharing and to keep believing. 

And from that....I am just simply thrilled to my knickers to know that it exists. That THAT kind of love is possible for me.  That my Outlaw exists.  And that no matter what happens - it will all be ok.  He opened my eyes, my heart, my soul...

My Outlaw and I may not be destined to be together (though, for the record, I'm a "fuck fate, I make my own destiny through my choices" kind of gal...but I do pay homage to whatever cosmic vibration, twin flame, inevitable energetic forces conspire to cause us to meet to begin with.)
But whether we never see each other again or realize that without the other, we cannot breathe....I will absolutely continue to live and love every day as if I were dying (because, every day should be a good day to die...if you do it right.)

And at the end of the day, as I said in the beginning...whether it has "forever" stamped on it, or "expired", it doesn't matter.  Not an ounce of regret.  Not a hint of it.  I loved every second. 


We all search for love and happiness and fulfillment and most of us maybe don't really have any idea what that is or how to recognize it if it happens upon us.  (or I may just be projecting here...) 
But the simple fact of the matter is, that I found the completely accepting, non-judgmental, no expectations-based, Outlaw, I love you for free....Deep. Profound. Beautiful. Soul-opening. Revealing. Growth Inspiring. Healing love that I have always dreamed of and assumed was simply not possible or real. 

It was.  It is. That is where I live.  With the knowledge and the complete bliss it brings to my soul to know that YOU exist.  With or without me.  I love you for free.  Love IS the ultimate outlaw.  And it just won't adhere to any rules...and I've said it before, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Aid. Abet. Accomplice. 

?

Accept.  Acknowledge. Appreciate.

Thank you from the deepest possible...

Oh, and  - Love Yourself.  Don't self depracate..  Try living from a place of YES.  And gratitude.  Lose the judgment.  Say yes. Be open.  Don't blame.  (yourself OR others).  Surrender is not a martyrous act. Is martyrous a word? I like it.... But no, surrender is zen.  It is acceptance.  It is trust.  It is love.  Give yourself to it.  Believe in it.  (when you do, it will believe in you back....i promise!!!).

Last - forgive yourself.  Every single second of every single day until it becomes a natural way of moving in the world.  You are beautiful.  You are love.  You are struggling because you have always been searching and the answers are coming to you and you don't know what to make of them.  Don't worry about  that.  Accept yourself and forgive yourself and yes, LOVE yourself .  Don't judge your emotions.  Sit with them. Learn from them.  But don't label yourself or belittle yourself because of them. Ever.  Just be.  Practice.  It will get easier and one day, before you know it - it will just be habit.  And then reality.

Everything will be ok.  No matter what.  Don't lose YOU along the way. Rise above the self loathing and self blame that is so easy to come by for all of us. That goes for all of you. 

....and it goes without saying, but if you ever need to "come home", just close your eyes and click your heels three times...etc. etc. etc.  Break on through...see you on the other side...bees knees-cat's pajamas-man who hung the moon....

Ramadan and Eid will FOREVER remain my favorite holidays.  (Along with Thanksgiving with my peeps, who for the record, I really wish you could meet.)

I love you for free...

~Cricket

On gratitude...

Grateful for the lessons...grateful for the time...grateful for the laughter...grateful for the pain and tears...grateful for the meeting...grateful for the love...grateful for the growth...grateful for the loss...grateful for the empty hole that feels like a vacuum on my life force...it is teaching me...reshaping me...has taught me...and makes me appreciate what was and what is yet to come all the more.

Grateful for the sorrow...grateful for the hope...grateful for the said...and for the unsaid.

This life, my life, and the lives of those around me are so very awe inspiring to me on a minute by minute basis.

I believe. I trust. I accept. I surrender. I love. I bleed. I cry. I laugh. I need. I wish. I want. I dream. I wonder. I stumble. I fall. I give. I receive. I see. I hear. I feel. I touch. I taste.

I live in amazement and utterly complete thankfulness.

I let go.

I am.

Letting go...

Hardest part of understanding...and love and maybe acceptance and non-attachment. But, understand I do.

Love is the ultimate outlaw. And it definitely does not adhere to any rules. Truth be told, I really love that about love.

Hard work...

I've realized...or am realizing...this whole no attachment, no expectations thing is a lot harder than it seems on paper. Not with respect to any one topic, Just in general. I guess I see clearly what I need to work on.

Ready?.....go.

Slaying dragons

Courtesy of Brian Andreas "Storypeople". A long time favorite of mine.

The whole point - I couldn't agree more!

I’m not an expert on relationships, but I’ve had a bunch, and learned from them.
At least enough to gain some intellectual insight that (hopefully) translates over time into a living breathing shift of being.

Turns out, it’s not about making each other happy, or any other kind of imagined perfection. It’s about helping the person in front of you be everything they truly are.

Here are some ways to do that.
1. Hold each other accountable.
Understand the gift she is here to give this world.
2. Call bullshit.
Reflect when he isn’t giving it.
3. Let go.
Trust in her separate journey, even when what she’s doing makes zero sense to you.
4. Remember that your job is not to make him happy.
It’s to allow him the space to find his own happiness—when you’re together, and when you’re apart.
5. Be honest.
One hundred percent. The permission you give yourself to be all of who you are is what creates that space.
6. Fight well.
You’re both on the same team. Your opposition is the misunderstanding—not each other.
7. Embrace attraction to others.
It’s there. Communicate, be clear (with everyone, including yourself), and enjoy your fabulous human existence.
8. Do your work.
It’s usually not about him, or her. Your partner is a flashlight illuminating where you’ve still got work to do. Those feelings of jealousy, resentment and hurt? They’re showing you all the places in you that need your own healing.
9. Remember that you’re a mirror, too.
Reflect back all the beauty that lives in her. Especially when she forgets.
10. Enjoy the ride, man!
Seriously. You’re never going to figure it all out, so you might as well just love everybody.

not written by me...
lifted from Elephant Journal by:

Natasha Blank is a dancer, dj, integrative healer, and the founder of Get Your Dance On. She creates collective experiences that feed our hunger for life through radical self expression, and plays in the spaces where creativity and healing meet. She is also in the midst of dancing every single day for a year, and invites you to join her. You can find out more about her journey at Get Your Dance On

a Reckoning is coming...and I am not sure I am ready for it

Yes, that is Reckoning with a capital R.  And I am sharing. Because I have no other way to deal, process, express, etc...and certainly noone to talk to. 

Sometimes, I fear for my very sanity and this is one of those times. The reckoning I speak of is dealing, at least partially or finally or somewhat - with the family history, legacy, memories etc that I am the inheritor and fortuitous forgetter of - at least so far....

But little things, little memories, big memories, find me.  At the strangest times...the most inopportune times...the most unsettling of times...and in the most bizarre ways.   Like now.

Tonight, I am thinking of my grandfather.  His legacy.  Abusive. Hypocrite. Violent. Pedophile. Disgusting. Master manipulating pusher of fear.  Vile.  Degrading. 

And my father...who used to tell me stories of my grandfather.  Stories that he as a forty something year old man at the time was telling a teenage girl who couldn't possibly begin to process it.  And so, I processed it the way I process uncomfortable information to this day.  By burying it. 

The stories my dad told me were of a violent, mean, vengeful, terrifying man.  He told me how his father, my grandfather, would stand outside the bathroom window while my aunt (his daughter) showered.  This is when they were kids...long before I was born.  My dad would tell me how horrifying this was to watch.  And how much he hated my grandfather for it.  But, why did he watch? And what did he watch? And further, why did he tell me?  Why???

The stories I grew up with about my father were of a violent, mean, vengeful and terrifying man.  A man who beat my mother every chance he got and who was so good at it, he knew how to do it without getting in trouble.  To beat her on the head...not the body, not the face...and the bottoms of her feet.  Because they don't bruise easily and there is lots of pain and little proof or damage to show to the police.

To say that I grew up confused is a vastly ridiculous understatement.  To say that I am still confused today -the same.  The thing is, I have spent my life hiding these things, even from myself.  So much so that I can honestly tell you that I am so vaguely aware of enough skeletons in my family closet that I am literally terrified of what will happen if I should ever really start to remember....if I should seek out a means of recovery....or if they just come...as they are starting to. 

The catalyst was, of course, my father's death on September 12 of this year.  The trip I made home for that was short, but filled me with such dread and fear that I shifted into autopilot and subsequently, walked away relatively unscathed. I don't even think I have cried yet.  A few tears of self pity, but none yet for my dad. 

So, my fear, my sheer, unadulterated terror at actually somehow finding a way to unblock all that I've spent a lifetime running from....my fear is that I will lose myself and my mind and my footing and slip into either insanity or dreadful, spiteful, horrible, ugly behavior and reactions to my delightful biological lineage. 

This is where I usually write something that turns it all around - that magic kumbaya moment...right?  Some lesson I have learned that gives me gratitude and makes it all worthwhile and so I can share it with you and maybe it will resonate and maybe in the sharing, it will all have been worth it because I am all healthy and wonderful and whole now, right?

Wrong. Much to my own dismay.  Abysmally wrong.  I definitely don't have all the answers and being one's own therapist can be enlightening and healing and pretty cool, but complete and total self reliance ...to get through mind alteringly fucked up shit like this, is well - impossible.  And is proving to be a bit of an undoing for me. 

I left my home at 16 or 17, I don't even remember which anymore - to go and live with my grandmother (after pedophile grandfather was dead)....to get away from my abusive mother.  She hated (hates) herself so much that living with her was a toxin.  And I so very selfishly walked away and left my two baby brothers with her.  Knowing, completely and fully exactly what she was capable of and what she might do to them. 

I did that.  I loved them with my soul.  I did most of their raising till that point.  She gave them to me once they were born.  I sat up with them in the middle of the night when they were infants and needed to be fed while she slept in the only air conditioned room in the house and forbade me to wake her up.  When Clay was born, I was 11.  And I did this. When Andy was born, I was 14.  And I did this again. 

And when I was 16 or 17...I had all I could take and I left them.  Left. Them. Behind. With her.  I talk a lot about self forgiveness and how it is the key to so many things...and I believe it is.  I can't for the life of me figure out how to forgive myself for that.  They are different people now.  Adults.  Still both living at home with my mother in their thirties.  And I still dream of them regularly and when I dream, they are sweet, innocent, trusting little boys who think I hung the moon. Oh, my god, I cannot fathom how much I let them down and how much my simple act of selfishness in the guise of self preservation - fucked them up and skewed their view of what is right and wrong and good in the world.

This alone is why I never had children.  I feared abandoning or abusing them because it was ingrained in me.  This saddens me to depths I haven't even begun to fathom.  I generally have no regrets.  I regret, with all of my being, not having children.

And still...I am writing about me.  What kind of monster am I? All I can think about is how this affected me.  And how to find my own peace...and love...and all of the rest.  But my brothers...will they ever find it? EVER? My mother - will she? (I am not sure that I care whether she does or not...but I do send her love and energy after a long yoga session in the hopes that all that stuff about love and energy and the universe that I believe in and talk about is true.)  My father? Did he?

So, the reckoning... I feel it approaching....with little hints of memories...with certain long, dark periods of self flagellation and doubt. 

I know my mother as a violent, malicious abuser.. with her hands or a belt or a switch - but even more damaging - her tongue...her words...her constant rhetoric over the years that I was ugly, bad, unwatned, wrong, a liar, a bitch, a whore (I got this when I was 11 and had no idea what sex was...), a snob, selfish, disgusting, fat....things that still travel with me inside today - no matter what. 

I know my father as a violent abuser of both my mother and his second wife....and maybe a pedophile who learned from his father (not with me...that I can remember...but with my stepsister, who he raised.) A man I feared and wanted approval from.  A man whose love I could never do enough to earn. And that legacy was to never feel like I was enough for anyone.

I know my grandfather as a sociopath.  A man who was revered in the community and church.  People always spoke so well of him...but who beat the hell out of his children, probably my grandmother, sexually abused his daughter, her daughters, his sons' daughters...who served as a prison guard for years and liked to come home and tell tales of beating the prisoners.  I can't imagine what else he did.

I know many other things that I really don't want to commit to print right now because I'm frankly exhausted from it. 

I know myself to be a confused, mixed up woman who once upon a time was a really smart and really strong girl who was going to conquer the world and make a difference.  Someone who believes in good, no matter what.  Who believes in doing right for the sake of right and not religion.  Who believes that peace and love are the answers to any question.  (no, not about quantum physics...) Who still sincerely wants to make a difference, but who sometimes can't seem to see around herself well enough to figure out if she has what it takes.  Someone who can easily see the good in others and know, with absolute certainty, that if they forgive themselves and surrender to love - then their lives will change.

I'm someone who has been in more than two marriages and who knows her way around a relationship, but who has never, really truly completely surrendered to it and given herself to it. One who admittedly falls in love with everyone just a little bit, but not that much and certainly not enough to go the distance.  To be reliable.  To be trusted.  To be worthy.  To not walk away.  To surrender to love.  To be loved.

I'm also someone who has recently discovered that she does indeed know what love is and once she allowed herself to say fuck it and define it for herself and on her own terms - it all made complete sense and actually manifested itself right before her eyes in the most beautiful and revealing way possible.  Real. Raw. Imperfect. Perfect. Logical.  Logic defying. Gut level, soul level, all the way level, come what may - this is the kind of love I want level.  The details don't matter.  The who doesn't matter.  The future outcome doesn't matter.  The happily ever after isn't necessary.  (Highly desired, I'm not an idiot...but not necessary..meaning - it won't make a difference in what I felt or feel, or how I will act or react. It just simply IS.)

So....what next?  I dunno.  I have three more nights here before I board a plane for the US and get to be with my second family,,,my chosen family...a group of amazing people who literally met me and said "oh, hello - I think you belong over here with us"...and I replied in kind, "yes, yes, you're right...I do". and I love them and am so grateful for them and get so choked up thinking about how they literally changed my life well after my formative years (I met them in my thirties...).  To have the universe hand pick a beautiful mother, sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews...and say "I don't care how unworthy you think you are, these people love you and you love them and you belong together." My Cosmic kin.  My tribe.  Words can't do them justice.  I can't. I'm humbled and awed by their unconditional love.

(and that does not mean that I am excluding my brothers Andy and Clay or my cousins Karen and Teresa in any way....I know it HAS to suck reading this stuff and feeling like I don't care.  The truth is, I just don't know what to do with it.  Or how to do it.  I've screwed it up so much, I feel like further involvement will just piss all of you off.) I love you, my brothers - deeply and with everything I've got.  And I love you, Karen, beautiful cousin of my heart...Sandy, my beautiful sister (step) and Teresa and your beautiful children I don't even know.  You freak me out a bit, T, but I know you have a good, solid heart.  You just all come from the same broken place I came from and I don't know how to relate or make it better for any of us.)

What I have come to learn and recognize is that I need to at least do the following:

• Be true to myself and to what speaks to my soul....whether that be yoga, running, meditation, reading, exploring, whatever.
• Yoga.  Do it.  It makes me feel and that makes me fear it...but when I feel and am in that place, everything else is brighter and is more beautiful and makes sense. 
• Love - myself.  Others.  Every minute. Practice.  Win. Fail.  Do it all over again - no matter what.
• Forgive - myself. Others. Myself again. Repeat every day until my last breath on this planet.
• Find a healing profession for myself...Life coach/ Yoga Instructor? Massage therapist? Nutritionist? Some combination of all these? Reiki/Prana/ Shaman/Healer?  It's in there somewhere
• Keep growing.  Period.
• Face the monsters and the fear and tell them to fuck off.  They don't serve me.  I need to hear their lessons and then move on.
• Let go.  Of everything.  Everyone.  Every thought, mindset, fear, bit of anger, self loathing, regret, people, unrequited anythings...and get on with myself and my life.
• Be grateful. Every single fucking beautiful moment for this completely beautiful fucking life.  Because it is.  And because i am. 
• Surrender - whatever that means...I'm still figuring it out...it has to do with acceptance I think - and that means acceptance of everything...like it or not.  Things are what they are.  People are who they are.  We matter, but really - we don't. 
• We are all significantly insignificant.  And the sooner we understand and modify our lives accordingly, the better.  For our own sanity.
• Repeat the Forgive myself part....

that's all I've got for now...but,

Do love yourselves.  Do forgive yourselves.  And do marvel in the wonder and beauty that is this world and every living being on it. 

YOU inspire me every day...and rock my socks the most, and I am grateful. 

And I'm on the road to healing...don't worry about me.  Walk with me...show me how to do the dance... I am ready to learn the steps...to sing the song...to be comfortable in the silence. To be a loving friend and partner...to grow, to inspire, to soar.  To be. And to be enough.

the right wrong one....

I may have found the quote of all quotes that eloquently describes what I am looking for on the relationship front...and consequently, what I can offer...

“We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are — that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person — someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”

          - Galway Kinnell

Land of the free, as long as you don't tread on me....

In the wake of all the recent onslaught of attacks and denigrations and unfriending and what feels like bizarro-world to me in the social media and life zone, primarily due to the recently resolved US elections...and my mostly by choice abstinence from the political opinion posts and revelations, I have determined, at least for the purpose of the post to try and clarify my own thoughts, beliefs, positions, etc - just in case you find me so unpalatable that you need to unfriend me or call me a name or defend your position.  I mean, you deserve that, right? You've somehow EARNED the right and position to tell ME what I am supposed to do, say, think, feel, think, vote, react to, etc? RIGHT?

No.  No, you haven't.  And NO, that doesn't mean I don't feel as passionately about my beliefs as you do. or that I am apathetic or passive.... Not by a long shot.  I do, however, truly believe in the free speech we Americans are so famous for saying we are known for, yet also so hypocritically and astoundingly flip the tables on as soon as someone disagrees with OUR position, because WE ARE RIGHT, RIGHT?

People. It's not all black and white and no I am not talking about race in any capacity.  I mean - political parties ARE bullshit, in general.  One cannot tidily sum themselves up inside a perfect little box of "I am a Republican" or "I am a Democrat" or "Fuck those losers, I am a Libertarian!!". "I'm different"..."I'm in the Tea Party"..."Independent"...."Green"..."Socialist" - what - the -fuck -ever.

I've had a few people actually ASK where I stand and QUESTION what I believe because I have not posted it actively on Facebook and whatnot.  Really? What did any of you (us) do before Facebook?  Facebook is a brilliant tool if you use it as such, but it makes me sad to see people use it as a tool to insult and demoralize and belittle and denigrate one another.  I don't know you really - or where you came from - or how you were brought up - or what shaped your beliefs in one way or another.  I don't know if your IQ supports your arguments or values or beliefs or if the only thing shaping your words and thoughts are what your parents taught you or what you heard from someone with similiar party affiliations who seems to share your views.  Regardless of your party. Therefore, as long as you are not hurting me, or another human being - on the visceral, holistic, human level - I have no beef with you.  But while we are at it... posting hate and intolerance from the comfort of your pseudo-anonymous laptop or iPad does not make you an activist...anymore than blogging my feelings from my own space of anonymity makes me a writer.  I just wannabe.

However, if you decide it is ok to invade my body, deny my rights to it and to its care, turn back the clock on my being made a bonafide, legitimate, no-shit, for real HUMAN BEING who breathes and lives just like any other human of any gender - THEN - I become militantly defendant of my body, my rights, and the unbelievable fortuitous birthright I came with just from being born an AMERICAN....that I AM human.  That I AM equal.  That my voice DOES count.  That what I feel and think and need DOES matter.  That my body belongs TO ME.  And that how I choose to live my life and who I choose to love and how I choose to vote - (which, by the way - does NOT and has NOT caused you any harm)....if these things in any way determine how you feel about me as a friend, whether real or virtual...then I feel it is my obligation to make sure that you understand exactly who I am and what I believe and where I am coming from. 

I can't sum it up in a simple "I'm a Dem or I'm a Repub"....as a matter of fact, I am a registered Libertarian...but not in any way shape or form because I subscribe to the doctrine of Ron Paul or any other modern day Libertarian.  For me, Libertarian speaks to my beliefs as an individual in personal responsibility and in freedom. Freedom.  Yes, FREEDOM - from persecution, judgment, malignant indoctrination - and let's face it - it is ALL malignant.... and no, I don't think government should rule everything and have dominion over my soul, but I also don't think that government should be eradicated.  What then? And what a ridiculous overgeneralization.

In fact, I fully understand that my utopic belief of sorts is something best not translated into doctrine and certainly not into dogma, because unless you are of a true similar frame of mind and peace and understanding -you quite simply aren't going to get it anyway. 

What it is, IS - simply what and how I believe.  And it doesn't fall into a party.  It is issue by issue and it is shaped by my life, my experiences, my lessons, my unravelings, and my logical and thoughtful mind that has put thought into what matters and is life changing for me and what isn't.  And THIS - is why I do no denigrate YOU because you may believe differently. It is also why I try not to applaud YOU when you express similar beliefs.  I may fail more often on this front and will give real effort to improvement. 

So, for all who have asked out loud, in emails, in conversations, or silently - this is what I believe.  It will come across as basic and maybe even simpleton to you.  But to me, it is everything and it makes sense to me. And, honestly, that's all that matters to me. 

I believe in you.  I  believe in me.  (I started another blog this way many months ago.)  It rings true still as it is core philosophy to me. 

I believe my body (and everything associated to it) is MY body. If you're invited to my body party - you get to hang out and enjoy it.  Only. and Period.  You do not get to control it, own it, exploit it, lock it down, regulate it, criminalize it, invade it, make rules for it, or direct it in any way.  EVER.  You may do with it as I say you may do with it.  Nothing more and nothing less.

I believe love is love regardless of gender.  And for anyone equating what they deem as "relevant and righteous" opposite sex marriage to real love and commitment and who are trying to keep same sex couples from entering into the same wish of a dream of a hope for a happily ever after that we heterosexuals statistically are so unsuccessful at because the words love and commitment in the end are just words unless you give them meaning and actual nourishment....well, you are just wrong.

I believe in love.  Love IS my religion. 

I do not believe in the God of the Christians or the Muslims or the Jews or the Mormons or anyone else's god.  I believe religion has done more harm than good.    I believe religion is the cyanide of the masses (Tom Robbins). I could go on forever on this topic.  I do believe you have the right to believe as you please as long as you don't cause physical, emotional or psychological harm to anyone else. 

What I wish is that you would put some actual critical thought into what you believe to ensure that you actually KNOW what you are defending and subscribing to.  This could apply to your political afiliations and any number of other topics as well.  Inform yourself. Do some research.  Don't rely on what you hear on TV, or from your parents, interest groups, or from a book written years ago by a whole bunch of different people with an agenda.

I am not an Atheist, per se.  I believe the modern day Atheist movement has taken on as much vitriolic fervor as religion and can be called its own religion these days.  So I suppose I am an Nontheist - or Non Deist - or Pantheist...or Pagan or whatever you want to call me.  I lean buddhist more than anything, but cannot call myself that.  I believe in love, in connection, in energy, in the power of our energies....and that we are living either in hell or heaven right now, this moment because it is what we have chosen for ourselves.  This may change from time to time for us all. 

I believe in doing and being good for the sake of good...and knowing that whatever I put out there will come back. Good or bad.  Positive or negative.  I have done and seen and lived and tested both on more occasions than I can count.  It may not be quantifiable, scientific proof for others, but as a self case study for me - it has been tried and retried and I am resolved to understanding it as such and admitting my responsibility for my life, my actions, my contributions.

And while I'm at it, I believe marijuana should be legal.  Period.  Not because I am an avid aficionado...I can count the number of times I have smoked pot on one hand in my whole life...but because it is foolish to keep it illegal with all that we know about it, about hemp, and its value from a sustainability and nutrition as well as medicinal front.

I could go on and on about what I believe.... but that doesn't matter to you - and it shouldn't.  But if it matters enough to sever your relationship with me - whether real or virtual - then do so with full disclosure from me. 

I can remember few times ever since I was 18 that I voted for any particular party across the board, but most of my voting history can be unequivocally placed in the Democrat box. 

I believe in integrity.  Equality.  Compassion. Authenticity. Love. Good. Joy. Discovery.  Travel. Empathy. Helping others.  PEACE. Humanity.  HUMANITY.  I feel like I should say that one over and over....In other words...I don't care about your geography or politics or socio-economic status, or religion or race or profession, or house or car, or clothes, or ANYTHING - except how you treat others - and how you interact in the greater world as a fellow human being.  And I don't believe I owe any explanation to anyone about what I believe or how I voted ever....but....

Who did I vote for in 2012? I live in the Middle East...and I voted for Obama.  And Tim Kaine.  And if I could have - I would have voted for Elizabeth Warren and Tammy Baldwin and YES to Proposition 37 in California regarding labeling GMO foods....and for legalized marijuana in every state who had it on their ballot...for same sex marriage in Maine and Maryland (where it passed) and anywhere else that it didn't pass (yet).

I voted for me.  I voted for women.  I voted for my ancestors, my friends, my progeny (real, step or metaphorical). I voted for humanity.  If all you are concerned about is the economy, tax protection and placing blame where blame doesn't necessarily belong - well, then I simply don't understand you.

...and because I am tired, exhausted actually- and must sleep - if further clarification for evaluation of whether to maintain contact or friendship with me is needed, read an old post: 

http://camelkarma.blogspot.com/2011/07/to-know-what-you-believe-is-freedomand.html

If you've paid any attention at all, you know at least one of my mantras...

Love, people.  Just. Love. 

Be good to each other, ya'll.  and to yourselves...and if you wanna talk about it - give me a holler.

Loveyameanit

disturbing dreams...was it just something I ate, or are they telling me something?

This blog entry may prove to be a bit of a work in progress as I may come back to it from time to time to add if insights become clearer or if I find any helpful resolution....

So, last night I was plagued by the same dream over and over that continued whether I awoke to use the bathroom, or read an email (yes, I do this - it is a habit formed in Kuwait in an attempt to keep up with people on the other side of the globe.)

I guess it wasn't so much the same dream over and over, but I kept picking right up where it left off no matter what. (And for the moment, I'd just like to know why THAT doesn't happen in that sexual dream I have with Antonio Banderas circa the Desperado years and look?? )  In this dream, I found out (days after the fact) that one of my friends had given birth, and had left the baby with me and some housemates (who I have never seen before this dream).

Apparently my friend had to go away on some business trip, the baby was just days old, and my housemates had taken her, put her in a little cradle in a small room that was like a closet and left her there.  I found her one night when I went in to the closet to get something.  And there she was....awake, beautiful, smiling at me....I was dumbfounded.  I picked her up - she was soaking wet, but still smiling, and went out to ask where she came from and what the hell she was doing in the closet.  The housemates said that a girlfriend of mine had left her and she'd be back in a few weeks.  that was all I got for an explanation.  I immediately went into "I don't need details, but this child needs her diaper changed and to be fed mode" and found one diaper in a bag that was left for her and changed her after giving her a bath in the kitchen sink.  No other diapers or food or clothing or anything had been left for her.   She never made a sound...she just looked at me with these bewilderingly beautiful eyes and smiled.  She had little wisps of blond hair...so weird, it was so real.  I just kept thinking, "why isn't she crying?"..."why isn't she sick?" "how has she survived all this time in that closet with no care?"

I asked my housemates again, how long had she been here?  Two days, they said.  I asked if they had fed her, changed her, anything?  They said no.  She was fine.  Her mom would get her in a few weeks. (and where the hell was her mom???)    I didn't know what the hell was wrong with these morons and was completely confused as to why the baby hadn't cried this whole time.  And again, why she didn't seem to be starving to death.

So, I bundle her up in blankets and take her to the market to get diapers and baby formula and bottles.  When I arrive, I find diapers, but there is no food.  No formula.  No milk of any kind. She's too young for regular food.  Still, she doesn't seem hungry. 

Somehow, as dreams don't always make sense in a timeline sense...and maybe during one of my waking bathroom breaks...I find myself needing to get to the airport with her.  I have a flight already booked and have to travel, so she must go with me since I couldn't trust the housemates.  I put her in a little bag/cradle of sorts that I can put over my shoulder, because that is all I had with me. (It actually looked like one of those cloth coolers from the outside" but was comfortable for her inside.  (I didn't have one of those bjorn baby papoose things so don't judge me - it was a dream)....I get my luggage, passport, etc all ready for the airport...I take a bus of some sort to get there.  People are asking questions about the baby and want to see her.  they ooh and ahh over her and say that she is a miracle even though I haven't told them the story of her surival without food for days...She really is remarkable.  Still hasn't made a sound. Just smiles... Some kind lady happens to have a bottle of milk handy and gives it to me and as I lean in to feed her, she falls fast asleep. I'm truly worried now as I know she hasn't eaten in days as noone has bothered to feed her.  Mind you, she looks perfect.  Pink skin, all dewy and chubby, healthy...

I arrive at the airport... get to the security line - take out my computer...take the baby cradle bag off my shoulder for a second, hand my passport to the security guy, reach down to pick up the baby - and SHE IS GONE. The bag is gone. The baby is gone.  GONE.  And then I lose my mind.  I started to panic, to cry, to feel so distraught, that I woke myself up crying...thought about the dream for a bit...drank some water, went back to sleep and was right back in the airport trying to find the baby.  trying to find someone who could help me.  No one would.  They kept telling me to get to the gate, or I would miss my flight.  All I could think was that she was hungry and that she was in danger and that my friend, her mother, would be destroyed by the news that I had lost her baby.  In the back of my mind in this dream was the memory that I had lost another baby another time in my life, but that it had been a stranger's baby and not a friends.  In the "dream memory" that baby was never recovered and the family was decimated. And it was my fault.

(And no, this isn't symbolic for any miscarriage or abortion that I have had because I have never had either. I have also never lost a friend's child of any age...)

So, I wake up several more times, only to go back to sleep and pick right up where I was in the airport desperately looking for the baby and unable to find her.  The rest of the dream I am running through the airport from office to office, security point to security point, describing the baby and the little cradle bag she was in...crying...terrified...and noone is affected.  No one seems to have any sense of urgency about finding her.  Or even writing down the description.  They just patronize me and sort of brush me off because they are busy or because they don't see the importance of finding this baby.  This seemed to go on for hours...and finally - I woke up (about an hour ago) to a phone alert for a text from a friend heading off to go play golf. 

So - any guesses???  It's rather haunting. That dream. I have a few theories...and am working through them.