Multiple Solitude? Alone-together?

Maybe it's not alone-together, it's more like isolated-and-lonely-together.  Stop and think about it.  When was the last time you actually LOOKED a stranger in the eyes, even when you really wanted to look?  No, you averted your eyes as soon as their gaze grazed you.  When was the last time someone offered to help you, to REALLY help you, when you were suffering, and I mean someone who wasn't your family member or really good friend?  No, they just stood there watching.  We're afraid of seeing one another, we're afraid of letting our guards down and of making the commitment to live life from the heart, to make real sacrifices for one another.  We are a world of beings playing out a disillusioned and moderate tragedy.  In love we temper ourselves, in politics we whine, in dreams we may fly, only to crash upon waking.  We cheapen our passions by consuming fantasies sold to us in an attempt to make us forget that we have the capacity to create so much of the world we live in.  Economics, nation states, religions; what a strange and convoluted, illusory real game of life, which man has so foolishly entangled himself in.  Even I play in this mummer's farce and I see beyond the veil of all this stupidity.  We really make things more difficult than they need to be.  We love a challenge, but would rather lay fallow and dead as we struggle.  Where is the fire of life?  Where is the passion of our hearts?  We second guess our every move, we over-analyze our choices, then idolize those who leap off the edge and land well, but it can't be us who jump.  We have no trust for others, because in our inability to accept our own role in the pain of our lives, we carry anger and blame and shame and all that crap which closes us off from real connections.  Authenticity is not a city we visit often.  We're suffocating under layers of player paint and the dung-masks of dogma.  Why do I shush myself when I was to sing-scream in the middle of the grocery store?  Why do I stop myself from dancing down the street while caressing the gentle hands of my fellow pedestrians?  I stop, I shush, because, no longer a child, my spirit has been suppressed by the dehydrated, blank, and catatonic despair of a population choked by the chains of the Meta-parent, the ultimate authority, be it God or Science or the State, that allows us to say, "It's not my fault!"  It is our fault!  We created this, we continue to create this, and we have the capacity to change it.  

What is a grown up person?  Is there such a thing as an adult, really?  I wonder, because it seems that we humans so badly need to create stories that keep us as children.  Not the children of loving parents who encourage us to dream and breathe and grow, but of parents who tyrannically control our every move and keep us from becoming beautifully independent, wise souls.  Why, as we age, do we let our lives become dross, colorless, and defeated?  Why do we so mindlessly devour the bland food of our romanceless culture decade after decade?  Why do we continue to rise only to our lowest of dreams?  Our world will stone, tar and feather, hang, or burn a person who lives an authentic life, and then make them heroes in their death.  What kind of necromantic story are we writing for ourselves?  If we cannot live in the ecstasy that the full spectrum of our capabilities as humans offers, what the hell is the point of bothering to exist? 

As we grow, as we age, we should find ourselves more alive, better able to express ourselves, more capable of manifesting our dreams, more inspired and clear.  We can only become such wise elders if we spiral through life's ups and downs, without allowing ourselves to stagnate and fester in one place for too long.  Our society, unfortunately, encourages this bogginess, and does not like it when we free ourselves from the sinkholes of despair.  When we know our own power, we cannot be controlled.

I demand a life of PASSION!  I take my life back from the mass boredom of everyday life and from the stranglehold of "power over".  I invite you to join me in creating a life you can truly love.  I invite you to join me in healing our multiple solitude, by remembering to play and gaze into the eyes of strangers.  I invite you to join me in trusting and giving generously and forgiving imperfections.  I invite you to join me in following our hearts and in shedding the garments of the false "authorities" found in government, religion, families, and other social institutions that have been built upon the fear of real freedom.  I invite you to join me in reclaiming the real magic of life and death and remembering the expansiveness of every last cell of our wildest dreams!

So Be It!

Mellodrama Makes Me Pretty

Oops!  I sorta overreacted.  I'm going to find a home with my friend after all.  I held a mirror to myself and found that I've seen this part of me before.  I sometimes don't want to make the effort or to fight for things, so instead, I run the other way.  Alone... well... I can't do everything alone.  I don't really like feeling so alone.  What was that my friend just told me about?  Yes... "multiple solitude".  The idea that we are alone-together.  I keep thinking that embracing that is easier, but it hurts too much.  I'm surprised more people aren't aware of the hurt it causes.  I NEED other people... but I still need my "singular solitude".

Rooms of My Own

Alone, alone, alone.  I am choosing now, to go it alone.  I'm alone in my romantic life, by choice. Now, I'm striking out on my own in my home life as well.  I was going to find a nice place with a friend of mine, but then I began to realize that I suck at living with other people.  I'm too sensitive to other people's energy, I'm too controlling over my environment, I just don't play nice in co-habitation situations.  If I move in with other people now, I'll most certainly follow my current pattern of moving every 6 months to 1.5 years.  I can't stand the thought of that habit continuing ad infinatum.  Every time I move, everything in my life gets rattled; work, relationships, and most importantly, creative projects.  Since I've seriously dedicated myself to my creative work, I can't risk another interruption like the one I'm currently grappling with. I'm being ruthless, and I have to be.  I have to make good on the priority I've set for myself, and that priority is my art.  For me to pursue my art, I need the appropriate space.  I've realized in the last few years that "appropriate space" doesn't only apply to the amount of space.  It also applies to the energy of the space, and my relationship with it.  I need a home and a creative space that is undeniably mine.  I need to have dominion over the space that I occupy.  I need to feel free and safe to express myself within (and without) it's walls.  I need to KNOW that my presence is wanted and welcome. I need to be nurtured, respected, and supported in the spaces that I occupy.  What I've lacked in the past was a house that felt like a home.  I always felt a transience, a borrowing, a lack of grounding in the places I've lived.  Even in my last place, which was my own apartment, I knew I would only be there for a short while.  It was yet another stop on my search for a hearth that would feed my heart, my body, and my creative fires.  Thankfully, I'm more clear about what I need in order to support my goals this time around.  I hope that I can find a home that serves as a foundation for my more risky flights of fancy.  It's looking a little sparse out there right now, but I keep faith that the perfect new home and hearth will emerge, lit and warm, ready to embrace every little flawed and perfect piece of me.

Disappointment

The Whiskers of Green Faeries!

It's amazing what a little booze can do to relax social inhibitions.  I watched my resentments, negative energies, and anger melt away as I shared far too many drinks with my current housemates recently.  It could have gone a completely different course, but it thankfully allowed me to remember their humanity and my own.  It started with whiskey and chocolate and oozed it's way to cool sips of spicy absinthe.  I was able to remember that sometimes the things that rub and irritate and chafe in life are really very small when you step outside yourself and see the beauty in all the crap.  Ultimately, we're all relieved that I'm moving out, because of the small things that have added up to create itches that are awful tedious to scratch, but I'm happy to know that it doesn't leave us with unfading pits and scars.  In the hours that we lost ourselves to the "Whiskers of the Green Faerie", we rebuilt our webs of connection, which all of us so deeply desire.  Though I woke up the next day, feeling a little beaten up, I was happy to know that while I leave a house, I keep the fire of friends and heart, to lighten the hearth of my new abode.  

Ten of Swords Revisited

Hindsight is always 20/20.  

Well, yes, I should have known, but again, yet again, I didn't want to KNOW.  

The Ten of Swords, the Knight of Swords, have come and gone.  These cards, among others, signified the deceit, betrayal, lies, intrigue, and the ensuing disappointment I've recently been entangled in.  I was blind to the truth before me.  

One of the skills of great magicians is the ability to see WHAT IS.  It's not easy, because what we fear and what we desire so often combine to create fantastic illusions in the mind.  If we're not able or willing to push through these illusions, we cannot see the TRUTH, even if it's right there, plain as pudding.  We live in a society that favors intellect over intuition, so it's dually hard to respond and act on the intuitive messages and reflexes we receive daily.  The intellect wants control.  It wants to compartmentalize, rationalize, and demystify everything in it's path.  The problem is, when there isn't enough blatantly clear information, the mind too easily fills missing links with flimsy justifications.  Oftentimes, the missing links are more accurately filled with the visceral knowings of intuition.  This is great when one has learned to trust such sensations and can discern between irrational fears and actual knowings.  

I'm learning that I have a long way to go until I am able to trust my intuition.  There is so much I have to learn in order to strike a healthy balance between my intellect and my intuition.  I suppose, I thought I was much further along than I really am.  It is through this experience (about which I am being intentionally vague, to spare myself the humiliation) that I receive a lesson on the beautiful dangers of desire, desperation, need, fantasy, dreams, and romance.  I want to remain a dreamer and a romantic, able to trust in the wonders of the world, but I also need to know how to keep such ideals from running me into the brambles.  

On the other side of these swords (since they always cut both ways), I have found myself in the position to take a different approach.  This is why in my last post, I made a commitment and dedication to my Muse and to my practice as an artist.  I believe, despite lost hopes, I have found a new energy behind these things for which I am so passionate.  My art is something that is real, it's a relationship I've spent a lifetime building, which in recent years was laid to waste in many ways.  It has a solid foundation, but a lot of damage that needs my full attention at the moment.  There's a lot of restoration and redesigning that needs to take place.  Other things that I dream of and desire for my life, don't seem to be manifesting at the moment, and it's important that I open my eyes to WHAT IS, and accept it.  At this point, it's wisest for me to put my faith, trust and energy into something that I can count on.  I can count on the fulfillment that acting on my creative dreams will bring.  Maybe I won't gain the level of success that I dream of, but at least I'll be able to say I did every thing that I could, that I showed up, that I went for it, that I did my best.  Knowing this allows the deep pain in my heart to ease up and gives me enough lift to keep seeing the rainbow behind the clouds.

New Love

Aho, Wakan Tanka,

This day I marry my beautiful Muse.

This day I dedicate myself to a life of joy.

May the flow of Creation ever move within, through and around me.

May I SHOW UP to do the work of my passions.

May I share my love and my creations with my world, uninhibited, egoless.

This day I wed my spirit to herself.

This day she becomes my lover, my partner, my life.

May no other disrupt the commitment I make now for a year and a day.

I am alone with the truth of my heart and my spirit and myself as a channel of Spirit.

I am fully present in the birth of my purpose and in the offerings of my gifts.

This day I become that which I've always been.

This day I am whole, within myself.

It is my Art who I marry.  

It is my Art who I love.

It is my Art who brings me back to myself.

Aho, Mitakuye Oyasin!

This is Crow Boy.  

More Ink

I want to put more work up here, but I'm having trouble uploading the files onto the blog.  I can't seem to resize my scanned work with the programs I have.  Lame!  Anyone have suggestions for free photoshop like programs for Macs?  Anyway, here's one work I did while completely bored on a "date" this summer.  The best thing I got out of it was this picture!

Moving and Moving and Moving Again!

Ah!  I've made it almost 6 months!  I've clawed my way through to this moment, finding myself full of anger and resentment, mostly at me, for not standing up for myself, for not fighting back.  The day I moved in here, I felt unwelcome.  I thought, "Perhaps it will pass and things will get better."  Ever hopeful, that's me.  Well, better it did not get.  Worse it got, worse and worse and worser.  Now here I sit, anticipating a total revolution in my life.  I'm moving out of this prison house and into what I hope will be a more liberating and freeing social experiment.  I will begin a new home with strong and clear intentions.  I will begin a new romance in the same way.  I will begin my work as an artist in a way I never have before.  Everything is falling away on a grand scale and I'm letting it all come tumbling down.  As I claw my way through the rubble, I look to the truth of my heart to guide me through the rebuilding.  There are things I feel meant to do in this lifetime, many of which I've only scratched the surface.  Now I'm being called to live my life in a dramatically different way.  Dramatic it is!  I'm being called to trust in time, in space, in the unknowns of life more than ever before.  I am stepping into uncharted territory, and I'm finding it both exhilarating and contracting.  Despite the contradictory and paradoxical nature of my situation, I feel utterly compelled to dive right in.  I can't seem to stop myself.  My friend said recently, about my current happenings, that he thinks there is too much changing all at once, and that I will probably drop some projects from all the pressure.  I countered that I've been under even more stress in the past and came through it all, having accomplished all of my goals, only slightly modifying a few of them in the process.  No, I won't have to drop any of these "projects" as he calls them, it's the stress that feeds me and pushes me to move through.  These are merely labor pains.  In the end, I get a brand new life, more unbelievable, more amazing than the last.  I'm finally in the birth process.  I've died, I've replanted, I've ripened, now I let forth this new life.  So Be It!

And I Let Go...

In my exhaustion, the fighting in my heart and mind subsides.  I give all the trying to the Mystery, I surrender it all to... what is it?  Fate or Destiny?  My breath feels clearer as I give in and crumble under the pressure.  The phoenix and the tower, explosion and destruction, sacrifice and incineration, these give way to fertile ground.  Even as I write, I create and destroy.  I choose the words that will live in this composition and those that will die or perhaps never have a chance at being included this time around.  My life is no different.  There are little pieces that fit into the puzzle, while other parts slough off to become pieces of something else.  In this moment I feel helpless as a new born babe.  Have I died and returned a new creature?  I've plunged into the depths of Persephone's domain, down into the dungeons of Hecate, I've sucked the blood fruit of a sizzling death.  This has been my descent.  Now, I take pause.  I stop to retrieve my articles shed, to reattach my very flesh and make my journey back.  I humbly hope and pray for new love, new warmth, and a new hearth, a new home for my heart.  

Ink

A couple of my recent artworks.  I'm still working on a series of drawings I call "Bus Drawings".  Once I'm done, I will be looking for a place to show my art.  I hope you enjoy!

Do I Want to Be a Zombie? Hell, No!

So... there's this thing in our society... maybe throughout the world... that cautions against taking chances, jumping right into our fears and dreams and really trusting in a Higher Power.  Sometimes it's prudent to be cautious... to take our time and let the fire die down a little.  However, a great majority of the time, it's more like real life when you just go for it.  GANBATE!  That's Japanese and translates to something like "Go for it, do your best, work hard!"  When we resist trusting in the wise guidance of Spirit, we only make our lives harder.  We essentially cut ourselves off from the purest of soul food and become zombies, necrotic, dead in our bodies.  That's what a lot of people are... Zombies!  They are literally Dead Alive (hilarious movie, by the way), stumbling through life, jaggedly calculating every move, passionless and disconnected.  Well, I'll tell you what I'm not, and it's that.  I choose a life of truth, trust, love, passion, and adventure.  Bring on the best of what life has to offer!  The only fear I have is the fear that saves my life.  I have no room for fear that voraciously tears away at my very flesh.  I trust.  I trust that I can move the mountains that have set themselves in my way, or at least move around them.

Snip Snip

I cut my hair!  

I dye it red!

Red with earth blood.

A new visage,

a new countenance,

for a new day.

And I say,

Today is a good day to die,

for I've no fear of the things that shadow my life.

The crows have flown in for the Fall.

One keeps a'knockin at my door.

I open it repeatedly

to find he's not there.

I wait patiently as ever.

I hear there's been a storm,

and he's blown off course.

In my dreams I sing.

Sounds flow forth like rain.

I cause and stop the flow.

I call him to me, 

like the Siren.

Suddenly, 

he's there,

when my eyes open,

for the rest of my life.

Today is a good day to die.

So I dye my hair red like blood, 

and I cut away the old,

to make way for the new.

Nemi!

I  just discovered that Nemi has made it across the ocean!  I randomly discovered her while visiting a tiny village in Norway, the name of which I can't even remember.  I was in a store and saw the cover of the comic and was instantly drawn to it.  I got it and made my Norwegian cousin, Egil translate every sketch while traveling by bus and boat along the fjords.  I still have the book, a treasured keepsake from my European visit.  I occasionally peruse it's pages, trying to remember what they say, trying to pronounce the Norwegian words, conjuring a distant memory of the warm hospitality of my Scandinavian family.  When I got back to the states, I searched the internet for more of my favorite gothic comic girl and was hard put to find a site that made any sense to me.  Eventually, I found that she was syndicated in the Metro, some UK rag (hey I don't know what it is... A newspaper?  A tabloid?  I'm just glad she exists in a language I can understand!) so I could occasionally check out what she was up to.   Recently, however, I found her at my local library!  How exciting, no?  Yes!  I am so getting a copy of the English version book.... um, someday when I can justify spending whatever it costs to own it...  For now, I've got it on loan from the library.  Long live the Library!  I love you Library, you're like my second love... My first?  Well I'll let you guess at that one!

Well, You Never Know Until You Try

The ten of swords... what does this mean?

Am I a martyr, a victim?  Have I hit rock bottom?  Is my life just a silly melodrama in the vein of Tartuffe?  10 swords... now that's excessive.  Where did they all come from?

I think I'm going to marry my art.  Nothing else seems quite right.

When I Remember

I tend to forget and remember in waves, the magic of moving my body.  I'll lock up for a few weeks, I'll become stiff and stagnated, then I'll recall a moment when my blood and breath spiraled through my body as if upon wings.  I'll think, "Oh yeah, that's what living feels like".  Then I'll get my weary self to someplace safe and let my body speak to me.  She often tells me all about my cruel neglect towards her needs, and then she slowly, compassionately shows me how to make up for it.  My body becomes lover to my mind, my emotions, my heart.  She brings me back to my breath, she takes me to inner temples, she slithers, she jumps, she spins, she releases intellect from it's frantic grip.  My body has a mind of her own.  Every cell, every molecule awakens in the bliss she brings.  By moving, she teaches me to be still.

Faerie Bones

I found these faerie bones (come on, we all know that's what it is!) on my way to work today.  I love the dynamism in it!  I wonder what he was like alive...

A Fall of Dreams

Through a window

I watch the day pass

Leaves turn red as blood, golden, brown

Cool air brings a rust upon the world

The sky, blue against it

A dream seeks me out

As I lay, with a head of fog

Joints unmoved, aching

The walls muffle the rustle of leaves

No, I can't even hear them

My dream, he floats 

Much like the leaves on the wind

Then, he falls quickly

And smashes to the ground

There's blood at the corners

I get to keep a piece of it, the wing

Three feathers to be exact

Two plain, one like a peacock's

Only they're the Raven's

Or Maldoc's, as he claims

I cuddle my treasure

Leaves still ride the air

Cracking against the wind

I don't know how to mend it

The wires need to be set again

The dream, he arises

Broken from the fall

Held together like the dying leaves

Wind pushing his wings

Coaxing them to release

I lay here, watching

Autumn embrace upon my world

The sun play upon the colors

And he perches, out there

Watching my little jerks

There's a strange chord

That ties us 

It binds us unknowingly

And we fall together

Our wings help us to fly

Debates You'll Never Win!

While I'm on the whole vegan rant, I want to say, that after obsessively browsing a number of discussion threads on various forums, I realize that it's all a losing battle.  People want to be right, and because food is enmeshed with ethics, morals, theories on human evolution and purpose, religious concepts and a variety of other sociopolitical issues, the passions fly.  People want to be right because they're afraid, mostly of realizing they're wrong which leads to pain, punishment, and "Hell".  The truth is, even science can't agree on one optimal diet or dietary system for humans.  As for the moral/ethical side of the diet debate, well, there again, nothing can be concretely proven as fact.  Some people swear up and down that animals were put here for us and that they neither feel, think, nor have souls.  I completely disagree with this sentiment, but am I going to convince a committed "Uberhuman" to think otherwise?  Only if they want to be convinced, which is unlikely.  The whole meat vs. no meat debate is about as reconcilable and provable as the God vs. no God debate.  The only truth that I can surmise from all of the philosophizing that happens between us humans is that the real truth is a mystery.  The best we can do is find the truth that makes the most sense to us at any given moment in our small lives.  

My plea; love and honor your truth, share it freely, embrace it, expect that others will see/feel things differently and maintain a sense of wonder about that.  

If your truth originates in fear, it's not truth, it's fear.  This is where all the self-righteousness, dogmatism, and proselytizing come from.  Fear is only helpful as a survival technique.  Most fear eats us from behind while we attempt to pretend it isn't there, but it always rears it's ugly head in insidious ways, whether we realize it or not.  Truth originates in love and compassion, mercy and forgiveness.  When you get down to all that, the details aren't very important.  The questions is what is your intent, what is your motive?

Here's another link that I found interesting regarding veg/vegan diets:

BeyondVeg

Also, I was totally banned from the forums on the PostPunkKitchen site.  I have yet to receive an explanation from the moderators.  It seems that they don't want any contrary views threatening their little Shambala.  No insight wanted (or is that incite?)!  Damn shame...

Hey Look at This!

Here's a beautiful example of the self-congratulatory, snobbish, and small-minded attitudes that many vegans exude, as I once did!  

Read it and fume, laugh, cry, or nod in deafening agreement!

http://www.postpunkkitchen.com/forum/viewtopic.php?id=45501

It's not the individuals that I take issue with.  They are attempting to make their way through this labyrinth of a world as best as they can.  Unfortunately, their attitudes are doing nothing to help.  They aren't helping me anyway.

P.S.  I posted a response at the bottom of the thread and after only two people responded to me, they closed the discussion.  Go figure!  

Confessions of an Ex-Vegan, Pt. 2

A few days ago, I picked up a pamphlet entitled "Guide to Cruelty-Free Eating", propaganda distributed by Vegan Outreach. I figured I would read through it and pick it apart, thereby picking apart my own old dogmas. Surprisingly, there wasn't that much for me to fuss about. It wasn't sensationally profiling the horrors of factory farming like many other vegan rags and it actually promoted checking the "holier-than-thou" vegan standard at the door in order to share information with others without sparking so much defensiveness in them. The pamphlet mostly focused on how to maintain a healthy vegan or vegetarian diet whist acknowledging the individual needs of people based on their unique make-up, age, etc. While it was still adamantly proselytizing the benefits and superiority of veganism, it was more fair and balanced than a lot of other vegan info out there.

It must be noted that "Guide to Cruelty-Free Eating" is not without flaw. Throughout the pamphlet, the health benefits of veganism are touted using citations from a number of studies. I'm sure these studies are as reputable as any other study on human health, which from my perspective should be approached with a "healthy" dose of scrutiny and caution. The subject of human health is a many layered and mysterious one indeed. After years of studying "alternative" health, I have found that often times "health", "healthy", and "healing" are a matter of perspective. For instance, a number of vegan protein-sources are suggested in the pamphlet, most of which are highly-processed, plastic encased, non-organic, wheat and soy-based foods. Now, perhaps I'm biased since I discovered my gluten and soy sensitivities, but I wouldn't consider TVP, seitan, and other "meat analogues" to be healthy or for that matter, "cruelty-free". Certainly, on occasion, these would prove relatively innocuous for non-allergic folks, but as a replacement for flesh foods? Considering how often most people consume meat, that's a lot of vital wheat gluten mucking up your gut and that's more than enough plastic added to the landfill! Now, I'm not saying eating a bunch of meat everyday is any better. What I'm saying is, the answer is not so simple.

I whole-heartedly support an end to the genocide and torture of animals worldwide. I also whole-heartedly support the move towards a conscious and compassionate lifestyle that works in balance with ecosystems and honors the lives of plants, animals, minerals, and microbes alike. In someways the vegan argument doesn't go far enough, often coming from a place of fear set in righteousness, it lacks a necessary self-consciousness. Factory farms are only one piece of a far larger problem with not only our food system, but our "civilized" lifestyles in general. If one wants to live in a way that supports vitality on this planet, as I do, then one must be willing to scrutinize all aspects of daily life. What we eat is definitely a part of this, as is whether or not we drive a car, how much water we use, where we buy our clothes, and what we use to clean our sinks. A person can be vegan and still have a major "negative" environmental impact on the planet. Shoes made out of synthetic material are not by virtue of being leather-free and thus "cruelty-free", more environmentally-friendly. Soy and corn are great examples of plant crops, subsidized by the government for a variety of uses, that are having major environmental impacts on river ecosystems and other environments (see "Spilling the Beans on Soy" by Heidi Sopinka). Yes, much of this crop is used as feed for livestock, but it's also used for a variety of other industries.

There's no doubt that meat production uses an obscene amount of resources and is rife with political controversy. I personally encourage others (and myself) to cut down on their meat consumption, to boycott animal testing, and to consume less and locally, among other things. It's important for us to see the big picture and realize that we can find a balance between being compassionate towards our fellow beings and towards ourselves. For some of us, using animal products is a matter of survival, but in the process of survival, do we have to inflict unnecessary suffering upon those creatures that feed us and keep us warm? I don't think so. Somewhere there's a balance where we can honor the lives of the plants, the animals, the waters, and the sun-rays that feed and nurture our bodies. At the very least we can invoke gratitude in the name of All Our Relations, or Aho, Mitakuye Oyasin (in the original Lakota) when ever we are at the dinner table or donning our favorite leather boots. And then we can take that sentiment and turn it into actions in our daily lives that support the liberation of all of Mother Earth's beloved creations.

Here are a few links that I found interesting:

The Conscious Carnivore: The Ethics of Eating Meat

The Eco-conscious Carnivore

For Meat-Eating Authors, a More Tender Approach - www.washingtonpost.com

Are You There?

Hello all!

I've been wondering if there's anyone out there reading my blog.  So, if you are, please leave comments to let me know.... even a "Hi!" and "Hello!".  Tell me who you are and what you love/don't love about my stuff!  You can now subscribe to my blog too!  (See the right column).  

~Be Well~

Mlle. Novadawn M.

Am I My Own Worst Enemy?

What sparks this question is the 8 of Swords.

This card popped up in a reading recently, and sparked a rather strong reaction in me.  Like any metaphoric system, there are multiple interpretations to be had.  However, the most important one's are those with personal significance, the one's that speak to us in a language we are able to receive and understand.  With this in mind, I wish to explore the significance this card holds for me.

So, let's begin with the number.  Eight is a numerological symbol for power.  Some sources have a materialistic take on it, interpreting it as a number of material wealth, business acumen, and positions of authority, while forgetting more esoteric significances.  Eight can also symbolize the joining of the above and the below.  Turned on it's side, the eight is the sign for infinity.  While the materialistic interpretation has a value of it's own, I'm more privy to the arcane interpretations.  The fusion of spirit ("above") and matter ("below") is the work of the magician or alchemist.  Through the process of this "Great Work", one discovers the source of true power (the ability see beyond illusion/delusion, manifest through Will, serve as conduit to the Divine, etc.).  Thus eight, is a symbol for the achievement of true power (which is not power over, but power within).

The suit of swords in the tarot represents the intellect and the air element.  The eight paired with the swords indicates a relationship between power and mind.  It asks us to ponder what purpose intellect serves in the wielding of true power.  It warns us that the mind when given credence over the heart, only serves to bind, blind and banish us from our power (see the woman in the card).  This is not to downplay the importance of the intellect.  On the contrary, it serves a very important role in our ability to discern, critique, explore and understand.  However, for true self discovery and empowerment to occur, the mind must work in service to the heart (otherwise defined as intuition, Holy Spirit, Chante (Lakota), etc.).  It is through the heart that we receive pure guidance (inner knowing) from our essential selves.  The fusion of the above and the below takes place at the heart center.  It is here that intellect and emotion meet to share their respective observations and information so that one can act consciously from the heart.  

Considering the above, we can see that the eight of swords card is a symbol for powerlessness caused by intellectual beliefs.  In other words, the state of powerlessness shown is merely an illusion of the mind, choice still exists, it's simply unacknowledged.  The woman in the card is bound and blindfolded, barren and barred.  However, the way in front of her is clear and she has the freedom of movement in her feet.  A trickle of water lays a path for her.  The water being a symbol for emotion, gives her the encouragement to feel her way out of her predicament.  To be freed, she must loose the shackles of the intellect, allow her emotions to flow and will the two to meet in a moment of self-realization.  She has been party to her own oppression all along.  She has created many of these limitations for herself by buying into dis-empowering messages, external and internal alike.  On the other hand, some of the limitations have likely been imposed upon her from outside sources and are out of her control.  However, the point is not where the limitations originated, but what she perceives as her level of choice in the situation.  The better she can recognize what is, the better she can recognize the what kind of power she has to shift her circumstances.  This is the number eight, this is the magical act of grounding intent through the use of Will.  So, does she choose to give in to the limitations or use her creative spirit to find ways around, through, and beyond them?  Does she choose to activate her latent emotions and give them as much import as her fear-filled, dominating mind?  Is she what stands in her way? 

Alas, I must ask myself these very same things.  When considering these questions in the context of the intellect I must be careful not to negate the hard reality of social inequities that exist outside of my immediate control.  That said, I am challenged to see how, in my beliefs about myself and the world, I disallow myself a better life.  To tell the truth, my life isn't all that bad, especially when compared to many of my fellow relations, but subjectively speaking, I'm not fulfilled.  My dreams seem forever unattainable and I feel powerless for it.  But, perhaps I have fallen victim to my own lack of faith and my unwillingness to call up the creative forces innate in me to solve the riddle of my bindings.  It's difficult to put a mirror to one's mind, to deconstruct those brilliantly laid internal stories, in order to really see what's going on.  I've already asked myself what I want.  I know what I want.  Now, I just have to see what's standing in my way.  I have feeling that, as I lift my blindfold, I'll discover many faces of me staring back.  It's just a matter of convincing them that I know what needs to happen, that I've got it straight from the Source, and that they've got nothing to worry about.  Well, it's easier said than done, isn't it?  Or is that just a good example of how my mind is tricking my heart?

A Few Thoughts on Thoughts

"The most amazing thing about being human, is that we are conscious of being conscious." - Fredrick P. Harris (My grandfather)

I hear a lot about the power of thoughts coming from a variety of New Age and other spiritual sources.  This is what I have to say about it:

Thought alone may have a certain energy to it.  I'm okay with this assertion.  How powerful said energy is, however, is seriously up for debate.  Can I live in my dream world  just by thinking it into existence?  NO.  If that were true, I'd be there... and I'm not.  Some would say that's because I'm not "manifesting" it, I don't really believe in it.  I'm sorry but, what if my ideal world has unicorns, nothing but awesome comfortable Victorian-Faerie-Goth-Dancer fashion that fits me perfectly, cats who can speak my language, and cute little flying horses in it?  If I really, really believe, will I experience that world right here and now?  Ha!  As much as I'm a magical thinker, I have to say no.  Those things lie in the world of the imagination, and they can be very real, in a sense.  They're not, however, going to appear in super-corporeal fashion, they are fey in nature, apparitions flitting in and out of peripheral vision, and that's okay, because it's their role in this dense world.  The creatures, visions, and dreams of our imagination serve to remind us that the cold, hard objects that we encounter in our daily lives are not everything.  There is magic, wonder and a reason to hope for a better world.  There is mystery to balance the mundane.  That said, the world of ideas is only significant when we take action on the thoughts we have, whether we do so consciously or unconsciously.  Thoughts may "emanate" from our being, but they quickly dissipate when they are not given the added oomph of an activating principle.  The action can be very small, and very habitual, to the point of being completely unconscious, or it can be consciously created and moved.  I don't believe that thought alone has a power comparable to thought + action.   Perhaps this could be true on a more ethereal plane, but with the time, gravity, and solidity we encounter here, it's simply ludicrous.

There's currently a big trend that's all about the "power of positive thinking".  There's nothing wrong with positivity, and affirmations that help one to recognize how amazing and beautiful they are can be powerful.  Playing with the idea of what one can do as opposed to what one can't do is often the more open and liberating rout to take.  My question is, what happens when someone believes that they should only ever have "positive" thoughts?  Doesn't this shackle them to a moralistic concept, the failure of which could well lead to neurosis, guilt and shame?  The problem is not the percentage of positive or negative thoughts we have daily, but how conscious of our thought patterns we are.  Being able to simply observe our thoughts with compassion is more important than only thinking in the positive.  By doing this we have nothing to fail at.  We are empowered to recognize thoughts that come from a place of love, understanding and acceptance as well as thoughts that come from fear, insecurity, and anger.  In this way we can better understand our motivations behind actions and reactions, and make more effective choices as we grow.  It's perfectly natural for us experience a variety of feelings, thoughts, and ideas, including those we or our society deems "unsavory".  It is unhealthy for us to repress the free flow of these experiences, for when we do, we find ourselves a chaotic mess.  

I personally strive for balance.  I embrace my "negative" thoughts.  They are equally as important and valuable as my "positive" ones.  All of my thoughts and ideas have something to tell me about how I'm feeling and what's happening around me.  Do I choose to change certain of my thought patterns?  Absolutely.  Am I blind to some of my idea-loops and theoretical contradictions?  Yes.  Will I do my best to act upon thoughts that are in the highest benefit of all my relations?  Always.

Body Sacred?

What is this thing that keeps me bound to place and time,
to earth, air, fire and water?
What is this flesh that aches and loves?
My body sacred?
A Goddess vessel?
Even after a breeze swept through,
shoving out old rubbish...
well, it seems,
the monsters have more room to move now.
They gnaw at my small confidence, screaming,
"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!
INADEQUATE!
TOO BIG!
TOO SMALL!
WORTHLESS!"
Where is my temple?
This place just feels like a rotting sunken ship,
most of the time.
The sweet voices of Truth tell me that
I've got two moons and a chalice;
tools for creative revery,
but I keep forgetting where I put them.
Why don't I kick them out...
the monsters who keep squashing my silence?
What am I getting out of these common house guests?
What strokes of genius do they offer me after their relentless abuse?
Perhaps they're angry because I've caged them and left them to starve.
Perhaps that's why they're voraciously gnawing at my sacred blood,
my body beyond beauty,
my heart's spiraling light.
Next week I bleed them out,
I birth my parasites and
set them free.

The Dangers of Co-sleeping!

Why You Too, Should Hug Trees

Today, my little friend, "Sa-bam-bam" and I went to the park to lunch and play. It was an ordinary visit, except for one moment, which has stayed with me throughout the day. As we were making our way to leave, my tot-friend approached a tall tree and proceeded to explore it's textured bark. This inspired me to hug the tree, to see if he'd follow suit. He did. But this is not the exceptional occurrence, neither is Sam's request to climb said tree. No, the moment was entirely mine, unless Sam experienced the same thing, which I cannot know because he's still too young to convey abstract concepts. When I gently flung my arms about the trunk, I felt an equally gentle energy pull my subtle-self downward with it. I felt myself become embodied and grounded. It was a calming sensation, very nurturing and very connecting. Now, this is not the first time I've hugged a tree, but it is the first time I've been so aware of such a sensation. I felt the feeling I've been searching for through many energetic exercises and visualizations, which have worked for me to varying degrees, but which take a considerable amount of focus and effort. This moment of tree meets beast was blissfully effortless. My experience with the tree is remarkable because feeling grounded in my body is difficult for me. For much of my life, I've felt outside of my body, floating alongside it, but not inside it. Over the past 6 years or so, my body has been begging me to love it better, to energize it with my life force, lest I whither away in heaps of pain and discomfort. It has taken chronic health issues to help me realize the importance of modifying my relationship with this vehicle called body. I've been presented with the option to give into a life of suffering or to rise up to a life of balance. I've chosen the latter. So, here's where tree-hugging comes in. If it's so easy to draw my subtle-self into my physical self and even deeper into Earth, just by embracing a tree, I'm going to make that a routine part of my daily actions. Like many of us born in the US, I am a creature of ease and convenience and let me tell you, to become grounded, snuggling with trees is a lot easier and faster than doing a standing tree meditation. Not only that, by coming into direct contact with another living being, I'm more deeply connecting to myself, as well as the infinite wellsprings of life. So, if you see me around town cuddling the rough skin of our leafy friends, I invite you to join me, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised!

Here's a Little Message From My Friend Jackie...

Current Obsessions and Interests!

A few things I'm into at the moment:

Music: Vashti Bunyan. I'm enamored of her sweet soft voice, a gentle and clear whisper. Listening to the lyrics takes me into a dreamlike UK countryside, a place I desperately yearn for, where my heart is at home. I can't seem to get enough of her album "Just Another Diamond Day". If you like dreamy music, she's your girl! Read her bio here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vashti_Bunyan

Books: "Awkward and Definition" by Ariel Schrag. This book is two graphic novels in one, penned by then high-schooler Ariel in the mid-90's, chronicling her freshman and sophomore years. The art is great, the writing well-done and the story-lines charming. I'm about a year older than Ariel, so it's really a blast from the past for me, a little reminder of my own high school experience with references to bands, fashions and the general teenage weirdness of the day. Ariel, being in the Bay Area, was probably more worldly than I was, well... more infused with booze, sex and drugs anyway, but I can still relate to the questions on sexuality, celebrity crushes (even if she literally worshiped Juliette Lewis and I literally spat on her every visage), and experimentation with "adult" games, substances, and responsibilities. I heartily enjoyed reading "Awkward and Definition" and look forward to reading the third installment in her series of 4, titled "Potential". Here's a little more about Ariel and her work: http://www.arielschrag.com/pages/bio.html

Dance: Butoh. I just saw and amazing Butoh performance last night by a group called Death Posture. They performed at the Fez Ballroom with a live experimental noise group made up of two prepared guitarists and a percussionist. I was lucky to have the chance to chat with the two dancers, Alex and Vanessa, about their work, and learned a lot about the meaning, intent and history of Butoh as well as their personal artistic processes. I have played with the idea of studying this dance of Japanese origins in the past, but am now even more interested, as it applies to work I've already done and to work that I'm in the process of creating. It would be a welcome addition to my artistic pallet for sure. Look here for some more info on Butoh: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butoh

Big Adjustments and Harsh Realizations

I'm adjusting.

Recently, I moved out of my roomy, 1 bed apartment into a shared household and a smallish blue room and now, I'm feeling the labor pains of squeezing both my physical self (and all it's various material extensions) and my energetic self into a much smaller space. I'm also having to negotiate my place on the hierarchical rungs of my new home. See, I live with the owners of the house, which in my experience, does not lend itself easily to the egalitarian ideal. No matter how anti-authoritarian and communally minded said owners may be, the cultural concept of ownership usually subverts the best of equalitarian intentions. Just like the territorial spats that are frequenting the lives of my two cats and the other animals of the house, I am acutely feeling the stubborn pressure of people having to create space for me. Space which they occupied previously, and didn't have to share or stretch or compromise on. I sincerely hope that they actually want to share this space, no matter how painful it may be for them to relinquish it, because I sincerely want to feel welcome, cherished, and wanted by those I co-habitate with. I want a home, a place of solitude and sanctuary, a place to freely express myself, my needs, and my ideas, a place to connect with others and feel a part of something real.
Over this first week and a half of living at my new place, I'm finding a mix of feelings ranging from disappointment, uncertainty, self-doubt, defensiveness, joy, relief, and connection.
I've really been enjoying living with kids. I wasn't sure how I'd react to it, but I'm finding that little people bring such a refreshing energy into a living space, a newness and a rawness, which cynical adults can't seem to muster quite so often. I'm interested to see how my relationship with the kids will progress as I continue living in their midst. I'm also finding that simply having others around is making me more productive, and I don't feel so isolated. That's definitely something I missed while living alone, where I cloistered myself from the world, communing with my personal demons and considering various universal conundrums.
Unfortunately, I've also had some harsh realizations. A big one being that I neglected to truly consider the physical creative space that I require to pursue my art. My new house is extremely ill-equipt for the things I want to do. I don't have any real space for messy and/or long term projects like mask-making and costume building. I also feel a little more inhibited when it comes to experimenting musically, especially in the later hours of the evening. While I'm disappointed in myself for not considering my desires more closely, my self-neglect also incites a question about my real needs for space. Looking at myself clearly, in an undeluded and painfully honest sort of way, I can see that I subconsciously ignored my need for creative space because it is a need that is based on the dream of Mlle. Nova as an artist. What I mean is, my desire for a certain type of creative space is based on a vision of my future self, a self which resides in the realm of ideals and dreams, not in current reality. I am not yet the artist I fancy myself to be. I only need specific creative space when I actually commit to doing the work. When that happens, perhaps I will move, or find an art studio or some other arrangement conducive to achieving my goals.
My challenge here is making the best of what I have, by letting the restrictions of the physical and energetic space that I currently occupy, inspire creative action in and of itself. If it is art that I truly need to pursue (and in my best moments, I can honestly say that it absolutely is) then I will find a way to make it happen, in this very moment, against all odds.

The Long Silence

Dear Adoring Fans,

I heartily apologize for the long silence. It's not that I don't love you, it's that my life has simply not been conducive to sitting in front of a computer and imputing various diatribes on one thing or another. I could go into greater detail here, but said current life is preventing it, that and I really have to pee. I do, promise, my lovely friends, that I will be back, in better form, sharing all my misery and joy in the near future. Till then, think of me.... A LOT!!!

Love,
Mlle. Novadawn M.

The Sickly Manifesto

That's me... sickly... I'm sick and tired of being sick!  Being sick has a tendency to put everything on hold.  I don't want everything to be put on hold.  I want to do stuff.... really, I do.  I know I talk a lot about doing things, but now I really want to do them.  I'm serious here, people.  I want to run and play and sing.  I want to enjoy this springtime unpredictability.  I want to drink wine in parks and get kicked out again.  Being sick for three weeks is not allowed.  I hereby banish you, sickness!  I declare myself well!  I declare myself more hearty than I've ever been!  I declare myself invincible against any and all pathogenic micro-organisms that would have me laying about for days on end watching episode after episode of Gilmore Girls, blowing my nose and drinking funky herbal concoctions.  I will watch episode after episode of Gilmore Girls in sparklingly fine health, thank you very much!  So be it! 

The Dating

So here I am... I'm single and getting more elderly everyday. The clock is a-ticking and while I know I still count as a spring chicken, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever be fortunate enough to join the ranks of the happily partnered. See, I love the single life. I love being unattached. I love doing what I want when I want to. I love not having to answer to anyone and not having to compete for blankets whilst I'm sleeping. I love being the one who wakes me up with snores (it does happen on occasion). I love it all. Okay, fine, a certain side of me loves it all. Another side of me wants nothing more than to be happily weighed down by a ball and chain and a little brood of chillens. To deal with and embrace this very naggy, singleton-sabotaging side of myself, I'm doing two things. One, at the end of the month, I'm moving in with a family whose chillens I can borrow when I'm feeling the need to and give back when I don't want em any more. This is a fantastic opportunity to play a semi-parental roll before actually making the life-long commitment to being a parent to my own little creature. I get to be the cool, fun, auntie! This is good. The other thing I'm doing to quell my illogical drive to entrap myself into a life of family values and barbecues, is to DATE. You notice, I'm sure, that date is a four letter word. Apparently, four letter words are supposed to be bad or something... but then 'word' is made from four letters and I don't hear a lot of people wincing at that one. Ah, but that's a tangent for another day. The point I'm making here is... it's dating! I'm not entirely sure I know how to date. It takes some kind of skill, and I wouldn't say I'm particularly well practiced at it. See, mostly what I've done in the past is 'hook-up' with people. I'd be casual acquaintances with someone, and then we'd end up hanging out, and then it might lead to making out, and then, in most cases go nowhere from there. That's not really dating. In dating, you go out, you do interesting things like eat over-priced tapas at some lame yuppie restaurant while wearing sweaty pleather pants and a bicycle helmet. You have a couple of drinks and then you go your separate ways, after you've either vowed to never see the person again or have made plans for another date. Dating is something that materialistic mainstream people do, right? People who have money to throw around. It's not really done very much anymore, it's kind of archaic. But, I want to date. I want that casual formality. I want it to be an interview, because the side of me that wants a partner, means business. Really, what I'm saying here is, I don't just want to hop into bed with someone I barely know and then hope that we've got enough in common to keep some semblance of a relationship going. I don't want to spend years in a relationship with someone I deeply love, who is not going in the same direction as I am. I want to be intuitive and emotional, yes, but also blatantly practical and honest in my assessment of potential mates. I also want to clearly state to the Universe that I am available and open for business. Hey... the biological clock is ticking and I'm tired of having to do everything on my own. So, I figure dating is a good way to go. Got any tips on keeping it light, keeping it real, and keeping it honest? Send em my way.

What it Feels to Dance

Just in case you're looking,

You may find a sunbeam beneath your feet.

This is the world in between,

Where light and shadows meet.

Will you move a little?

Will you bend?

Will you let this carriage inch you closer,

Through your breath and those symphonies of pause?

The light may lift you deeper,

Into levity and gravity,

Into chance and balance,

Into your alchemical no space.

Pretty Boys

I love the crazy antics of these two Kiwis! Flight of the Conchords is the height of musical hilarity, and you should check them out. We all need a little rediculosity once in a while, especially when we feel like doody. I know you want to grab yourself a kebab, quit your full-time job to become a part-time model and watch a few blips of their show on YouTube. Go for it! You deserve it, damnit!

Confessions of an Ex-Vegan Pt. 1

From the age of 16 to 26 I was some kind of vegan or vegetarian. Yes, that's 10 long years with little or no animal product intake. Good on me, right?! Well, of course, I like to think so. In addition to the apparent health benefits of the veg-life, my carbon foot print must have been vastly smaller than that of meatatarians (although soy, the favorite American meat substitute, has it's own special brand of polluting evil, so now I'm not so sure). My good-karma points also had to be much higher due to not participating in the mass torture and slaughter of our friends, the cows, pigs, chickens and other creatures to be found on Old MacDonald's farm. I especially liked to think that all this was true when I was up to my ears in VEGAN DOGMA. I was always patting myself on the back for being so ethical, not to mention giving those genocidal animal killers also known as carnivores, holier-than-thou glances when they had the nerve to eat meat in MY presence. Now, I always wanted to seem fair and understanding of other's meat-chomping choices, whist maintaining the correctness of my way, so I did bite my tongue quite often. Despite this, I'm convinced that my disapproval was conveyed loud and clear through the betrayal of my body language (i.e. the glances). Now, I humbly eat my words as I eat the very animal flesh I was once repulsed by. When I became a vegetarian at 16 I didn't start off as an animal-rights activist. I just wanted to be healthier. I never really liked big hunks of meat like steak and ewww... pork chops, so it seemed a natural thing to do. It wasn't until an errant boyfriend gave me a copy of John Robbin's, "Diet For a New America" at age 19, that I became and indignant vegan. I was appalled by the treatment that animals the world over endure for our selfish pleasures (and I still am). It seemed only reasonable that knowing what I knew then, I should cast off all consumption of animal products and defend the rights of our voiceless friends. It's at this point that I fulfilled many of the expectations that some of my friends and relatives had for me when I first went veg. I became a crusader, a dogmatician, a closed-minded veganazi. The really sad part was that, I didn't see it. I was too busy attempting to control every thing in my life out of fear (especially what went into my gullet) to realize what a prize asshole I was being. About 8 years after going veg, I started guiltily eating salmon on occasion, but I was still very opinionated about how I and everyone else should eat. Somehow, a little fish here and there didn't count? I know, it's not very logical... and that's the point. It wasn't about logic, it was about fear, about being not being wrong, about guilt. I needed something to tell me that I would be okay, something that would give me a guaranteed ticket to Heaven, or at least to somewhere less painful than here. I needed something that would give me a perfect body, one that didn't have all the health problems I was constantly battling, so that I could know that I wasn't a bad person. All of this internal crap just filtered over to the outside world, mostly because I needed a little validation. Unfortunately, the way I was going about things, I didn't get much of that. About a year and a half ago, after years of suffering from chronic health issues ranging from depression, anxiety, GI tract disturbances, and debilitating fatigue, I was diagnosed with anemia, adrenal fatigue and sensitivities to gluten, egg whites, dairy, and soy. Finally, I was validated. I had already suspected many of the food sensitivities and had mostly eliminated the offending foods. I was fine with all of that, I could live without soy, gluten, etc., etc. What I didn't like was the instance of my advisers to take up flesh foods again. They claimed that I needed large doses of protein to help me overcome the fatigue and anemia and that meat was the best source of said protein. The supplements they wanted to give me were also animal based. Those good 'ol bovine adrenal and pituitary extracts! Yum! I resisted this advice for sometime, opting for vegetarian treatments instead. While the veg alternatives worked on a certain level they were slower working, not very tasty (save the licorice extract), and I was allergic to most of the vegetarian high protein choices I had, so I was definitely in a bind. Finally I caved. I was tired of being tired all of the time! I deliberated for a while, then decided to take the plunge. I can't remember the first bite of meat I had... I think it was chicken or turkey, but it could just as likely have been beef. I was far from excited, I was pretty repulsed in fact, but it did feel good. Well, good enough to keep me on the meat-wagon anyway. So here I am now... ex-vegan... no longer able to be high and mighty and perfectly ethical with a VIP pass to the Bodhisattva Club. When I made the choice to leave my fellow "vegetablearyans" and join the flesh-eaters, I realized I couldn't win. My veg friends would disapprove, my meat-eating relatives would gloat, and I would just have to deal or better yet, stop worrying and start enjoying. That's where I am now. I don't worry nearly so much what I eat, as long as I enjoy it. This attitude is essential to my sanity, especially given the dietary restrictions placed on me by my food sensitivities. This doesn't mean I'm no longer concerned for the rights of my fellow creatures, I certainly am. Because of this, I attempt to choose animal products that are ethically raised and killed and I encourage others to do so as well. I still think it's important to seriously consider the personal and global consequences of what we eat, but now I'm a lot more broadminded in that regard and I'm also a lot happier.