closed house

When I looked at all that I've written, it is a small miracle that I didn't go insane during some of those years.  But the years in between?  Well, I took a sabbatical, as it were, from feeling good about myself, from having friends, from interacting with others.  I'm now the closest to hermit I've ever been and becoming more and more the introvert.  I quit during a peculiar time, too.  I was writing so much more.  Reading, too.  But I quit and decided to let work overshadow everything else.  Curt was probably laid off during that time. I had been in limbo myself, searching for a job.  Things were very fuzzy and unstable.  But, now that I have the stability, I have no energy.  My creative buzz has been killed for quite a few years.  I think I know why.  I became pretty disillusioned with art.  I tried to tell myself I could do other things and lift myself out of this place.  But that did not happen.  Then we were hit with two very difficult winters, back to back.  That put me over the edge and the scales.  I quit taking care of myself during that first winter and the struggle to get back on track has been tough.  Not ONLY that, but the house is in disarray due to my constant internal upheaval.  I don't know how to tame this space to be the best space for us.  And I also don't know how to fix a lot of the things that would make life easier.  Such is life.  The house.  The weight.  The hiding.  It all coalesces into life being pain.  We are so tired.  Friends can't come to call.  I don't want my insanity in plain view.  But there has to be a break through, right?  Things can't remain the same.  I have to bust outta this box, so to speak.  I have to get things moving. 

Go to Sleep

Another wonderful journey of five years gone.  I've woken up to some things in my mind.  No longer a learner.  No longer wondering or wandering.  I've been working and climbing through sludge.  It's time to move over.  Work is work.  There are no delays in the 'same old' when you begin to punch the clock.  It's not my first dance with the hum drum life and it won't be my last.  But this time it is different.  Many things have changed and I'll tell you why.  I've gone inward and stayed there.  I've quit asking big questions and hid myself in the mundane.  Sometimes I realize I like it better when there is nothing.  No sound.  No invasion.  But each day I hear the screaming turns of the machines and the pressure.  Nothing gives up in toil.  It is there to tease and tell you it will never be enough.  I've woken up and wondered why a different girl emerged.  Less hair, more weight.  Less care, more hate.  I am not the same but I am stronger.  Being awake is not bliss.

simple sterling vow

You keep an amazing pace with the darkness. You hold your little silver light. I looked up and felt the heaviness of night. I am not about to cry over it. The darkness doesn't need me now. But I have found my little diamond heart perched on a tree branch, singing to the clouds above. You have found your little girl. You have found the star coming through. You have found the encrusted jewel within you. Pine needles darting through... swaying with the wind, me and the tree. I received a definite me.

In what do I believe

I believe it's gotta be like a tree. Things gotta grow. My belief system is no different. I began feeling very isolated within myself. I had to reach out to others... such a nice tree. I had to find a way to keep her happy and safe. But as I grew my needs changed and my questions increased and my experiences seemed to create within me a conflict. How can people be as they are and still be spiritual? How can they hate themselves so much as to throw themselves on terrible trains of thought? Dalai Lama said compassion would lead to other wonderful things... and thoughts and actions would grow toward the good. I may even learn forgiveness, patience.... selflessness... I may learn and grow. That would be something. I always felt alone even though I know I'm not. Perhaps it's because the world doesn't whisper a word of it's discontent. It doesn't seem to discuss the possibility that we are hurting. Why can't we let the conversations happen as they must? How many relationships would be healed? How many lives turned around? How many people would gain self love? I don't know... but surely not discussing our lack of compassion and caring has created the idea in the young that they do not exist. Look at your fellow human being sitting across from you. He or she could be entirely different from you... they could be someone you don't like. Now try to imagine their life and how it was. Perhaps not as you've had. But from how they grew into themselves... maybe we'd find we have a lot in common and maybe we wouldn't want to see them hurt. Maybe we'd learn to care. ~ k

Why do you bother?

I sometimes have a conversation with myself where I ask why do you bother? In other words, why do I bother writing these things in a blog that is basically read by myself and maybe a few others. I guess I have gotten to the point where I want some of me to be evident after spending the majority of life in a mask or cover-up. I was beyond shy, I was a misanthrope for a long time. It wasn't that I absolutely hated others or couldn't tolerate them. I truly never believed I should be liked or loved or seen or heard. That belief, fueled from the time I was six, pushed me further underground and various scenes ran through my life to cement that fact. I hated myself with a passion that perhaps was unknown to most people. Well being an adult at this point I have learned self-acceptance to some level, although the voices slip in now and again. I see the children in my family grow and I want them to know me on a different level than just Aunt Kara. I am a human being who was prone to wrecklessness, self-deprication and self-harm. I am not a perfect human being and although the aunt in me is a responsible adult who wishes the kids could remain protected forever, the human being in me knows that is an impossible feat. It's okay kids to realize the harshness of life and be unafraid of it. Being aware is a good defense against a lot of crap you will see in your lifetime. Find the voice within you to be strong individuals, accept the bad in you and work to improve, work to the good. Remember that not everything an adult or mentor says will be true or good for you. Mull it over and use that big brain. Don't be afraid to ask difficult questions or state your opinions. Be brave for yourself and for the families you will one day have. Money problems will only improve if you work to improve them. Same with your personal life. Grades or academic endeavors are fixable. Don't let this stuff fry you or make you bitter. Accept the difficulties, chalk it up to experience and move on! Work early on to take care of yourself. Be independent. Don't do things because others want you to, do them because you want to. Investigate all of your options in life before jumping into some big commitment. Question surgeries, medicines and practices and look at alternatives. Treat money with respect as debt can bury a person faster than the grave. I have loads of advice for my neice and nephews and those other kids who adopted me as Aunt Kara. And one big one... respect your body throughout your life. Don't abuse it! You'll be thankful when you are suddenly older and don't have health problems! I say these things because I wish to pass on advice. Heck I didn't have an Aunt Kara to tell me things and with the physical, emotional and mental energy a parent gives out sometimes they need a little support from their siblings, those aunts and uncles of the world sans kids. Why on earth would this be a part of my personal mythology? I guess because no matter what, I want to be able to be there for the kids. I look at the world in general and worry... for all these kids will have on their plate as they grow up and be parents. The next generation and beyond needs wisdom to come from those before. They need the respect we can give them of being upfront and honest. No, things won't ever be easy and the older you get, the more difficult life can become however when you learn to rely on you the hard times don't seem so hard. Problems are fixable. I pray for those kids... for their protection and their wisdom. Self-love is a priceless gift. When you learn to truly love yourself (and I don't mean be in love with yourself) then you learn how to care for others. Things become more clear. And one should never fear love.

the Eagles have landed

In learning about life and beauty I am naturally draw to the kingdom of nature and all it's inhabitants. Eagles, for me, are very magical. I draw a strength from eagles as I do the sun. They are protective of their homes and eaglets. They are breathtaking. I almost touched one in a magic moment of hysteria. Wanting to chase an eagle doesn't seem like an intelligent thing to do unless you know you'd never catch one anyway, you just want to try to touch the tip of a wing and connect for an instant. The eagles glide through a canyon and perch on a thin branch, swaying in the wind. The eagles live free. http://www.wvec.com/marketplace/microsite-content/eagle-cam.html Check out the eagle cam!

the earliest inspirations

My creative life stemmed directly from the love of the written word. Although I appreciate the fact that some cultures never had to write a word to tell a story, I was smitten with books from the beginning. Within these books were recipes for various pieces of my personality. You can think and believe. You can write with your pen and you can divine from these the truths you seek. You perhaps could even find God staring back at you. You could find a new path through the forests of human life. Like the path, the small path you used to walk on afternoons to meet a friend through your childhood forests. You could learn about a person you never met or a person who was long since dead. You could find your friends in voices. You could find moral lessons from those who know better on your own, defeating a lack of parental guidance. You could find an ocean of time to live and dwell within a book. Just ask Tolkien, Rice or any other writer of immortals. They live vicariously for centuries with their characters. Bilbo or Lestat... whichever. So this is the magic and deserved beauty of writing and books. To those who don't understand, don't. It's not within everyone's power to appreicate a story or a lesson or seek friends when they have none. Some would rather wallow in self-pity or remain ungrown, constantly asking and constantly questioning... where is the light? Crack open a book! I know this "mystical" experience I describe seems rather mundane and actually too simple. But practice makes perfect at adventuring through books. I challenge everyone to give it a try. Books can heal. And now the evidence of music hits me. For an instrument could be the same vessel for change and understanding. For growth. In this time I am finding my feet more solidly in my world and in my voice. I am unafraid now, although I was fearful before. The myths feed me. The magick is happening and the mayhem is the unspoiled voice of those writers and players and free thinkers. It is the calamity of life and love. I revel in these things and turn once more to my reading schedule, writing schedule and notetaking. The life of a striving, consummate learner.