Intense Dream

My dream last night

On the main it is about a baby that has been hurt badly that we are waiting for the paramedics to bring to my parents house. Which is in my dream more like my Aunt and Uncles house, at least it is in a different neighborhood from where they live now. In a way it is also my home. At least that is how I treat it when someone comes knocking in the middle of the night and a very respected musician enters with his prodigy, I remember feeling relieved that Angie had cleaned just before they arrived. The child prodigy is a little girl, she is an excellent singer and is there to sing while Koli plays the piano. We have to wait for Koli to come downstairs and Angie sits on the couch asking questions of the little girl while we do. I fuss around in the kitchen until he comes downstairs. Then he comes down and starts to play, there are little formalities like warming up, he can’t get the note on the piano to play loudly enough for her to hear clearly so I grab the keyboard and set it close within his reach for him to play. Then my parents come in, it is a cold winter night, the snow is just barely coming in little drifts. My mom comes down with a worried expression on her face and explains to me about the baby who the paramedics are bringing. I become concerned, but wait patiently until the baby arrives. The scene changes and I am being left in charge of a baby who is sitting in a very dirty diaper, the diaper is spilling out onto its clothing, my children are pulling on my sleeve asking if they can play with the baby, I’m too distracted to address them, I pick up the baby who all the time is getting dirtier and put him in a bathtub washing away the detiris,the water keeps running and running, overflowing and I cannot control it. Then the baby’s mother steps in thanks me for taking care of the baby while she went to get diapers, turns off the water and I am relieved and wash my arms off. Then the paramedics arrive with a baby so weak and feeble that they are not sure if it will live. They set the baby down on the floor and ask that people be careful as they walk around him. I become concerned about feeding the baby. I contemplate breast feeding but realize that I no longer produce milk, so I volunteer to go to the store to buy formula. My mother looks relieved as she didn’t seem to know what to do. So I head out and start walking down the side walk. I’m heading towards what used to be Albertsons and then have this thought that nothing has been right in my life since Albertsons became Ridleys. I start to cry copious amounts of tears, they are pouring down his face as I walk. I encounter a bus that pulls up in front of me which is full of old people and I hide my tears from them. The next bus is full of young people, they see the tears and laugh at me. I notice chalk drawings on the side walk, intense, full of odd themes and I step around them into the street. I recall that the Yukon is parked up ahead and keep walking towards it. The chalk drawings continue and I am somewhat fascinated and somewhat repulsed at them. I remember wondering who could create such atrocities, then I look down a side street and there is a person crouching next to the sidewalk, almost laying on it, covered in rags and they furtively cover their face as I pass. Then I turn into a house which is sort of my parents house, again, and start looking around for something for the baby to eat. I found myself shifting through stacks of books, and picking off of the shelf organic cleaning chemicals that I had left at my parents house and placing them together on the top shelf. I recall in my mind the baby and feel some desperation to find something for it to eat but feel an urgent need to gather these useful cleaning chemicals together. I’m just lifting a stack of books to place elsewhere when my brother Evan comes and stands near me. He asks if he could have an hour of my time sometime and I agree to this. Then I come to the formulas and I am contemplating the ingredients, repulsed at them, I feel a longing to breast feed the baby again because I feel that would be the only true nourishment for it, at the same time I feel a sense of oddness about the idea because it’s not my own baby. I think about taking an herbal supplement to start milk in woman who have previously breastfed babies but who no longer do. Then I wake up.

What Has Lain Dying

As I delve deeper into self reflection I am starting to identify what has lain dying, what has been draining me psychologically.

Somehow my creative instincts have lain dying, I've no longer felt like writing, photographing, drawing.
My mothering instincts have been dying, I've felt disconnected from my kids, unable to guide and direct them.
My dreams have been dying, my goals
I've not had the energy to face them
My libido has been stagnate
My sense of direction
Self preservation
My thoughts
My spirituality, I've been disconnected from the Lord, the inner spirit
It's very draining to face this

Time to sleep for another day, and more reading...

Blue Beards Tale

I've heard of Blue Beard before but always assumed him to be a famous pirate that I had no interest in learning about. Imagine my surprise to find out that he is in fact a nobleman, the mythical crux upon which a very old story revolves. A story which in general is taken to point out the follies of a women's curiosity, but as explained in the book "Women Who Run With the Wolves," Estes points out many things that women must learn to overcome their naivety.

This is how it is told in the book.

There is an intriguing and somewhat frightening man who's nicknamed "Bluebeard." He is courting three sisters all at once, however they are frightened of his beard with its "odd blue cast," so they hid when he called.
He decides to take them on a trip into the woods with their mother to charm them with stories, food and fun, and they start to decide that he's not so bad, however the older two sisters fears return.
The younger sister convinces herself that his beard is not all that blue, and decides to go ahead and marry him, he brings her off to his castle in the woods.
Then one day he goes on a trip and leaves his young wife with his key's telling her that she can use all of them but the tiniest key, which he tells her not to use. He urges her to invite her family and friends over, to roam the castle freely, and grounds, and to have the cooks make wonderful feasts for her and her guests.
She invites her sisters to come and they were very curious souls and wanted to see which keys fit to which doors and what was in each room.
So they started to explore the castle and found stores of food, money, and many wonderful things. Until they came to the cellar at the end of which was a blank wall.
They were wondering about the last key and one of them said "Maybe this key doesn't fit anything at all." When they said this a door appeared in the once blank wall that was closing and when they tried to open it again it was firmly locked. One cried "Sister, sister bring your key. Surely this is the door for that mysterious little key."
She quickly opened the door with the key, and found that the room was so dark that they couldn't see inside of it. So they brought a candle, and when it was lit they all screamed at once, because the room was filled with blood and blackened bones of corpses.
They slammed the door shut, took the key out of the lock and when the wife looked down at the key she saw it was stained with blood. She tried to clean it with the hem of her gown, but the blood would not be stopped.
The wife hid the tiny key in her pocket and ran to the cook's kitchen, when she got there her dress was stained in blood because the key was weeping drops of dark red blood. She asked the cook for some horsehair and tried to scour the key clean but it wouldn't stop bleeding. "Drop after drop of pure red blood issued from the tiny key."
She then tried to press ashes onto it, to scrub it, then heat to sear it and cobweb over it to staunch the flow, but couldn't get the key to stop bleeding.
She didn't know what to do so she hid it in her wardrobe.
Her husband came home the next day and asked "Well? How was it while I was away?" she replied "It was very fine, sir." "And how are my storerooms?" he rumbled. "Very fine, sir." "How are my money rooms?" he growled. "The money rooms are very fine also, sir." "So everything is good, wife?" "Yes, everything is good." "Well," he whispered, "then you'd best return my keys."
He saw quickly that the smallest key was missing and upon inquiry the wife thought to lie to cover up how it came to be missing. He told her "Don't lie to me! Tell me what you did with that key!" He put his hand to her face as if to caress her cheek, but instead seized her hair." "You infidel!" he snarled, and threw her to the floor. "You've been into the room, haven't you?"
He threw open her wardrobe and the little key on the top shelf had bled blood red down all the beautiful silks of her gowns hanging there.
"Now it's your turn, my lady," he screamed, and dragged her down the hall and into the cellar till they were before the terrible door. Bluebeard merely looked at the door with his fiery eyes and the door opened for him. There lay the skeletons of all his previous wives.
"And now!!!" he roared, but she caught hold of the door frame and would not let go. She pleaded for her life, "Please! Please, allow me to compose myself and prepare for my death. Give me but a quarter hour before you take my life so I can make peace with God."
"All right," he snarled, "you have but a quarter of an hour, but be ready."
The wife raced up the stairs to her chamber and posted her sisters on the castle ramparts. Knelt to pray, but instead called out to her sisters.
"Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
"We see nothing, nothing on the open plains."
Every few moments she cried up to the ramparts, "Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
"We see a whirlwind, perhaps a dust devil in the distance."
In the meantime Bluebeard grew more and more impatient and called for his wife to come to the cellar.
Again she called to her sisters, "Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
Bluebeard shouted for his wife again and began to clomp up the stone steps.
Her sisters cried out, "Yes! We see them! Our brothers are here and they have just entered the castle."
Bluebeard stomped down the hall towards his wife's chamber. "I am coming to get you," he bellowed.
Just as Bluebeard came into his wife's chamber her brothers galloped down the hall on horseback and charged towards Bluebeard, chasing him down the hall and out onto the parapet. There and then, they advanced upon him, striking and slashing, cutting and whipping, with their swords beating Bluebeard down to the ground, killing him at last and leaving for the buzzards his blood and gristle.

One thing that I realized after reading this story is that I was chastising the young wife in my mind, how could she disobey her word? How foolish of her to look in the room she was told to not look in! I felt guilt at the same time that I was curious myself to know what was in the room. Guilt that I would have done the same thing and I felt the embarrassment and shame that she might have been feeling from her betrayal.

Then I read on and find that there is legitimacy to the feelings that I was having, that it points out very clearly the naivety that I have had in the past and at times still have.

Estes points out that at some level a woman recognizes that something is wrong, that she feels something out of place and will begin a process over and over again trying to find out what that something is but lacking guidance and support will not be able to finish it.

Another thing that Estes points out is that a naive young woman can often does agree to "become the prize of a vicious man because her instincts to notice and do otherwise are not intact." I never realized that that is what I had done when I was 16 years old agreeing to marry the father of my child.

She mentions that "young girls and boys are as though asleep about the fact that they themselves are prey." That we are all born "analgen, like the potential at the center of a cell: in biology the anlage is the part of a cell characterized as 'that which will become.' Within the anlage is the primal substance which in time will develop, causing us to become a complete someone."

"So our lives as women are ones of quickening the anlage. The Blue-Beard tale speaks to the awakening and education of this psychic center, this glowing cell. In service of this education, the youngest sister agrees to marry a force which she believes to be very elegant. The fairy-tale marriage represents a new status being sought, a new layer of the psyche about to be unfurled. However, the young wife has fooled herself. Initially she felt fearful of Bluebeard. She was wary. However, a little pleasure out in the woods causes her to overrule her intuition...." she discounts her instincts.

Estes mentions that woman are taught to deny the truth to '"make pretty" all manner of grotesqueness whether they are lovely or not... In the tale, even the mother colludes. She goes on the picnic, "goes along for the ride." She doesn't say a word of caution to any of her daughters. One might say the biological mother or the internal mother is asleep or naive herself, as is often the case in very young girls, or in un-mothered women."

I keep thinking, yes, yes this is true, this is exactly what happened to me!!

The older sisters represent the voice of warning against "romanticizing the predator.The initiated woman pays attention to the older sisters' voices in the psyche; they warn her away from danger. The uninitiated woman does not pay attention; she is as yet too identified with naivete."

So the marriage occurs and a woman who has chosen someone who is destructive to their lives will be determined to "cure that person with love." "They are in some way "playing house." One could say they have spent much time saying, "His beard isn't really so blue."

I've been in this situation, I've loved my heart dry, bleed out my love until I was dead inside. "As long as a woman is forced into believing she is powerless and/or is trained to not consciously register what she knows to be true, the feminine impulses and gifts of her psyche continue to be killed off."

"Instead of living freely, she begins to live falsely... there is a way out of all this, but one must have a key."

THE KEY

"Provides entry to the secret all women know and yet do not know. The key represents permission to know the deepest, darkest secrets of the psyche, in this case the something that mindlessly degrades and destroys a woman's potential."

Bluebeard's destructive plan was to create a farce, to tell the wife that she was free to do what she liked but really she was not free because she was kept from the knowledge of the predator, "even though deep in the psyche she already truly comprehends the issue."

"The naive woman tacitly agrees to remain "not knowing." Women who are gullible or those with injured instincts still, like flowers, turn in the direction of whatever sun is offered."

"Bluebeard forbids the young woman to use the one key that would bring her to consciousness. To forbid a woman to use the key to conscious self knowledge strips away her intuitive nature, her natural instinct for curiosity that leads her to discover "what lies underneath" and beyond the obvious. Without this knowing, the woman is without proper protection. If she attempts to obey Bluebeard's command not to use the key, she chooses death for her spirit. By choosing to open the door to the ghastly secret room, she chooses life."

That is it isn't it!! I identified with obeying Bluebeard's command! I choose all the time to not know, I choose death for my spirit!

Estes mentions that some psychological thinkers, interpret woman's curiosity with a negative connotation but men's curiosity is interpreted in a positive way. Woman are called nosy, whereas men are called inquiring.

The sisters, who were reluctant to marry Bluebeard, Estes mentions as having "the proper wildish instincts for curiosity intact." They nudge the youngest sister to find out what is behind the door.

For me the importance of this section comes in this point that Estes brings up. "Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation-in fairy tales, in analysis, and in individuation. The key question causes germination of consciousness. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind. Questions are the keys that cause the secret doors of the psyche to swing open. Though the sisters knew not whether treasure or travesty lies beyond the door, they summon their goodly instincts to ask the  precise psychological question, "Where do you think that door is, and what might lie beyond it?"

"It is at this point that the naive nature begins to mature, to question, "What is behind the visible? What is it which causes that shadow to loom upon the wall?"

In fairy tales and stories the symbolic key is often represented by words such as "Open Sesame," as in Ali Baba, or "Bibbity-bobbity-boo!" as in Cinderella.

"In the Eleusinian mysteries, the key was hidden on the tongue, meaning the crux of the thing, the clue, the trace, could be found in a special set of words, or key questions. And the words women need most in situations similar to the one described in Bluebeard are: What stands behind? What is not as it appears? What do I know deep in my ovarios that I wish I did not know? What of me has been killed or lays dying?"

That is my question, "What of me has been killed or lays dying?"

It's important to remember that this is not a simple tale about men's oppression over women... no it is more complex than that. It is about the "killing aspect of the psyche, part of whose job it is to see that no consciousness occurs, (it) will continue to assert itself from time to time and twist off or poison any new growth. It is its nature. It is its job."

It is a complex battle that each woman must face.

"What of me has been killed or lays dying? and "How has it gotten to be that way?" That is my question, that is the answer that I am seeking to find

"A starved soul can become so filled with pain, a woman can no longer bear it. Because women have a soul-need to express themselves in their own soulful ways, they must develop and blossom in ways that are sensible to them and without molestation from others."

I will talk further about this, it is so late... I find it interesting though to note that I practiced the next point that she makes to a T in my former marriage. "Backtracking and Looping."

Goodnight Internet...

Woman Who Run With the Wolves

Just a tid-bit from this fantastic book for now, the story of The Four Rabbinim...

"One Night four rabbinim were visited by an angel who awakened them and carried them to the Seventh Vault of the Seventh Heaven. There they beheld the sacred Wheel of Ezekiel. Somewhere in the descent from Pardes, Paradise, to Earth, one Rabbi, having seen such splendor, lost his mind and wandered frothing and foaming until the end of his days. The second Rabbi was extremely cynical: "Oh I just dreamed Ezekiel's Wheel, that was all. Nothing really happened." The third Rabbi carried on and on about what he had seen, for he was totally obsessed. He lectured and would not stop with how it was all constructed and what it all meant... and in this way he went astray and betrayed his faith. The fourth Rabbi, who was a poet, took a paper in hand and a reed and sat near the window writing song after song praising the evening dove, his daughter in her cradle, and all the stars in the sky. And he lived his life better than before."

Lovely lessons don't you think?

(Shout out to Ecogrrl who introduced us to this book...)

Coalescence

Today has seemed to be a time for everything to start to gel. The kids are home more, they've finished up Pioneer Trek, Angie finished up Girls Camp... Sione is apparently finished with Football Camp (I was never quite sure if that was what Sam had him doing or not)... so finally, they have been home the past few days and I love it! It is such an odd feeling to putter around my home with just Roxie for company, she gets bored, I get tired because she wants me to entertain her without the other kids here for entertainment...

I've finally figured out a laundry soap alternative which involves a combination of Dr. Bronners Sal Suds, Washing Soda, Soap nuts and the essential oils of Lavender and Bergamont. I also use white vinegar as a fabric softener and baking soda (sparingly since I've heard that it can fade colors), however baking soda is an excellent deodorant so I want to continue to include it in my routine. One other laundry essential is hydrogen peroxide which you can use to clean blood stains and if you have a stain that you notice after drying your clothes you can soak it in hydrogen peroxide, add a bit of Sal Suds and let it soak, then run it through the wash again. I still need to look into bulk options for the Washing Soda, and essential oils.

I found one site that offers bulk essential oils here.

A curious site that offers soaps from yesteryear here. This site offers bulk soap goods, including borax, soap ash (which I believe to be the washing soda I'm looking for) as well as different scents, oils, powders, and lotion bases (and lotions). Should be interesting to look into.

Plus a few curiosities such as this site, which offers aroma therapy diffusers and this site which I love because they sell wooden straws! :D

Which reminds me of the fun things my friend Liz sells at her Etsy shop, Owl Post Magic, from which she sells her lovely "Harry Potter" themed magic wands, parchment letters, potions, lotions, and Pygmy puffs... she is amazing!! :)

On sadder notes, I'm worried about my dear friend from work. She is going through some hard times, oh how I feel for her. She was beat up by her boyfriend on Saturday, she's not been able to sleep much and today she just found out that she has thyroid cancer! I've been lending her money, her Dad is flying down and she's said that she will pay me back but I don't mind if she doesn't. I am praying for her and her little girl, and I pray she will get away from that abusive, immature and pathetic excuse for a man that she's with...

Well, off to bed... G'Night

This Morning

Evaluation time. I'm trying to take a step back to look at things from a more distant perspective. I really need the space, I don't want to feel like I am in a relationship because I've been compelled to be in it. That is not fair to me, to my children, or to the other person.

The trouble as I see it is that I went from one relationship to another without an intermediate break. I had a generally good regard for the other person and was flattered that he was talking to me, I felt initial relief that he was a decent guy, that he was someone whom I could talk to. My world seemed changed, I felt like I was in love, the sky seemed brighter, there was a grand euphoria. So when he seemed to be struggling to find words to tell me that he loved me, I told him I loved him first. Things have been complicated ever since. Why? Because I felt that I had trapped myself into something which was unsustainable.

I need to let go of my ego, let go of the feeling that someone outside of myself can fix this situation, make me feel better...

SG

Some thoughts about following Jesus

My daughter A is due to be home soon and the house that I had hopes to have clean before then will still be an utterly hopeless mess.

I slept in lat today, until 11 am! It felt good, but then I am realizing that I still feel tired. Nevertheless I shuffled about picking up stray laundry from the kids rooms and got it all downstairs into semi-orderly piles... and then semi-cleaned the kitchen in preparation for waffle making. I tried a different method today with a nuttier brown rice. The result was something that would perhaps make good bread but definitely not crisp waffles. I'm thinking that perhaps I can use the extra waffles that the batter made for sandwiches.

So today, I shall most likely have clean laundry, stacked high in piles... ;) and semi-clean rooms... and that's gotta be good enough for now.

I'm looking at a picture of Jesus on my calendar for July, he's sitting by the shoreline, gazing into the distance, thinking. How serene and peaceful he looks. One thing that's interesting to me is that the Bible doesn't mention the type of work he does to support himself. Plus he tells his apostles to leave their trades to follow him. Then he wanders around from place to place telling parables, stories, that are supposed to uplift and edify the hearer. So I suppose that he taught for a living, didn't care about worldly goods, but cared about healing and teaching. I suppose that people must have fed him and clothed him... to me the concept of following Jesus has always been a bit confusing. Are we supposed to leave our work, our earthly concerns, and go about to peoples homes teaching them, healing them... relying upon the good graces of the Lord to provide? Impractical, and I ironically in some ways today this would be seen as immoral as we are expected to provide for ourselves and our families (as well we should be).

Then what do we do, in what way do we follow Christ? and are there more implications than we might think about the right way and wrong way to follow him?

What I mean is, what are the practicalities of being a follower of Christ? For instance, he was beaten, spat upon, ridiculed. Are we expected to live up to that standard, to allow ourselves to be abused? Theoretically yes. But is this a symbol of powerlessness? Is humility humiliation?

One thing to recognize is that when Jesus told his disciples that when a man compels you to walk a mile with him walk with him twain, he meant that as a method of regaining personal power. The first mile was a law allowed under Roman rule. That a Roman could compel an Non-Roman to carry his burden for 1 mile, in that way the person compelled had no power. But walking a second mile carrying the burden is the compelled persons choice, in that way he regains power, the Roman then becomes obligated to the person he compelled.

In another way, when Jesus was spat upon, mocked, ridiculed... and he withheld retaliation, he gained the power over the situation. Those who were expending the negative energy, those who spat, mocked, ridiculed, were losing power.

Some thoughts anyway.

SG

Friday Night Thoughts

First of all band pictures, my son was rather hard to catch as he marched down the street playing Clarinet for the Timpview High School band...

 

 Koli is the fourth one in... hard to see...

Anyway, I stayed late at work today, basically because I got here late, like always... I'm glad that I have the freedom to stay late. I REALLY needed something to ease myself into working again.

So I'm here, the kids are at my parents (my oldest and youngest that is...). My daughter Angie is at Girls Camp, Sione is with his Dad.

Sooo, some thoughts. I'm 32, no seriously self... that's the number. I remember the time passing, yet it passed like a dream. Every waking day it seems as though I'm trying to get past it... trying to get over it... well almost every day... there are a few days and hours... minutes... seconds... that I wished would never end. Yet they treacherously did, and now on to the next minute of this day as simple and complex demands take my attention.

I hear the sound of the cleaners, emptying the trash. Soon they will discover me here...

They are down the hallway though... so I will write some more.

I remember getting my diploma, it's sitting on a shelf here in my cubicle, a weighty piece of paper... it took many, many moments of my life to get it. The hours I spent reading, rereading, and listening to lectures... taking tests. It's ironic that they dare to feel authorized to "confer" upon me some title, a degree, an award for all of that effort, "The degree of Bachelor of Science - Accounting." Honors, Cum Laude... irony. I felt so little when I graduated, a walking stone... In reality it was the equivalent of the paperwork you fill out after the labor of bringing life into this world, anticlimactic...

Especially since I had been through so much during this time, death, pain, sorrow, helplessness, lost love...

The death I starred at, late at night, it drained out of me, it lived in me... I struggled to know why it was there. The death I ritually wrapped in a cloth and carried to a tiny grave hoping to bury a piece of the sorrow. I faced it in the day time as well, with hard cramps and familial responsibilities. You never know how strong you are until you hide the pain from those who are too young to carry it...

Death I heard as a call in the night, a call to my heart... eminent relinquishment of a bond. I heard a voice tell me my Grandmother was about to die and so I went to see her in the hospital, stroked her hair back, marveling that my strong and gracious Grandmother could lie there helpless and oblivious. I talked to her, told her how much I loved her and she struggled against the tube down her throat to say something to me, anything! I told her that it was alright, that I understood and that I loved her. She lay back down and in the morning she died... my father was there to see her go.

How hard it is to grasp the divine. How hard it is to live with your hands to the glass, peering into the unknown.

I lay close to death, many times, and those who could have helped me were oblivious. After eating far to much gluten I found myself lying in bed, painfully caring for my baby daughter, struggling to lift her to my breast. Struggling to hang on. I told my mother that I was dying as I sat at her kitchen table, she didn't believe me. But I felt my soul rise, I felt disconnected from the world. It happened many times during the months, nay years after I had damaged my intestines so thoroughly. I remember lying in the tall grasses outside, staring at the kitchen window, weeping at the frailty I felt. The silent walk back inside, the utter helplessness as I watched the kids play, unable to direct them to stop doing this or that... to weak to speak to them. That is my own touch with death, I hope to not have to visit that world between worlds any time soon.

God, to me always this silent understanding that I've held of the universe. I've known that he was there ever since I walked silently through the dark gym behind the chapel partition, looking up at the dark green "Exit" sign, walking slowly as my shoes tapped on the gym floor. I think that God knows how to work with man better than men know how to work with man. Because I've often had to separate the actions that people take, the choices they make, from the actual manifestation of Gods will because very often people get it wrong. The closest that I've come to God is when I don't even know he is going to help me.

The blessing of a broken heart. The blessing of separation... the blessing of guilt, and the harm that unfounded guilt can do...

The important thing to remember is that when your heart is broken you are humble... it is quite different from deep grief. A broken heart is a sorrow for the state of separation that you feel from God. It is quite keen, poignant... and ultimately quite healing.

The separation that you feel creates the yearning, the sorrow that cannot be healed until you feel the healing balm of Gilead sooth your soul.

Guilt, by far the best indication that something is wrong with what you are doing... yet misinterpreted it can be harmful if all you do is live in a state of guilt. Becoming immune to guilt completely is to be completely unable to be persuaded by what is right, good and moral. But wallowing in guilt, feeling guilty for something that is not your fault... is destructive in and of itself. It is a fine line to walk to honor your conscience and yet to spurn the message of inadequacy or of failure. I suppose the best guide is to feel bad for those things that you intentionally do that you know are wrong. To question and evaluate those things that other people have influenced you to do and/or have done to you... and to not allow yourself to feel guilty for not having the time to do everything that you want to do.

Prayer, useless if you're not even trying, but a vital connection to the divine if used properly. The trouble is knowing in your mind and in your heart what you should do, because often your mind doesn't agree with your heart... and sometimes you wish that you had another choice... and sometimes the impossible seems to be within your grasp, it is marvelous.

I'm going to sign off, wishing that I knew more about this puzzling world... and yet ironically wishing that all I knew were those people whom I loved, and wishing that I could stay with each one of them forever...

Last Week, Good and Bad

I was reading through my friend ecogrrls blog and found that I suddenly felt like writing, ironically I'm coming to some of the same conclusions that she was coming to in one of her last posts.

So recently, like this week, I started a new job, got Roxie a new day care (then subsequently changed said day care for reasons I will elaborate on later), my oldest son marched in the Timpview Marching Band in the Summerfest Parade and then last of all... I was in a car accident and my car was totaled.

Quite a week right?

The day care issue, well I tried really hard to find Roxie a good day care (I mean really hard). I spent a day sorting through the state referrals for licensed day cares, another day visiting 4 day cares and the next day visiting 3. These daycare options have been widely varying in quality, with only 2 that were run fairly well (I ruled them out because one was too strict, the other I ruled out because the assistant couldn't figure out that her "ADD" son might have problems with the handfulls of gummy worms that he was eating). One daycare was in an affluent home with lots of toys and fun, there was a dedicated bathroom and teeth brushing was mentioned... but she opened a room where the center kids were supposed to sleep and there were older boys in there that she chased out. Plus she was disorganized and had too many children. I ended up going with a Chinese girl (twenty something) whose mother helped her out. They had converted their garage into a playground, and all seemed OK, but at the end of the week Roxie was crying about a little boy who was calling her "Poo Roxie." I didn't like that there seemed to be no structure at all and that they had given Roxie a bag full of Ritz crackers to eat...

Ideally I would find a place that was as thoughtful about food as I am, but seeing that there only one person that I know who is as thorough at investing what she eats I know it's a slim chance that I will find that ideal.

So yesterday I called the last person on my list (who I had found hard to get a hold of and didn't appreciate it) and visited her home. It turns out that she is a grandmother whose daughter & four year old grand-daughter is living with her. She does daycare so that her grand-daughter will be well cared for while her daughter works, and only accepts 5 kids. When Roxie met Miley it was as if they were long lost friends. Both are brown and about the same age and size. They both love pretending and dolls, Roxie is going to have a blast! :)

My oldest son decided that he wanted to be in the marching band this year. He had to switch back to the clarinet (from the oboe) which is the instrument that he started out on but he hadn't played it for a few years and had to get up to speed. He practiced his heart out and passed off the requirements to be in the band and marched for the first time yesterday.

I can't believe I have a son entering high school! That's just bizarre, I just don't feel that old (in some ways) but then I do feel that old in other ways (I've been through a lot, I have a right to feel some what older and wiser)

As for the accident, well... ironically I was thinking that it would be nice to get a new car as I was driving around yesterday.

There was a festival going on, I didn't account for this when I turned onto State Street, so when traffic stopped I missed it and slammed into the car in front of me.

Unfortunate and a loss but I shall move on and not worry too much about it. It would have been more devastating if I hadn't just started a new job.

I'm working at Adobe for 6-9 months as an intern. This job is super easy and I'm getting paid well for it. It's not that I don't like a challenge, I do, but sometimes it's nice to not have to stress out about being able to do the job well. My manager has already mentioned giving me a recommendation when the position is finished, so all I have to worry about then is doing a good job! Basically what I'm doing is grouping the records of their customers together, they've got quite a few duplicates, the computer has sorted out quite a few... and now they need human eyes to look at them. There's a team of 6 and I like everyone on the team. 1 person was let go from the group who seemed to be frustrated by the requirements for the job and didn't have very good Excel skills. They made one of the team (an older lady who had been an administrative assistant before raising her family) the lead. She's the contact for people who need to communicate with the group. She does not have as many technical skills as some of us but she is very organized. Another of the group, a man who used to be in Real Estate, the one to go to for reports... she had me create a power point (which I over thought, making it too complicated and wasting time that I could have been researching companies with). Thus when they ran a report on Friday it showed that I had a far lower amount of companies/tasks completed. The good sign is that after being given a few tips by my manager I was able to clean up the power point, and when I focused on sorting out the companies I did quite a few of them.

Working with Adobe has been wonderful, they treat their employees really well and my schedule is flexible (in some ways) soooo... the next few months should be good for me.

The only thing I have to "deal" with is driving the Yukon to work (the car that Sam has been driving around). I want to be independent, I don't want to give my ex an excuse to ingratiate himself with me...

I will "deal" though, and hopefully get a nice new car soon. :)

Wish List

There are dreams and wishes that I often overlook from the turbulent rush of the day to day grind, so I thought it would be nice to create a "Wish List" because wishes are nice and a girl can always dream...


I would have to have a wide range of essential oils to scent my laundry with, I love lavender, rose, tea tree, cedar, jasmine, lemon, pine, sweet orange, tangerine, and vanilla. This is a website with bulk essential oils that I want to check out further. I think I will buy an ounce of each to see how well they work, then decide if I want a larger quantity.

Another wish a diffuser like "The Spa Diffuser" on this web site.

Something that would be fun to have is a nice ethnic drum, I know, I know, it's rather odd... but well I would like that and other percussion instruments. I don't have a lot of time to learn how to play the guitar (a life long wish/ambition) so why not relax and learn to play a drum? :) I'm going to have to look into this further, I want a really nice looking one that can double as a decoration.

That's my list for now... :)