Wednesday, November 5, 2014

I need a new passion!

Listening to today's Pele Report by Tom Lescher, I realized that I have left behind old passions that I've outgrown. Old desires, old needs, old belief's I'd held for too long. I'm a different person that I was two years ago. Totally and utterly. I no longer crave what I so badly wanted before - completion through sex, through merging with another human being, through bodily passion.

Strangely, I don't seem to crave a whole lot at all these days. Thus, the title of this blog post.

Lescher says: "We know we have a soul because we have desire."

Well, what is mine? I don't have a new one. I'm currently swimming in a pool just treading water, waiting. Nothing grabs me and makes me feel so passionate that my soul can't live without it.

Lescher says: "We are finishing over 2 years of old ways of being, the end of old desires, impulses and sparks and moving into a new place."

So what does that new place look like? What fires my passion and gives me as much of a boost as an orgasm? Um..... frankly, nothing comes to mind. I'm feeling a little blank right now. Well, a lot blank. I actually went to a BPW networking event today and told a bunch of women I was looking for a new passion in life. Will I find one?



Who knows? I don't feel like I'm suppressing that much anymore, but I do feel the truth of what he says about security. How do we redefine security for ourselves? What's it based on having?

For me, I think of my house. Of how I'd like it to be. I guess that's my goat-fish journey. It's a long journey to get things the way I'd like them to be: a cocoon. Maybe this points to a new future in construction?

Could be! Maybe if I open Pandora's box I'll find a hammer :)

He does say it's time to make a new mask, incorporate new desires. I guess it could be related to home improvement. Hmmm.....I guess I need to own my remodeling desires. Okay then!

Bratty

Sunday, October 26, 2014

More TV complaining - BBC gets it wrong

I think the last show I complained about was Game of Thrones. I didn't like the way they handled Joffrey's death, thought it too pat, and a bit wasteful. Now I'm utterly aghast at Sherlock.


I know in between I've harped about The Tudors and someone might say, well, who's picking your viewing options here? But really, there's only so much on Netflix these days I'd deign to watch in the first place. So there you go.

No, the 1st eppy of season 3 curdled my stomach against the show almost as badly as the eppy of Lost where they shot Locke and left him in a mound of bodies to die. But I realized last night there are a few differences to these two situations. One is a story issue and one is a character issue.

When it comes to watcher involvement with the show, there's two types of investment. One is in the story itself and the other is in the character. When they shot Locke on Lost, an entire story line came to a sudden halt. Sort of like Joffrey's death. It just went splat. Now, if you've invested heavily in that storyline and believe it to be an important part of the overall story, you're going to feel cheated, disoriented, possibly even ticked off as you're wondering why they did that. Because if they can just off any storyline at any point, what's the point of investing your attention in the show? If they're going to yank the rug out from under your feet, there's none at all. So I stopped watching a little while later.

With Sherlock, the problem is out of character behaviour, or sudden about-face in the main character. You'd have to be a dolt not to know that even in romance books, the reader has to LIKE the main love interest. Yes, like. Even if the man or woman is a dark hero, or a tortured hero, there has to be some redeeming quality, something the reader can cling to, recognize as part of themselves and be able to root for the character.

I grant you, Sherlock is a hard character to establish emo connection with. He's reclusive, non-emotional and wholly left-brained. He's not empathetic and in a way, almost autistic with his interactions with other people. That said, the show has made a point of building a relationship - even hinting at gayness in Sherlock - between himself and Watson. It's even tried to make Sherlock more human. He kisses Molly on the cheek. He's shaking with anger when his landlady is attacked. Of course he's still brilliant and clever. So we like him, he grows on us. 

And then he laughs at Watson's feelings.

I'm sorry, but the sudden change from intelligent yet distant defender of truth and justice got flipped on it's head like a 1,000-lb beached whale the very second Sherlock started laughing and said "I really had you going there, didn't I?"

With that one action, that one line, the writers destroyed the investment into the character and turned him into a devious, manipulative egotist. Besides, it doesn't make sense. If he's so devoid of emotion, why would he seek to get a kick out of making fun of Watson??? 

Worse, now that Watson's still hanging around, we can only assume that he's a pathetic character who has so little else to do in his life that he'll stay in an abusive relationship. 

Arthur Conan Doyle must be fuming in his grave.

Anyway, that little cock up totally fucked the series for me. Maybe I'm too sensitive, too ACOA to invest in a character that mocks other people's feelings. 

To that I say, damn right. Watch the show at your own peril.

Bratty

Friday, September 19, 2014

Vacation photos September, 2014

A few photos from Port Townsend, and around the Port Angeles, WA area.

Salt Creek Recreation Area looking down on Crescent Bay

Salt Creek Recreation Area

Crescent Bay beach

Lake Crescent

Marymere Falls

Lady Washington

More later,

Bratty

Robin Williams and the addiction we all share

So I read this pretty good article about the death of Robin Williams the other day. It's by a psychologist and I thought it was pretty good for the most part, at least until she got to the point where she pretty much called him manic depressive.

http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/opinion/2014/08/15/dr-judy-psychological-reflections-on-tragedy-robin-williams-suicide/

And that's okay I guess, but it's not as accurate as I think the analysis could be. Because, I think when you apply a label to something it makes it US vs. THEM. If you label someone manic depressive then you can say, "oh, that's not me. I'm not like that." But that's a foolish road to go down IMO. In a way, it will only take you farther from yourself.

The way I see Robin Williams' death, it was all about addiction.


I know, I said I would talk about the father image, the male archetype, but I kind of got sidetracked. Who can blame me? According to Kaypacha, we're all going through this inner child thang. A thang where yeah, the inner child needs to grow up a bit. For many people that means letting go of the hurts of the past - some of which we keep acting out over and over and over again in our adult lives. I call these repetitive actions of doing the same thing over and over again in order to relieve our personal - inner child - pain, addiction. Really, that's what it is. And I think that's what killed Robin Williams.






That's not Kaypacha's best report but it's not his worst either. If you've been watching him for a while, he's made it pretty clear that this inner child work is intense. It's hard to do, to let go and to grow. Some people who are already done with their work are checking out. Others, who simply won't do the work or are too fragile to do it, are checking out, too. People like Robin Williams.

Now, I don't know what Robin's childhood was like. I myself had a childhood, and I can tell you it was fraught with hurts and there was lots of leftover garbage. It's not a stretch for me to say that Robin had some of the same. But I can't say exactly how much. I will suppose though, that for Robin Williams to become a star, for him to push himself that hard at making comedy - his way of getting strokes, making himself feel good with the adoration, etc. - he must have had a LOT of hurt lurking in there. Why? Humans are lazy creatures. They won't dig a 20 foot hole if a 10 foot hole will do. If one visit to the dentist will do it, they don't volunteer for more. In other words, if I have a childhood hole to fill that's as big as a Cadillac, I'm going to seek exactly that much attention. If on the other hand it's the size of the Empire State Building, then I'm going to need a MUCH BIGGER bang for my efforts. I'm going to need LOTS of payoff.

Like become famous.

Only, get this. A crutch is a crutch is a crutch. Once you start to get in touch with that inner child, and once you figure out that YOU can take care of the inner child's needs mostly by yourself, what good is the crutch anymore? You can just toss away the addictive behaviour and be done with it, right? Well, what if it's your job? And what if that job makes you millions of dollars?

Robin Williams' job was to be funny but I can almost guarantee you his inner child wasn't funny at all. His inner child, like most everybody's was hurt and sad and afraid. But in order to pay attention to it and take care of it the right way, he needed to put down the crutch. Only he was too afraid to do so. He chose to end his life rather than say, "you know what, world? This is me, the real me, and I'm really not funny. I'm done with being funny."

Maybe he felt too much pressure - didn't want to disappoint his fans, his wife, the movie industry. Or maybe it was all too personal for him, too hurtful and he found he could not love his true inner self at all. That he abandoned his inner self is obvious. He abandoned himself in the worst way. He gave up when faced with the answer: love yourself as you truly are. Not as you were taught to be. Not the shell that we all formed to protect ourselves from further hurt. But the real, inner, original person we all once were. It's still there, waiting for us. Getting to it can be frustrating and yes, you have to give up your addictions - the things you use like band aids to make yourself feel better - to become the real you.

It's addiction that killed Robin Williams. I won't pretend I don't know what that feels like, and I refuse to label it as something "else." To do so would put a spin on it that would tarnish the message his death left to the world, and tag it as something "other people" did, and not us. That's not true. We, all of us, do addiction all the time. Just not on the same scale. And man, from there the view must have looked pretty darn steep.

R.I.P. Robin Williams.

Bratty


Thursday, August 21, 2014

The Tudors - where were the feminists?

Photo by Lisa Weidmeier, MYWANA

By the end of Season 2, when Anne Boleyn meets her grim death, I really hate Henry VIII. I hate looking at him, I hate listening to him, I despise his every moment on screen. I suppose that really, that's as it should be. But I feel the show has sucked a lot of joy out of me to in the process. I won't be watching season 3, or any following ones. I'm done. D-o-n-e done.

In a way, the whole history of Henry VIII and his hapless - or headless - wives rankles me in a very pro-feminist way. No, I'm not going to get on a feminist soapbox - well, maybe just a little - but what really irritates me about the show is 1. Margaret Tudor and 2. Jane Seymour. We can talk about the male characters later. Those two women really embody what's wrong with women today. Yes, I said today, for really, we haven't changed much, have we?

In the Showtime version of The Tudors, Margaret Tudor (also see historical inaccuracy section of the wikii here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tudors)  is married off to King Louis XII, a much older man. While it's not to her liking and arranged marriages deny women choice, she would have had a very comfortable life as queen. However, in the show she suffocates the king - committing an act of murder most unwholesome she shows no remorse for. Then, when she finally has what she so desperately wants - CHOICE - what does she do with it?

She picks another man.

*Head slap*

On the one hand, yes, I do feel sorry for any woman used merely as a political pawn and forced into a marriage not of their choosing. I understand that would be unpleasant. However, instead of either accepting her fate and choosing to focus on her own growth within the marriage, she again tosses away any hope of self-realization when she shackles herself to the Duke of Suffolk. For in doing so, is she not imprisoning herself in just the same way as Henry VIII had? Her actions break down like this:

* No, I don't want to marry him, I want to be free
* I've killed him, now I'm free
* Now that I'm free, I desire most of all to become fettered
* I hand over my freedom to a different man

Later, she realizes she's hastily married a playboy and dies unhappily of consumption. Nice choice, right? But women had no choice in those days, you say. Well, the Showtime portrayal of several of the characters was not quite accurate. However, in this, I think one can see in Margaret Tudor a bit of ourselves, no? How many of us believe that we are incomplete without a man? How many of us would sell our soul for the "right" man who'll make us "happy"? How long do we go through life believing the fantasy to be true - that only someone else can make us happy and whole? Too many of us, and for too long, I say. Margaret would have been better off becoming the full woman she could have been rather than yet again the man's woman.

And that brings us to Jane Seymour, who obviously had a touch of FUCKING NUTCASE about her. I mean, picture this:

Your intended - again, the man - has just chopped off the head of his wife's brother, several of her supposed lovers, and imprisoned her family. To add to the horror, he's just cut of his wife's head. A woman he once supposedly LOVED so much he stood against the Roman Church and demanded he be allowed to marry her. But now, she's missing a head, and oh, Jane, does he ever want to kiss you.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!

I mean, really. How sexy is the guy who made lovey-dovey eyes to his former wife only to later cut off her noodle? The fact he cut off a woman's head should have her running away - gagging - at the cold brutality of it. But when she was kissing him, when he was wooing her, didn't she ever picture in her mind's eye her father and her brother's heads rolling down the street? Listen, the girl could have thought a little harder is all I'm saying. If she'd searched her heart and soul she'd never have let Henry VIII court her.

Of course, you say, there's power and money involved. Heh. Yeah. We're not like that today at all, are we? Every woman wants to live comfortably, but how few of them want to be their true selves? How many of us ever dive into that pool and disassociate ourselves  from the role of men's playthings long enough to even hear the voice of our true self? The fact that in every story version I've seen, Anne Boleyn's father is the one who egged her on to garner the king's appreciation in order for the family to gain power and fortune only makes the whole story worse for me. Sadder. Depressing.

It's a worthless folly that should not be repeated. Ever. But I fear it already has been, countless times in our short, all too human history. Enough girls. Enough!

More later,

Bratty

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Who are your friends?

It seems that every few years friends get swept in and swept out of my life like a wave coming through. Total changes occur, sometimes without much warning. I used to think this only happened to me. Maybe it really does!

Photo courtesy of Jenny Kazorowksi, MYWANA

I also was often confused by it, but now I think it's just personal growth. If everyone around you is standing still, refusing to grow but you are -- well, that's not a sustainable arrangement. You see, the people around you are called to be part of your life and represent parts of you.

I'm simply not the same person I was three or four years ago. I won't be the same a few years from now either. Likely I'll have different friends then. Or maybe none at all. In a way it doesn't matter. Not for me, not at this point in my life.

Yes, I know you can only "see" parts of yourself via relationships. But after having been the queen of relationships - maybe I got to the one the finally broke the last straw - I no longer feel called to do them. And look out. When a Libra is done with something, they're just "done." Stick a fork in it, throw it in the bin.

That's kind of how I feel about writing romance right now. Or erotica for that matter. Boom! It's done. Fini. Yesterday's news. I hardly have the urge to continue on that line. Internally, I'm being pulled into new directions and my tastes and interests have changed. Bam! They're all different. 

So maybe at this point a few friends have already or will drop off to continue on their path and I'll find new mirrors that reflect back to me the "new" me, whoever that is. 

Too damn early to say.

More later,

Bratty

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Have you talked to your inner child today?

Do you talk to your inner child and your inner teenager every day? If  not, you might want to check out this blog post here from Family Tree Counseling: http://www.familytreecounseling.com/nancysblog/?p=707

It seems strange to say, I'm an adult and I'm also a child, or, I'm an adult and I'm also a teenager, but in fact we all are. All of us walking around in fully-grown human bodies still carry the original, innermost parts of ourselves as well as all of our learned behaviours. The inner child is just us - our youngest selves - the feeling, easily hurt, innocent piece of childhood we all think we left behind so very long ago. But even though we're in adult bodies now with adult minds, we never did lose our childhood self. Sadly, we just learned over time to ignore it like many of our parents did.

Photo courtesy of KB Owen, MYWANA

We all think we've discovered how to deal with our little child, how to protect it from harm in our own way. We've built walls, amassed weapons, honed our skills. That's great, right? We are now the our inner child's protectors. Except for one thing. That protector most likely formed during a period of maturing we all call teenage years. Yep. The protector out there slashing away, making sure nothing harms the little girl or boy again is making all its decisions based upon A TEENAGE UNDERSTANDING OF LIFE. Whoa, baby.

I don't know if you remember the teenage years very well. The pain and suffering, the hormones slamming through you, the lost, confused, agonizing vulnerability. Let's just go out on a limb here and say that intellectually, those were not our best years. We were beset by too much to handle and believe me, looking for any rope to grab onto in the storm.

Some of us choose drugs.
Or alcohol.
Or sex.
Or buying things.
Or food.
Or we run away via traveling.
Anything, to get us through the rough times so we don't have to deal with the hurt head on.
In doing so, we inadvertently set the program for what will become the way we deal with every issue that life throws at us. Because it feels right, no? We're protecting ourselves, we're dealing with our pain in the only way know how.
Again, based on a teenager's understanding of life.

So ask yourself. Right now in life when shitty things happen to you and you fly off the handle and end up in a very familiar place AGAIN: Who's driving bus? I'd wager it's not your adult self.  I'll bet you a million bucks and be a millionaire by morning. When you slip into the passion of trying to make yourself FEEL BETTER it's the teenager driving the bus, and your inner child providing the fuel. The inner child doesn't want to be hurt. It hurts to get hurt! Especially when there's no relief in sight, or the parents you grew up with never showed you how to take care of your feelings. Instead, the wrathful teenager lashes out in a very teenage minded way, grabs the crutch/weapon/drink of choice that you've fashioned so many years ago and dives right into the abyss while the adult takes a nap.

Then what happens? The adult wakes up, sees there's a problem and doesn't know how it got there and has a big fucking mess to clean up. But then, if we start to wake up even a little we start to realize we have some problems inside of us we're not taking care of. What to do about them becomes our next course of action. In a way, I think that's why the song Demons resonates with many people. It's about our inner demons and the struggle to deal with them.






So how do we deal with them?

We recognize the problem and begin to dig in. Into our selves. To listen and learn from our child and teenager, to value their input and to adapt it to our adult lives. We learn to see where the adult is falling asleep and WHY. We learn those hurt feelings inside of us aren't going to be fixed by that new drug, that new lover or that new car. Guess what? That leaves the responsibility solely on our shoulders. At first, it feels new but it's not. It's always been our job to deal with our emotions. We've just been letting a teenager try to fix things, over and over again, and finally realized that doesn't work.

Welcome to the adult world.

So I'm going to ask you again, have you talked to your inner child today? Have you told it, hey, I know they hurt you, but I'm here now. I'm not going to ignore you anymore. And have you recognized your inner teenager saying, I'll fix this, let me bash something for you. And have you told it, just a second. Let me think on that plan....

Good luck!

Yvette

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Is it love or addiction? It depends on who's driving the bus!


The simple answer is, it's addiction if you have done this behavior before to ease the pain. What pain? Any pain. We all carry it. We all have leftover hurts from childhood we wish that our parents would have taken care of for us. But they didn't. That left them in our hands... our young, innocent, barely functioning hands. 'Cause let's be honest - decisions we made about how things work or how to fix things that we made at the age of 16 could easily be classified as totally ignorant of how the world really works. It might seem like the right idea at the time.... but then as you get older, you have to come to terms with the fact the behavior you're doing to ease the pain is in and of itself a problem!

Welcome to addiction.

You know, it's easy to spot addiction when it's right out there. Nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, marijuana, prescription drugs. Those are all no-brainers, right? Anybody could spot those without a magnifying glass. But what about other behaviors? Lying. Cheating. Stealing. Addiction to food. Addiction to sex. Addiction to exercise? A little more difficult to pin down at first glance. A lot of these things are normal and even great behaviors we all do as humans. It's when they cross the line that they become trouble.

So what's a good definition of that? Well, in my mind, an addiction is any behavior you do compulsively, over and over, expecting to result in your ultimate happiness - aka, to "cure" you of your pain - and you throw yourself into it without caution, without conscious, rational thought, and it's like someone else is driving the bus.

Well when you're in the grips of a compulsive behavior there IS someone else driving the bus. It's you, but it's a younger, more hurt, more scared, part of you that is replaying a tape from long ago, crossing its fingers and hoping that this time it will work, this time you get what is you really NEED.



People look to all sorts of outside sources for a "cure." Food, shopping, booze, running, sex, stealing, etc. All these items are outside of oneself. Here's the bad news: they'll never fill the hole inside you. YOU are the only one that can fill it. YOU have to do it yourself. Rhianna wrote a song about trying to fill that hole and how she realized it was her problem and her hole to fill.

That's a downer you say? Yeah, it can be, if you take the time to understand who you let the drive the bus for so long. Your younger self. Not the older, wiser, adult one. No. That's not how it works. The older, wiser adult gets pushed in the background because the NEED to cure the PAIN is so damn great. 

Let's face it. We're scared of our pain. Scared it will bowl us over and lease us shattered, empty and broken. But the truth is, we're already all those things. We just aren't dealing with it. We're slapping on a bandage that can't possibly contain it, hoping and praying for a miracle this time. But this time is just like last time. And realizing that is the way out. 

Happiness lies outside the circle. You have to make it yourself, but at least it's yours. It's not the fake happiness your fourteen or six or eleven year-old self thinks it deserves. It's a more whole, more controlled, more stable happiness that perhaps doesn't glow quite so brightly, but at least doesn't continue to make the hole bigger.

More on addiction later,

Bratty

Saturday, May 17, 2014

2014 early garden pics

Another year begins at Davis Farms.


Chives that have gone to seed, with their little purple puff balls.

Salad rows

Early kale bed

Collard greens

early potato beds

The new additions to the family - blueberries.
So nice to see the fence again once the wayward grapes were pulled up!

Shallots! Dutch of course 

Flowering sage

Okra! currently nesting in their wall o' waters

tiny parsley yay!

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

The end of Separation is now / working with my animus / Cardinal Grand Cross 2014 / Tom Lescher Astrology Forecast for April 22, 2014

Happy Cardinal Grand Cross day of 2014! Fucking-a yeah! This has been a rough week for me emotionally, as fear has reared its ugly head. But I think I've been able to dampen it down a little and connect the body and spirit. I took a hike alone at lunchtime that helped a little. Helped break those old patterns of reacting to every little thing with FEAR.

 Hey, as Tom Lescher points out, you believe what you've been TAUGHT.

Somewhere along the line, I learned some very powerful lessons I'm still trying to undo. Still in recovery from. More on certain aspects of that later. But for now, let's say that I learned early on to react to authority with fear. As Lescher points out, there's also a YOU VS ME aspect we've all been taught. A separation has dug itself into our hearts and minds where it doesn't belong. It's not male vs female.

It's not you vs me. Nuh uh. It's WE. It always has been, it always will be. You are me, the planet is me, I am the spirit and I am another you. You can stay separate from me, and I can stay separate from you, from the Earth, from my own spirit, but at some point -like, um, a Cardinal Grand Cross! - the truth will out. Here's what Tom had to say:


 

Lovely message. He's so fun. I totally dig his messages. No more separation is a good thing, but you know, it means no more separation. Think about it.

No more separation from the darker parts of yourself. They're all you. Embrace them. Accept them. Live them.

No more separation from the opposite sex. No more male vs female. I am another you. We are equal. We make a whole. Together, it can work.

No more separation from the things you hate in other people. They are parts of you too. Hello! Welcome to the truth. We are all connected. I can hate you, but I must also hate a part of myself. Which his my choice, but as Tom points out, it weakens my strength. Accept. Admit. Move on to the next task.

I'll talk more later about Animus work. I think it's really time for the FEMININE to birth a new image of the MASCULINE that feeds our souls. That heals our world. I plan to write more about this all year.

Talk to you soon!

Bratty