Stream of Thought

Tea Leaf Meaning

Candid Corvid Productions

I knew that the part of the message “when your insides match with your outside” was somehow the key for me.

I now realize that I was trying too much at once inside and pushing too hard and fast while the outside world was not responding to match me.

This had created in me too much frenetic energy and overcompensatory pressure expectations on my self to perform, when clearly I was exhausted and discouraged by thrusting my weight at every closed door.

So, I slowed down. I have been focusing on a project here or there and not starting another until one prior is at completion.

It is hard to not feel anxious or like I am sluffing off at responsibilities. However, expecting only what I can do on a few things at a given time.is calming my limbic sysyem and slowly shifting my point of view.

Stream of Thought

Self-Regulating

Candid Corvid Productions

It helps that income seems to be stabilizing, and that we have a good rental situation.

When my ability to provide for our family is shaken or taken, it is difficult to calm inner turmoil.

I began asserting calm regardless of my circumstances, as this was the only way to control the only element that I could: Me.

In response, perhaps, my circumstances are now shifting for the better.

The Law Of Positive Attraction is fickle and not as easy as they say it is to conjure.

I guess the true riddle is understanding how in one’s self to get out of the way of its manifesting.

Stream of Thought

Shout Out To My Ex

Candid Corvid Productions

Though I grouse in processing the way things ended between us eons ago, etc., he has been supportive however he could be from a distance if we were in dire circumstances.

This evening I called him just to say Thank You for everything, and that we seem to be at last recovering our base stability.

I could hear his shakey relief nothing was wrong, and affirmed it is a good turn that I am changing our contact’s association.

Compositions

Finely Tuned

Candid Corvid Productions

It is helpful to be empathically sensitive when raising children, helping a loved one who will not speak their needs, and clinically assisting clients.

The trouble that I have is closing the door to my internal perceptions so that I am not constantly bombarded by external environments and by my own internal cellular-synaptic callibratings.

This results in my spending a lot of time alone so that I can grapple with things I want to change – but most of my life has been alone in that only briefly do I interact with people who can sync up with my capable extrapolation levels.

I am not a prude, though selective. I am just wired to receive and exchange along specific frequencies filled with esoteric daring creativity.

Stream of Thought

Even Keel

Candid Corvid Productions

I don’t like feeling emotionally of center, and for the last several weeks, I have been swimming in too deep waters.

I finally made it back to the gym with the machines I like, and since my neck went out anyway earlier today and the ER scans from last weekend showed nothing noteworthy, I played bilateral racquetball on my own and had a great time swinging and having fun with it – finished off with light weights on specific machine of my choosing

For a moment, even though my neck is torgued in spasming pain, I feel centered as myself again.

Stream of Thought

My Eyes

Candid Corvid Productions

As my cervical vertebrae slid-popped back out of place while I worked on a client, the impingement onto my nerve rendered my right eye fuzzy sighted again.

At least I have it confirmed now that my sight is being affected by neck muscle tension.

One would think it easy for a practitioner to get help from a fellow therapist, but no one knows my techniques that restore neck mobility like I do.

It is quite vexing to know how to help others recover, yet not be able to receive the same or better assistance.

Stream of Thought

My Car

Candid Corvid Productions

It had been sitting on the mountain for a year, through weather as snow and moisture creeping.

The economical trend is that this is a seller’s market for vehicles. Someone with money would see my car as a worthy investment – if it was already theirs.

I just cannot fathom dumping thousands of dollars into fixing it from the broken timing belt and upper engine damage, knowing it will also need further repairs for upgrades.

This car has been what I needed a car to be and I do not know how I will replace it.

But, I must stop financial wounds, before they bleed.

I think I need to sell it, even if only for minimal gain.

I dislike this decision, but it seems necessary to preserve our situation.

Stream of Thought

Tenuous

Candid Corvid Productions

I spoke with my counselor today and she got to experience what I call “transitional jatter” when different project realities are colliding and overlapping from different perspectives.

She reassured me (we have history from a year ago together, so she “knows” me) that what I am phasing through right now is “normal,” given what I have gone through, and that even though it doesn’t feel like it can, things will shift within me again for the better.

Compositions

Movement

Candid Corvid Productions

After a chiropractic adjustment, my realigned cervical spine soon goes out again from the simplest of this or that movement because the muscles themselves are not being retrained, and thus, go back into same held-stuck patterning.

I am finding this thematic greatly irritates me, taking me away from desiring to direct morning energy from sitting down and doing needed paperwork to immediately launching into clean up and “make changes happen” external expressing.

My mind fights for focus and will over attending preperceived “priorities,” but maybe being stuck still at the desk is not the best thing for me in my quest for healing’s recovery – and I need to stop fighting myself in internal conflict over it.

Compositions, Poetic Musings

Snap-Back

Candid Corvid Productions

I kept pushing, though was stuck in quagmire and quicksand. The mountains promised as a haven reflected nature’s beauty for that region, perfectly. Yet, instinctually, I knew that I had fallen into the deadliest trap. My parents’ version of freedom was to be the death of “me.”

So, here I have arrived to a place of my own choosing, exhausted and “wiped out” nearly quite literally. The goals that I have had, the romance yet to claim – impetus for these aspirations has been drained from my veins as if leeches have been on my skin, feeding freely.

I have had my own expectations of performance all the while I have fought to break free. Now, it is alarming and quite confounding to experience myself floundering as my system takes accounting of what I have endured, and what has been done to me.

Compositions

Childhood Training

Candid Corvid Productions

Distorted expectations were drilled into, ill-fitted squezed around, and demanded of me.

All they wanted, “reasonably,” was conscription of my soul’s blind obedience in puppet dancing to irrational rules and obligations.

Rejection, judgement, and deep shame eruptions into my bloodstream by implanted mines set to trigger at “disobedience” awaited my even daring to breathe

Pavlovian training associations with elders top downing has me seeking how to purge regressive programming.

Compositions

Mid-Life Crisis

Candid Corvid Productions

Fifty-one is a good time – the perfect time, in fact, to have a mid-life crisis.

I plan to live at least to one hundred years old, and fifty is officially half of a century.

When I was just turning forty, my ex decided he would have his mid-life crisis – and transferred the bill to me.

Yeah, yeah – one side of the story. Who cares, anymore.

But, I must have finally reached some kind of real base for myself after ten years of struggling through malarkaical circumstances to achieve any recovery.

I pant and twitch as account the cost, and wonder how now to define myself.

Compositions

Sense Impressions

Candid Corvid Productions

When I learned how the man died, I was frustrated at his unnecessary loss of life.

He had been running and had a heart attack, as he made it to the masjid. The men there did not know how to save him, for they did not believe in intervention.

This had happened elsewhere and was conveyed by travelers, but soon a local mid-aged father and husband also died of a heart attack – and was not saved.

I was so upset by this repeat occurrence of non-intervention and I felt that it was a type of irresponsibility to preserving life by not using knowledge humans have been given.

Because I frequently now visited the local masjid, I was invited to attend the man’s funeral. I felt conflicted about this because it was such a personal gathering and I did not know the family.

When I was at work the next morning, day of the event, I was walking outside to the mailroom with my manager who was training me, and I looked up and gazed at the clouds gathering overhead with sun streaming around and illuminating them from within.

Deep thinking, I was suddenly given a vision of the clouds bringing those who had come to transport the man’s soul to Heaven.

I saw a revered woman in charge, orchestrating everyone in preparation. She looked down at me and smiled, nodding her head in approval and inclusive acceptance.

This acknowledgement startled me because we both knew I did not conform to religion’s inclinations. But, what mattered was that I was on a righteous path that only the most honor bound and determined dare quest upon.

Years later with little to show in my hands except those things which truly matter, I ponder at these occasional gifted glimpse-contacts with the spirit world and reexamine what my life’s mission is.

I do “good works” and attend to my own and others’ needs, but it feels like something important to my soul is missing – and that part of me is still on hold, waiting.