A beautiful image of two souls giving and receiving at the same time...now that's a true gift! Happy holidays!

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"You ask me what I want.

You ask me what I need.

It's nothing you can buy."

Bette Midler/Gift Of Love

This image reminds me of how I feel when I am in the presence of those who share their true selves with me.  There is no greater gift!

For all the souls who reach out and make a difference in my life, I am grateful. 

May the spirit of Christmas find you with an open heart and open arms....and gifts without price tags!

Until next year...KSRL



 

Healers and Horses: Just ask the devil, honey...even angels fall!

"All my friends know the low rider

The low rider is a little higher"

War

"I'm not that kind of angel." -
John Travolta as Archangel Michael



I totally stole a portion of the title for this post from a song written by my nephew Austin Webb, because it's catchy and it's true.  At a very young age, Austin understands the duplicity we inherit the moment our spirit touches ground...and the pain we experience in our attempts to rediscover the whole.

I know, I know.  I'm beating the same dead horse here.  Duh.

Speaking of horses, did you know that the height of your horse is directly proportional to the size of the bruise you're gonna have on your ass when you fall?

Only a spiritual fool confuses being "above it all" with the idea of "compassionate boundaries."  Just saying.  There is no compassion in condescension and judgment.  And organic spirituality is a ground level experience.

And if this sounds cocky and cryptic, it is.  But if I fall off the horse, I won't fall too far.  I'm not that kind of healer.  Shoot, I might not even mess up my hair.  Yep, I'm riding one of these in this life:

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I see my friends up close and personal, warts and all.  And when they see me, I don't mind.  We're human, which means we're all pretty stupid sometimes.  When you can acknowledge this in yourself and laugh about it, you are on the road to recovery from "optical rectumitis". 

Moral of the story?  If you're going to ride the high horse, get your head out of your ass so you can see where you're going.  You might make the finish line completely unscathed and, quite possibly, untouched.

Peace and love my bitches!



Greetings from Hel! Who's your Goddess?

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"There's an angel

With her hand on my head
She say I got nothing to fear
There's a darkness
living deep in my soul
Still got a purpose to serve
So let your light shine"
Carlos Santana and Everlast

Funny things happen when you invite your BFF the Slutty Goddess over for leftover chili and a chance to play guinea pig to your new cards.  Yeah, so when I'm not channeling the universal joy juice to assist others in their healing journey, I sometimes do intuitive readings with cards.

Speaking of cards, after my recent move to Tucker, Georgia, it was discovered that my favorite Tarot cards got lost in the shuffle.  Pun intended.  But seriously, they were nowhere to be found.  And after I moved a 5-piece drum kit into the garage, I stopped looking.  I needed some distance from intuition with regards to others and, instead, began to focus on learning to play an intuitive instrument.  So I got lost in the shuffle.  Another pun intended.

I digress.

Back to the Slutty Goddess and her request for a reading.  She had been hounding me about the whereabouts of my cards, and I had the thought that maybe I needed new cards.  So one day during my lunch break (believe it or not I have a real day job, with a desk and an adult paycheck for providing a very normal product and service...insurance!), I stopped by Health Unlimited to see what I might find.  I love this store!  I found my scent and many an odd gift there over the years.  Check this place out if you haven't already.  It smells awesome and the folks there are very nice and knowledgeable.

Again, I digress.  Oh well. 

So, Slutty Goddess and I ate chili and talked about the past year, our friendships, our family, boys, politics and business ventures, as well as what we are doing now to ensure continued growth.  Some people seek guidance in religion, we simply decided to consult the cards.  Not much difference really.  You can randomly pick a Bible verse for guidance, or you can play a little game called Who's Your Goddess?  The latter is more fun, doesn't cost you anything and there is no fear whatsoever of burning in hell.

Not surprisingly, SG is a Changing Woman.  This Goddess changes with the seasons and, in fact, embodies all aspects of life from birth to death...including rebirth.  According to Native American legend, she is the planned child of First Man and First Woman.  Sound familiar?  Anyway, considering the journey of the past seven years, I think this is spot on for the SG.  Changing Woman is a very good guide for her as she redefines herself as a woman.  I especially love the way the "girl" in her has emerged.  It is a beautiful sight, let me tell you.

We were enjoying this so much that we pulled cards for our closest friends.  I won't divulge those results, but again...spot on! 

Then it was my turn.  Who's my Goddess?  SG is very intuitive, so I wasn't worried. 

Meet Hel!  Norse Goddess of the Dead.  Good thing I have a sense of humor.

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It is interesting to note that Hel's appearance is believed, by some, to be the origin of the masked harlequin, which has frequently appeared as a standard character in Commedia dell'Arte, with a black side of a face, and a white side. In fact, Hel's physical description, much like that of the harlequin mask, exhibits the duality that exists in the world, which is inherent to both life and death.
Legend tells us that Hel had an eye of fire, which could only see that which was true, thereby making it impossible for anyone to hide anything from her. Looking at this in a different light, Hel may actually have been challenging the world to find the courage necessary to look behind the mask that was her appearance, so they might see her as she truly was inside.

Well, I'll be damned.  Maybe I do know who I am after all.  I am duplicitous, black and white...Kimmy Sue and Ruby Lou.  Everyone has two faces.  I simply have names for mine.

Of course, the Bible tells me I am pagan and most likely going to Hell. 

I don't mind.  There's no place like home!

He Said, She Said, We All Said...What????

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"I don't want to start
Any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's
Got a sick sense of humour
And when I die
I expect to find Him laughing"

- Depeche Mode/Blasphemous Rumours

"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!"

When it comes to gossip, there are no innocent people.  Much of what we know, or think we know, has its origins in gossip.  And gossip isn't always bad.  When we gather, it is human nature to discuss more than the weather. 

I am the horse's mouth when it comes to my antics, but I have certainly been the horse's ass when it comes to the antics of others.  And we all know what comes out of a horse's ass!  This reminds me of an improvisational acting class I attended many years ago and a group exercise that was quite funny.  One person would tell a story about themselves to another, that person would then tell someone else...and so on and so on.  The last person to hear the story would then repeat that story to the group as a whole.  It was amazing - and hilarious, in fact - how much the story had changed by the time it reached the last person.  From the horse's mouth to the horse's ass, indeed.

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According to Robin Dunbar, author of Grooming, Gossip, And the Evolution of Language, we have simply improved the process of primate grooming.  I'm not going to take a scholarly leap here, because I'm not that smart.  Besides, that book has been written about by enough people.  If you haven't heard of it, however, I encourage you to check it out. 

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Simply put, we form groups and minimize intrusion by making statements that cement ties.  The world is too big and overwhelming to be friends with everyone, so we find a circle and sit around "nitpicking" until we're all clean.  And if that isn't enough, we stroke each other's fur until the feeling within the circle is mutual.

Basically, we're chimps with a better vocabulary.  And sugar coated with good intentions or dipped in shit, gossip is gossip...a billion dollar industry, and we want more! 

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Why?  The answer escapes each of us to varying degrees, but my youngest daughter seems to have a clue.  I asked her once why she enjoyed watching Jerry Springer.  With an easy grin, she said, "Because it makes me feel better about myself."

Out of the mouths of babes, right?

Seeing as how I've already failed the Google AdSense test, I won't further elaborate.  No need to.  When it comes to gossip, accept that we all do it.  After all, language and motor skills are the only things that separate us from chimps. 

In conclusion, I will refer to a man who always sums it up best:  “If someone says something unkind about you, live so no one will believe it.” – Dalai Lama

Feminine Mystique: When the apple falls too far from the tree!

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"Women do not like timid men.  Cats do not like prudent mice."

H. L. Mencken

So a book that I must write has presented itself, but before I can delve into that I have to blog my way through a few loose ends.  Yes, I'm back on the job with regards to evolving.  Annoying, I know.  However, if you're reading this, you're probably on the same train...even if you're a few cars behind.  Or ahead, for that matter.  And if that's the case, this will be like a distant hum that resonates a familiar note here and there, then vanishes when your own personal journey pulls you towards a song that is meant just for you. 

Regardless of the source, be sure to listen.  If you do, you will hear what you need to hear when you need to hear it. 

As one who is committed to the practice of sharing my time and energy in the healing process of others, by definition I am committed to healing myself as well.  My circle of influence within the healing community fully understands this, since those of us who choose a practice are very much in touch with our own need to heal.  How else can one empathize?  Of course, choosing to practice the healing arts doesn't put you above it all.  Oh no.  That would be too easy.  Sometimes you see or intuit your own demons in the spirit of another, and this is no accident.  As a matter of fact, the moment I found those shoes and put them on (after years of wearing the shoes of a really pissed off, unofficial healer) my own healing journey became a maze of unexpected twists and turns.  Some good, some not so good.  But always spot on! 

For instance, my last divorce (and I do mean my last!) was the result of my own need to reinforce a very low opinion of men.  Well, if your life experience in the formative years has shown you that men can be abusive, unpredictable, unsafe and downright pigs, what are you more likely to do?  Marry Prince Charming or someone who pushes your very last "men are pigs" button?  I was obviously ready for that experience, because he pushed that button good.  And you know what?  I'm glad he did.  It was the straw that broke this camel's back.  Of course, he got what he asked for too.  Here's hoping he learned something from it; otherwise, he'll marry his mother again.

I think some women wear the pants on the homefront because they have to.  After all, masculine energy will present where it is needed.  Always. 

Which leads me closer to the exit door on this train.  It's a damn shame when a woman has to wear the pants at home!  Seriously.  I don't mean that in the sense that a woman has to be all lacy and demure and submissive.  And certainly she should be treated as an equal in a relationship.  I'm just saying that a woman who finds herself in that situation (usually by choice, reread the above paragraph if you must) is truly robbed of something.  She doesn't get to be the woman.  You know, that lovely space in a relationship where she can let her hair down and feel cherished and protected.  When you see such a woman, then you can rest assured that her man is truly the man.

I'm definitely finding my way off this train.  I've progressed from an unspoken invitation to audition for second fiddle, or maybe Plan B, to simply not being old enough.

I'm also a genuinely happy camper these days.  So, if you see this denim-clad ball of fire headed your way...relax!  I'm not going to kick your ass, unless you want me to.  Then again, I might just keep walking! 

Yep, I've got a set of balls to be sure.  But make no mistake about it, my tits are bigger. 

Well, depending on which button you push.  And if you push them both at the same time?  Woo hoo!

NOTE:  In an effort to keep this short and sweet, I've left out a few stories that are quite beautiful where men are concerned - two "little boys" in particular who taught me so much, and to whom I am grateful.  But I've said enough.  Just know that I am fully aware that men suffer too.  We're all in this together right?  Maybe one day we'll all be helping each other and we won't have to recycle all this crap, again and again.  Here's hoping!  Meanwhile, Kimmy Sue and Ruby Lou are celebrating another step towards the whole of some divine masculine AND feminine.

Inner Child and an Old Fart Walk Into a Bar: Freudian slips in a puddle of Jung!

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.
Carl Jung 

It is impossible to overlook the extent to which civilization is built upon a renunciation of instinct.
Sigmund Freud

One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste. 
Goethe

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Dammit.  I was on vacation.  Or, as my ex-husband once said to me, "I don't want to evolve!"  But, like it or not - and when you least expect it - the universe will smack you upside the head and remind you to pay attention.  It's a good thing, really.

So, Kimmy Sue walks into a bar.  That's my inner child, by the way, in case you hadn't figured that out.  The whole of my existence (and yours too, if you're honest with yourself) is the outward journey through life struggling between growing up and moving forward, all the while reaching back to grab the hand of the divine child that fears it has been sentenced to a permanent time out for no good reason.

Oops...back to the bar.  Kimmy Sue is ready for a good beer and some good music, supported in full by a grown ass woman named Ruby Lou.  Yeah, she is my dark chocolate, no nonsense reminder that I must keep it real.  This means inner child is gainfully employed and in charge. 

So I'm at the bar, when a very articulate and handsome man starts chatting me up.  How cool is that?  I left my glasses at home, however, because apparently he was old enough to be my father...in certain areas of South Carolina, and pretty much the entire state of Alabama.  More importantly, in his mind.  And, apparently, he left his glasses at home too.  Somehow, he saw a hot red head who might actually be old enough for him.  As in, sometimes miracles occur and a woman who looks 40 something might actually be 60.  Woo hoo!  How lucky can you get?

This is the point where I have to accept that regardless of age and education, men are stupid.  It's okay.  They're allowed.  Women are stupid too.  Actually, people are stupid.  And that's why we're here folks...to get UNstupid.  It's the point of this whole blog, in case you're missing that. 

Which is entirely possible, given my non sequitur inclinations. 

So.  Handsome, articulate old fart...same bar.  A few weeks,  and one damned good minute later, he tells me I'm too young for him.  Wow.  For a not-so-damned good minute, I was offended.  I'm pushing 50 for crying out loud, but I guess I should just feel flattered.  Most women are concerned about being too old.  Anyway, the words "chastened" and "scolded" came to mind.  And then it hit me.  Oh, here we go again...the "daddy" connection.  Seriously, if a man crosses my path and shows an interest in me, the common evolutionary denominator is always the father.  On both sides of the fence, mind you.

Yep, the universe really smacked me upside the head this time, but fortunately I have made great progress with my inner child.   This time, Kimmy Sue thwarted a knee-jerk reaction to go stand in a corner somewhere and said what any strong-willed southern girl would say when challenged in such a manner:  Awwwwwwwwwwwww...hell naw! 

The most important sign of progress, for me, is that I was not a victim this time.  He was a real nice daddy. 

(On the off chance that I'm not making sense - yes, I'm laughing too - what I'm pointing out is the importance of paying attention to what you attract.  More specifically, the common denominator.  It is the key to unlocking those trap doors and giving yourself permission to come out and play.)

I AM too young...and it's about damned time.  I hope I'm too young for the rest of my life.

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Too Young to Be Old or Too Old to Be Young? Oh yay...another wrinkle! I'm a big girl now!

"The only way you'll ever learn a thing
Is to admit that you know absolutely nothing
Oh nothing
Think about this carefully
You might not get another chance to speak freely
Oh freely

Old Enough - The Raconteurs

“We do not know what things look like.
We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing, this seeing. - Aunt Beast”

A Wrinkle in Time

I have often made the statement that I don't see people so much as I feel them.  I will say it again, because it's true.  However, maybe I need to have my eyes examined and start looking.  After all, I am living in a country that places more value on appearances than actual substance.  Or maybe we just draw a line between the two.

We're also more inclined to judge a book by its cover.  It's easier that way.  We label and categorize and live by the calendar.  Fuck Einstein!  Time IS linear!  Why?  Because the illusion makes life less scary.  Linear time allows us to believe that we have control.  It's all about the future right? 

Speaking of time, I've never really thought much about my age until recently. Most of my friends are older, chronologically speaking.  I guess I get along better with older people.  Not sure why.  Maybe I'm the token kid in the group? 



Or maybe I'm just an idiot.  How many wrinkles and hot flashes do I need to have in order to be taken seriously?

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As a woman in this life, this is where I have to admit that I'm confused.  If you are a man in this life, do you want this?

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Or do you want this?

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This post is a short one and you can thank my post-menopausal friend "Sweet Pea" for summing it all up.  She's in her 50's, so surely she knows what she's talking about.  According to her, the moral of the story is this:  Men want women to be 60, but they prefer that we look 40.  Yeah, here's what that looks like:



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Ewwww.  Just ewwww.  Without a doubt, the plastic surgeon's bank account is more attractive.

Sigh.  I guess it's a numbers game after all. 





Slutty Goddess and the Plungerheads: Meet my BFF and her Bodacious Boobs!

Miss Mona:  Well, I always just thought if you see somebody without a smile, give 'em yours!

- from The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

“Try to avoid getting involved with somebody who's gonna need killing before it's over. It may seem to you that that narrows the field somewhat, but be diligent.”

― Jill Conner Browne, The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love

I've been chewing on this story for quite some time.  Mainly how to tell the truth without divulging identity.  You see, my BFF is a mother, an artist and every manner of normal you can think of.  She's into arts and crafts, sews, bakes crazy good cookies and is a budding entrepeneur.  She's also a born again slut! 

Why not?  After more than two decades of being married to the same man, she suddenly found herself single.  Seriously.  Just like that.  One day everything is fine (or so she thought) and the next he tells her it's not...as in, oh by the way, I'm in love with someone else and I'm leaving. 

After many porch chats, lots of wine (Arbor Mist, bless her heart, which is like juice boxes for adults) and tears, she finally realized what I told her from day one.  He did her a favor. 

Not to undermine the whole damned marriage.  They brought two awesome children into this world, made lots of friends together and currently maintain a semi-decent friendship.  My BFF is a very good example of grace, let me tell you.  I should probably pay more attention to how she handles herself because my fiery nature doesn't always know when to keep its mouth shut. (I'll blame it on my moon in Aries!)

Anyway, life goes on.  And the life of my BFF, whom I jokingly refer to as the Slutty Goddess, certainly has gone on...and on...and on...and on!  I have truly been amazed at just how far she's come, how much she's grown and how fucking awesome she is.  It wasn't as obvious when she was busy raising her kids and fulfilling her role as supporting wife.  Hell, she was too damned busy.

It's obvious now.  And I can't tell you her name, she'll hurt me.  But I can share a photo of her bodacious boobs!  (I did start this blog on the subject of boobs, so it's appropriate.)  Here they are:



Yep, the Slutty Goddess has discovered the joys of being a sexy, independent woman.  And since some things will never change, with a rack like that...she has choices!  Of course, the realization has been a process.  Which is not uncommon.  We all have to kiss a few toads along the way, right? 

Speaking of toads, she sent me a text message one day stating that she'd just had the worst date of her life.  Worst as in weird.  During lunch, no less.  She was so nonplussed, I did what any BFF would do.  On the way home, I stopped by the package store to find just the right bottle of wine for dinner...to celebrate the worst date ever.  When I saw this bottle, I laughed out loud.  How perfect:



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The next time you have endured the worst/weirdest date ever, I highly recommend this wine.  As a matter of fact, it has become the official KSRL and Slutty Goddess men are stupid wine.  After a few glasses, a light salad and lots of chocolate...who gives a shit?

Of course, we don't think men are stupid all the time.  We think men are cute, and cuddly, and we like the way they smell (most of them). They can also lift heavy objects, open doors and kill spiders. You know, useful.  But when they are stupid, we reserve the right to celebrate in style. 

The two of us have toasted many chapters in her dating career.  I have them all labeled for her in case she ever decides to let me write the book.  Seriously, her shenanigans would be a best seller for every single woman starting over in her 50's.  You see, my BFF personifies the ability to get up after the rug's been yanked out from under you, dust yourself off and get busy!  All you need is a bustier, an open mind and a sense of humor. 

For instance, Salsa Boy.  Yeah, you heard me.  Salsa Boy.  This would be the chapter dedicated to a fit and fine Salsa dancer with a penchant for big momma porn and the audacity to greet my BFF at his door butt...ass...naked...and sporting a very large woody.  So, while the experience left her feeling less than cherished, and later in tears, it wasn't a total loss.  There's more to it than porn and the surprise greeting, of course.  As a matter of fact, that's not the bad part. 

My personal favorite is Button Boy. Do I need to explain that one?  In this chapter, the Slutty Goddess exercises her natural ability to make do (all moms know how to do this) and find pleasure in life's little things.  She was tempted to go back to Salsa Boy, but he made her cry.  Sigh.  Now what?

How about Fantasy Boy?  To her credit, SG (getting tired of spelling it out) really cared about this one and she was willing to fulfill his fantasy.  Without going into great detail, there was dancing, a bubble bath and breakfast the next morning. There's more, but she made me take it out.  Pooh!  Good stuff too...except, he wasn't so happy about it after. Men don't like competition you know.  Never mind the fact it was his idea.  However, SG rose to the occasion in the manner of a true Goddess.  She enjoyed it!

Hell, I might as well mention Big Blues Man.  He made her laugh.  A lot.  And he had a really big...guitar.  So, he got double points.  I so want to hint at what went on in the Green Room at Blind Willie's.  Sigh.  I wish my mouth was that big and my knees that strong. 

We're not going to talk about Two Second Man.  Bless his heart.

There are more stories, and all involve a very good woman with a big heart, big boobs and the guts to keep trying.  Over time, she has learned to be the kind, nurturing woman that she is while at the same time saying no to things that do not serve the Goddess well. 

And she is a Goddess dammit!  She deserves whatever she wants.  Near as I can tell, she finally agrees.

I sure hope so, because she has survived seven years on the post-divorce path of blues and beyond.  And while she's gotten really good at the dating thing, I sense that she's ready to share the new and improved woman that she has become with just one. 

Damn, I sure will miss her stories.  However, some lucky man will reap a mountain of rewards when he chooses SG.  And boys, that's how it's supposed to go.  You make a woman feel chosen.  After all, the only way a man gets to be King is by treating his woman like a Queen.  SG and I are amazed at how many men out there just don't get that.

I have to conclude with a song that makes me think of her every time I hear it. Consider it the Slutty Goddess theme song! 





Sentient Beings: Fifty Shades of Ass...she's so silly!

"I think that the film Clueless was very deep. I think it was deep in the way that it was very light. I think lightness has to come from a very deep place if it's true lightness."
- Alicia Silverstone, Actress

"We are not ready for an unforeseen event that may or may not occur." - Dan Quayle

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Once in a while it helps to be reminded that there are people out there who make less sense than I do.  Whew.  I can do crazy ass, cryptic ass, crude ass, evolving ass, freak ass, shy ass, smart ass, stubborn ass and, my personal favorite, bongo ass...ahem...but dumb ass is not on my list of things to be when I grow up. 

I'm currently feeling a strong, unfettered reconnection to my silly ass.  She looks like this:

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And she thinks this is great advice to all sentient beings:

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It's like AA, but for dumb asses!  I've never been there, but the brochure looks nice.

As for Fifty Shades, I just finished the trilogy so I had to throw in a reference.  Part of reconnecting with my silly ass and putting my evolving ass on the shelf for a bit.

What did you think of the trilogy?  I can honestly say that the story was entertaining, but I simply didn't find myself sitting around drooling over all the sex scenes.  As a matter of fact, the sex scenes were so redundant that I found myself skimming over most of them in order to get back to the personalities beneath the "kinky fuckery."  Oh, there they go again...he's tying her up again...oh, look at that, he's spanking her again...yep, she likes it...again! 

Seriously.  Once upon a time, I was a Criminal Justice major.  I was more fascinated with the psychology of the criminal mind.  You know...WHY did Jeffrey Dahmer drill a hole in someone's head and pour battery acid in there?  Now that's psycho ass! 

Recently, a new breed of ass was discovered...the psycho dumb ass.  Yeah, apparently this ass makes an appearance when you have the brilliant idea to ingest something called "bath salts".  And if you're into that, followed by getting naked and chewing human flesh, you are not only dumb...YOU ARE  PSYCHO!  So.  Psycho Dumb Ass.  In my opinion, this is the the most dangerous. 

Don't get me wrong.  I'm all for a little ear nibbling, but if you draw blood...game over! 

Back to "Fifty Shades."  I wouldn't place BDSM in the fetish category.  After all, a little spanking never hurt anyone.  Cuffing and spanking, or being the recipient of, simply isn't weird enough to be a fetish. 

When I think of the word fetish, I am reminded of an episode of Law and Order (or maybe it was NYPD Blue).  Anyway, a young girl was the victim of someone with a foot fetish.  More specifically, crushing things with feet.  There was a creepy video found of this young girl crushing a worm with her foot.  (Damn.  I sure hope my batteries aren't dead, because that shit is hot.) 

Okay, I'm kidding...although, she did have a really nice pedicure.  So.  Fetish Ass.  Oh baby!

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The whole "Fifty Shades" craze just reminds me that people are fucking strange.  You never know what they're really thinking or what they might be like in private.  For instance, I once dated someone who was perfectly normal - in a manner of speaking and what's normal anyway? - but I'll be damned if he didn't get off on licking my teeth.  WTF?   Now, it's normal to graze a molar or two in the course of kissing...but when you are deliberately licking someone's teeth like candy, well, that's just fucking weird.  I eventually spoke up and put a stop to that.  It was very distracting.  Nose licking, however, is where it's at.  Just saying.  (Yes, I'm kidding...this is silly ass blog, remember?)

Now if you'll excuse me, my silly ass has some more shameless flirting to do.  I shall avoid teeth lickers and anyone staring at my feet for more than two seconds.

As for Alicia Silverstone...she might actually have a clue.  In the course of writing this silly ass blog, I discovered her website http://www.thekindlife.com/
Now she is a sweet ass, so be sure to check it out.  I'm definitely going to try the truffles.

Silly ass signing off, for now.




  









All over the map with both hands on the wheel...best road trip ever!

Way too wordy an episode. . .
Likes to ride standing up
on a bumpier road.
Yang says "What do you think, the kid,
he was trying to say?"
The kid screams out "I'm just an accident,
I didn't plan it this way."

Giant Sand - Pathfinder

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Hello!  Check out the really cool map above.  This is your soul wandering and flailing its way through the mind, I think.  It's all over the map isn't it?  This is true for everyone, no matter how hard we try to pretend otherwise.  

However, if you have both hands (yin/yang) on the wheel...you might actually find your way home without stepping on a land mine and blowing your ass off the planet. 

And roadblocks?  Pffft...goes without saying.  But every roadblock you encounter is an opportunity to see what you keep missing on the road home.  The number of times you encounter the same roadblock is directly related to how stubborn you are.  I must admit that I've been very stubborn. 

Fortunately, I found the spiritual nerve to crash through a very familiar roadblock.  I'm sure there are more ahead, but this one is no longer in my way:

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And thanks to some very special friends, I am closer to this:

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All over the map with both hands on the wheel? 

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However, I am currently cruising with a strong right hand and a leisurely left hand hanging out the window...looks like this:

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Best road trip ever!  I am blessed.

What are your roadblocks?  What will it take for you to hit the gas and crash on through? 

I Will Lay Me Down...in one take!

“I'll take your part, when darkness comes…”

Bridge Over Troubled Water/Simon and Garfunkel

If the human experience is an ongoing attempt to find our way back home and the family is one’s personal stage for evolving all emotion and ego that stands in the way, at what point do we cross over and how do we do that exactly?  Are we looking for a ladder to climb and rise above the waters of discontent? And are we rising above or merely escaping?  What if there’s no bridge or solid ground when we get there?

I don’t have definitive answers to those questions, but I’m certain I was offered a glimpse or two during a recent production within my own family.  I was handed a backstage pass and managed to keep my seat and exercise what I will refer to as compassionate observation.  This was not deliberate.  It simply happened. 

The inspiration for this article is also simple…this has never happened to me.  I found the road less traveled in my funny, sad, pathetic and beautiful life, and I took it.  

On any given day, the family unit will perform multiple acts in a continuous play.  The script will vary and the cast members will change, depending on whose ego shows up for rehearsal and the corresponding emotional issues that seek center stage.  Which leads to a very important question:  Who’s directing?

If I may boldly say so, I do have the definitive answer to that question.  When you allow yourself to be drawn into a battle that does not belong to you, then you have automatically placed yourself in the director’s chair. 

This director’s chair is easily granted to anyone who walks into an argument between two family members, sees yet another freshly-opened can of worms (same brand, same flavor) and blindly takes the mop.  If you’re paying attention, you will recognize that the one handing you the mop is typically the one who opened the can of worms in the first place. 

Long story short, someone spilled a can of worms this weekend - all over my nice, clean kitchen! - and expected me to clean it up. I was tempted for a moment, but decided my arms were tired.  Instead, I took a nap. 

Yep, the director took a narcoleptic plunge and the worms began to squirm. A few of them even turned on each other.  One escaped and found a temporary director.  But eventually, they grew weary and quiet.  What was that all about?  Left to their own devices, natural improvisational skills were awakened and they crossed over…without me.

My spiritual journey is still wearing diapers, but while I was napping I dreamt of the realization that maybe the best way to cross over is to become the bridge.  I will lay me down.  Indeed.

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Shameless Flirting and the Road to Divine Whoredom...oh no she didn't!

"Gonna tell a story morning glory all about the serpentine fire"

Earth, Wind and Fire

"Caught between the spirit and the dust
All the way to Heaven is Heaven
Deep inside of us"
Melissa Etheridge

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I've decided to write about something other than myself.  Seriously.  This is not about me. 

It's about my hair.  And energy.  I just love talking about energy. 

Oh, come on.  You know you want to hear this story.  It's got music, and beer, and more music, and more beer, lots of hairspray, a man cub, an Italian and a blues singer/guitarist...throw in a bottle of  Feria Ruby Rush and you've got the evolution of a born-again, red-headed, two-faced Leo...at its very best! 

Okay, it's about me.  But it could also be about you.  If something resonates, roll with it.  If you see yourself, smile.  And by all means, call me crazy...then take a good look in the mirror and pretend you're not struggling to figure out this thing called life.  Just saying.

Actually, I'm not struggling so much these days.  Simply put, we all reach a turning point in our lives...the point where we recognize and unravel old patterns that no longer serve our highest good.  For me, it's the equivalent of deactivating the automatic pilot button and flying solo.  And, so far, I've managed to avoid crashing...although I've clipped a few mountain tops here and there. 

It certainly helps that I have deliberately avoided dating, in one way or another.  I intuitively knew that in order for me to navigate a better path and not end up repeating myself like a record that skips and keeps playing the same thing over and over and over...well, I knew that I needed to STOP.

I don't know anyone who couldn't look back and recognize patterns.  And it doesn't matter when or why.  The only thing that matters is that you face them.  That's what I'm doing, albeit in a rather strange way.  But you know what?  It's MY way...and I like it.  So there.  You are perfectly free to unravel your patterns in any manner that you choose.  Unless, of course, you want the rest of your life to be exactly as it is right now. 

So, hair.  Specifically, mine.  Hairspray?  Oh dear God...I grew up in South Carolina, hairspray is running through my veins.  And if you catch me on a bad hair day, keep it to yourself.  That is how much I care about hair.

Oh yeah...man cub, an Italian and a blues singer/guitarist.  Because sometimes evolution is just fun! 

I wouldn't call my recent escapades "testing the waters" exactly, because I'm still contemplating the more subtle aspects of attraction...specifically, how attraction reflects attachment.  Seriously folks, don't kid yourself.  Whatever you are still attached to in yourself will present itself in the form of attraction.  And the stronger the physical attraction, the stronger the attachment.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing.  If two people recognize and acknowledge this aspect of attraction, there is opportunity for growth.  Unfortunately, growth usually takes a back seat to fighting instead.  Too bad.

So, a wacky, spiritual, fun-loving, voluptuous redhead (that would be me) walks into a bar.  Not long after, the most adorable man cub (that's "Cougar" for young enough to be my son) starts chatting me up.  Cool.  He first told me he was there on government business...something about homeland security?  He is actually a banker, but who cares.  We were flirting, and it was fun.  I made my way back to the table with my girlfriends, who were laughing of course. 

Mind you, I'm not on the prowl. At this point, I am studying my fiery, passionate nature for the first time in my life.  After all, there is so much power and creativity in one's sexual energy, it seems a shame to spend it foolishly.
 
How many times in your life have you given that energy away?  Be honest.

On a side note: Once, in a meditation class, my teacher discussed how those who have chosen a celibate life don't deny that lower nature.  They simply channel that energy upward for the purpose of enlightenment.

Obviously I'm not ready for enlightenment, because the subject matter of this blog is on my list of things to evolve before moving on to the next life.  When someone steals your fire, it's important to reclaim it first.  Next, you have to own it.

Where was I?  Oh yes.  Red hair, fire, energy, attraction.  Same night, same bar and, admittedly, a few beers later (hey, I wasn't driving), I walk outside to feel the evening breeze and enjoy an awareness of my self, and - Holy Cannoli! - along comes Mr. Italian.  Literally, all up in my space...just like that!  It was an unexpected shift in the flow of things.  And it may have been my first Aquarius encounter.  Makes perfect sense.  I did go outside for a breeze right?  Nice!  I needed a little fanning to further me along this interesting path, and I enjoyed the totally shameless flirting. 

However, this path does not involve a one night stand...so my girlfriends took me home.  (Note:  I also instantly intuited what the attachment aspect was.)

A few days later...I kissed a man!  It was a weird, sweet, funny, awesome, and totally spontaneous moment in time.  I don't know who was more stunned, him or me. Maybe it was his version of my favorite song by Albert King.  Maybe it was his cute butt.  Anyway, everyone in my circle knows that Personal Manager is my favorite blues song, ever.  So mister blues singer/guitarist should have known better.  I told him it was his fault.  I also informed him that he was the first man I'd kissed since my divorce and that he was even more famous now.  He thought that was funny.  It is! 

Here's what was weird about it:  my Reiki hands very spontaneously came to life. 

My hands always feel hot when I'm in healer mode, but that night they were on fire.  It was truly bizarre.  I found myself on stage with my hands surrounding this adorable, talented guitarist.  He didn't mind.  When the show was over, my hands followed him to the bar and he allowed that heat to flow into his heart.  We were both grinning.  Again it was weird.  And we kissed.  There was no tongue or groping, now mind you.  He got the Kimmy Sue kisses.  And those kisses had nothing to do with romantic love, sex, attachment or expectation.  Although I was having a most awesome hair day, so possibly he wouldn't have minded taking Ruby Lou somewhere.  But it didn't matter.  That wasn't going to happen.  Just to be sure, my dear friends Rocky and Sweet Pea took me home!  Sweet!  I will never forget that.  That man/boy has the softest lips.  Next time you're in Savannah, Georgia, by all means track him down and check that out.  Tell him the crazy redhead with the hot hands sent you!

So what's the point?  Well, I am learning something very important. And I am in total envy of those of you who already get it.  However, if you happen to be sharing my path at the moment, I would encourage you to consider what I am sharing with you.

Vulnerability. 

More importantly, discovering the joy and the bliss of being vulnerable and strong at the same time.  Or, in the case of a fiery, passionate Leo...owning that fire completely, but with a new willingness to put it on the table. Things won't always go the way you think they should, but if you hang in there they will go the right way. 

If you allowed yourself to be truly vulnerable, just for a moment, what is the worst thing that could happen?  Chances are, it won't kill you.  Or maybe, what is the best thing that could happen?  Chances are, it will heal you.

Honestly, I've never had so much fun NOT getting laid.  I think I'll not get laid a while longer. 

On the road again...I love you all!

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Mirror Mirror: Does this make my freak ass look big? And something about drums...

"I was looking back to see if you were looking back to see
If I was looking back to see if you were looking back at me."

Jim Ed Brown - Maxine Brown

and:

"I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and I crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see."
Jimi Hendrix

and then:

"Anytime I switch to another instrument, I immediately turn it into another kind of drum so that I can understand it better."
Levon Helm

Do you ever feel like a big ass mirror that nobody wants to look into?  When I allow myself to feel cocky, I do.  Other days, I take a humble look at myself in others.  I have two faces.  I can do that.  And I'm okay with both. 

Seriously, when it comes to the journey of a spirit disguised as human...well, I'd be real surprised if it was all about me.  Believe it or not.  Never mind the fact that we live in a world that contradicts itself.  How many self-help books are on your shelf?   Women are forever concerned with self image.  And a self-made man somehow sounds better doesn't it?  Self service anyone? 

But whatever you do, don't be selfish.

Forgive me, but there's some serious cosmic humor in being told you're self-centered and oh, by the way, people are mirrors.  Interesting.

Sooooo...it's not about me?  Well, pooh.  Is it about you? 

Maybe it's about us, them, this, that, those people over there?  How about we're all connected in one way or another and, depending on what we need to look at in our SELVES, the energetic cords that connect us will be a comfortable country mile long...or, snap!...in your face? 

Sometimes the cords are more like handcuffs, but only in extreme cases of attachment.

And some connections are like bungee cords, bouncing back and forth until the motion stops.  Either someone dared you to take that jump, pushed you or your horoscope that day gave you a thumbs up for taking a risk.  Regardless, you're not likely to take up bungee jumping on a daily basis unless you enjoy feeling dizzy, disoriented and uncertain. Strange karma anyone?

Moving along, someone once told me I was a freak magnet.  And someone recently told me that I would attract weird no matter what.  Sooooooo...if people are mirrors?  Anyway, both messengers are drummers.  What's that about?  Coincidence or not, if it's about me then I've decided to embrace my inner freak and learn to play drums...which I've wanted to do for a long time anyway.  Not so weird, actually.

Drums are the heart and soul of a band as far as I'm concerned, and here's why:  If you're a card-carrying member of the "spiritual community," when was the last time you were invited to a bass guitar circle? Or a harmonica circle? A lead guitar circle?  In my experience, never.  But please let me know if there is such a thing.  You might attend a spiritual gathering that involves singing bowls or Native American flute, or (my least favorite) hugging trees, but if there's a circle involved there will be drums.  There could even be fire and naked people.  But again, there will be drums because the language of rhythm transcends normal communication boundaries and the drum circle is the space provided where "hum drum" finds inner rhythm. 

Even better, when a circle becomes one inner rhythm.  I've always felt a strong energetic connection to the Ethiopian community.  Just thinking about the people, the music, the food puts a natural smile on my face.  The first time I attended an Ethiopian celebration, I was a spec of white in a sea of darkness...but when the ladies formed a circle and "Momma Mulu" called me with her drum and I stepped into that circle...wow, just wow.  I was laughing at my clumsiness.  The little girls were laughing with me.  And then something else took the place of my clumsiness.  I felt it in an instant.  It was the rhythm of my heart flowing into the rhythm of the drum and all the women in that circle.  We were connected.  We were as one.  That may very well be the only moment in my life, thus far, that I have truly felt that sense of oneness.  That is my definition of world peace...dancing to the rhythm of one heart, one drum.

It's also important to dance to the beat of your own inner drummer.  Makes life interesting. 

Meanwhile, I'll be practicing...got my sticks, got my pad (less offensive to the neighbors when you're in the "I suck at this phase") and the first thing my Ruby Lou self wants to put a beat to when I don't suck too bad is this - who doesn't love Rick James? - because it sounds easy:



Kimmy Sue is stupid enough to think this is possible:

Uh, maybe not. 

This concludes the first quarter of one soul's journey in the year 2012.  I'm a good student, I think, but if you look in the mirror I might also be a good teacher.

As for me and my big freak ass?  You can kick it, kiss it, sniff it or spank it...it's all good!

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