Where's my fourth wall?

 I have a great house. It took a while to get everything I ever wanted, but I have it - pretty much everything I ever thought I'd really like in a house, deep in my heart.

It's a corner lot, so not squished between two neighbors. And a lovely large yard. There's a basement and a bedroom for an office - a really big garage. The upstairs bathroom could use some work (like, a way to make it a lot bigger!) - but there is a large picture window in the living room that lights up the whole room - when there's light to be had. I can see forest and river from my window; I have a gas fireplace, and all of my electronics work - at the same time!

At yet, I feel trapped in my house. 

Because I don't really have a back yard, per se, or a deck, or anyplace to be outside (where I'd love to be) that has the illusion of privacy.

In theater, the space between the stage and the audience is called the fourth wall - it's a wall that the audience and the actors agree is there, a separation of watcher and watchee, each group being in their own different reality but knowing the other is there - like a two way mirror. In television or theater, when the character looks out "past" the screen and engages the audience, that's "breaking the fourth wall."  

In life, the fourth wall is what fences are for - or balconies. They are an illusion of separation of space, of worlds. An agreed upon boundary.

I want to be able to go outside and be private. To sit in my grass or work at a table; dance around or plant flowers; cry or hug trees or break plates or whatever. I want a little oasis of grounding space without feeling like everyone is watching. Or without feeling like anyone can invade my space at any time. 

Hmm. How long does it take for trees to grow?

Ascension

 It's a fuzzy feeling, kind of. Like I could just dissipate into a trillion atoms, with the gently sparkling effects one might see with Star Trek tractor beams or fantastical creatures turning into dust.

And the strange part is, I feel so connected. 

I'm not sure if I need to stay still a little longer. Exhale or inhale or hold my breath. Reach a little or pull back a little or just be.

Do you know how hard it is to just be when you're not sure how you became in the first place?

It started with the singing. The weekly song circle (of which I am an irregular attendant). The last few times had been - well, had felt extremely chaotic to me, in the midst of my already chaotic life. And then I lost the fight with the flu bug. 

I had been insure about going back except - I missed singing. and I missed hugs. and I missed the varied energies from the way people connect with the divine and the way they express themselves. A room full of people being (or learning to be) themselves fully and wholly and trustingly. It was - well, of course it was chaotic. And I enjoy witnessing the chaos, I just have never been a contributor when it came to music. 

Make a joyful noise?

So I went. And I sat on the floor - which turned out to be a little removed from the circle, which was okay with me. I am learning to be myself - which mean not matching others' energy or getting wrapped in the chaos if I want silence. I am learning, still learning, still practicing reaching in instead of out. Which becomes great stillness inside and a swaying on the outside. 

And the more I focused in, the more I could feel the great connection, which felt like it could lead to the great dissolve. 

In a way, it reminds me of that period right after the heart attack, when I felt such lovely peace and freedom and lifting. 

And I think I can do it. I think I can reach in, more and more, and connect more and more. And be weightless and solid and fuzzy and real, until it's time for me to dissipate into the Universal Song. And maybe this physical body (my current physical body) won't dissipate with me. But maybe it will. Maybe it will crumble and fall away and I will burst free, scattering to connect with earth and fire and water and air and the trees and the flowers and the crows and the squirrels and all of the songs and the rays of light and all of time and space. With so much love and connection, how can I stay a small ball? I must reach and connect and scatter and be.

From the heart.

I made this!

 This morning, as a I was snuggling into my couch preparing for my creative time, thoughts ping ponging against every conceivable subject, as they do, I stopped to marvel at how comfortable my life is.

Literally comfortable.

On almost every perchable surface, I have something warm and fuzzy - a blanket, a fuzzy pillow, a beloved but no longer wearable sweater or jacket. I have stuffed animals in almost every room. I have soft rugs and warm colored curtains and cozy objects - like tea pots and gnomes and things that are green and things to be read. Oh, and lights. I have lights, draped and strung. 

It is possible I have too many of some of these things all in one spot. There are days when I wish the designer had shown a little restraint. I would like sometimes to wake up and be in a place that feels a little more pristine and clean instead of cluttered.

But on the other hand, this house feels like it's okay to live in it. 

And I get so tickled, sometimes, at how comfortable it is. Look at this, I think. There are pillow pets and fuzzy blankets on this couch I sit on every day! I get to snuggle into flannel sheets on a bed that has a lovely plush mattress pad protector. My life is soft and snuggly and warm and fuzzy. 

And I realize - and it feels so strange that I have to tell myself this - I am the one who allowed my house, my home, my life to be this way. I am the one who decided I am going to put those stuffed animals in my living room and I don't care what any (hypothetical) visitor says. I get to have a big white blanket on the couch and have to share blanket time with my cats. I chose this rug and those curtains and to keep watering that plant. I told my tall spouse where to hang the lights. 

I made this space into the cozy comfortable space it is.

And I don't know, anymore, where that lingering feeling, like I'm getting away this something, like this is verboten but I am doing it anyway - I don't know where that came from. I don't know where most of my internal ideas of how something should look or be spring from. Probably books and tv shows and things I internalized as a child. Maybe there is even some form of "everything must be in it's place" in one of my personalities. Certainly my stubbed toes might prefer to have fewer cat toys on the floor. 

But happily, my internal Better Homes and Gardens critic has quieted over the years, because I love sitting down and marveling at how comfortable my couch is. Grinning in delight at the cookbooks displayed on the antique baking rack. Sitting on my cushy couch, just reveling in the comfort. 

And knowing that if the choices I made for something as simple as a comfortable life work in the physical world, where else can my choices, my preferences, my desires manifest?

So yay me! for all the beauty and cozy in my world. And thank me for this comfortable life.

Don't be a unicorn.

 There is a mug/meme/bumper sticker saying - one of many, I'm sure - that reads "Be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then be a unicorn."

I always cheered that. Of course! Let's be unicorns. Sparkly, magical, bright, shiny, unique.

Except. That seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? To always be bright and shiny. To always be magical. To always be unique. There is a certain expectation of awesome individuality in the idea of a unicorn - a gift, a prize, a mark of favor if one is a friend.

And, much as I love admiration and friendships, I don't think I want to work that hard. I don't want to be constantly on, every time someone else is in the room, so I am giving the full unicorn experience. And these days, the "unicorn experience" is different for everyone, isn't it? Do Unicorns poop rainbow glitter (or glittered rainbows), do they protect you with their deadly horns? Do they seek virgins or just the pure at heart? Are they wise and curious and get in deadly debates with dragons? Or are they meek and gentle and spend their time trotting through sun dapples forest glades? Are they horses with horns? Or whispers on the wind?

No, being a unicorn is too much about someone else's world view. And don't get me wrong, I love unicorns. I believe in them and I am blessed to connect with them. I am a unicorn girl all the way (except for the glitter poop and barfing rainbows. People, please!)

If  I was going to be any alternate being, it would be a cat. Not only because cats don't care, and they are mysterious and unique and aloof and cuddly and even those of us who know our cats best can never be 100% sure what they're going to do, but also...

... because cats don't care what others think of them. They aren't, to the best of my knowledge, trying to fulfill some ideal of cat-ness. And yeah, we want to be friends with the cats (unless we're allergic,)  we seek cat approval, but we accept it when we're snubbed. And we let them walk away. Or curl up and sleep on us. Or dip their tail in our milk. (I mean, we get mad when they do that, let's be honest. But we aren't surprised when it happens. And we tell stories about it later.) 

Yeah, if I'm going to be myself to the ultimate best of my ability, all the time, then I'm going to strive to be like a cat.  

'Cause the Effects Affect the Cause

 

There is a saying: As above, so below. As within, so without.

One of the ways of interpreting this has to do with health. If there is stress on the inside, it can manifest as physical difficulties. (Louisa Hay even wrote a book or two about it.)

I think this is also kind of evident in the tumult that is wreaking the world, both physically - in the fantastically strange and unexpected weather (where the word fantastic means almost unbelievable) - and in the mental and emotional state of most of us humans. 

And it makes sense, weather affects energy which affects us.

But there is also the fact that what we do affects the weather. Cutting down trees or putting them up; driving and flying and factory fumes; reflecting the sun or using it for energy; trapping water or letting it flow. All of nature's creatures affect their environment - building or travelling or creating or destroying - in response to their physical and emotional needs.

And it would be quite the rabbit hole to fall down - which came first, the weather patterns or the anxiety and turmoil which leads us to changing our environment. 

Well, I don't have time for rabbit holes. There are too many books to read! And frankly, there's nothing I can do about the cause or, considering how wide spread it is, the over all affect. 

First of all, it's not personal. At this stage in our evolution, we are riding the ripple effect of things that happened decades or even centuries ago. Butterflies have been flapping their wings since - well, since the first blessed butterfly came into existence. Squirrels have been hoarding, bees have been pollinating, and people have been forging forward - each following their instincts - forever.

I can't go back and undo anything. Not even my choice to live in these tumultuous, anxiety creating times.

So, what can I do? Whether its snowing or sun shining, whether I feel like singing or beating the couch with a swim noodle (yes, seriously. I don't have a good space to shoot pellets at glass, so…) I can love.

Love myself. Love nature. Send love to all the people whose interactions imploded my anxiety - because it's not their fault. It's me. I am the one who is irritated. So I love me again. I love all dimensions of myself.

Do you know how much nicer it feels to send love? Because as within, so without. And the ripples come back. If I feel love, I can send love and there will be love around me. I will create a space that is warm and lovely, that feels comfortable. And I will be more inspired to create/contribute to the beauty outside.

And, it will be just a little easier to deal with the daily uncertainty that is weather.

If I feel anger and frustration and send it out, that is all that is going to surround me. Everuything will feel harsh. And the weather just add to my horrible no good day, regardless of rain or shine. 

I like being happy and sparky. My body feels better if the only pain is the one in my biceps because the yoga teacher introduced us to forearm planks today. (seriously? Seriously?!) 

Because I think it is all circular anyway. Anxiety causes energetic tension which causes anxiety which causes more energetic tension. This is a cycle I don't want to be a part of.

Wow - you know, I honestly have no idea if this makes the kind of sense I want it to. But I'm going to post it so that I can move on to the next step of thinking about it 😁.

So I hope we all have a lovely day, regardless of the weather and the anxiety, which will create more beautiful days ahead of us.

Morning Meandering - Facing the blank page

 I find it funny - sometimes in a "are you kidding me?!" kind of way - that I have all these thoughts and ideas and plans for writing as I do my morning connections, and wash the dishes, and take a shower, and what have you. But then I face the blank empty page and the things I was so sure I was going to write - the thoughts which would not get out of the way when I was trying to do other things - simply vanish. Name on the tip of my tongue, put Baby back into the corner, aww shucks nothing to see here, gone.

And sometimes, if I can remember what I was feeling so passionate about, I can get the words and the conviction back. They flow through righteously. 

And sometime, I continue to stare at the page, and then just start writing something else, hoping it'll be worthy, hoping it's something I actually want to say. 

I've been doing my best (and I've been doing a decent job of it) to just put the words out there, you know? Write it down and then let it go. But honestly, for every post that gets published, there is at least one unpublished, probably unfinished, post. In fact, I'd started a similar writing on this a month or two ago...

"So, I like to think that this is normal for any writer - many writers? maybe even just people in general. The number of blog drafts is at least double the number of blog posts. Thoughts I started, but either couldn't reach a satisfying conclusion, or couldn't figure out what I was trying to say. In some ways they're taunting - in that whole, I thought you were just going to post stuff and not care if it has a relevant or impactful message? Right? Huh? it's like I'm judging myself for judging my writing. But it's not really judging - it's evaluating? It's like NOT blurting out every thought that passes through my mind."

And as I write this and format it and get ready to read this, I kind of lose interest. Because it's not what I really wanted to say, and it's triggering a lot of other thoughts - like cycles and other people. 

But it did lead me to editing/publishing something I'd previously written and left simmering. And there was such a feeling of rightness, or readiness, of finality after I added a couple more lines to it. 

And then a week later (it is at least a week later since I started this), I am able to reconnect to read it and say - well, it may not be what I was chasing when I started, but I think this pretty much sums up what I really want to say about it now.

And I breathe in. And I breathe out. 

And I hit the publish button.

Today's Happiness Practice - Accepting Myself - Again.

 I love cycles. 

Until they relate to myself and my feelings and realizing things that I thought I had "conquered" are things I need to work on - work through - again. 

And again.

And AGAIN.

I mean, it makes sense. Intellectually. Every day is a new day. Every moment brings new connections and new adventures and new thoughts. When the old is cleared out, something else comes in.

And I don't live in a vacuum. So. Things I have figured out in a safe, secluded home environment when I am feeling healthy and I am well rested and I've done my exercising and connecting, are things I need to work through again when I am in a stressful situation. 

Or when I'm with friends.

Or when I'm with my partner.

Or when I'm at work.

Or when the butterfly flaps it wings three times when flying widdershins around a purple poppy. 

Things constantly change and grow and move and shift, even if it's slowly. Some fast and some slow. And maybe it's the slow things that are the worst. Because those are the things we can't point to and say, "Oh! That's why I suddenly feel this way!" We just are fine one day and freaking the heck out the next. Because a rock finally slipped into the ocean somewhere and cast reverberation throughout the stratosphere. 

So, today's happiness practice is accepting myself in this environment. Today. As things are happening today. Acknowledging  my reactions today, determining where I could have been better. Congratulating myself on where I stood and fulfilled my personal definition of happy and compassionate and beautiful.  And loving myself through it all.

Today is a very good day. Today I have permission to be myself, to live and love and experience and step away from. Today I get to say, yup, this is what I'm feeling, and I think this is why. And I get to figure out how to meld that in with the day's plans and the people I'm with so I feel we are all accepted and loved. 

And every day in every way, I and my household and my family and my friends and my world are more and more blessed. 

So may it be. May it be so. Amen.