the dream life

releasing with reiki

I didn't always know what it meant to be empathic, but I always was empathic. As a child, this led to many stomach aches. As an adult, I started to figure out how to tell the difference between what was mine and what wasn't, but I couldn't necessarily do anything about it. When I began to learn about intuitive and healing work, it became obvious that I would have to come up with a method for releasing all the stuff I was carrying around in my physical and energetic body - both my stuff and the stuff I picked up from other people.

In addition to shielding and grounding practices, I have several methods for release that are working for me right now, and one in particular that engage in a couple of times a week. I want to share it with you because it's a practical use of Reiki, it's something you can do whether you know the symbols or not, and its result is a powerful transformation that you will definitely feel. 

As with all things, you can follow your own guidance and come up with a clearing and releasing method that works for you. This just happens to be what I'm doing lately.

joan jett & the blackhearts

for the August Break.

kiss & touch

Last night, Tracy and I went to a Kiss show. Kiss is one of those bands for Tracy. He saw them when he was a kid and has seen them several times since. He's always wanted to share the Kiss experience with me. 

We had fun. (Earplugged) loud, crazy, fire show, guys in platform shoes flying over the crowd sort of fun. I confess to being a pretty big fan of Gene Simmons Family Jewels, and that enhanced my enjoyment of the show, which is a show to be sure.

And we had a good time driving home. There are passionate, important conversations to be had on the interstate in the middle of the night. We got home late, still talking, embracing one another's company, and as I drifted into sleep near 3 a.m., I acknowledged my gratitude for this relationship. It's sort of the key to everything - how I ended up here, how we ended up together, and how we keep it alive, which isn't about keeping at all, but allowing and loving in an active and present way. Cycles and choosing.

This is my church

I ask for signs. I go out. I'm walking and listening to the Smiths through my pink headphones and I encounter a woman listening to music through her pink headphones. Her hair is the exact color that waits on my bathroom shelf. She raises a hand of acknowledgement to me and I raise a hand of acknowledgement to her. She smells like patchouli and suddenly I am ageless, beautiful. I look down:

and then a white butterfly swirls in front of me and then another and they fly with me like that, all the way home.

Dance with me

Recently, I went to hear the Temptations and the Four Tops with friends. The ticket to the show was gifted to me by someone I haven't seen since we were young children. These three friends had planned an evening of dinner and music and when one couldn't go, she gave her ticket to me and suddenly, there I was, enjoying a fine meal and great company and Motown.

At the concert, my head was filled with stories. I thought about the two original members of the bands, how long they'd been performing, the social climate, the changes they've seen, the evolution of pop music. I enjoyed the sound that filled the auditorium. I felt it, but I mostly stayed in my seat. As my friend danced next to me, I thought about how long ago, I used to go out almost every weekend to hear music and how I danced with abandon and how I don't do that anymore.

My weekend rocked (thank you)

Cards and presents and facebook messages -- people showed me so much love on my birthday. I had a fantabulous weekend thanks to Tracy and Mandy, that included scrumptious vegan meals at PM (pot stickers, sushi), Batter'd & Fried (sushi), the Wild Cow (tofu buffalo grinder, mac n cheese, tempeh reuben, peanut butter cheesecake), and Drifters BBQ (black bean burger); shopping at Cosmic Connections, the Hip Zipper & various lovely places in Green Hills; Guilty Pleasures at the Mercy Lounge; and Rick Springfield at the Wildhorse Saloon (my present from Tracy. Awesome.)

We drove home in the snow yesterday afternoon, picked Woody up from his dog hotel and our sweet neighbors brought over warm jam thumbprint cookies.

Perfection.

I believe in angels

How it used to be, these friends of mine

I am remembering how it used to be to buy an album or a CD, and devour it, how I would buy something and the immerse myself in it and live in it for months and it would become a part of me. Music is still that important to me, but I tend to buy things song by song now. I am remembering how it used to be, the story of the album, and how it was to hold the object and examine it and how there was a level of respect, of reverence, and also excitement - connection.

Tori Amos Little Earthquakes was like that. It said something for me. It consumed me or I consumed it or we somehow merged.

Sad songs of hope

The December theme for NaBloPoMo is Mitzvah and it comes with a challenge: to give something to someone every day of the month and then blog about it.

This "give something to someone everyday" thing is showing me that I am not nearly as giving a person as I would like to think. What I have noticed is how much I receive, how many gifts are given to me, every day. Like the coffee Tracy makes for me every morning; like the vegan tempeh vegetable peanut curry dinner he made for me tonight; like the situations that turn around as if by magic, releasing me; like each of the comments left on my previous post - each one left by someone precious to me - each one crafted with exactly the words I needed to hear; little signs, little miracles, all the time. (Thank you.)

Here is a tiny, small gift for you. A little playlist for a cold, wet December night. I suggest listening while sipping something warm and spicy.

soft, softer

Holiday blues hit me a little early this year so I hung lights and strung some garland. I also bought this and I'm thinking about this. I'm watching Synecdoche, New York now and remembering how much I love the way Charlie Kaufman writes. Small, small and softly, I enter this season.

The moment I let go of it

Thank you, Connie.

Bat for Lashes Daniel

Buddy Holly on line one

My co-worker shared this with me today and I spent a few minutes listening to it through headphones at my desk; I was riveted. I think what gets me is how familiar Buddy Holly’s voice sounds to me as he gently asks for his songs.  I listen to this, listen to him come up against this wall, and he knows what he’s doing. He’s recording the conversation for a reason, after all. But he also sounds genuine and kind. I listen to this and think about the impact he had on music in such a short span of time. I’ve always had a fondness for Buddy Holly. This phone call makes me think of him in a different sort of way. It makes me feel a little bit close to him. It also makes me think about time and how it changes everything and how important things are one minute and how meaningless the next. It it makes me think about art, about what it is to create something, how creating something means pushing out into the frontier, into a place that only you can see, and how you must hold on to that vision even when the experts, the people who supposedly know better, those who wield power, can't see it. It makes me think about being true to oneself, the inner calling, that spark that curls up inside you in, rises through your spine, and sings.

Friday fire

How I spent my fall vacation: day five

I neglected to mention yesterday that in addition to experiencing the ethereal floaty sensation and rearranging the house, I made these. They were quite good. You're thinking that my vacation has been a little food-heavy and you're right. This will most likely continue. It continued this morning when I ate two of those cookies for breakfast. It's not my fault that chocolate goes so well with coffee.

This vacation is a regret-free zone, so I didn't feel guilty about those cookies at all and I didn't beat myself up for not making it to the Carnegie Center yesterday to contribute to the world's largest short story, even though I had intended to.