Category Archives: Observations

Random Notes from my book

As the kids run through the grass, they kick up passels of summer gnats that flutter like dust in the sunlight.

Clarinets lined up like a firing squad splattering shrill notes on the crowd with missing rhythm and imprecise playing. SPLAT! WHACK! ting! Sploot! Trill!

To stretch my aching back, I bent oddly angled and realized by the horrified look of the salesclerk that I must have looked like I was trying to poop my pants.

I am an evil monkey today
I can behave exactly how I wish
I’m proudly wearing my top hat
they ignore my empty dish
I have crashed into the universe
it has politely punched me back
so I’ll sip my bitter coffee drink
while plotting my next attack

“Curse you vile human!” vs. “Have a blessed day!”

Blessed is a bisexual word. It can go either way. The argument is stated whether it be the Pagan or Christian way. Blessed or Bless-ed belongs to both or the other.

If you can’t see your shorts beneath your shirt, go change. That’s not attractive.

Risking Rebirth

I am hibernating in the womb of change and progress. I am developing the skills and strength to become reborn in MY image without the yoke of false hope, without the bearing of bloody lies, without the praise for being different tainted with shame. The strings and ropes that moored me to the shore are severed with my clear consent. I am no longer anchored at the pier of someone else’s demands and lack of mercy. What is no longer necessary for my survival is falling away rapidly.

Some of which is regret. Regret that I didn’t realize sooner what was occurring. Regret that my need to hope that things would improve could not be sated by the harmful actions of others. Regret that I saw the omens, realized the map, and ignored my compass.

But there will be obvious bouts of discord as there always are when rebirth is occurring. There is always pain, but that is the labor of passion. That is the direction of one’s eyes being opened to a new dawn. That is the sanctity of new life being brought into the world despite the age of its possessor. It is a covenant union between life and the living. It is where, just outside of the comfort zone, new and wild adventures are committed to memories with delight. It is where the spirit remembers why the pain is sometimes deeply necessary. It’s there so we remember not to walk that path any more. That pain is there as a guidepost, a milestone, a mile-marker.

My future destination is still being navigated, charted, and lined into a clearly mapped path. But I fear the end result out of resistance to chaos, upheaval, and the possibility of error. I am petrified that I will be stillborn. I am so frightened that I won’t evolve into something or someone I recognize. I look in the mirror and wonder what’s next, what am I going to do? I play the Wo-Co-Sho (would have, could have, should have) game and the What-if’s because my uncertainty in the future is wrought with cautious ambition.

I know better. I know that I am being guided by the blessings, gifts and goals painted on my dreamy canvas. I know that what is to come is not for me to know, even if I can see glimpses of it. I know that once I’ve arrived in THAT place, it will match my vision and I will weep once again with gratitude.

But, for now, I will hibernate in the womb of change while I grow into my new spirit self. While I bloom, blossom, develop, and change. The risks that are involved, while in this state, are negligible.

It’s what comes after the rebirth and during that process that will engage every moment of bravery required of my soul spirit to achieve that which my heart remembers, requires, and desires above all else. My courage will come when it is needed as long as my feet are still moving towards my own evolution and reconstruction of who I am destined to be at this time in my life.

My umbilical chord hums with rejuvenation and possibility. The anticipation of new sprinkled with historical re-validation, and written onto slightly off key musical staffs, create wonder in my spirit. I wonder if this music I hear is loud enough to be heard by others. I wonder if this tune I write will inspire others to seek their symphony, to take the risks that encourage growth into the sonata after the dirge has bilged their spirits clear of the desperate attempt to belong where they don’t.

Some of the music my spirit knows are still empty notes played at random while the steady rhythm of my heartbeat drives me forward. The harmonica plays. The violin strings. The chorus of bass (because it’s all about the bass, ’bout the bass, no trouble) drives the beat forward. I am immaculate but still dusty and bloodied from my last go round. I see the path to walk, nay run, and I lay my foot down against the soft walls of wisdom. I must keep moving forward.

The risk will be worth the reward despite the outcome of the final piece I’ve committed to writing. The outcome, come what may, will be life unfolding in a grand mastery of orchestral parts with some blended so lovingly with beauty that joy is easily found.

I will be reborn. I will shake free of this shell. I’ve become like a chrysalis wrapped tight in swaddling adventure, changing my colors, changing my heart, changing my spirit for the next chapter. I will be reborn because to remain where I am, who I am, doing what I’ve always done is not an option if I hope to experience the life I was destined to meet. I MUST risk everything in order to rise up and meet the challenge of my spirit. This temporary state of rebuilding is my sole opportunity for the path I’ve chosen. But it isn’t my only option or way to get there, it’s just my choice to follow this particular path.

One foot in front of the other. One step forward. One belief that I am more than what I am right now. One wise guide that tells me to bloom, to grow, to breathe, live, act. I follow this inner voice, but I’m truly leading myself on my own spiritual journey.

I See You

Kaleidoscope_13I see you. You are not invisible to me. When I look at you, you wear no clothes. You wear no physical form. There is a ball around your body that lights up when you’re around people you like and dims when you’re not fond of them. The ball has colors and patterns that are spectacularly blended to me. I see you.

You’re a kaleidoscope of vivid colors that ebb and flow depending on how you move the liquid essence that you float in unwittingly. Where there is pain, I see the darkness. Where there is love, I see the light. Where you reside is usually a central color that tells me everything I need to know about you. I am a voyeur of sorts but not the creepy kind. I will not jump from your closet unexpectedly one night. I will meet you on the terms you’ve established. Because I can feel your intent.

I’m sorry if you feel I’ve invaded your privacy. I don’t know how to turn it off. I don’t really don’t want to because it’s served me so well. It’s proven invaluable to me to seek others of the light. It’s proven invaluable to me when I know I can’t trust a person because they are too consumed by material things to know they’re spiritual beings. It’s guided me effectively to incredible experiences through people with knowledge so deeply profound that I sometimes weep with gratefulness while others cause me deep caution.

It’s a feeling of authentic appreciation of identity that can only bloom with the watering of confidence when I see people that fit into their spirits; That “get it”. When I see someone working actively to grow into their spirits, I can forgive almost anything they do because I witness the evolution of color as if a perfect painting were in the works and I get to watch the brushstrokes fall on the canvas. It’s glorious to see. My gift allows me the privilege without effort.

There are also people who are not exactly dark and not exactly light. They are in a flux between worlds. The material world grabs their ankles and wrists tugging them away from their destiny. Their spirit self does a watoosie trying to find footing, trying to fill in the blanks. There are some that stand in this disarray and cry out that they don’t know who they are or that they don’t know what they’re doing. Nobody knows for sure what we’re doing. We just come up with a plan and see how it pans out. If we’re lucky, we have guides to show us the way out. I am one of those guides but I don’t know everything.

It is increasingly difficult when I feel as if I am carrying/dragging them towards the light. They start off saying, “Oh yes! I really want to do something different and I really like your ideas. Let’s go on this journey together.” I comply and we have long talks deep into the night. The kind that feels like it is the most important conversation I’ll ever have. For that moment in time that glimpse into the moonlight or the daylight it truly is. The intensity can’t be matched because it is so relevant. It is crucially real. But they fall back asleep and forget that we’d every spoken the conversation. With some, that shine so brightly but fear themselves, I keep trying to wake them up because I believe they need to be; because they said they wanted to be.

I don’t say anything to people who are dark. I don’t squeal with delight when I see them. Their wounds run far too deep for me to do anything other than shine a light at the end of their tunnel and coax them from sleep if they’re ready. There have been times when words came out of my mouth that weren’t mine but were intended for a particular person. Just like that, it’s as if a small miracle, sometimes large, happens but it isn’t mine. That’s when my light can reach into that dark place and help bring them home to the light where they belong. Those are the people that shoot past me like a rocket grinning from ear to ear on the tides of self-discovery and I cherish each one that finds that place. I do not gift them because it’s already theirs as it is yours. I may just nudge the light a tad to the right so they can see they’re really okay.

But I can’t carry them. I can’t wake them up. I can’t do that. I can’t pick someone up and force them to embrace their colors. It is ALWAYS the individual choices that color their spirits. It is ALWAYS their responsibility. I learned this and other rules of engagement when watching the masterpieces I encounter.

I can’t tell people what color they will become but I can tell them what color I see. The colors don’t have traits as much as they have emotions attached to them. When I see the colors and I really like them, I have to wait. I can’t immediately bond with them because rarely, but it does happen, they are wearing someone else’s colors. Like maybe they had a bad interaction with someone so it clouds their spirit or they’ve just received great news and are wearing that instead of their normal vestments. It’s the wolf in sheep’s clothing that causes me to ease my steps.

The physical being, the way you wish people to see you comes second. When I see someone that matches their physical self with their spirit self, it’s a feeling of home. It’s a feeling of such personal integrity, I think, “YOU! You’re there!” Sometimes it surprises me so much to find an authentic person that I actually say that out loud. There are many people who come close to matching but, it’s like they choose the wrong pair of socks or the wrong shade of happy. It’s just enough off for me to recognize that they’re missing parts of themselves or aren’t aware they are. It is my experience that it’s typically the latter.

The physical being does matter. I don’t wish you to have the wrong impression. I do see it, but not until I’ve peered through the spirit. When I tell someone that they are beautiful, I see them as I’ve described to you. I wish I could paint each person so they could see their beauty too. As if, if I could create them on canvas, they might appreciate their own divinity that seems apparent to me. But instead I’ll follow the advice of my kind Uncle Les who said, “Mare, whatever you do, keep doing it. The world needs more of it.” So it is written, so it is done.

My intention towards work

Howdy!

I really love to interact with people. I love when they smile. I dig when they don’t (I take that as a personal challenge). But sometimes my intentions become caught up in the quagmire of mundane activities. They become muddied with the have to side of the room because that wall got taller for me recently. (Referring to: https://maremartell.com/2014/04/16/box-up-your-crap-part-one-the-spirit-self/).

I started a job a little over a month ago that works very long hours and causes my 46 year old body to fall into an achy sleep about an hour after arriving home. It is a necessary evil since the migration of youth left under shady pretenses. It is necessary in order to survive.

I have an interview in less than an hour at another place to use as a tool to get myself and husband out of where we are and to where we wish to be. This is a temporary wall item. It will help me get where I ultimately want to go. I accept that this toll it charges at this time will get easier. I accept that with this toll comes the benefit of succeeding. I accept the abundance and prosperity that I’m working so diligently to achieve. I’m worth it. My husband is worth it. My life is worth it.

It will not always be this way, it just needs to be right now. I accept this willingly because the end results will be a grand relief.

I state it as such because I’ll probably whine about it later. 🙂 I just wanted there to be proof that I know what I’m doing at this time. Well, that’s not accurate. I have a plan. There. That’s better.

What are the 100 most commonly used words in English?

http://dictionary.reference.com/help/faq/language/t14.html

For fun, I read the words out loud as if I were reading a child a story. It entertained me. Go ahead, it won’t cost you anything but a minute.

These are the most common words in English, ranked in frequency order. The first 100 are said to make up about half of all written material. The first 25 make up about one-third of all printed material in English and the first 300 make up about sixty-five percent of all written material in English: the, of, and, a, to, in, is, you, that, it, he, was, for, on, are, as, with, his, they, I, at, be, this, have, from, or, one, had, by, word, but, not, what, all, were, we, when, your, can, said, there, use, an, each, which, she, do, how, their, if, will, up, there, about, out, many, then, them, these, so, some, her, would, make, like, him, into, time, has, look, two, more, write, go, see, number, no, way, could, people, my, than, first, water, been, call, who, oil, its, now, find, long, down, day, did, get, come, made, may, part. (Source: Fry, Edward Bernard et. al., The Reading Teacher’s Book of Lists, 4th Edition. Paramus, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 2000.) Another study, The Brown Corpus Standard Sample of Present-Day American English (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1979), cites: the, of, and, to, a, in, that, is, was, he, for, it, with, as, his, on, be, at, by, I, this, had, not, are, but, from, or, have, an, they, which, one, you, were, all, her, she, there, would, their, we, him, been, has, when, who, will, no, more, if, out, so, up, said, what, its, about, than, into, them, can, only, other, time, new, some, could, these, two, may, first, then, do, any, like, my, now, over, such, our, man, me, even, most, made, after, also, did, many, off, before, must, well, back, through, years, much, where, your, way.

The Dead Among Us

Nobody guards the living dead.

That wander around among us.

We can no longer smell their decay

Or witness their festering pus

The stories you’re told protect you

Against the sacred forever sleep.

Work harder than you need to

Pray your soul for them to keep

I hate mourning the living dead

That can’t remember the words

To the songs that living humans sing

To the tunes of the cawing birds

The crackling fear that reaps us clean

Of dastardly deeds and acts unseen

Retrieves us back from comfort one

At rising dawn or setting sun

I hate that the fear leaves things unsaid

That fear that the coffin will spring open

like a jack-in-the-box’s bouncing head

 scaring the life out of your heart

as it sucks you up in one whole part.

 Yes.

 Nobody guards the living dead.

Ancient Tomes

dustybooksThere is a mummified shroud

unraveling in our spirits
that are delivered with gusts

of gauzy breaths
revealing chapter, verse,

the context and content
of our lives lived
by the turning of our pages
to reveal
the chapters of our hearts
to one another
in labored, birthing, unity.

extend humanity outward
like a library of reciprocal knowledge
donate your gifts to fill your coffers
 
Teach from the trenches

Learn from the quarry
Bloom from the crap
Shine from the darkness

Believe from the silence

Joy from despair

Triumph from resistance

Freedom from oppression

Meaning from Understanding

Lost Sunday

Go away.
He sat in the back seat using his hands as a rosary
praying to holy mother Rosemary his sin not be discovered.
The violation of my air space undetected by his stealth
suddenly had air raid sirens blaring loudly,

“HOW DARE YOU?!” upon my radar screen
while I drove away and prayed the guards were adept.

Everything Will Be Okay

“You are more than a human being, you are a human becoming.” – Ann Harris

I’m not quite certain what’s occurring in my life right now, but there is a major shift happening that I can feel. It’s seeping out of me like a sweaty wall of moisture. My eyes keep staining my cheeks with tears only I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel angry. But yet I’m filled with the emotions that I’m walking through allowing them to be what they are. The shift is occurring. I’m just not sure yet of which direction the Universe is rearranging my path to walk, but I know I have to keep going.

August 17th, 2014 (Church service notes)

I’ve been a bit sad lately because a lot of things have been falling away from me. However, when I arrived this morning and was greeted by the attendees, I felt such a wave of love and peace fill me that I started to leak. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t sad. I was neutral in emotion, but my spirit kept leaking. A tender heart brought tissues to me so I wouldn’t have to use my skirt (we really should put tissues near the hymnals for leaky days), hugs from all my beautiful friends filled me further.

As the service progressed we were asked to close our eyes and lend a bit of spirit to someone making a difficult decision. We were asked to reach our spirits and shine a bit of light into a dark time. I closed my eyes, pushing out my spirit that I visualize like a white fluffy under-a-Christmas-tree skirt. Without warning, I could see.

Flowing out from me like an iridescent white misty cloud, I could see my spirit doing just what was asked of it to do. As each person lent their bit, I could see the colors dancing up like popcorn. Some with sky high flooding spikes of lovely exuberance, others with earthy warmth and compassion appeared in a menagerie that overflowed my spirit again. Not happy, not sad, neutral in emotion but satisfying.

Then the unfortunate story of a horrific attack and the response with love and compassion felt so real, my tears were like blood that wept for the suffering, but healed into tears of courage. It was, again, something I felt, acknowledged, and observed. It felt like picking up an item from a shelf, examining it carefully, feeling the weight of it in my hands and heart before replacing it where it belonged.

After the service, I was approached with the kindest words I needed to hear today. A beautiful, heartfelt thank you from a human woman that made me leak again. I felt, in response to her thoughtfulness, that my grateful heart understood why I am here on this earth. The love and acceptance from her at that moment reminded me that I will be okay. Just like another warm soul who sought me out to tell me that same thing. She said, “You will get through this and you will be okay.” Completely unsolicited and yet, so absolutely necessary for me to hear. I felt comfort. I felt at home. I felt like I belonged which, for someone like me, a rather rare occurrence is.

During the course of the conversation with yet another friend, I realized that life goes on and things happen. Some things we can control, others we can watch, and others are so far out there they seem like the Twilight Zone, but despite the situation, with a bit of hope and a lot of determination, we will get through it. We will be okay.

I’m at the halfway point in between services and I’m still feeling rather neutral in emotion. Sad a bit. Happy a bit. Not numb because I can still enjoy what is happening around me, not detached because I’m still engaged in my conversations, just…neutral.

As I started this article which, truthfully is part rehashed, I know that the same shift that directed me to attend this church in the first place is shifting me again. I’m being guided with a firm “hand.” I don’t feel fear or confusion, just uncertainty. I’ll heed the warnings and the omens I’m shown because my intuition has never once misguided me. I don’t need to understand the whole picture when my eyes are clouded with the mundane. I just need to put one foot in front of the other and believe that when I reach the next rest area (man do I need to go!) it will be as I’ve been told, okay.

Trusting yourself is not always easy, but it’s the best way I’ve learned to continue the path to being a human becoming. What a glorious phrase that is. Let’s just breathe and trust that we’re following the right path. If we feel afraid, that’s okay. If we feel sad, that’s okay too. Just do something. Breathe. Live. Act.

Get the BLA’s

I went to the mall the other day. In one of the junctions there is a Starbucks kiosk with umbrella-ed tables (indoors which I thought odd) on the backside four seats per table. As I passed by, I saw an older woman sitting with her husband. She was wearing white pants that had china blue floral print on them, a blue button up shirt, navy sandals, and white pearl jewelry. He was wearing a blue plaid shirt and khaki pants with sensible brown shoes.

“Your pants are fabulous!” I commented to her.

“What?” She asked while leaning forward to engage in conversation with me and my friend.

“Your pants. They look like they belong on a tea pot. I really like them.”

“Oh yes. I think I got them,” She looked at her husband searching for the answer. “at Kohl’s. I think I gave $13 dollars for them.”

“No kidding? I just really liked them. Your outfit is very well done. I admire good style when I see it.” I smiled at her. “And your outfit fits nicely with hers too.” I comment, including her husband in the mix.

“After 55 years of marriage, it’s kind of a given.” Despite our gasps of appreciation and admiration, he continued. “She has better taste than I do. What she buys, I wear.”

“Oh stop! He hates shopping. That’s the only reason I buy the clothes.” She chuckled and ribbed him with her elbow to the amusement of my friend and I.

My friend struck up a conversation about long term relationships with the woman while I stood rather awkwardly. I stepped over to be a bit closer to the husband.

“Fifty-five years? That’s pretty impressive.” I said.

“You know what I learned?” He waited. I realized he expected a response.

“What did you learn?”

“I worked my whole life. I spent weeks away from home making a living for my wife and family. I completely forgot to live my life. And now I’m old and I don’t know who she is other than I married her.”

I panicked. Had his wife heard that? (No, she had not.) Had anyone else heard that? (Apparently, just me.) I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say so I nodded my head as if I understood. It was a bubble that only he and I belonged in at that moment.

“If I had to do it all over again, I’d have vacationed more and learned more about her. Now I just follow her around because she knows how to live better than I do. I’ll probably die before her and I know she’ll just keep on living.” He said with a sense of regret and remorse in his voice.

At the table next to theirs, a younger man, college-aged maybe, paid attention just long enough for the bubble to burst and then we were being drawn back into the wife’s conversation with my friend. With a pat of hands and a parting smiling wave, we left the couple sitting in the mall and carried about our shopping.

There are conversations we have with a variety of people in a variety of situations on a myriad of topics, but every once in a while there is a message given by something…bigger than us. It’s so powerful that it can take weeks to chew about and identify the flavors. They are never without the spice of truth seasoning the breath of omen.

Breathe. I hear it. Breathe. Live. Breathe. Act. Breathe.

I work in a factory right now. It’s a means to an end. I like the people I work with, the work is not difficult, the hours are long, but I know this isn’t my way of life. This is how I can support my family while working towards living my life. But I see the people I work with accepting this as if it were their only fate. Others are exactly where they belong and want to be without questioning whether there is more to life or not. It baffles me why they never ask the questions I do. Is there more? Is there a meaning to what we’re doing?

Live your life right now. Could you heed his warning? Right now, could you just begin living or would you have to figure out how to do that like he seemed baffled about learning how to do? Could you take a deep breath and jump into the pool of understanding that your destiny may not be where you currently find yourself? I have and I could, but I wonder just how many others couldn’t do that because they have no idea how deep the water actually is in the Life End of the gene pool.

Breathe. I hear it. The steady inhale/exhale that is necessary that so many take for granted until they can’t any more. There are more ways than one to quit breathing life.

I’ve seen people who have negative thing after negative thing happen to them in constant battering waves of despair against their psyche. They do not seem to realize that it is life attempting to guide them towards another direction. They just keep plodding along, heading the wrong way and wondering why everything seems so dark. If you find yourself walking on this path or feel like you are, what is it you’re missing? Are you following your destiny or plodding along? Are you working for a living or are you living? Breathe. Listen. Act.

Who you are and what you’re supposed to be doing has been whispered into your soul all your life. Heed the wisdom of your own knowledge. Embrace the path that’s destined to be yours. Believe that with the changes you’re making, things will get better. If you feel yourself wanting to make a right turn because that’s how you’d normally go, turn left. If you find yourself wondering if you should still be in this relationship, you probably shouldn’t be. Whatever questions you’re posing, if you’re unhappy, truly unhappy, with whatever is going on in your life, change. Take YOUR life by the reigns and guide it instead of reacting to circumstances that you probably created for yourself. Act.

You don’t need the drama to remember that life is now. You need to be able to actually live it. Get rid of the negative that surrounds your thoughts, your relationships. And you say, “I can’t do that because…” then you’ve already lost. Don’t be afraid. You already know what you’re supposed to do. One step to the right and you’re moving a different direction.

I’ve heard it said that life begins just outside of your comfort zone and have tried it enough times to realize that it is indeed. Live. Step a bit to the right of where your path would normally go and discover something new that you’d not noticed. Take a different route home from work. Try a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to. Today is some day. Some day is today. Right now is your chance to live.

I’ve seen people with brilliant minds come into a place where they seem to accept that this is life. It’s not that they don’t know there is more out there, they just give up fighting for it. They resign themselves to the mundane.

There is something to be said about stability. I know, for example, that I can depend on myself for at least a chuckle during the day no matter how badly the day goes. I know that when I see my husband, I feel better and have come to depend on his just being around me. But when those things become taken for granted. When these events are just how things are without change or fluctuation other than minor differences, I feel like I’m missing out on something big, don’t you?

One step to the right and the perspective changes. Bringing flowers home instead of the empty lunch bucket makes a difference. Sending a random message to a loved one to remind them that you’re thinking of them makes a difference. Writing an article to remind others to act is making a difference. Whatever you do, do something. Don’t just talk about it, do.

Breathe. Live. Act. It’s just one step to the right to change the direction.