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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Elementally Speaking: What's Your Sign?

"Fire, water...air and dirt...fucking magnets...how do they work?"

Insane Clown Posse

Quoting Insane Clown Posse again was not intentional, I swear.  They're just so fucking brilliant!  This blog will not be...but you'll laugh! 

So, my friend Isa, another Leo/fire sign, and I got together for some Little G Weevil at Blind Willie's.  Of course we sat up front, because the pedestals - I mean bar stools - were too far away from the action.  And of course we were loud.  That's just how it is.  Photo session with Little G?  Absolutely!  Hair?  Fabulous!  Fabulous meaning somewhere between don't fuck with me and just got laid.  Seriously, when it comes to Leos, if you don't know what you're doing...don't touch the hair!  Just get it over with.

The only thing missing was a couple of scorpions lurking in the background. 

For some reason, I'm hearing Cheech and Chong, although they are totally not Scorpios...but for the purposes of this blog, my Scorpios will have hippie Mexican accents.  No offense to either Scorpios or Mexicans.

Scorpio Cheech:  Duuuuude...this water is cold, it's fucking freezing in here!

Scorpio Chong:  Keep it down man, keep it down!  Smell that?

Scorpio Cheech (sniffing):  Ohhhhh...dude...is that what I think it is?!

Scorpio Chong:  Shhhhhhhhhh!  Siiiii...it is fire...and not just any fire...it is the...

Unison:  Jungle Boogie!  Score!  Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

Scorpio Chong:  Yeah man, those bitches can hear a hyena fart two jungles away.

Scorpio Cheech:  So what's the plan? 

Scorpio Chong:  We have to study this situation...one false move and they'll eat us for breakfast.

Okay...SCENE!

This isn't complicated.  When it comes to elements, fire and water are very predictable.  Actually, fire is  more predictable...but both are strong forces of nature.  Both have the power to destroy everything in its path.  

Like this:

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Or like this:

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Either way, you're going to lose the house.  Indeed.  This pairing falls into the category of "hot mess." 

And if you look at what's going on in the world today (or, for that matter, at any time) the struggle between these two elements is obvious. The quest for fire and the need to control it will never cease.  The need for water is obvious.  This is why Leos and Scorpios, fire and water, are such natural magnets.  They need each other.  And while there's an inherent struggle for power that plays out really well in some ways, finding balance in other ways is very tricky. 

Between the two of us, Isa and I have five Scorpio ex-husbands.  We'd be good candidates for cosmetic surgeons specializing in the removal of scorpion ass sting scars.  Apparently, her ass has room for a few more because she has a date with one tonight.  Please join me in prayer. 

Seriously, my last Scorpio husband stung my ass good.  His need to control my fire was so great that I had one tiny little flame left in the end.  Fortunately, it was enough heat to slowly bring me back to the surface of those dark, murky waters.  I had to crawl back to the jungle.  Needless to say, my hair was a mess.  It took years to comb that shit out!

So.  Fire and Water.  Steam heat on a good day.  Sauna in hell the next.  Completely drowning is a possibility as well.

Have you ever tried fire and fire?  Yeah.  I had the brilliant idea to marry another Leo.  Talk about the blind leading the blind.  No kidding.  Every bad habit you have, latent or otherwise, will join forces in a blaze of glory.  This is when all hell breaks loose.  You don't need flood insurance.  And this pairing falls into the category of "fucking stupid."

It looks like this:

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I'm not well versed in any of this, but I'm capable of decent general analogies.  Air and dirt?  I'm guessing the worst case scenario is this:

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Since I'm not a meteorologist, I won't attempt to elaborate on the many variations.  There's mudslides, earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes...yadayadayada.  It's all about control.

In a perfect world, the elements find harmony.  It looks something like this:

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Nice!  Not too windy.  Probably not humid.  I'd save a fortune on hairspray!

Whatever your element, BE IN IT!  Claim it, own it and share it where needed...but don't ever give it away or let anyone steal it. 

Rather simplifies the whole concept of think globally, act locally doesn't it?

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The Dating Game Part III: High or Low Maintenance?

"Well it sounds like Contestant number two is just overflowing with

sensitivity Sharon. It's a tough choice so far. Sharon lets have your last

question and see which one is gonna win the rights to your Neden."

Insane Clown Posse

If I ever want to get laid again, I should probably stop blogging. 

Sorry.  When you get the ball rolling with Insane Clown Posse, chances are potty mouth will be kicking it around. 

And then there's this:

The 12th-century book The Art of Courtly Love advised that "True love can have no place between husband and wife." According to one view, clandestine meetings between men and women, generally outside of marriage or before marriage, were the precursors to today's dating.

Having said that (and probably unrelated), it has recently been pointed out to me that I am too low maintenance. Lady friends are chomping at the bit to elevate me to a higher level, and I'm getting all sorts of advice on the do's and don'ts.  I told one friend that I didn't want to be too high maintenance and she immediately cut me off and said, "You should be!"

This is a conundrum.  I do not know exactly how to be high maintenance. I've made attempts, but somehow I just haven't pulled it off.  My masculine Ruby Lou energy definitely has the attitude and the sex appeal, but I think my downfall has always been Kimmy Sue...the overly intuitive part of me that sees the good in everyone, and makes excuses for everything else.  And then ultimately, just gets pissed off. 

Talk about a vicious cycle.  Self abuse anyone?

Yep, Kimmy Sue was raised to speak when spoken to and always clean her plate, no matter how bad it is. You could put a bowl of shit in front of her and she'd say, "Mmmm...shit...I love shit...can I get nuts with that?...oh, is that corn? I just love corn!"  Hell, KS will ask for seconds. The bad news is she simply must have the recipe so she can take it home and make it better, at which point she will turn it into a casserole and throw it back on the table.  On a good day, she might give you a shit biscuit to go with it.  On second thought, that might be a bad day...as in, that's probably KSRL for "getting even."

(Translation:  Codependent behavior, followed by a shit fit.)

Obviously, a big part of my evolution is a struggle to find the balance between being polite and speaking up for myself.  This could also be referred to as compassion with boundaries. 

If you are a girl raised in the south, you know exactly what I'm talking about. 

Back to compassion with boundaries.  When you miss the mark regarding compassion with boundaries, then you have anger and you have to acknowledge that anger projected is usually anger with yourself.  If the law of attraction dictates that you get what you ask for or expect, then you really can't be angry with anyone but yourself.  Forget all the bullshit you believed based on your PAST personal experience. It doesn't matter.  All that matters is what you accept for yourself right now.  I'm learning this at a faster rate than ever before.  It ain't easy let me tell you, but I am determined. 

So.  Low maintenance.  I once dated a guy for over a year and he took me out to dinner once.  Nice guy actually, but very selfish.  Now, the Kimmy Sue part of me understood why. It had nothing to do with money either.  But I accepted it.  Oddly enough, he never got a shit biscuit.  Possibly because he was the best kisser in the world, ever, to this date. At least I got something out of it. Anyway, that was one wounded little boy and all I could do was shower him with kisses and a compassionate ear.  Yet, I felt unappreciated.  After I broke up with him, he told me he loved me.  Go figure.

Somewhere in the middle was a history teacher that I dated for 2 1/2 years.  He satisfied my need for quirky conversation and we took turns buying dinners.  Truthfully, this seems fair to me.  I've never been on board with men having to pay for everything.  He also had the best butt in the world, ever, to date.  Seriously, he could be a butt model.  You know, now that I'm thinking about this experience I want to say it was a pleasant, benign break from everything.  It wasn't exactly right, but it wasn't wrong. 

I did have one really good experience with a wounded little boy.  And it gives me hope for the future because the memories remind me that it is possible to find the balance between mutual comfort (we're all wounded right?) and codependence.  We saved each other. 

I won't bore you with more stories, but here's where I mention a close friend and unofficial spiritual teacher who highlighted my tendency to attract wounded little boys like stink on shit. 

In closing, I will admit that I still haven't found the perfect balance between being polite and speaking up for myself.  It's a work in progress.  However, Ruby Lou has truly shown Kimmy Sue her balls.

So, ladies...KSRL speak for high maintenance:  if your balls are bigger than what's knocking on your door, it ain't got no business "sniffing your Neden."

By the way, this is not an angry blog.  I am grateful for everyone that has crossed my path and helped me to get where I am now.  I'm also laughing. Hey, better late than never.

And I can't tell you how much fun it is to have names for my own duality.  KSRL is but one way to evolve.  There are many, but this is my way...spiritual comedy.  Unfortunately, sometimes I nail the punchline and sometimes I don't. 

Also, (having a Leo moment here) I'm an official acronym...check it out:

http://www.acronymgeek.com/KSRL

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Cats In A Hot Tin Roof: Drop It Like It's Hot!

"All she wants to do is dance..."
Don Henley

If your current life finds you in Atlanta, Georgia in the vicinity of Tin Roof Cantina and you wander in on a Wednesday night, beware - you just might wake up to more than another day.

Thank God.  I discovered the Mike Veal Band on the arms of a crappy marriage that shared nothing more than a love of music and watching everyone else have fun.  We drowned our sorrows and smiled through our favorite cover songs.  I think we danced a few times, but it never felt right.

Shit happens.  And the only way to get rid of shit is to take a dump.  So, I took a big dump and moved on.  I feel much better, thank you.

But lo and behold, the universe does not revolve around me.  I'm still in shock.  You mean it isn't my job to save the world?  Really?  Well, damn.  Now what?

Fortunately and unfortunately, like attracts like.  Everyone I know is on the edge of something - trying to figure out where to go from here and looking back for clues as to what keeps getting in the way. 

I love it.  Even when it sucks.

After all, a circle of influence will never contain anything other than what you need or ask for when you need or ask for it.  It's called the law of attraction, and I am definitely attracting everything I need and, on some level, am asking for.

I'm also in the fast lane right now...desperately avoiding a familiar exit that leads to a little town called "Search and Rescue."  I've been there so many times, I could drive blindfolded and still find my way around.

I'm very good at feeling my way actually, but seeing as how I don't want to wreck my new car I recently yanked the blindfold off in hopes that I might see more clearly where I've been going. 

Whoa.  I'll be damned.  The writing on the wall.  The one that says:

STOP TRYING TO SAVE US YOU ARROGANT FUCKING MORON

SAVE YOUR OWN DAMNED SELF

WE'RE ALL JUST YANKING YOUR CHAIN ANYWAY

Ain't that some shit?  And they're right.  I've been yanked around enough and it's my own damned fault.

The next time you get pissed off because someone is yanking your chain...back it up and get real! You let them do it.

So, I'll just fix my ass on the dance floor.  I can back it up and drop it like it's hot...and if I get too low, someone I can see will pick it right back up! 

Cats in a hot tin roof are friendly like that!

KS:  Where are those damned earplugs?
RL:  Here, you can borrow mine!



Crackheads and Doormats: It's all about boundaries!

"have you lost your place?
I wore my doormat face.
I hung my this or that.
I laid my welcome mat."

R.E.M. 

A crackhead spit on my new car this morning.  Zippityfuckingdodahday!  All I did was tell him I didn't have two dollars or a sausage biscuit, unless I wanted to give him my daughter's breakfast or the money I gave her for after school.  Forgive me, but my child takes precedence.

I wasn't always so quick to say no.  Once upon a time, I wandered my stomping grounds with a big, fat sign on my forehead that said please dump your shit here and take my money and take everything while you're at it because I obviously don't need it.

Whatever the sob story was, I bought it. 

Not judging at all.  As we locked eyes through my windshield and he bestowed upon me the most hateful expression I've seen in a long time, I felt empathy for him.   Even as he bent down to hock a wad on the hood of my Honda, I felt compassion for him. Wow.  I don't care about the spit, but I will never forget that look.  He visually stated:  I HATE YOU LITTLE WHITE BITCH IN YOUR SHINY NEW CAR! 

He judged me. 

For a second, I felt guilty - until I remembered that codependence is often disguised as a bleeding heart. 

We all get lost sometimes, but I'm pretty sure we have to find ourselves.

And his anger had nothing to do with me, so I drove on and said a little prayer for that lost soul.

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