Healing, Energy, & Love (or Why I Spent My Morning Stoned)

OhmyGoddess today was so much Fun!

Fun-sized Coworker, Betty, (not her real name, but a nickname she’ll recognize)  and I went to a holistic healing & psychic fair at a hotel here in town today! And it was a BLAST! 

There were vendors there who ran the gamut from tarot reading to auric photography, to energy healing, to essential oils, and yes, my personal favorite and Achilles heel… STONES.

Ahmigad…

STOOONNNEES…..

I’m such a rock nerd.

I bounced back & forth between the 2 different stone vendors, who set up on opposite ends of the venue, & wanted to buy out the lot. My fingers twitched every time I got near the tables, my ears tingled, my brain melted, & I fought the urge to spend every last cent I had on me on pretty pretty precious…..


I did end up with a stone chip necklace, a stone pendant, & a loose stone, all different types, & restrained myself from emptying the coffers further, oh…but the willpower it took… Oof.

We also attended 3 of the lectures they had there, which were all really interesting, & I wish we could have had more time with each of the speakers. Half an hour per session simply flew by!

I’ll tell you, whatever was going on there? It was all positive, because I felt wonderful all morning. Strong, and yes…dare I say it? Freakishly normal. 

OK. Here’s what I mean by that statement.

My anxiety has been bad for the last few months. I’ve had to add an additional dose to my morning routine on an everyday basis for about the last 6 months, bringing my total dosage up to 2&1/2 pills total throughout the day (I break them in half & take a half every 2 to 4 hours)

My dosage schedule on a normal day is as follows: 8, 10, 2, 6, 10. (Yes, mornings are harder than afternoons -why? Not a morning person. That’s why.)

Today?

I took my 1st morning dose…and promptly forgot about the damn things till I got back from grocery shopping… A full HOUR after leaving the healing fair, which means I skipped at least 2 other doses without noticing.

Now – on a regular day? I would be a shaking, tense, choking mess, with a heart rate of about 250, & a visible vibration going on under my skin. My skin would be flushed & hot, & I would have broken out in blisters at this point.

Today? 

I didn’t notice till I got home, & started to feel the drag on my nerves. I took my next dose, & I’m fine, but that’s not my point.

The energy at this fair was wild.

And, I remembered how much I missed it. Energy work. I’m going to be getting back into that, bet your sweet bippy on that one.

Another thing I learned today… Was about clearing your Karma from past lives & from this life. But I think I’ll save that for another post, as it’s going to take more room…and significantly more willingness on my part to actually do it. Feh. 

All in all…today was a HUUUGE day of lessons, and was exactly where I needed to be. I’ve got a lot to think about now, a lot to learn, to research & read…

And a whole hell of a lot of soul searching and self-ego-burning to do.

I cannot let myself fall into Gollum’s trap of greed & selfishness. I have to learn to truly let go, in order to free myself.

And that’s going to fucking hurt.

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Living Dead Girl – Chapter 3

“So, Patsy… You’ve been here for the mandatory 72 hours now, and we’ve run all the standard tests, what are your thoughts?”

Dr. Tellman pushes an errant strand of hair back behind her ear again, not looking at me, but instead, down at her clipboard, reading her notes.

“I don’t know, Doc, why don’t you read them to me, since they’re right there in front of you?”

Ooh, that’s got her attention. Her eyes snap to my face, a quick frown forming on her mouth, & lines creasing her forehead.

“Your thoughts are not written in my notes, Patsy, as you well know. You don’t share much of what goes on inside your head, actually, which has me stymied in your treatment. That makes it difficult for us to move forward, either with talk of your release, or further treatment here.”

“Well, Doc, it’s not easy being me.”

I shrug and grin, knowing she’s not going to like any if the answers I have to give her. Matter of fact, she’s going to hate everything I have to say, but? A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do…

“When you’re dead, nobody really listens, so why bother talking, am I right?”

And that’s how my vacation got extended from 72 hours to… Undetermined.

Anyway, Boss says there’s more work here.  

Yay.

Go team.

Why are so many people crossing from here all of a sudden, though?

Hmm…maybe there’s more here than just the random crossing-over jobs. Maybe I need to do some sniffing around, see why I’ve been handed a sit-still assignment.

“Got a job for you…”

“Yeah, yeah… I hear you.”

“Multiple targets.”

“Oh?”

“Fight between roomies, messy…messy… Sorry bout this one, Pats. Couldn’t be helped. Should’ve got out while you could, I think. It’s only gonna get worse from here.”

“Insight?”

“Gut feeling.”

“You don’t have any, how’s that work?

“Ha ha, smartass. Go to work.”

It was already dark in my room, but I could still see the darker entity slide away into the night, one of the benefits of being who and what I am. Good night vision is always a plus in this line of work.

Hmm, damn, he didn’t tell me where I was headed. Guess I’d have to improvise & get my information elsewhere.

“Azreal.. I need a moment, please?”

A single, white feather drifted down onto my bed from above, and I knew I had my audience.

Time to go see an angel about some dead people.

A Rumble of Winter Thunder

I’ve met someone.

And I’m being very careful, cautious & quiet about this.

For now.

Like a slow rumble of winter thunder…

You hear it in the distance, but you can’t be sure if it’s really what you think, or if it’s something else. Rare in its occurrence, you strain to hear it again, wanting to make sure it’s real before nodding your head in agreement.

So I’m holding off before I speak anymore.

Dim The Lights

And so we come once again to November, one of my least favored months of the year, containing my least favorite holiday.

Actually, I could do away with Thanksgiving altogether, and never miss it.

I think I’ve borne a deep-seated resentment towards this holiday since I was a child, to be honest, and I’ll tell you why.

As a kid, Thanksgiving meant having to dress up, and stay dressed up, All Damn Day. As a tomboy, this was one of the worst possible punishments you could inflict on me. I loathed wearing dresses, and having to wear one for a whole day… Not being able to climb trees with the cousins, or scurry up and down the cliff behind our house – hell – simply having to stay clean all day… It was hell.

And OK, the food thing was alright, but I was always a picky eater, so I pretty much stuck to turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing & corn. No funky salads, no strange fruity jello things, nothing unidentifiable, thanks. Pumpkin pie for dessert, with plenty of whipped cream, & I was done.

And then… Ultimate boredom set in.

The menfolk took over the living room to watch football, while the women ruled the kitchen.

There was nowhere for a tomboy cursed to wearing a dress for the day to go!

Gah!

I usually ended up sitting in my room, playing records on my record player, wishing I could change into my ratty jeans & scuttle down the cliff to the freedom of the river below. 

No joy. The maternal police in the kitchen guarded the stairway & would’ve caught me.

As a grownup, I became resigned to the holiday – until my brother destroyed it a few years ago for me with his hate-filled email one year, & a ranting phone call another year.

I… Quite simply… HATE … Thanksgiving with pretty much every fiber of my being.

And yet – every year, I’m forced to partake in this much-loathed ritual, to make my parents happy.

*sigh* 

At least I don’t have to explain why Mom asks me to make the pumpkin pie every year anymore, since my sibling & his family moved away. 

I wish I could say no.

I wish I could be far away this year & not have to “do” Thanksgiving.

I’ve never really seen the true need for this holiday. A secular holiday “celebrating” something that ended up being basically a farce? Pilgrims & natives eating together in thanks? And then European settlers basically trying to destroy the natives in their greed for land and domination? 

Why are we giving thanks again?

I’m thankful most of the year for what I have, I don’t need this one freaking day to remind me to give thanks – thanks anyway.

And shitty things always seem to happen at this time of year, so I walk around, cringing, waiting for the other shoe to hit me on the back of the head.

I’d like to just fit a dimmer switch on November… Turn it down, gradually, a bit at a time…until that day rolls around… And I can just dim the lights & pretend to not be home?

Monster Man

Papa’s a Monster Man.

That’s my dad.

He “rescues” monsters from under beds, detangles them from closets, and saves them from the horrors of dark, drafty basements, then returns them to their natural habitat – The Dump.

Haven’t you ever seen Nickelodeon’s classic cartoon “AAAHH!!! Real Monsters!” ??


When EldestDaughter was little, she adored this show, & lived its tenets religiously. Monsters lived at the dump, and went to school there. They only came to human homes to practice their scares, and if they were still there by daylight – well – they had to be rescued – of course.

When EldestDaughter ended up with one caught under her bed… She knew.

Time to call Papa.

And of course, he came right over. Because what else do Papas do when their granddaughters call? I ask you?

So, he “rescued” the monster, stuffing it deep in his pocket (so the daylight wouldn’t hurt its eyes…duh…), and EldestDaughter then announced that she simply had to go with him to the Dump to make sure the monster was properly released.

Uh… Ok… 

Well, he took her, anyway, & they released the monster, which promptly scurried off into its proper hole to get back to “class”. 

Or so EldestDaughter informed me when she got home. I’m trusting her imagination on that one.

But the tale doesn’t end there…

Papa’s reputation as a Monster Man was solidified when EldestDaughter retold the story to one of her friends.

Cut to a couple of years later….

Papa gets a phone call from said little girl’s mother. 

(By this time all the kids in town called my dad Papa because EldestDaughter called him that. It stuck for many years until he retired from his janitorial position at the local school)

*Mother of Girl*: “Papa? I need you to come to the house”

Papa: “Oh, MoG? What’s the problem?”

*MoG: “Seems there’s a monster in the basement, and Girl says you’re the only one who can rescue it. I can’t get her to go down to the basement -at all. Please?”

Papa: (laughing) “Sure, MoG, I’ll be right over.”

When he got to the house, he had Girl stand at the top of the basement stairs with a laundry basket.

Papa: “Now, Girl, don’t you move. You stay right here at the top of the stairs. I’m going down there, and I’m gonna catch this monster…but if it gets away from me and runs up here – you be quick and catch it with this laundry basket…OK? But whatever you do…don’t come downstairs!”

Girl: “Ok, Papa. I’ll wait for you!” 

So, Dad clomped down the stairs, banged around some, hollering & clanking things together for a few minutes…putting up a fight, you know.

And when he came upstairs…lo and behold, there was a suspicious lump in his coat pocket, which he kept confined with his hand, telling it to “settle down & behave” because he was “taking it home”.

Girl was all smiles, & made sure to watch as Dad drove away in his pickup – and HE made sure to drive in the direction of the dump, and stay away from their house for a little while before returning. (They were close neighbors, had to make the timeline believable!)

Another satisfied customer of the Monster Man.

But the story still isn’t over…

The Dump closed a couple of years ago.

And Girl is now a grownup…who recently got married & lives out of state.

And my dad likes a website called ThinkGeek.

Ever hear of the Eviltron?

Well, its a tiny, magnetic speaker. That makes various, creepy noises.

Dad built a small box, & attached this doohickey to a rare-earth magnet inside the box.

And mailed it to the unsuspecting new, young bride.

After turning it on…of course.

He included a note telling her that, since the Dump had been closed, SHE WAS GOING TO HAVE TO BE ONCE AGAIN RESPONSIBLE FOR HER MONSTER – SO HE WAS MAILING IT BACK TO HER.

Is 20 years a long enough time to dedicate to a joke?

My father received a beautiful thank you note in the mail later, telling him that this was the single most memorable and original wedding present ever received.

And she would be opening it far…far…

Far…from the house.

Thank you very much.

Signed – Girl, and her Boy.

I am now in possession of the last of my Dad’s eviltrons, and having used it on all of my coworkers, successfully…

I think it’s time to return it to Dad.

Seriously – I think he needs to build one more monster box – for EldestDaughter.

The originator who gave the Monster Man his reputation to begin with.

Get her, Papa. She’ll love it.

In Between One Heartbeat

In between one heartbeat and the next, everything can change.

Las Vegas has taught us that.

The hurricanes that have been wreaking such devastation this year have taught us that.

All of the tragedies, the deaths of beloved musicians, actors, have taught us that.

I am not going to preach about gun laws, or about politics at all, because that’s not my way. 

What I’m going to say is this.

When my Youngerdaughter was born, she was as blue as a smurf, and lucky to take her first breath.

She came into this world with her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck twice, with a granny knot tied in it.

When she was a year & a half old, she fell from her crib & cracked her skull. Again, she was lucky to draw breath through the following night, & to survive.

In college, she survived a car wreck that the police don’t understand how she escaped with only a couple of small scrapes. The car was crushed, she was not.

She graduated from college magna cum laude.

Three times this young woman’s life hung in the balance, and could’ve swung either way. 

Everything could’ve changed – between one heartbeat and the next.

I cherish every breath she takes.

Just as I do for each of my children, & each member of my family, both blood & chosen.

I take nothing for granted.

And this is what I say to everyone out there, lighting up the media, both news and social.  Instead of screaming opinions (which, let’s be honest, you can’t change someone’s opinion when they’re really set on it, anyway), try to be a part of the change you wish to see.

Here is what I am going to do:

Pray for Peace

Give help where I can, to those I am able.

Vote my conscience

Hope for the best

Work for the rest

Love Hard

Take nothing for granted

Cherish the heartbeats.