Category: Stream of Thought

They say that its “everything” – but there’s some that it’s not.

Party of one.

It means nothing without the grist.

Rubber chicken lips and squeaky sound of distress.

You know, that laid out chicken toy dogs love to fling about?

Young adults cussing constantly in their speech patterns is an assertion of their independence from conformist society.

The same cussing by people living on the edge may have begun this way – but then became a continuum of their survivalist culture.

I have a high tolerance and flex level – until it comes to willful ineptness by others, or severe inflammation pain in my system.

The first will tangle around my legs, tripping my functionality; the second seizes my muscles, trying to stop me from moving and achieving.

At some point, either becomes that which I must move around or push against drastically.

And then, I dig in my heels and start asserting.

In the case of the new venue where I had been working, I had been asked and then I had gently but assuredly stated what I needed.

This was not headed and, instead, unnecessary complications were placed in my way, causing my effectiveness to teeter on degrading.

So, I will just leave, peacefully with many thanks for the opportunity – but my mind is set.

As far as the pain, extreme inflammation from some allergen has burned away the thin veneer of flex that I had remaining.

I am no longer tolerating accepting less from my circumstances than what I need, deserve, and require for solace.

I do not require where I work to be elaborate – but I need it to be functional.

“Driven Over-Achiever.”

If unmatched in flight’s strength, grounded by drakes.

Thus, such a relationship is “Dead On Arrival.”

I managed to get the donations of my services out in time for a local community raffle and auction, but could not expend more energy to show up in person. Self care is necessary. It is hard for me to identify when I have already overextended.

Ego is challenged when one attaches to outcome or how things “should be” in situations.

It is a constant test of patience when my will is denied sense of achievement in ways that would seem more glorious externally.

Oh, you know – like having a nice house to rent with a spacious kitchen, a large fridge, and a good oven to cook with.

There are many aspects on our list that a home for us needs to have – but very few on the market, and we need the right landlord to let us move in.

If I get any boost to finances, income drops or some other bill shows up.

I really don’t understand how I ought to look at this.

But, I feel a sense of extreme vexation

It just seems that I stay afloat, but never get ahead.

It’s probably best that I view this like I am in a boat traveling along a river.

The stream pulls me onward, and at night I can go to shore and rest my head.

Discernation.

She was trying hard to stop sending her feelers out as far in certain directions, for when she did, her sensitive synaptic tips got burnt.

I did not get to do the usual amount of activities in my younger adult years, which also means I did not have the same wear and tear on joints and muscles.

There were a few accidents I am finally getting to address the impact of, but within my cells I still feel untapped potentials.

Temporal Dysphasia

As a human in these times, it is necessary to establish certain behaviorisms in one’s self to maintain consistency – despite others’ actions and adversities.

Having just been exposed to a large amount of enclosed cleaning supply aerosols in a house being prepped for new tenants, the shock of reexposure to such poison inflaming my system required me to take a walk along unknown streets – observing other houses where families are nestled quite contently, and wondeing how it has now become such a challenge to find good, safe housing.

If we truly looked at each one of our hearts, we’d see how fine and delicate – how fragile and vulnerable each work of art.

She didn’t like what had been done to her.

No, she didn’t like this – at all.

Those bastards with their rules of contortion – binding and crimping hope so that when beloved chosen ones extended their wings to fly, instead of gaining altitude, they would be sure to fall.

I have fun seeing what titles emerge for my concepts. This is when I know wild magic is greeting and playing with me joyfully because sometimes I begin with a title, and then tbe concepts flow – but other times, the title comes to me afterwards, reinforcing in a clever way what I am conveying. We like stretching rules beyond boundaries.

Opportunities for prosperity’s expansion exist, but when you don’t have established connections or money to immediately invest, getting to them takes more winding path detours while climbing.

The concepts of sensuality appealed to her on higher intellectual levels that most were ignorant of – or just straight-up ignored – in their pursuits of the garish.

She tried to get her head to clear, but her mind was held by his compulsion.

“You’ll be my fortress…could this be our hideaway?”

If you knew me as I know me, you would be just as surprised to see me in my many phases as I am seeing.

Ack!

I feel like I’ve been hit by a wall.

Yeah.

Like it walked right up to me, and smacked me – into full body splay.

Where each person ultimately defines the other as a bonded pair moves through time, held safe within each other’s communion.

Having always been a creature of warmth and love, the chains had become her comfort in absence of company – even as they had ground into her skin and bruised her confidence.

She still could feel the sense of their press, though they’d been broken off and left to moulder those years ago.

She worried that she must be sick to have part of her crave them, because even as they’d limited her, with them she’d grown stronger and had had something to test her will against.

Over time, they had helped provide external boundaries – grounding her consciousness, whereas now her mind could flow freely and absorb too much in any one direction.

Without them, her being craved to find her mate and feel his essence wrap around her and fill her senses to the degree that she began fearing this great love – as if she were a junkie.

They’d at last become friends, as his heart had been moved to extend to her this compliment.

As they drove along the countryside, he took her hand in his right, while his left held the wheel.

“Do you really believe those dreams were real?” he asked her.

“You know, I really can’t say, anymore…what I do know is that I no longer want to be chasing my own tail over it.”

She half-chuckled ruefully, feeling fatigued and flustered.

“But one thing I do know is that If my right guy is around, it’s his turn to pull on the oars.”

“Fu** You!” she railed at the angels. “How dare you attach my heart to yet another who isn’t mine!”

The angels knew that she had become fragmented and feared for her very soul. Thus, they sent her images of a lover who’d woo her, recognizing that on her path to find him, they’d have time to help her essence reform.

Was it truth that they had crafted – or a lie as some think would be worthy? She often worried about and pondered this, fearing some snap-back when she’d come to the end of this journey.

I remember there were times that the life ran out of me.

No joy.

No hope.

No striving.

I never want to experience that again.

Not for a day.

Not even for a second.

Ever.

This is where I can drive straight “home,” do the unwinding details, and shut down.

Really – I can do that?

I keep forgetting this is an option…

Riding my mother’s tall bicycle with no hands, unless toting my little sister in the seat behind me to the marketplace; coasting down the mainstreet pathways that led away from Alum Rock Park in San Jose; running cross-country in those sulpher mountain cliff-climb windings; dreaming of becoming a raptor rehabilitator- and of a life beyond abuses in captivity.

Even if an idea is the right idea for the right people, if those people are resistant and do not want it – well, that’s its own knot to untangle.

The cats yowling incessantly every cotton-picking split-second is drivimg my calm into insanity!

I think about this song, “Let’s Go,” and remember the kids and I forging our new path of self reclaiming 2011-2012 while listening to it on the radio, driving along Morro Bay and Cayucos coastlines on Highway 1 during Monarch migrations, and going North along 101 for a concert in San Francisco.

The message then is the same now and I can feel it today, permeating my bones strongly. It feels like nothing has really changed, although much has technically been accomplished. We are just farther along on our journies.

“As the person who resonates with Angel Number 855 you are truthful, honest, an authority figure, adventurous, fun-loving, and versatile.”

http://www.mindyourbodysoul.com

They say, “Ignorance is bliss…”

Just because it’s common place
To sell with lies and then deface

Does not condone these actions
As you cheat in the human race.

She worked to reclaim her lost years by reinvention.

She loved numbers that made sense to her.

When she tried to block this new love from her heart, she could feel his pain – magnifying hers.

She didn’t understand what was happening, for on the surface, his feelings for her were disowned.

She finally allowed herself to have a hard time believing in obtaining a relationship “happily ever after.”

From all of the “idiots” she had had to deal with, she no longer was certain she’d find a good man with enough sense to keep her.

It is one thing to have felt disrupted, but another to realize how much the disruption has affected.

When a crow is thinking or agitated, it will do a quick twitch-shuffle movement with its wings as they are folded while it walks. Perhaps this action keeps it on the ready to respond.

I prefer a direct approach, which is actually quite new to me. It is surprising how people sometimes subtly cringe when I ask them something important without disguising. It is as if they have suddenly become exposed to the sun, after dwelling too long in darkness – and yet, they then eagerly rise to greet the opportunity of sharing truth.

What does one believe in when Maslow’s – the societal invention for “normalcy” – is repeatedly stripped of its relevancy?