Archive for June, 2012

Taking Out the Dead Stuff, and Related Ponderings

Posted in Uncategorized on June 20, 2012 by Queenie

Some good while ago I wrote a piece that had something to do with Cutting Away the Dead Parts, but I never published that one. I believe my current vein of thoughts is entirely similar, though it sounds a little, or a lot kinder, and not so much to do with removing parts of whatever’s dead and hoping you’re not taking any still connected living stuff along with the dearly departed. Upon further pondering, I’m about to conclude that whatever the method, all parts of the removal process are likely to include some damage to surrounding tissue….or perhaps it’s just our psyche in disguise. I suppose that explains the wound and subsequent healing, and why some things just hurt so damned much.

I had another of those little epiphanies some several months ago when I talked about finally ridding myself, and my space, of those dead roses – (click here). And that one, happy to say, didn’t hurt at all. Rather, it felt pretty good. And now, having made some amount of progress, (the good kind, little p), in whipping myself into a differentish life, I think further boundaries are about to be tested.

I find myself quite amazed to be in the middle of living my own life, the one I’ve evidently created. Surely that sounds like a befuddled statement, or a senseless one, because after all, aren’t we all living our own lives, little or big? Ah, not all, I think. It’s way too easy, or maybe not, to look up in the midst of a moment and come to the astounding realization (akin to being smacked across the face with a fish or raw bacon), that your life is indeed living you. For some it’s a comfortable surrender, despite the rude deliveries, for it enables one to likewise surrender Responsibility, and for very many that’s a load off. Another option for Default Life Living is to assume the position of Victim, for again, everything is someone else’s fault. It can become a very convenient Go To, and like any mind altering substance or behavior, can become ingrained and habitual. (That, however, is not to be confused with anything having to do with Chocolate.) And be advised that Victim Behavior might be accepted once, (stuff does indeed happen), but a steady diet of repeat victimhood from the same source begets little sympathy when the song becomes old and tired, and wasn’t pleasant to listen to in the first place.

When I first wrote my little book, I gave a bunch of copies away, and some friends insisted on paying for them. One copy got into the hands of a particular sisterfriend, who was moved to call me after she’d taken a good look, and proceeded to tell me that I needed to read my own book every day. (She was indeed quite close to some source material.) I suppose I considered that to be preaching to the choir, and the choir made light of the directive. Of course I haven’t done that, since I’m supposed to KNOW all that stuff, right? Yet, and here’s the rub, Life sneaks up on us when we think we’re all smart and maybe even sassy or at least settled into some level of comfort, and then, there it is, that tapping on your shoulder. You turn innocently around, and Bam, there’s LIFE all big and maybe laughing, (you hope, and in a good way), and in collaboration with the Universe, (you didn’t forget about Great Mystery, did you?), and, well, there you are with your face hanging out and you’ve got a great big package to open. Or…maybe it’s a little one. The size of the package has little to do with its impact. (And please don’t quote me on that – they’ll make fun of me again for yet another innocent statement, however true….or not…and surely I digress.)

I’ve been thinking around the edges of a lot of things lately. Things are happening; Life is happening; stuff is happening, and mostly all at once. At this point I don’t know whether to run with the stampede or jump out of the way. Perhaps this is the Running of the Peacocks at the Slippery Slope, a far cry from those bulls at Pamplona, but still a bit unnerving to my tender sensibilities. As fast as some things have been breaking, other things have been forming, and it’s felt somewhat like being in some or several parts of a maelstrom. Even if you find the supposed calm in the center, if you stick your nose out you get hard windblown, (and maybe whacked by debris), out in the flow. I don’t think even duct tape would do to hold things down.

In short word, just about everything I wrote in my little book is having a rebirth, for lack of any better descriptive, in my current state of being. Those pearls that I spit or poured out back then when the writing was hot and flowing, have rolled themselves around and dang near reinvented themselves, and as such morphed into another perception and meaning. Well huh.

Yesterday I stood on my porch deck and had a big look at how much deadwood surrounds me after the drought last year, which still continues into this one. The Spanish Oaks to the north, in and beyond the yard into the next acre, are more dead than alive, and it’s sad to look at all that dead. I need to get a crew together of some sort and do some serious trimming. It’s time. And that’s how this whole thread of thought got brought to the surface.

Time to get rid of the dead, and allow the still living a chance to grow and feel some air and sky. Time to make room for the new and dispatch the dead, with proper reverence and disposal as is necessary or earned. And with those ponderings I got taken back to the words in my little book – how Here They Are, all dressed up in new clothes and in an entirely different light than the one in which they were written. Huh, again. How did THAT happen?

I ascribe to the belief system that we create our realities, at least when we come to the Ta Dah moment of discovery that that is indeed how it does happen. The addendum tacked on to that momentous enlightenment, if we care to claim it, is that we must then assume responsibility for our own lives…our happiness….the state of our state – well, you get the drift. But that Responsibility thing has shaken more than a few souls, and “No thank you” has become a familiar response. Maybe even a “Hell No” if that’s your bent. To what will I say Yes? Who am I, now?

As if I weren’t convinced, one of my daily inspirational sources reminded me again this morning, as he does most every morning, that “thoughts become things.” (If you’re interested, check out TUT, and Notes from the Universe, This school of thought, (and I do believe Life serves as a school), teaches that we create what we think. And sure enough, I wrote just that in the book, only in different words, about how powerful we indeed are, and quite capable of conjuring up what we think about, and by golly the Universe gets things in motion to deliver unto us. Someone else also had the same experience and reported it succinctly as “Be careful what you ask for.”

Apparently I’ve created me up some new energy and experiences. It would seem in this maelstrom of creativity that the collective energies have spilled over into whatever passes as real life, as appliances and devices of all sort and shape have chosen this period to pursue their futures in the afterlife, and we’ve been replacing things right and left. A misfit bunch of peafowl descended upon The Slope, and it’s been sort of fun and yet sad, as one of the hens made a nest and laid six eggs, then she was attacked and was robbed of her eggs, and mayhem happened. Wham, Bang, just like that.

The things I wrote in the book were born of another time and experience, and now the words don’t seem to mean the same thing at all as when I wrote them. The words I wrote about finding Strength when you think things are both just fine and quite dandy, when Divine Opportunity will step right up and say, “Hi Cutie, how did you think you are?” are giving me a genuine Say What? moment. My test has nothing to do with what I thought it was going to be, someday, but is about something entirely different from what I had concocted at the time. Life’s like that – tricky little bugger.

To quote my own self: Oh Divine Opportunity, don’t we just love it? And I guess we’d better, for to give up the adventure because we’ve assumed a semi-comfortable position in a life lived by default or autopilot is some version of checking out. I guess I’ve gotten rather better at my manifesting than I remembered, or else I’ve just been coasting for too long now. Doesn’t feel like I’ve been coasting though – because the best word I have for all of these goings on is INTENSE. And Intense gets pretty tiring after a while, or makes your back go out. Ow. So just how in charge AM I, after all? Victim or Creator?

And so dear readers, Queenie ponders on, making her way into new and uncharted territory, hoping for fair winds and gentle breezes, and days and days of female rain on a parched land. Adventure awaits. Friends are coming to visit, and it’s a new moon and Summer Solstice is here. Honestly, if there are any more cosmic episodes in store – eclipses, Venusian transits across the sun, way big full moons – I’m not sure I can make it till the grand conjunction, or whatever it is that’s supposed to happen on December 21st. Can’t be the end of the world, as the election will have already happened, and we’ll be well on our way no matter how that turns out.

Stay tuned. You never know what’s going to happen next around here. Changes are afoot, and a package with a big bow and my name on it is on its way. I’m going to find that purple duct tape and secure my tiara.

Peace y’all. Think well, I’m telling you. This stuff WORKS.