Might have been a telephone pole — happened too quickly.
But first — tunage!
This entry brought to you by the letters A, D and D.
OK, so anyway, I guess I should start this off with the fact that I cast a spell a week or so ago.
Maybe I’d better give you even more tunage — this entry’s gonna be a long one!
Gimme an A! Gimme a D! Gimme another D!
Anyway, I don’t cast spells often. I only did it once before, when I literally had no idea what else to do. And let’s say that one worked, which I believe it did.
I’ve been very careful to not rouse the spirits much, and the reason is twofold. One, I don’t want to upset the apple cart o’life by disturbing the order of my universe with my request (although, in the grand scheme of things, I don’t see the harm in wanting something, anything good, no?). And two, I want to earn what I have, not feel like I willed it toward me and that would be the only reason why it became mine.
On the other hand, how many times does life simply pass us by because we’re not smart enough to stick out our foot and trip these opportunities before they pass up their rightful owner?
In any event, what I got for conjuring my own spell (this time around) without any sort of guidance is a whole lot of unwanted stress. And sure, I can’t control the stressors — just my reaction to them.
When crap happens, I have several coping mechanisms (other than the usual clamming up and suffering in silence). I envision tossing things into the Potomac River. I also envision writing the problems on a blackboard and totally erasing every square inch of the board — eradicating the issues’ existence from my mind.
This works well — I employ all my coping skills, often concurrently. The problem, though, is other things crop up to take their place, and they exacerbate the intensity of the wounds that never really got to heal in the first place.
I guess this is how we acquire baggage — we try so very hard to have good intentions, but if we don’t patch up the holes in our hearts, any good things that might come to fill the space will drift out as though through a sieve.
So, the spell. I decided that I didn’t really give a shit about screwing with the order of the universe — I’m tired of saying inane crap like “good things will come when they’re ready to happen” or “I must not have deserved for that to happen the way I wanted it to.” Screw that! Whatever happened to Shan’s motto of “make it happen”? Or even Mom’s motto of “do something, even if it’s wrong”? Or my own motto of “speak/think things into existence”?
And thus, I envisioned things I wanted. In the general sense, of course … although I couldn’t help but see a picture in my mind. Not that I was wishing for what said vision was, per se, but I didn’t ask for the picture — it came to me. And I wasn’t opposed to it.
Gotta have something to aspire toward — can’t move toward a goal with no idea what you want the end result to look like, right?
In any event, that brings me to the telephone pole/tree/large solid object that I almost hit whilst lost in thought (and changing a CD, truth be told) tonight. I was kind of bumming about plans I had last night that I was unable to attend, and I was kind of wondering about the line between being a good sport and a doormat — when is it right to be cheerful despite wanting to scream and when it is wrong to NOT speak up?
We live in such an odd society — we hold back on sharing affectionate banter when all we really want is to have someone who cares about us who we can care about right back, even on the most basic level.
On the flipside, we also hold back letting others know when we have to keep moving our boundaries to ensure proper distance to keep us from reaching out and throttling them.
And it all goes back to someone or something from long ago that prevents us from freely reaching out, either way, just to let people understand us better. I think we might care about ourselves more if we thought others felt the same way.
I know, I know — self-preservation starts with us, and I think quite a few of us preserve ourselves by not rocking the proverbial boat when we really want to throw it in high gear and sail to the Orient and back. And if we do reach out and are made to feel like we shouldn’t have, then we pull back even further — and lord only knows when we’ll build up enough courage to reach out for someone, anyone again.
Why is it so hard for us to ask for what we want and to refuse what we don’t? How do we let some people know it’s OK to approach and others to back away until they rethink their strategy?
So, the long and the short of it is this: I promised myself things would be “different” this time around. And I’m back in a similar rut, although with a little less freedom and a little more peace, for the most part.
Which brings me to the tree/pole/whatever it was. No, I’m not saying I’ll pay more attention to the road! LOL. I don’t mean that I got a life-or-death revelation or anything profound like that.
I did, however, realize that Happy Dawn needs to come off of hiatus — seriously, I had the BEST laugh today over a cucumber (don’t ask) and I MISS laughing like that! I can’t remember the last time I didn’t hold back on what I was feeling in a particular moment.
And I need to do whatever it is to coax the Happy Dawn out of her shell or off her ledge or wherever the hell she keeps disappearing to. ‘Cause she’s a real fuckin’ riot when you let her be herself.
And maybe I have to tighten some boundaries to give her some room outside of which she can feel a bit free and unafraid. For the longest time, I didn’t have that power to make things better. But now I do.
As far as what I wished for? The balance to make everything better. That’s all. Whatever form(s) this “balance” might take. The adventure and risk and exhilaration that comes with creating opportunities where there were none. Of dreaming in color in an era where the only colors that you are familiar with are black-and-blue.
And the harder the challenge, the more fulfilling the end result will be.
All right, Muse. I’m ready to do my part — bring it on, whatever it is!
