Candid Corvid Productions

I am a master sculpter at the table, but once I reenter my personal life, daily functioning can feel like a lot of my own tail chasimg.

The evaluation of the effect of probiotics on the healing of equine distal limb wounds

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7390451/

It is thrilling to help muscle fibers that had become inoperably stagnant rehydrate and reoxygenate while reactivating their tensile response capacities!

Looking down at precious, closed infant eyes and full, pink-hued cheeks with slack jawed, closed mouth dream-suckling as they each fell asleep in my arms while contently suckling.

Thousands of fibrous microtears from multiple accidents and longterm adhesions throbbingly ache after being stretched and encouraged to flex, expand, and rehydrate – reactivating and reunifying them with the lymphatic fluid system.

My muscles have been under pressured push-pull strain-pain for so long that the interstitial fibers sorely ache after experiencing unwinding. I guess it’s a bit of what is called “The Snap-Back Effect.”

The wonderful people at Starbuck’s and Subway (TM’s, baby!) remember me because I often come in for my double-blended “Pink Drink” and a side of eight parmesaned meatballs.

Economic efficiency “at it’s finest!”

Cobbled together with bits hangimg by a thread, one of her drive lights had turned off.

Knowing her tendencies, and as a fun, daring quip, I slammed my hand firmly onto her hood above and then into the front of her lens.

And her flame’s response to my call drew light, again!

With a pat on her shoulder, I commended.

I am receiving amazing work from outstanding therapists – thank you, thank you!

But no one is working on my quads which are stuck together on the bone, so I am finding it more difficult to walk!

Oh!

And, my poor, aching neck probably needs an entire session!

While the therapist gave me a massage and passed over my solar plexus posterior region, I felt my heart’s desire cry out because it seems I had missed connecting with him – once again diverged from “right timing.”

While I tried to just allow the anguish to process, the therapist moved down to my hips, legs, and then calves. The left one was very tight, but the right ome felt dessicated – like wood, she said.

As I was lulled by her hands’ rhythmic patterns, I was suddenly transported to a vision of a dark, reddish-brown, curly-haired wolf-man with full fascial beard who was dressed exceedingly well and standing successfully in a New York office high-rise.

He had apparently been energetically borrowing my leg to help him pass more as human and gain wealth with acclaim. Put’s a whole new meaning to “having a leg to stand on!”

So I joked with my therapist and told him, “I need this back – and how about giving me some of that energetic boost from your successful overage to expand my own finances and ensure that I never again have to experience poverty?”

Seems a fair exchange to me that we would both benefit by winning.

(My eldest used to joke and say the title phrase with a silly voice to me.)

As soon as their anxieties hit from past traumas when they committed to their path with her one by one, they each turned to some form of interferent medication that distanced them from processing and feeling their emotions – and as a result, dissolved the connection of their bond.

Humans need nourishment in their relationships to grow well and strong.

Being on the other side of a marriage and half of a century makes me realize how things can go very wrong.

I know that there are moments of perfection in healthy bonding which can expand if couples focus on authentic connection.

How do I find my right dance partner?

It seemed that someone in the puddle’s reflected dimension ran to catch up with me.

Having met the criteria and deadline – but delayed and denied.

If I had followed the mainstream, I never would have gotten anywhere.

For license renewal requirements, I took a course on cultural competency which completely angered me because the presenting speakers began harping on “white supremacy” and accusing all whites of being harmful.

Stop right there.

Check most countries and you will find a “superior” race practicing its own version of xenophobia, so it is really about humans treating each otber with dignity and equal opportunity.

Do not be “racist” against “whites” – who also come from a multitude of different cultural backgrounds and hard-luck histories of their own – in your attempt to make an assertion under the guise of hypocrasy!

What kind of friend would I be if I interfered?

We both know what you are doing, my love.

Would that I could be there with you.

I might be getting too much done at once…

“I’m gonna puke!”

(Digging too deep into subconscious psyche)

I do not want just any one.

Being a saint is overrated – and yet, I’m committed.

Enough said regarding February.

Met just under the wire – though some ahead of time. Will see how it all shakes out, on the morrow.

As she spoke my name, a bright golden sheen of energy shield began forming over my left shoulder girdle.

From sternum outward across my heart into clavicle, and from posterior vertebrae across ribs and scapula to join at my shoulder, it traveled down and around/over upper arm to anchor at my elbow.

Like a cyborg suit of sunlight’s armor replacing where once limb had inhabited, the healing aura encased, filling the empty spaces with pressure and swelling to recreate matrix for remnants to expand and grow into.

Conceived around 1947–48, while the composer was working on Sonatas and Interludes, 4′33″ became for Cage the epitome of his idea that any auditory experience may constitute music. It was also a reflection of the influence of Zen Buddhism, which Cage had studied since the late 1940s.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/4%E2%80%B233%E2%80%B3#:~:text=Conceived%20around%201947%E2%80%9348%2C%20while,studied%20since%20the%20late%201

I settled for something less than what I needed or deserved because I thought that I should be happy with what little was offered to me.

I dreamed I was still alive, here now, standing in a room, but that who I was before fifty lay dead next to me. It was a frightening identity crisis.

I dreamed that men I could have loved were killed by the violent monster of their own.