Category: Stream of Thought

Born gentle as a light bringer to love and heal – turned dark and determined to beat back hell’s demons.

Force of impact by blasts of rage is all that ever burst open locked cellar hatches blocking her rise to ascension.

It is here where being nice gets you nowhere.

She could not reconsile the vast, horrendous difference between her life’s work of positive, mindful intention – and the truth of what eventually happened by the works of another’s undermining hand

Sometimes, I hate that I am one of the first.

It is f-ing painful and lonely out here.

What the f*** do I need to do to heal and get to where I need to go?

Suffering can be a part of life – but life is not about suffering!

Maybe I need to find a niche support group.

The body assaulted by virus and pain throughout every inch of crisis territory dives deep into oblivion, waiting for the chance to get back out into fresh air, help other people heal, and generate income again.

Is it better to have an empty head, having captured and written down thoughts – or to have a head bustling full of them, competing for notice?

The way a person adapts and evolves is important to me.

One must fill it with their self to become properly identified.

She had to break off scenes from her memory and cast them out to sea so that they no longer plagued her.

This mean, nasty cold has got me.

I have come this far by sheer will’s determination.

How do I establish new patterns that deflect hell’s descension?

Because we are kindred, and kindred for me is rare.

At least I showed up.

At least, I tried.

After approximately six months of just sheer endurance, one lavendar epsoms bath acquired.

Hal.

Leh.

Lu.

Jah.

One must believe that it IS going to ease up and that the body will heal, eventually…

Efuvius

Low income, create income, challenges hit, someone is sick, I get sick, lose income.

She had to begin with someone anonymous to her, who was already partnered so that they could get right down to the grist of collaborative synergy without fear of transference crossovering.

She knew that within her was a power capable of transforming those she came into contact with; she was a catalyst and had to be mindful in everything that she was doing.

As they exchanged concepts and ideas regarding proceeding, she confessed to him that acting had been like a “no-go” zone for her – that it had been somehow impressed upon her that if she stood out and expressed herself, she would be attacked and ridiculed.

She angled the Zoom camera so that he could see her hand gently cradling that trembling part of her hidden identity as she asked him to guide this vulnerable part of herself with gentle, nourished safe-keeping.

The wonderful part was that he completely understood and that they shared a commonality in their language of mutual, complex, deeper interrelating of concepts and thematics.

She was thrilled to get to have this oportunity with one so skilled and willing to help advance her externalization.

I used to delve deep into the subconscious web of dreaming we can all tap into if we are open and willing.

I used to enter a room and find him there, doing something. Sometimes we would share thoughts and other times, just exchange impressions.

Then one day, she infiltrated into our connection, pushing an arm hard against me, begging me to let them be – to give her this chance to make him happy.

I had been drawn by his and my rare connection, unsure if what they were doing was for show or pure intention – but was so startled that I let her input affect me.

If he is going to walk that external path and she truly wants this opportunity, I do not belong in the middle of it.

There is an underlying honor system to such things and he has not been advocating for me, directly.

Since then, I have been closing off our internal communications – for afterall, they could all just be inside my “head,” like some internal-loop fantasy.

But it hurts to be without him, and when I feel him there, my heart takes flight and I’m someone I’ve only dreamed of being.

“How do I manifest this feeling into my reality?”

Is this even the right phrasing to be choosing?

Of the pair, the one that represented me has gone missing.

I am not surprised by this (in fact, I felt it coming) for to think that I could be partnered with one of his caliber has been replaced by his newfound mistress “reality.”

It wasn’t something that I had planned for, anyway.

It was based upon “sending’ dreams – and clearly the messengers got their wires crossed.

They were wrong – and they just have to admit it.

Perhaps it is best that the stone got lost, as it represented me – and once he chose another, I kept feeling like the stones’ pairing made me as an interloper.

But the question is raised as to my not liking this repeat resulting.

That gorgeous stone represented me tremulously reaching to acknowledge my own beauty.

Now she is gone – that representation of me – and I am erased again, left to my own reforming.

Ah, for you get to see my innate tendency to laugh and play – to seize the day! – were I truly and wonderously free to indulge in luxury.

Caw! Caw!

I am finding fellow expressionists!

Caw! Caw!

Move these blocks out of the way to make the best of this!

Listen, I know that I could be hard to keep up with – and I’ve been given way too much negative messaging.

But if you stay and observe awhile, you’ll see my patterns are valiant, loving, attentive, and caring.

The concept that a guy would want to partner with her while she engaged this resurgence of synergy did not make sense to her.

There were depths and levels in this self discovery that required flexibility and openly-honest responding.

From the mess that had been her life before, she had not gained any positive reinforcing in relationships – unless she stayed distant and cultivated surface-interface kinship.

“I do not understand,” he said. ” I just need help to make my team stronger”

She repled: “I can see that it’s hard to let go, but try allow the current to carry you along.”

(Trading “A show for a song”)

My life has seemed to contain a lot of misery.

Yet, I’ve been hopeful and optimistic through the direst extremes.

So why now do I feel like giving up, when glimpses of light behind clouds begin peeking inbetween?

What others more easily gain by the simplicity of their line, I have had to fight every inch for against bewildering complexity.

Why is survival a gift, yet not a right?

The constant struggle for survival can suck vivacity from one’s youth, leaving a person war-torn, bitter, and just “done” with everything.

She did not want to be associated with nor interact with a man that engaged in infidelity and/or that automatically categorized her.

I am amazed that we have made it thus far on my own resourcefulness in any given moment for obtaining resources.

It is by recalibrating innovation that I have and continue to captain this journey.

My life is a constant venture out to sea while attempting to provide my family with land of stabile security upon which they may grow more endurantly.

We still do not have the dryer working, even though it ought to be a priority.

We went back and forth with the neighbor maintenance helper trying to arrange a conversion for the mismatched 3-prong cord to 4-hole plug in the wall.

Being unable to have our schedules align for final verdict put off just buying a simple converter.

And besides, I still have to take all of my client linens to the laundry.

I always try to have one – even if I’m stuck on my belly, scabbling up an incline covered in loose shale while struggling to obtain it.

At least then, gravity’s weight can be used to one’s advantage.

When one is spent yet keeps giving every cent, it is hard to reset when hit gaps in income while trying to make rent.

If you are sick, do not expose other people to it.

Plain and simple for normal appointments.

I caught the cold from the client on the tale end of one.

It has been difficult enough to make this month’s income.

Of course I am cancelling clients to ensure it does not get passed on!

But where’s the financial buffer for an independent provider?

As she waited in line to order, she noticed the guy behind the counter as the one that before had caught her attention.

Older than the rest of the staff, he had nice skin and was into some body building.

Usually, she did not look long, and rarely did she make any eye contact.

But today, she did both – at the same time he broke his usual distant mode and broke both, right back looking at her.

Flustered, she resolved to not keep looking, and focused on stretching her arms against her body, for they were spasmed tight from three days of intense work.

But then, he broke pattern and walked against the flow of customers to just in front of her to firmly adjust the rope blocking the quick entrance, which did not need adjusting.

Then when she was ordering, he kept hard-wiping the counter in front-side to her, even though he could have done so more quickly.

She could not go any further than to notice this as he finally disappeared from view.

What was she supposed to do? Say “hello” and give the younger man her phone number?

That just wasn’t something she was going to do.

She had tried with lesser men – the “only humans” – but had found to her chagrin that they did not measure anything near to what he represented.

The trouble with striving for perfection is that if you make the slightest of mistakes, it is too darn easy to feel completely awful for doing so.

I guess this is what they mean by being “all in.”

Perhaps it is overrated.

Maybe it’s that I give so much of myself during the day that I am so sensitive in the evening. My resilience capacity teeters.

She was an amazing woman who had developed herself holistically and had lifted her family from potential ruin into the status of “normalcy.”

Helping another person heal requires a type of active meditation, syncing with the state of their physical and mental-emotional well-being within muscles and seeking sources of tension while manually guiding related tissues to help unwind spiral torsion patterns that life and circumstances have entangled.

The process isn’t for others, it’s for me.

But if others benefit by it, this makes me more happy.

She was dreaming she walked along a bouldevard and then into a popular clothing outlet where all the classy, free-wheeling-due-to-having-excess-spending- cash females of varying ages were chattering while shopping.

She knew better than to look at the most current trends of cloth where high dollar was spent, but then the clothes shrank or had some other sooner-then-later flawing appear once one got attached and had imvested so much in them.

Arriving at the clearance racks, she sorted through the picked over remnants, commenting to herself how it was difficult to find a blouse that complimented her large bossom and did not make her look matronly.

There was a loose-fitting burnt-orange-hued strapped blouse – and then she found the prize, suddenly realizing that it is the combination of pieces that makes or breaks presentation of an outfit.

Slipping on the shorts covered artfully in beade-edged mirrors in such a way as to accent her curves and bring flashes of light with every movement, she squeeled with delight in finding a combo representation of her true identity.

I did not get my Sneech shirt, but now with these overstretched tank tops, I get the black Shmoooo!

The thing about dreams is that if you depend upon others to collaborate, they can gum up the whole works by not contributing and/or interfering.

But if you create something all on your own, you can define, set, and surpass the parameters.