I am a sad person. I carry my sorrow around with me as though it were a backpack glued to my body. It weighs me down and it makes me ache and it is making me sick. On top of that I add fear. I am afraid of pretty much everything. Isolated and lonely away from human contact I sit at home and work myself up into a fit about small things and make myself very sick.

Today my cs therapy session went a bit south. In the middle of a nice relaxing head massage I was suddenly over whelmed by a terrible sense of panic and fear. And my poor therapist needed to do some serious unblocking work.  I block at my 3rd chakra ( that's the solar plexus )

For the last month it has felt as though some evil giant has shoved his fist down my throat and punched me form the inside out RIGHT at this point, where the diaphram sits. I have to tell you this is a sucky feeling. I can'tt eat properly and I just feel miserable. It is all in my head since every time I go to the doc to get this looked at and they do all the blood tests and poke and prod tests everything is normal, so I know I fabricate this...fear...but fear of what I don't know.

It is a strange thing and now I am working on it. but today's session was hard, painful in an emotional way not physical. I knew it would be hard  but still...

so on this long road to fixing what ails me... I have to figure out what wounds need sorting and healing. No easy task.

sucks

we are off to Florence tomorrow for the weekend. :) should be fun.

until then be excellent to each other. 

It is a still, grey morning that smells like rain. I love it when it is like this actually, as though the world here is holding its breath. Only the birds seem oblivious as they chirp and sing cheerfully. The crows are out in full force cawing and nesting, arguing over territory and generally being crows.

Today is he first day in almost 3 weeks that I feel well. Funny how I go through these bad stomach and gut issues all tied in with my weird menstral cycle. Usually happens when around the equinox my cycle changes from either morning to evening... twice a year ..HELL. Sucks to be female sometimes.

This weekend was quiet, and we didn't do much. Both of us needed a time out I think, just some time to do not much. I spent a couple of hours yesterday sitting outiside reading, in the sun light. what a treat. We ate outside and it was just pleasant. I really like this time of year, not too cold, not too hot and lots of light.

Got to get started with book2 and hopefully by the end of the year I could finish the trilogy.. I hope. It took me almost a year to write the first one so I am of the opinion this is wishful thinking.

Now I have to get the living room back togetehr ( the wall is dry and the big furniture is in its place again but there are still books all over the place. I need to sort all that stuff out.

see there isn't much going on atm. Life is poodling along. Next week we go to Florence that will be fun! The week after that friends come to visit....exciting!

so...
until then, be excellent to each other...

our bloody clocks went forward this weekend and we didn't even know.... the only reason I figured it out was because the computer does this automatically and I noticed the difference between it and the clock by the desk.. 

so it has been a crampy headachy period starting clock going forward messed up day. 

On a good note M and I made out first Roast beef roast ever today and it was DELICIOUS... thanks joy of cooking for the help!

and I enjoyed it and everything stayed where it should and there were no huge complaints from my very unhappy guts so ......

not sure what else to write actually ....

Until then be excellent to each other....

Being an artist is frustrating some times. And it feels for all the world like banging one's head against a wall...
I understand transitions need a break, honestly I do, like the finishing up of one scroll for example I usually need a wee bit of time before I can sit and do the next one. Especially if the scroll was a biggie. I know and understand this work break work process but it is driving me crazy.

We were watching bab 5 last night and hit the specials on season two last disc. The writer of B5 said something very interesting. He basically commented on the writing process and how stressful it is to write a TV series and how much pressure one is under to do it and the best way to get through this was to let the characters speak for themselves. How right he is. So my guess is today will be another laundry / housework day because I need time to let the cast of 100s sort themselves out for round two. Why I insist of pushing is beyond me. Sometimes it's like feeling sick though .... you'll feel so much better after you vomit ..lol  I will feel so much better once the writing starts up again and the words come of their own accord. I should take my own advice and stop pushing at it.

Today is a nice laundry day as well, all crispy clear and sunny with a breeze... We have painters coming in tomorrow and that will stink up the house nicely all weekend. *sigh* well what can you do?

see I am really in a word funk can't even think of anything to say here... I guess I really do need a brain break. Should go paint something, make some scrolls, do some more of the little göttingen model book I am working on...you know other projects that are creative but do not involve the chasing of words... The words will come...

In the mean time... it's breakfast time wheeeeeeeee

until then: Be excellent to each other!

Kt Tunstall's 'Black Horse and The Cherry Tree is playing on my computer and it is such a good tune. I don't know what catagory you'd put this musician in ( not that I like to box anyone in or anything) sort of country sort of something else.  But this song is sexy. It got me to thinking about other tunes that hit  that nerve...

I listen to cbc daily and this includes that crazy national play list thing. What a weird idea... There is so much music out there that who the heck can narrow down the best 10 songs ever??? or what ever it is. It is interesting to hear what songs get suggested and what songs stick. I love some of the comments that get flung about... and disagree with almost all of it but music is SOOOOOO subjective... What I love to listen to would make my mother want to throw the stereo out of the window...

The current play list for the chapter I just finished up is:

KT Tunstall: Black horse and the cheery tree
Deine Lakaien: Into my arms
Dido: Here with me
Shriekback:This Big Hush
Bryan Ferry: Is your love strong enough.
Inxs: God's top ten
Felicia Sorenson: Once ( soundtrack to Brotherhood of the Wolf)
Bryan Ferry: Windswept
Natacha Atlas: Light of Life ( Ibelin reprise) Kingdom of heaven OST
Bryan Ferry: Slave to Love

yeah..subjective....

until then be excellent to each other.  

I love this time of the morning, still earlyish and not quite lateish :) It is quiet outside and the morning mist is only now starting to lift ( a little) as the sun gathers warmth and showers us with it. Every morning it peeks, just a little earlier, over the mountain / hill across from us on the other side of the valley. I am waiting for the cows to come home and being waken by the sound of cow bells, we can all use a little more cow bell!!!

It's Monday, a start day, a do day. I have shirts to iron and floors to clean, dust to chase and clothes to wash. Normally these chores would make me sigh but to be honest , today I look forward to the break. House work, it seems, has become my down time from writing. The act of physically getting away from the computer and doing something randomly dull and mundane seems to fuel the creativity not blunt it.

I never thought I would spend almost a year solidly writing anything. Although it was what I really wanted to be / do when I was a kid. At 13 I *knew* I wanted to be a writer... but somehow I never followed it through. Not so sure why, but mostly I think life got in the way. I've said it before I am a late bloomer, and I am slow. It takes me a lot longer to get to things, finish things and sort things out than most people seem to do. I don't mind this at all but it took me a long to time to realise that i worked at my own pace and no one else's.

I am almost done book one. It is strange to say that. there are more than one books worth of words???? It's the story that never ends except it does end, i know that already. And what's worse is there are words piling up for the next utterly unrelated story. I jot them down in one of my sweet Clairefontaine note books but I try not to let it creep too far forward in my brain, got to finish this one first ... no colour leeching allowed...

I harp on about this a lot, I know but you need to understand for me, finishing anything artistic is always something of a small miracle.I don't feel like an accomplished artist of any sort. I don't feel as though any I create is all that worthy. So producing and finishing and carrying through to the end is a HUGE deal for me. and I will babble about it.

so here I sit in the in between time...thinking reflecting drinking OJ. Mostly just glad to be alive.

Until then, be excellent to each other!

War protests! Bombs are not the answer and the new rumblings towards Iran is scaring the hell out of me. We protest and no one listens...people die and for what? money and oil. When the hell will we wake up? And what happens if it becomes bigger, do we really want another world war?

--------------------

Writing... and everynow and then I hit a block. Bang! Smack head against wall and continue until it feels good when you stop! I asked Wulf about why I was having such a hard time getting past this chapter.. his answer was simple... 'maybe this part is finished and now you need to start the second book.' duh. The first-ish draft is up over 500 pages long in word, single spaced. This is pretty ig actually and he's right this last chapter is the end of this part. Once I realised this all of a sudden my block un blocked. Weird. he doesn't actually read the story ebcause he doesn't read much fiction but he's certainly there when I need to figure out my next move...

I have already set up the DOTEII webblog page, for those of you who are reading do not worry, I will try not to leave you hanging. :) ( don't want to leave me hanging either.) While I may know how this bloody thing ends I'd sure like to know how it gets to the end.....

------------

Spring is coming here. I am hoping that I won't be as sick this summer as I was last year. I woke up last night at midnight bathed in cold sweat, heart pounding , feeling nausious... this happens sometimes...This time instead of panicking I just did what I am supposed to do, Feet up, head low. I used one of the Tai Chi exersizes I learnt recently. lie still left hand on heart, right hand on abdomen and just breathe...After about ten minutes I relaxed.  This little exersize works beautifully. I hope we can continue with the Tai Chi classes even though everyone else has pretty much backed out. The teacher needs a certain amount of people to make it worth while or a certain amount of income so we'll have to see. What I do know is that since we have started these classes I feel better.

So... it's Sunday...probably henna my hair today, fix up the last chapter of book 1 and try to sort my schedual for next week out a bit. I have been falling asleep at 9pm lately but I put that down to spring sleepiness. Sometimes you just need to sleep when your body says sleep. What is nice is waking up and it is already light. :)

so ..have a nice Sunday everyone!

until then Be excellent to each other.

I love paper. I fawn over it, collect it, horde it and use it. My favourite paper companies are Clairefonatine, Fedrigoni and fabriano. One of the best thing as about being in the university system was access to nice paper and beautiful blank books.

My favourite note books of all sorts and sizes are from Clairefonatine. I have been using books from this company for over twenty years, as diaries, sketch books, note books and gifts. They have, without a doubt the best paper and the best prices for the quality of paper I have ever found. I love their stuff.

I have these crazy journals I kept while I was at Carleton U. Blank pages, sewn bindings with stiff laminated card covers and a cloth spine covering. They are still in great shape considering these books are 20 + years old and they have been schlepped all over the world.

Recently, although i have my own stash of empty notebooks with plain paper, lined paper or graph paper, small medium or large soft bound or hard bound...it has begun to nag at me where to be able to buy my beloved books. They are quite hard to find so i wrote to the company via the website and not only got a quick answer but was personally contacted by the local distributer.

So now... not only does their product impress me but so does their customer service. Today I got a spiffy paper hold in my hands catalogue in the mail and I had NO idea of the amazing range of papers avaliable. An artists and book binder's dream actually. ...DROOL...

http://www.clairefontaine.com/" title="http://www.clairefontaine.com/" target="_blank"http://www.clairefontaine.com...

So in this world of crappy companies who give lousy customer service here is one I am thrilled with. Beautiful paper, long lasting notebooks and excellent customer service.

---

until then be excellent to each other 

After an email from a young friend of mine, a very talented artist, which talked alittle about artist block I got to thinking about it.

I went through'artist block' for almost ten years. Well to me it seemed like block. I produced nothing but rubbish and hated everything...used to sit in front of the computer attempting to write and mostly sat staring at the computer screen for hours and hours...sometimes writing and rewritingthe same damned sentance over and over and over. I remember very clearly thinking 'I've lost it somehow... that I used to be incredibly creative...

Now, I look back at this period of time and I see it wasn't so much abour being blocked but having to work through other things. Can't do everyting at once although god knows I try.

Now I am in full blown creative mode. I still don't feel creative but in the last two or three years I have produced more work in paintings, illuminations, costumes and most of all writing than I had in the blocked years... But once a month, usually when I have concluded a chapter in my current project I hit that wall. At first I panicked...wondering how I was going to finish this mammoth project I'd started especially when others are actually reading it... but now, almost a year later I understand that it is not so much about being locked as it is about needing to take a day off and let the thoughts sort themselves out.

Sometimes you just need time out. Your creative brain needs to recharge and sift through the influences and all that other stuff of day to day life to take what it needs and junk what it doesn't. It feels like hell though but in the end I have come to see a pattern.

I stopped banging my head against that wall when the words stopped coming. and have come to see that when this happens it is my 'muse' for lack of a better word heading back to the source and sorting it all out...

So while I am currently editing chpt 11 and sorting out where to go next, I will not make a point of forcing the issue. The next bit will come when it comes, and then i will be writing away like mad wondering where the time went and how thehell I sat in front of my computer for a whole day and how I am gonna shut the endless conversations my characters seem to love to have in my head up...

These down times are when I get the house work done, house work seems to help me recharge the batteries, strange as that seems. Put the concious thought part of the brain on hold and let the subconcious part get to work, it eventually comes forward anyway...

When the blog story stopped being a silly blog and grew into a full blown novel ( over 500 pages single spaced in word now) I guess I sort of went... holy cow! I hadn't intended on doing this but it is what it is. Honestly, I can't wait for it to finish itself though. It's tiring in some ways and a lot of hard work. I like what I do but some days it's a heavy thing to carry around. Gotta get it out. argh!!!!! On one of the blogs I read , the author said, writing was sometiems like giving birth and you just want to scream gimme drugs gimme drugs.. and he was right it is like that. sometimes.

I oddly enough don't feel this way about painting. Painting is a bit like dance for me and it is not a big struggle. ( most of the time) I think my husband might argue this point with me, good job he doesn't read this blog then.

so today will be an edit, re read... laundry relax enjoy the sun sort of day. We go to Tai chi tonight ( yay)

until then, be excellent to each other.

It occurred to me as I introduce yet another character in my never ending sw saga from hell that ( to quote the nemoidians) This is getting out of hand...

Why all these new faces showing up? Is that how it is in real life? Do we meet up with so many people who influence our lives step in and out, appear, vanish then reappear? And the answer I came up with after some searching is...yes. At least in my life this is the case.

If I were to walk backwards and re meet all those people who have stepped in and out of my life but left their mark, I could probably not count them all. So when i stepped back from writing and trying to sort out this latest surprise in the end I had to accept he was here to stay. I sometimes feel, though as though it's too much. And have to ask why it is the characters who do suddenly pop in for a quick hullo and then linger do so. I mean it isn't exactly planned. In this case I needed a particular thing and to get that one thingI needed a person who merly knew and trusted... but the character I thought would do this was not the one who showed up. the one who showed up is actually kinda scary and I don't know a lot about him yet, except he seems to be fairly important and he makes people afraid......

Funny enough some of the characters I thought would be major are not. Stepping back to fill in the empty dance space every now and then but their influence over all is actualyl minor, others whom I figured were a cameo have decided that nope, they are major players and want headline name billing.  I have to tell you this cast of thousands is driving me a little crazy. Merly takes it all in stride though... and in the end so should I...because when I stop and think about it, this is how my life has been too. Especially when I was in my 20s.

So many new people stepped in and out of my life and MOST of them were male,  I have always had far more male friends than female friends at any given time. The Girlfriends I do have are extraordinary, and I need them... but there has definately been a very strong , dominant male influence as well. Many men of mystery....:) guys with pasts that required some digging to find the truth...

I am constantly amazed at how as I write this book thing from hades, how much I write from my own experience, okay not that bantha riding, galaxy hopping, star ship mechanic thing... but the emotions and the connections.. these are real.

So when another new player shows up I guess I should stop fighting them and welcome them with open arms and some curiosity...after all they do bring new elements int an already strange world. I just wonder how the hell this is all going to come together in the end because I actually have the ending written...getting there, untying all the knots and sorting out the threads... ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH.

If I ever do a massive rewrite it is gonna be hell!

be warned...

Until then be excellent to each other... 

After some serious egging on from a friend of hours, we eventually bought Babylon 5, all 5 seasons. the prive was amazingly good considering what tv shows on dvd generally cost. I have to say BIG bang for the money.

Here was a very very well thought out TV show, that went for 5 seasons, had an astonishing story arc and amazingly full and delightful characters.

We watched the last few episodes last night and as I sat there crying I though you know.. Star trek didn't make me experience this depth of emotion. I just didn't care that much about the characters.  Not to say that all the various ST incarnations aren't good, but B5 has something they don't.

I can safely say that in my life teh two best TV show series I have seen in a LONG time that are re watchable over and over are to this date, Firefly and B5.

Well written interesting characters whose lives are anything but perfect. Stories that touch the soul in some way that one cannot define and they stay with you a long long time. The very nice thing about owning the dvd is you can revisit these characters any time. Like re reading a favourite book.

Seems to me that as of late, extraordinary storytelling has vanished from the TV show scene.

Good SCi Fi is hard to come by. 

Until next time: live long and prosper!

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I heard Joanna Newsom's the Sprout and te Bean ages ago on a strange music video show that coupled her along with Bjork The annoying thing was this song stuck with me and I could not seem to get it out of my head. She has a peculiar voice and the melody played on the harp are almost haunting.

This is not everyone's cup of tea I understand but every now and then something different is a GOOD thing.

http://www.dragcity.com/bands/newsom.html" title="http://www.dragcity.com/bands/newsom.html" target="_blank"http://www.dragcity.com/bands... 

just thought I would share this unusual little song that seems to stick somehow.

Until then , be excellent to each other. 

I have them, god knows.... but when I read on a forum someone posting as a joke about doing physical harm to a pregnant woman , even as a joke, I get offended and I got angry. After the initial fury settled down and the debate started ( sort of) I started thinkingabout the impact words have.

The orgional poster claimed it was just a joke and that he'd never do anything like that but my after the fact question is then why make a joke about something like that? The mere fact that men are willing to joke about violence towards women, seems to me, to say an awful lot about the state of affairs we live in. So yeah I lost it.

I like to think I have a good sense of humour, I find Monty Python hilarious, witty humour that can be seen on TV shows like babylon 5 and Gilmore Girls makes me laugh. But there are things in this world that are not funny, liek that idiotic video show which often has home videos of people getting hurt, that's not funny. The Germans have a word for that kind of thing they call it Schadenfreude, the joy in someone else's misery. 

Making jokes about something that is a real and quite frankly dreadful problem, like beating up a woman says to me that many men don't seem to see it as a real problem. Joking about it belittles the issue. It somehow seems to say that it is okay to laugh at it and not take the issue all that serious. Maybe you wouldn't do it but thefact that you can make stupid jokes about it may mean that someone else will think it is okay.

There are a lot of things that get posted on several of the forums I am on that make me raise an eyebrow, some of it stupid bathroom guy talk...many many jokes back and forth about being gay etc.... I wonder sometimes if I am seeing how men / boys think when I read these posts, which generall go up like rapid fire. Are they making these silly statements and cracks to each other because in their hearts this is the sort of thing they fear?

It is somewhat confusing because pretty much all the men in my life who are friends or have a serious impact in my life do not talk like this, not even when they are with another group of men. Perhaps it is that I know a lot more European men and they just don't seem to be so concerned with the same issues, homosexulaity, having sex with what ever girl comes along, or the not having of sex which seems to be more or less the prevelant topic, or how they talk to women or would talk to women ...it is very confusing.

Most of the time when I read the boards I put the nonsense down to guy talk, although sometimes we girls do get a bit out of hand as well but in a different direction. I just wonder sometimes that if we all started seriously considering the impact our words have one the world in general woudl we still say the same hurtful, racist, sexist garbage that we seem so fond of saying?

When we say something that offends and upset another human being why can we not then say, 'I'm sorry that offended you. instead we take a stance and get even more riled up, now defending our right to have the freedom to say stupid things. Freedom of speech is a great thing but there comes a point when I should like to think that we as intelligent human beings think a little about what we say before we say it ( me included). I don't lose my temper all that often any more and almost always think twice before posting in anger, but every now and then someone/ something pushes that button and bang.

I often think that if we took a lot more care and consideration for our words as WELL as our actions this world would be a damn site happier than it is now.

---

until then, be excellent to each other.

think about it.

I feel like crap...

I just thought I'd share

Be excellent to each other

Words from a long ago room mate when he saw a TV commercial for paint... 

I have kept a journal for as long as I can remember, the forms shift and change but the words remain. Through high school and university I kept them in books,usually blank unlined pages because I liked to doodle and draw, and paint in them as well as stick movie tickets, pictures from magazines and news paper clippings and other odds and ends in them too. These are precious books and are a road map of where I have been.

I used to write poetry all the time, bad, angst filled stuff that makes me cringe, just a little, to read now. Very Sylvia Plath  and William Carlos Williams influenced. I don't write much poetry any more, but I still think it some times. I have a fondness for one liners.

Once, while I lived in Ottawa I found this very odd shop that sold very strange things for not a lot of money, it was a sort of second hand Bookshop with things lurking in the dimly lit and dust corners. In a box I found packages of greeting cards, the likes of which I had never seen before, bizaarly illustrated and often accompanied by peculiar annonymous quotes.

The one I woke up remembering this morning was:

"To create is to merge with love;
to give and be recieved by a viewer as a vision with no division."

Funny the things that stick with you through out time.

My favourite blank books in the world are made by a French company called Claire Fontaine. they are not terribly expensive and the paper is exquisite. I buy them in bulk when I can find them because they are not easy to come across. Right now I am using the small lined paperback books because that's what I keep my DOTE notes in. If I wake up in the middle of the night ( more like 4am) and have an idea a conversation in my head, it goes into the note book I keep on the bedside table. I drag it into the bathroom with me when I have a bath, and I always carry it in my satchel when I go any place that is out of thehouse. I feel naked without my note books. 

I can't shut my brain up; it is filled with toomany words and the only way to find some measure of peace is to vomit verbally, my words spill out onto pages via my pen and I don't remember writing them half the time.

I used to draw all the time as well, I stopped shortly after I graduated from Carleton. Not certain now why but it happened but it felt like an axe cutting off a limb. A lot of things died that year, and i changed. I remember that much. Took a  path which led the LONG way around...Now after all these years I slowly start to draw once more. I am not talking about the manuscript illumination stuff either, but the unabashed illustration of thoughts and ideas and stories. I used to be good at it but now....well lets just say I need to practice... a LOT.

I don't keep a hand written journal any more, not like I used to, I do this instead. Virtual, fleeting, wholly dependant on the stability of servers and ultimately the 1s and 0s that go into making the words readable.The machine language universally translated for us idiots who do not speak the perfect mother tongue.

I don't back track through this journal either. Once written the words are free to be what they wish to be... my return path lost in the wash of html back buttons...But my hand written gems are treasures to my past. A guide to what I once was and where I once trod. The person who was in the process of becoming me.

Verbal clutter, it is awfully hard to dust though...

27.03.87 "and like ghosts in the landscapes they pass unseen, unsure, momentary statues to a timeless theme."

words... it is all I have to offer.

Until then, be excellent to each other.

In a dream I once had a voice whispered this to me in my ear. i woke up wit the words still ringing out loud. Be thou a blythe spirit, of bright and cheerful countenance. I remember waking up, I was in Tortola at the time on a boat, thinking what the heck is that supposed to mean? The strange thing is these words have often come back at the oddest times and almost as if they themselves are some magic tonic, when i recall them I relax ( as much as I am able to) and let shit go.

I come to this topic because someone asked on the WH forums about your worst/ strangest dreams... and I had to think about that because I don't get nightmares as a rule and my strangest dreams are generally the dreams with messages or foretelling. Most of the precog style dreams I have ever had have come true. I pay attention to my dreams because when i do remember the vivid technocolour dolby surround soudn ones ... there is usually something coming, happening, going to happen or big hulking change and I am being prepared for it.

Lately I don't dream much. That is to say the dreams I have are just brain babble, remnants of the tv show we watched nothing more. Dull, black and white mono sound. I used to worry about this when I would go through these phases but now I know it's just normal ...down time for the subconcious and my weirding sense is offline for the time being...all is well in cookoo land.

On my other blog ( sort of like cheating but not quite) I write about words, here I write about dreams... but the two are definately connected. 

I didn't wake up with any great revelation this morning just the burning desire to wake my husband so he could make coffee. Which he did, god love him.

It is saturday, we will go shopping buy groceries, wood for the fire, and treats.  I will slog it out some with my writing, breeze through Strunk and White to try and get my unabashed love of commas under control and drink copeous amounts of tea, probably fresh ginger tea because it is good for what ails me. Chances are Firefly will be on in the background...

The day woke with silver grey and it feels still, like snow is coming except it's not cold enough any more for snow,when the precipitation does come it will be rain, which is also okay. Tonight chances are we will go downstairs and watch babylon 5, cannot say enough good things about that show, what a gem it was and I am glad we have it on dvd, and relax...in as much as we can.

Some days are just normal and for that I am eternally grateful.

Until then, be excellent to each other.

I had my second SC therapy session on wednesday. It left me feeling light headed and weirdly twisted. I think I have already mentioned this... the cool thing is once the after effects wore off the next day I got a lot done and I feel my body shifting. This is a good thing, believe me. I cannot believe I waited this long to start this but then again... everything happens exactly when it is supposed to. I should listen to my own self sometimes.

I went back and browsed some of my old journals, I have been keeping , albeit sporadic, a written journal of some kind for as long as I can remember. Whimsical, sad, questioning, sometimes terrible and always very honest it was a strange experience to see in words how I felt at the age of 16, 19, 26, and so on....something never change and i see the patterns in the way I have chosen to live this life. What astounded me the most was the absolute hope which permiated everything, despite the traumas and the negative words and the bitter sorrows... all through every post, every, entry every line there is this tiny little spark of hope and I know that is what kept me alive.

I have thought so often about suicide, even attempted it, ( not very thouroughly admittedly) but never carried through I did wonder why and now I know.. I hoped that things would get better. Some where in my addled pisspot brain I believed they would improve... and they did, or amybe it was just me who improved. I once read that you create your own environment and if you see rain then that's what you get, if you see sun then that's what you get. That's a version of  the half full / half empty glass thing.... I have always maintained I am just bloody happy to have something at all in the glass.

I remember being ten years old and staring through the tiny storm window pane that opened outinto the crystal clear night sky, looking at a star and writing my first serious poem. I have that written down some place too... not sure where though...I remember very clearly thinking I hoped that what ever it was that allowed me to see this beauty in the world, to see with the eyes of a child never left me because i did not want to lose that part of my soul. I was ten.

I am driven by passion. And it would stand to reason that some of this ability to see the world through the eyes of that ten year old woudl slolw slough off, but you know what? It hasn't. As i walked up stairs last night I looked up through the glass roof, yeah we really do have a glass roof, and I saw stars. Crystal clear and twinkly. And it took my breath away. I never tire of this. I never tire of seeingthe sun rise, or set, or of how the light dances in the air and kisses the mountains. I never tire of learning that I could see a comet ( morning twilight boys and girls a comet is there to be seen by all) and I never tire of knowing that beauty is everywhere in everything all around us...

sometimes I get so bogged down in the day to day shit of life i forget, that life is beautiful. Pain is fleeting and these burdens we schlep around with us are nothing more than spider web threads, push hard enough and you can break free.

I hold my breath. I have forgotten how to breathe. F. and his therapy is teaching me how to do this again and it is the strangest sensation. Breathe too much and I get headaches from the sudden inlfux of O2. Why do I hold my breath, what on earth am I waiting for.

It is cold here today. my fingers are icy, not unusual... I could double and a medical cold pack some days...and typing while good exersize doesn't seem to warm the digets up any.

...so it's back to the grind I say that lovingly of course because writing is not a grind it is a love and the time vanishes while i am in this other world. There is something remarkably extraordinary about being able to dip into this second space, this alternative universe and play. Hold dialogue, explore, kiss with passion, fight with demons, know fear, explore anger and wake up to find myself sitting in this chair, my tea gone cold. Every third of fourth day, this story unfolds a little more for me. Some little hidden mystery reveals itself and i move one step closer to the fore gone conclusion, I say that because I already know how this ends and beyond although the beyond is just in my head not actual words yet... mostly just for me to smile at and know...( a writer's secret)

And now I am sufficiantly cold enough to want to lounge, like a lizard, in a hot bath. I hope everyone take a few moments to look at the star and seek out a comet... it is there you know...

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until then... be excellent to each other

So, yesterday was session two with the SC therapist. He spent an hour massaging the stress and tension out of me, and that felt very odd. I do not relax. I carry all my tension and stress, sorrows and heartache around with me as though it were a knapsack full of burden upon my back. At one point during the session, although i was lying perfectly straight, i felt as though I were all twisted up, I could 'see' and 'feel' were all the twists and contortions in my spine were. If that is me on the inside no wonder i am a mess.

These sessions are hard to describe. One leaves feeling almost high, certainly light headed and a bit dizzy, but in a really good way...Yesterday, afterwards concentration was non existant and I spent most of my day in a bit of a haze, relaxed but not quite there. I know I need this though, and the therapist is astonishing. He has quite the gift. I knew sooner or later I woudl be doing something along these lines but I needed to find teh right person, an awful lot of trust goes into this and it's hard to find someone I trust that much.

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So now we are back home and things gradually get back to normal, piles of laundry to do, dishes to sort out and dust to chase down.

The writing is in my head atm, and while I sit and do some my concentration has been down, I blame that on that time of the month. It's a pattern I have become familiar with. That and trying to invent a language to go along with it. Now things are back on the go again, ideas over flow andthe story reveals itself to me bit by astonishing bit. The biggest thing that surprises me is how much I enjoy it. I always loved to write, I wonder sometimes if I had been encouraged a little more and if I had also had more self drive if I would not be doing it on a professional level now, but then again who knows...I am not very self driven to be famous or publish, I just like to do.....although the fact that this is a public 'blog style' story and there are readers has helped rather than hindered the writing process. I need a kick in the arse every now and then... encouragement big time. So it was a good choice to publish this way, and it helps keep me going.

On the SCA front, things are quiet. Not much in the way of scrolls to be done and no real contact with most of teh kingdom. Even the main list is quiet. I don't mind this and I enjoy the down time. I have some blank scrolls done just in case but mostly I am working on a few mundane projects as gifts for firneds, long long over due gifts I might add. I never see teh value of my own work, prefering to buy presents for people than make them. I always felt that home made presents were cheap and meant I was poor. But this is a very straneg way to look at things. I never thought that anyone would want something I had made. I need to learn to value my art and my work. I need to learn to somehow value myself. It is a very odd thingto come to terms with.

Now I have a list of things to do, and since I am incredibly slow with stuff like this, these will take me a while. still the fact that I have even begun at all is amazing.

When do we learn to hate ourselves and more importantly why? I can pin point certain moments in my life that have not helped my self esteme along any but why is it that we grasp so readily on the negative and refuse to see the positive? This foundation of self depreciciation is awful and hard to shake. I know I am better than this but I knock myself down all the time, hearing whispered words from my past over and over again. Why can we not get rid of these nasty little voices?

One of the things i realised yesterday during my session was that my brain does not shut up. F. said do not thing for about 5-10 minutes no thoughts... it was impossible.

IN my own book I write, from one character to another 'Do not seek the stillness, be the stillness.' why can I not follow my own advice? I never stop thinking and my head never shuts off. F. tells me I am disconnected body, brain, soul and I knwo he is right. So how does one reconnect the dots.... well we are working on that.  but it is , at 40 years of age, a hard process to do. So much damage done and only now am I ready to face all these deamons from my past so that I can go to what ever is coming next.

I know these moments though, and have experienced enough to see the patern of things to come. Down time to prepare for the next step. I remember clearly telling my friend, C. that I was headed away, far away... I had thought Australia but in the end I came back to Europe.  I have always known when things were on the move and always known what I needed to do to get there even if it meant making choices no one else agree'd with or understood. I sense that this is preparation time... though for what i couldn't tell you. Can't even say if it will be good or bad...I just know that once again I have that distinct 'something is coming' feeling and I need to be ready.

In the meant ime I will write, do house work, be a wife and try to come to terms with me as I am now not as I was or will be. Can only deal with the now, the past has happened and the future is just a dream. Lessons learned put into play...

Until then...be excellent to each other.