Burn the list.

I have a continual list of things that need doing in my mind. It includes things like doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, etc., but it also includes things that have been on there for years, like write novel, lose weight and buy new clothes... I've found, however, that this is absolutely crippling. What a way to feel like you've gotten nothing done. Like, ever.

My current process

As you may have noticed in a previous blog, I said today I would get up at 5:45. However, I didn't get the sunroom cleaned up, I didn't get to bed on time, and while I tried to make my oats the night before, I literally melted the copper bottom off the pot I was boiling water in. Helps if you actually remember what you are doing when doing it, I suppose. Live and learn, amirite?

Having a list makes you focus on the things that you didn't do, rather than the things that you did do, unfortunately. I have become so wholly overwhelmed by the 40 things still remaining, rather than congratulating myself on the fact that I got out of my own head long enough to change the cat litter. Trust me, that one thing is more important than 95% of the other stuff on there (especially to the cats), and yet that one tick mark gets lost among the 'pay credit card bill' and 'fold laundry' that regularly take up space.

I have been a lister my whole life. I make lists for Steve, for my dog, for my job and for my studies (both formal and informal). Is it ironic that I just made a list of lists? (Answer: no. Go back to school!) But I'm starting to think I should burn the lists and start from scratch. Don't add the crap that doesn't matter, and litter it with things like 'drink tea' and 'have a kitty cuddle session'. 'Take dog for walk' and 'scratch nose'. 'Have bubble bath' and 'wear pajamas'.

I've done this. Because I am a fucking genius.

I won't even go into how much the idea of burning my ongoing to-do list terrifies the shit out of me. It's like cutting off the chain to the anchor and dropping it. It's like ripping the wings off a dragonfly and then throwing it off a 20-story building. My lists are like programming and my brain doesn't know what to do without them...

So I'm going to do a meditation tonight. I am going to spend 20 minutes imagining what it would be like to simply go through life taking care of what presents itself, and not worrying about the 'shoulds'. I will force myself to face that lightning bolt of dread that courses through my chest and settles in my stomach. I will review it, roll it around in my hands, look at it from all angles. What's the best outcome? What's the worst outcome? What's the likeliest outcome?

Then I will take a deep breath in, until it's this side of painful, and then take a little more. I will hold that breath, infusing it with my fears, until my scalp tingles. I will hold it, until I can feel it spreading into my bronchial tubes, overcoming and absorbing the stale air that's filled with chaos and angst and rage. Then I will release, slowly, and feel myself deflate. Feel my muscles release. Feel my heart find level ground. Feel my head's thrum lessen and a lightness come into me. Then I will do it again. And again. Until the bitch in my head shuts up and the little girl can get a word in edgewise.

I hope I will find freedom in releasing my shoulds. I suspect that 99% of what's on that list is shit that doesn't even matter in a small scheme of things, let alone a big one. Then I may start a new one. I will include things like 'hug Steve' and 'take a nap'. I will focus on what's in front of me, not what is behind me. I will not give face time to things that don't matter, that won't either a) bring me happiness or b) bring me peace.

Wish me luck. If I come in tomorrow looking like Doc Brown, you'll know why.

Yawp

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” 
- Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night

Kurt Vonnegut is my Shakespeare. I think it will be decades, if not centuries, before we fully explore his wit, nuances and subtleties to a point where we can honestly say we understand him. He was a rare man, who could be savage, visceral and yet gently humorous at the same time, and I am absolutely fascinated by him. He never shied away from the messiness that was the human experience, but rather embraced it, making literary mud pies that haunted my dreams for years.

He also might have been on to more than we yet realize...

This quote of his always strikes me as one of his best, and I wonder if he realized how much quantum physics backed up this statement. He probably did, and he also probably didn't give a shit.

No, I don't want to get into the philosophical quagmire that is the question, "What is real?" You couldn't pay me enough to get into that, and there are MUCH more intelligent people than me that have braved it and drowned. Like a nautilus shell, it simply spirals down until your brain becomes jelly and slowly oozes out your ear.

That being said, I don't think we're meant to understand the full concept of reality, at least not at this time. As physical beings, we are limited by meat, by organs, by viscous fluids and neural synapes - computers can only work as well as their components, and our components are not cutting edge, by any means. Is being a physical being an amazing, enlightening journey? Absolutely. But are we any further along to understanding our world than we were when we played peek-a-boo as a kid? Not at all.

Motherfucker, how the hell did you do that? 

So if this is the case, why do we focus on it so much? The unknown has fascinated us since we were able to bipedal our way across the Olduvai Gorge just to see what was going on over there. We are obsessed with learning 'what it all means' and what's around the next corner, that the concept of who we are now completely eludes us. There are a million books out there on how to be mindful and the benefits of such. I don't think anyone questions that being in the present moment would alleviate a lot of the stupid shit we get ourselves into when leaving our brains to their own devices. So why is it so hard for us? Why does the steady march of time, which is only a basic concept that we've created so we can submit our billable hours, need to be faster, better, stronger? Whatever happened to massaging the moment, milking it for all we can before moving on to the next experience? 

I think we're so far ahead of ourselves that our asses are moving faster than our heads. This concept comes up a lot in things like ethics and superhero movies.

We can, but Christ on a cracker, why??

The dramatic increase in anxiety, depression and general unhappiness in the world is directly related to this increase in reality, I think. We don't like to be alone with our thoughts. We leave the TV on for background noise, we play mindless games online, we do anything and everything to 'keep busy' rather than stopping to ask ourselves "Am I ok?" If we did, we're realize that we aren't, not by a long shot. And I hate to tell you this, but we're not supposed to be. We are lazy, complacent motherfuckers, and the only way we progress forward is by necessity. We will delay personal transformation until the last possible freaking moment and some people have even been known to prefer death to getting off their arses and making the changes that are needed to move forward. 

We've gotten into our heads that faster, bigger, and easier is better, but it's all distraction. We've gotten so high up on our technological advances that we've stopped trying to be better people. We have no idea how to connect to each other anymore. We spend more time pretending we are who want to be, and ignoring the awesomeness of who we actually are. How the hell is anyone supposed to know us, to connect with us when we can't even connect to ourselves?

We've relegated the important areas - arts, philosophy, kindness, silence - to soundbites we put on our Facebook walls against pictures of trees/oceans/skies, bury it in cat memes and then argue about how much we disagree with things other people are doing that have zero bearing on our own lives.

"Pick a fight elsewhere, asshole, we control the interwebs."

I invite every one of you to spend 20 minutes with your own thoughts. No music, no tv, no computer. Try to remember what you were like as a kid and think with that brain again. Reconnect to the time where you thought your bicycle was the coolest thing ever, when that Jem lunch box completed you, when the X-Men cartoon was the shit. When going to a park and running around like a maniac in your underwear was a perfect day. When getting licked on the face by your dog wasn't gross, it was awesome. When being held by your parent/grandparent/caregiver meant absolute peace.

Now think about your day today. What would it have been like to go through your day with the mindset of that kid? How much richer would your life and what you contribute to the world be, if you brought that mindset to your day-to-day tasks? 

Life is messy. We're not here to figure it out. If entropy has taught us anything, it's that neatly organized chaos is a waste of time. We're here to be passionate. We're here to fart and poop and run until our lungs explode. We're here to laugh, to cry, to scream. We're here to experience so much emotion that it feels like our skin will fly off if we can't release it into the universe. To sound our barbaric yawps over the roofs of the world (yes, I know that's Whitman, not Vonnegut, now stfu). I'm talking about embracing the world with no regrets, no expectations and no illusions. Be the person you want to be, and your world will become what you want it to be. Reality is an illusion, the only real thing is your thoughts, and the world you create with them. That is literally it. Craft your world into the snowglobe of your dreams, and let your heart take flight.

... Yawp.

Has anyone seen my jacket?

I'm starting to realize I have a strong fear of success. I've looked at all my fears over the last few years while doing shadow work, and I don't fear death, loneliness, infirmity or crisis, mostly because I've experienced them, or explored my feelings about them enough to become familiar with them. But I fear rejection, and I fear success. This leads to basically not trying - an apathy that is both comforting and confining, like a cozy strait jacket.

It's white and snug and has a cute belt!

I'm not sure why I have this fear... perhaps because then it begins to feel like competition and that stresses me right the fuck out. I don't want to compete. I don't want to win by creating hardship for others... what is the point of that? And even if you get to the top, you then have to fight to keep it? Fuck that noise, thank you very much. I've got better shit to do, like hug my dog and annoy my husband.

I've got a terrible relationship with stress - I was diagnosed with stress-induced epilepsy at age 9. My sister called me 'Space Jellyfish' and told me it was when the aliens were talking to me... it actually kind of pissed me off that I never remembered what they said.

This was also the picture beside the
word 'gullible' in the dictionary.

Stress makes me want to hide, it makes me avoid family, friends, or situations where someone may focus on me. I prefer to be invisible, an introvert - I actually kind of envy the old time hermits that would live in a 10'x10' cabin in the woods and talk to scat for company. Or a cave... a cave would do. I can share it with my dragons.

As life has a wicked, terrible, ironic and malicious sense of humour, I think my coping skills absolutely fucking suck as well, unless hyperventilating and throwing up is a positive result of facing something you don't want to... I'm pretty sure they aren't, though they're possibly healthier than some people's:

'Spirit guide' takes on a whole new meaning.

I've spent a long time exploring how my past has affected my day-to-day actions and reactions. Growing up in a stressful household made me hyper-vigilant (so, basically in a state of constant tension), made me breathe shallowly to be noticed less, made me have stomach issues and run the threat of an ulcer at age 17, given me horrific blood pressure and a relationship with food that, while delicious, is probably not the comfort I need. 

OK, great, so we now know what the issues are. Now what? That's what people never tell you. You go through this whole process of dissecting yourself, of examining your flaws, your fears, the things that strangle you to keep you in your comfort zone even when you're not trying to leave it. But then that's it... they don't tell you that, once you know all this, you now need to go through an agonizing growth process that hurts like hell and is more steps back than it is forward until eventually you come out the other side and realize that you've changed - so 5 years of struggle, angst and hardship for a 30-second 'huh, guess what' before moving on...  Perhaps I should have considered that before starting the process, but that picture above was also beside the word 'obtuse' in the dictionary... it was a pretty lazy dictionary.

We all search for the elusive 'a-ha' moment. That moment gives us the momentum and motivation to continue to grow despite the pain, but sometimes the pendulum swing isn't high enough and we just kind of end up on our hamster wheel, running hell bent for leather but getting nowhere. At that point we need to find the momentum in ourselves, and this is where I'm at, I think. 

I look back at myself 5 years ago, 10 years ago, and I was a very, VERY different person. I attribute my change to two things: finding people who embrace weirdness as much as I do, and being too exhausted to give a shit what people think anymore. I could get into how finding the people whose demons play well with mine means that I changed enough to attract what was healthier for me, blah blah blah, etc., etc., and so on, but who's got time for that? But we often forget that change is a gradual thing, usually imperceptible to the people experiencing it on a daily basis.

Well, I'm here to tell you you're changing, even without trying. Every decision gives you an insight you didn't have before. Every interaction gives you a perspective you hadn't considered. Everything you witness changes you - you can't be in society and remain the same, because it is an absolute clusterfuck of insanity that will drag you along in it's wake at the slightest opportunity. It will force-feed you reality, in all its horrifying, beautiful, crazy, confusing, magical and chaotic beauty until you gag, and if you don't digest it, you'll just choke and hide (because that was gross, and no one wants to be around you now). So the changes are there. But it's up to you to work with the momentum, pump your legs on the swing of experience, fly high to see the big picture, and make your choices to the best of your ability, consequences be damned.

And if you happen to see my jacket while you're up there, let me know. 

The Importance of Finishing Your Plate... and Silence

Lately I've been overwhelmed. This happens on occasion, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. I see it as a signal that I need to slow down, to deal with the crap currently on my plate rather than heading for seconds, or a different meal altogether. Unfortunately, at this point, I'm not wanting to deal with the yam of chores, the beets of self-reflection or the asparagus of premaking meals... I want to sit with the bubble gum of crappy romance novels, the eclair of Sims 3 and the cheesecake of binge-watching Castle... great, I forgot where I was going with this, and now I'm hungry.

Seeing your neuroses in your food is normal, right?

Let me explain a little further. In December I went to see a wonderful woman who is an Ayurvedic Wellness Counsellor. She had many great ideas, ones that I wholeheartedly want to incorporate into my life. Unfortunately, I also whole-assedly want to sleep until the last possible moment, eat bread and drink copious amounts of black tea with cream and sugar. Please note the difference in schedules:

Goal
5:45am	Wake up, do gassho and gratitude blessings.
5:50am	Take fenugreek seeds, shot of apple cider vinegar (don't inhale), make green tea, eat steel cut oats, wake up more.
6:15am	Get dressed, feed ravenous horde (cats)
6:40am	Go to work, drink tulsi tea throughout day, and water.
5:00pm	Get home, take out dogs to pee, do some chores, make lunch for next day.
5:30pm	Have dinner (finish by 6pm).
6:00pm	Work on business, muck about on FB, take out dogs again.
7:00pm	Turn electronics off. Meditate. Do small yoga for pancreas.
8:00pm	Read, listen to music.
8:45pm	Soak feet, then massage.
9:30pm	Go to bed.
Reality
5:45am	Doesn't even register.
5:50am	Steve (husband) shakes me to turn off alarm. I pull my arm from the cocoon and haphazardly slap around until it shuts up. Haha! Victory!
6:15am	Really? Wasn't it 5:45 like 2 seconds ago? Where's Stev...zzzzz
6:45am	CRAP I MISSED THE BUS
6:59am	Take fenugreek seeds with shot of apple cider vinegar. Forgot to not inhale, head explodes. Put head back on.
7:00am	Grab bus to work, with toothpaste stains on shirt and makeup smears. Forgot to brush hair and smell like mint and sour apple. Super.
8:00am	Arrive late, grab muffin and Tim's steeped tea (hello Dark Mother).
12:00pm	Buy lunch, as forgot to make at home last night.
5:00pm	Get home, take first dog out to pee.
5:02pm	Take second dog out to pee.
5:07pm	Take first dog out to pee again, as he needs to see what the second one did.
5:10pm	Dog heard noise outside, is going to asplode if doesn't check it out.
5:12pm	Tell dog to shut the fuck up, I’m not taking him out again.
5:15pm	Screw it, I'll do the dishes tomorrow.
6:00pm	Crap, forgot to eat dinner. We have pizza right? No? Cereal it is.
6:15pm	Watch TV while eating dinner and dicking around on FB.
7:00pm	Alarm goes off to meditate. Hit snooze for 10 mins.
7:10pm	OK, after this episode.
7:45pm	At least do the pancreas yoga pose.
7:46pm	Fuck that, that hurts!! Make mental note to make physical note to get thicker yoga mat. Again.
7:47pm	I'll meditate, that'll help.
8:00pm	Finally pick meditation music, get dogs settled, try to meditate.
8:05pm	Have to pee. Dammit.
8:15pm	Fuck it, can't concentrate.
8:16pm	Take dogs out to pee.
8:17pm	Go pee.
8:30pm	Take dogs out to pee.
8:40pm	Damn, I'm hungry.
8:45pm	Make foot bath with lavender and rosemary EOs. Dammit, out of lavender. Dammit, where'd my rosemary go?
8:50pm	Make cats stop drinking my foot bath. Turn on bubbles, laugh hysterically as they hit the ceiling. TOTALLY worth the mess.
9:10pm	Massage shins, calves and feet with oil. Try not to get the dog covered as he rolls around knocking over bottles of $28 essential oils.
9:30pm	Take dogs out to pee.
9:45pm	Shit, forgot to make lunch. Meh, I'll buy it tomorrow. I'll just finish this episode.
10:00pm	Don't even look at clock, watch another Castle episode.
11:00pm	One more episode won't kill me right?
12:00pm	*yawn* why am I so tired? Motherfucker! I'm gonna be tired tomorrow.
12:01am	Take dogs out to pee.

I keep trying to tell myself that there is valor in trying, that there is honour in the effort. Yeah, that's it. But in my mind I'm still telling myself that I'm not trying hard enough. The ennui I've been immersed in is drowning me - I'm having a hard time making myself care in the moment, to find the momentum to pull myself to a higher vibration and get shit done. So I try again. I don't want to do it all at once and doom myself to failure. I do manage to give myself the foot bath, and meditate. I am trying to eat healthier, and shockingly the tulsi tea tastes good to me. I feel like if I can do the 5:45am thing, the rest will be easier to fall into place, but damn, I sure enjoy sleep - it's one of the few times my joints and muscles don't hurt. Plus, it is infinitely harder to get out of bed when you have a horse of a dog curled up beside you, snoring away contentedly.

I think the other thing I need to do is uninstall Sims 3 from my computer. There is something so comforting about building the houses, creating the people and controlling every aspect of their day, though. I can't control my own life, but I can control the life and death and everything in between of these tiny pixels for hours upon hours... mostly because they HAVE to listen to me and I never fuckin' listen to myself. But frankly I think it's become unhealthy.

"Hi, Reality? Yeah, I'd like to cancel my subscription..."

So we have a plan, yes? Starting next week I'll start to get up at 5:45. Right now I'm operating on 3 hours of sleep per night, and I'm so overtired, I'm having hallucinations about things, like finishing a task at work and having lost weight. That CAN'T be good, right? I'll let you know how it goes... depending on what time I get up.

PS: I just reread this... This is what it's like in my brain... no wonder I like to sleep, it's the only time the damn thing shuts up.

Pilot

So this is the part where I introduce the characters, set up the overall premise and try to grab your attention. Let me start by saying that I am not Japanese, and in no way am I meaning or trying to appropriate the Japanese culture. I'm sorry if that's what it feels like. I *may* be part Mongolian, which could actually be worse, or could be better. I have no clue.

I guess the second point to make is that there will be cursing. By the old gods, there will be cursing. Possibly even an MF bomb on occasion, as warranted. If that offends you, I'm terribly sorry. Now fuck off. I find language to be a fluid, dynamic and beautiful thing, and to stifle myself by boycotting certain words is akin to cutting off my middle finger. I *could* still type, write, eat, but it would be with less enjoyment. I would no longer be able to do silly things like steal a nose, or ... well, other stuff.

I think I found my spirit totem.

So, here I am. I have an odd assortment of friends, most of whom don't know each other, though that's been changing the last few years. I've developed a tribe of sorts, full of wild women who give zero fucks, who chase big dreams like dogs chase cars, who live with their hearts wide open and brave the slings and arrows, and even the occasional cannonballs, that life throws their way. I have accumulated a tribe of inspirerers, survivors, and crazy people, and I love them. They live across the continent, some a stone's throw away (ok, I can't throw that far - maybe a quarter tank of gas away), some a journey of 3,000 miles. All I would walk through fire for. 

I also have a husband who I fall in love with over and over. It's kind of amazing, actually. He is pretty much the opposite of what I expected my soul mate/twin flame/demon play date to be, but the more I know him, the more I realize how perfect he is for me. That being said, we could divorce tomorrow, I dunno. I drive him nuts, he drives me nuts. Nothing is certain, and that's alright (I think... I'm getting there... *breathe*).

I've discovered that you are who you associate with, or at least I am. If you surround yourself with people who trigger and push the worst in you, you will be continually at your worst, and any form of momentary happiness will be lost, no matter how hard you try to remain positive. Happiness is a choice, but that choice comes from a myriad other minuscule decisions you made along the way. 

Pilot episodes are usually awkward, for at least two people - the person trying to find the vibration to connect to those they're interacting with, and the person watching. I'm going to consider this a good pilot, because while you may have found this awkward to read, I don't give a shit what you think, so already I'm ahead. This is a test to see if my verbal diarrhea is sustainable on a regular schedule (of sorts). I'll try to do one a week, I may do 7 a week one week and then miss 2 weeks. I may disappear. I seriously have no idea, but hey, at least I'm honest, right? Right? Hello?