I feel very inspired tonight.
A few months ago my friend George asked me to come down to the Coffee House Saturday Night and perform for the kids at Tulsa Youth Services. TYS is a program for teenagers to help in crisis situations such as abuse, homelessness, rehabilitation, and crime prevention. Among other things. Each Saturday night they have an event called Coffee House Saturday night. The kids show up, socialize, and play games. It's a safe place for teenagers of various backgrounds to get together and have a good time. And on occasion there's live music. Well, tonight Andy and I were the invited guest.
You know that saying "everything happens for a reason"? Tonight, that saying couldn't be more true. See, it's been a little up and down lately and my spirit was as rainy as this drenched fall day. I've been feeling challenged to keep my new positively positive outlook and fighting a desire to hide away from the world. But tonight, it was about putting on my happy face and giving these kids a show. And what a show it turned out to be!
Andy and I arrived about an hour before our set. We just knew the kids wouldn't be interested in our brand of folksy/blues/soul, but we figured it would be a nice opportunity to do another live gig. When we first walked in I saw the stage to my right and kids playing video games on a giant screen near the back. Others were sitting around chatting and looking at us as if, perhaps, we were there to provide a lecture on safe sex or driving responsibly. Eventually our "road crew"( i.e. the Julies) showed up and it was getting close to start the show. Shelton, being the eternal teenager that she is, locked her gaze on to a boy, about 13, playing some video game as if he supper depended on it. She made her way over and started asking questions about his technique and game stats. Super cute that Shelton. Finally, a rather polite young man asked "Scuse me, Ma'am. When are you going to start singing"? I began to think that this may turn out to be a lot of fun. Just minutes before I got on stage, I found myself engaged in a deep conversation with a 16 year old boy named Jacob who proudly sported a quite impressive knowledge about music spanning several genres. Finally, it was 8 p.m. - show time. About ten or so teenagers gathered around the stage, positioned on a glob of bean bags flopped down in a mountain just at the edge of where I would be singing. As soon as we started, the kids began clapping and singing along....as we did mostly all covers.
It didn't take long for me to set eyes on Nicholas. He was seated almost center and after each song he would hold his hands up in a heart shape and mouth "I love you". Holy crap! These teenagers are having....fun! Andy gave me a look. That kind that indicates "wow, I'm having fun too". We raced through the first part of our set covering The Beatles to Whitney Houston and lost track of time completely. I even put Tuller on the spot and made her sing a few unplanned songs with me including the original song Andy and I wrote called "Hush". I was just having so much fun, bantering back and forth with the kids, hearing their input and watching their faces, hearing them cheer and just being 100% present in the moment shared with these teenagers. It was great!
My buddy Jacob wasn't lying about his rich knowledge of music. That kid sang along to every single song. No matter how obscure I thought it would be to a 16 year old boy, his lips were in sync with each lyric. And he knew all of the artist we were covering and speaking about. The whole time all of these kids were curled up on the bean bags still, listening intently and giving me what was perhaps, the very best audience participation. Ever.
Once we finished with the whole set, the kids were on their feet waiting to greet us as we walked off of the stage. Nicholas, my little heart shaped hand boy, approached me with the most earnest smile and asked "Carrie, can I play some songs for you on the piano and you can sing with me"? My heart melted into a pile of goo right there. Of course Nicholas! So, he and I sat at the upright and he played a few songs (self taught on the piano and VERY good no less) as we sang and harmonized. Simply put, it was beautiful. When he finished his last song he told me he'd be performing on one of these Saturday nights in November and softly asked "will you come"? Again, melted heart. Yes. Yes my dear, sweet, pure hearted boy. I will be there.
Lucky for me Shelton was there, camera in hand, snapping shots the entire time. And before we left Andy, me, and the TYS kids took a group picture snuggled on the bean bags all together. I can't wait to have that photo.
I left smiling ear to ear. What a beautiful experience. Thank you TYS kids for reminding me what sharing really is all about. I shared my heart with you through song, and you shared your hearts and ears with me. I'm truly blessed to have had that time with you and I look forward to it again.
Everything really does happen for a reason.
Peace,
Carrie
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
My Father
It's not Father's Day. It's not his birthday. It's nothing but a Wednesday. However, I felt inspired to write about my father today.
My dad is someone most of my friends consider their second dad. To a lot of people his presence is comforting as he provides a warm feeling that comes with a welcoming smile and open mind. He's gifted that way and I'm grateful because let's face it, I have some wack-a-doodle friends. I say that with love! But throughout he years and everyone I've brought to his doorstep, he has shown them kindness and hospitality and considered them as much of a part of his family as own of his own children. And he isn't kidding. If they were to need something, Charlie is there to ask how he can help.
For some reason today I can't get Dad off my mind. And I want to tell him how much I love him and how much it means the he accepts me for who I am and will love me for who I will become. For his entire life, he's been one to sacrifice. Many times he worked 12, 16, even 24 hours straight but if there was something important Dawn and I were doing such as an Orchestra concert or singing at some event, Dad would show up without sleep just to be there. And recently my parents came to Tulsa to see a gig I did and my poor father was exposed to a lot more than he probably cared for, but he did it with a smile.
See, he's always around sometimes in the background, never in the spot light. And with all the things he's come out to support for my sister and I, (including helping us both with our European travel expenses) and now for my mom's poetry book, I felt he deserved some attention.
I love you, Dad. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank your for loving us and our "extended" family. Thank you for driving half way across the country to fulfill two little girls' wildest dreams. I'm sorry you don't always get the attention you deserve, but speaking on Dawn's behalf here - thank you. We love you dearly, Dad!
My dad is someone most of my friends consider their second dad. To a lot of people his presence is comforting as he provides a warm feeling that comes with a welcoming smile and open mind. He's gifted that way and I'm grateful because let's face it, I have some wack-a-doodle friends. I say that with love! But throughout he years and everyone I've brought to his doorstep, he has shown them kindness and hospitality and considered them as much of a part of his family as own of his own children. And he isn't kidding. If they were to need something, Charlie is there to ask how he can help.
For some reason today I can't get Dad off my mind. And I want to tell him how much I love him and how much it means the he accepts me for who I am and will love me for who I will become. For his entire life, he's been one to sacrifice. Many times he worked 12, 16, even 24 hours straight but if there was something important Dawn and I were doing such as an Orchestra concert or singing at some event, Dad would show up without sleep just to be there. And recently my parents came to Tulsa to see a gig I did and my poor father was exposed to a lot more than he probably cared for, but he did it with a smile.
See, he's always around sometimes in the background, never in the spot light. And with all the things he's come out to support for my sister and I, (including helping us both with our European travel expenses) and now for my mom's poetry book, I felt he deserved some attention.
I love you, Dad. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank your for loving us and our "extended" family. Thank you for driving half way across the country to fulfill two little girls' wildest dreams. I'm sorry you don't always get the attention you deserve, but speaking on Dawn's behalf here - thank you. We love you dearly, Dad!
Friday, August 17, 2012
And This I Will Share
I have something to share. No, it isn't the all site seeing details of my recent trip to Italy. Yes, of course I had an amazing vacation. I spent time with dear people, I saw things that blew my mind, and I ate food that cannot be reproduced. All of that is true. I don't intend to post every photo I took to various social medias. Mainly because a lot of the photos I took this time were very personal. Reminders of a moment shared with a dear friend or sister. And moments that will not translate when speaking on a vacation. For me, this was a time to escape and to relax in the beauty of something entirely outside my American life. It wasn't a time to live behind a camera, but in a moment.
Getting to my original point, the thing I'd like to share. Before I left I had some serious working through to do. I wanted to land in Italy with little weight on my shoulders. So, the weeks leading up to my departure I began heavy meditation, trying to clear my mind of things that may be taking up space while I should be enjoying myself. And when I finally arrived, I felt ready to relax and be away. I didn't realize I'd come back with a completely renewed sense of life quality. A renewal that I would bring back to the states, and live each and every day since I've been reintroduced in to reality like a baby gorilla being released back into the wild.
This flash of awareness, if you will, happened on a drive. My friend and I were having a very deep, philosophical conversation when silence fell, I heard my heart tell my mind to be quiet and be still. It was at that moment I looked out of the passenger side window to see the Mount Vesuvius. Yes, one of Italy's active volcanoes. In a matter of seconds I felt a strange sweeping peace and sudden enlightenment. As if what I had been searching for was finally found. Looking at the volcano made me feel detached from pointless ramblings in my head, and 100% connected to the bigger picture. I felt the moment of release. I buried something there, something that I can't find because I left it in the moment when I decided "live, and then live some more" was the only truth I could reside within from here on out.
The next few days I was quiet in one part due to my limited Italian vocabulary. But, I was also quiet because I had nothing to say. Instead, I had plenty to listen to and plenty to gaze upon. And this, I believe, was the purpose for me even being there. And for whatever reason , I knew it was meant to be that I was far away from home and my reality. The location was necessary as I am naturally tactical. For a complete change of focus, I had to feel it in my hands. And I did. I felt it when sand slipped through my fingers on the beach. When salt water stuck to my skin, and when I soaked in warm volcano water days later. Renewal.
They day I left, saying goodbye to my friend, whom I don't really even know when I will see again for sure, and to my sister as she left to return to Houston, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself content. I wasn't sad and I didn't even cry when I said my final farewell. Instead, I smiled ear to ear. Knowing I was equipped to bring back this peace I had found and work to share it with those I love. And that's exactly what I did. Each day I have found myself feeling joy and calm and letting go of useless hurt feelings and negative thinking that keeps me bound to an unfulfilled existence. It's just not worth living in a wounded state on thinking. My life is precious and my time is limited. What is the point wasting my own time with things that are either out of my control or issues that do not generate the outcomes I seek?
Everywhere I go I'm told I seem lighter, friendlier, happier, even that I look more attractive. Someone even told me I was glowing. Well, joy is impossible to hide and it is also contagious. And I desire to be a light in someone's life. I choose to be a positive spot in someone's day. And I choose to keep dreaming for myself even when I haven't the faintest clue how I'm going to accomplish some of the goals I've set for myself. The important part is that I'm trying to accomplish them.
I did manage to take time to write a few things that I wanted to remember and reflect on later.
To be encouraged, be encouraging.
To be peaceful, let go of that which binds you to fruitless sorrows.
To be wise, learn something new every day.
To find mercy, be graceful.
To be beautiful, find the beauty in each day.
To be heard, take time to listen.
To be seen, take time to gaze.
To receive kindness, give without expectations.
To be loved, love someone deeply.
Peace.
Getting to my original point, the thing I'd like to share. Before I left I had some serious working through to do. I wanted to land in Italy with little weight on my shoulders. So, the weeks leading up to my departure I began heavy meditation, trying to clear my mind of things that may be taking up space while I should be enjoying myself. And when I finally arrived, I felt ready to relax and be away. I didn't realize I'd come back with a completely renewed sense of life quality. A renewal that I would bring back to the states, and live each and every day since I've been reintroduced in to reality like a baby gorilla being released back into the wild.
This flash of awareness, if you will, happened on a drive. My friend and I were having a very deep, philosophical conversation when silence fell, I heard my heart tell my mind to be quiet and be still. It was at that moment I looked out of the passenger side window to see the Mount Vesuvius. Yes, one of Italy's active volcanoes. In a matter of seconds I felt a strange sweeping peace and sudden enlightenment. As if what I had been searching for was finally found. Looking at the volcano made me feel detached from pointless ramblings in my head, and 100% connected to the bigger picture. I felt the moment of release. I buried something there, something that I can't find because I left it in the moment when I decided "live, and then live some more" was the only truth I could reside within from here on out.
The next few days I was quiet in one part due to my limited Italian vocabulary. But, I was also quiet because I had nothing to say. Instead, I had plenty to listen to and plenty to gaze upon. And this, I believe, was the purpose for me even being there. And for whatever reason , I knew it was meant to be that I was far away from home and my reality. The location was necessary as I am naturally tactical. For a complete change of focus, I had to feel it in my hands. And I did. I felt it when sand slipped through my fingers on the beach. When salt water stuck to my skin, and when I soaked in warm volcano water days later. Renewal.
They day I left, saying goodbye to my friend, whom I don't really even know when I will see again for sure, and to my sister as she left to return to Houston, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself content. I wasn't sad and I didn't even cry when I said my final farewell. Instead, I smiled ear to ear. Knowing I was equipped to bring back this peace I had found and work to share it with those I love. And that's exactly what I did. Each day I have found myself feeling joy and calm and letting go of useless hurt feelings and negative thinking that keeps me bound to an unfulfilled existence. It's just not worth living in a wounded state on thinking. My life is precious and my time is limited. What is the point wasting my own time with things that are either out of my control or issues that do not generate the outcomes I seek?
Everywhere I go I'm told I seem lighter, friendlier, happier, even that I look more attractive. Someone even told me I was glowing. Well, joy is impossible to hide and it is also contagious. And I desire to be a light in someone's life. I choose to be a positive spot in someone's day. And I choose to keep dreaming for myself even when I haven't the faintest clue how I'm going to accomplish some of the goals I've set for myself. The important part is that I'm trying to accomplish them.
I did manage to take time to write a few things that I wanted to remember and reflect on later.
To be encouraged, be encouraging.
To be peaceful, let go of that which binds you to fruitless sorrows.
To be wise, learn something new every day.
To find mercy, be graceful.
To be beautiful, find the beauty in each day.
To be heard, take time to listen.
To be seen, take time to gaze.
To receive kindness, give without expectations.
To be loved, love someone deeply.
Peace.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Women of Extreme Features
Until recently I had spent many days beating myself up for not losing 30 pounds. I shed some weight but not the amount I wanted before summer ended. I was going to the gym faithfully until I got busy with the end of a season at work, helping people pack, moving my own stuff to a new home, and saying goodbye to loads of friends. In the middle of it all I stopped working out regularly and then realized I wasn't going to make my goal.
Shit.
Last Sunday I was having dinner with a very attractive male friend of mine when we started discussing the working out. In the middle of my sentence I said "I'm a chubby girl...I may always be..." and then thought OMG did I just say that out loud to him?? As if he couldn't tell by looking at me that I'm not a tiny twig of a woman. My friend chuckled at my comment and the conversation moved on. He didn't stop to insert comments such as "But you're pretty" or "You have nice eyes and a beautiful smile". And I was grateful for this. I don't need validation and it's obvious I could drop a few. But this is where I am. I'm not by any means headed for a scooter (by that I mean a Hoveround not a Vespa) and I'm also not stroking out in extreme heat. I'm just chubby for the love of god!
When I got home I pulled myself together and said, out loud in the mirror, "Carrie. You are what you are. Get over it" Deep breath....in and out. Okay..okay, okay, okay! This is me right here and right now. I'm headed to Italy in just over a week and I'm not going to beat myself up any longer for not looking they way I want. Life is too short and time can't be wasted trapped in the "what if" zone. Finally I've started accounting for the things I like about myself in personality and in my appearance. I really hate when people say they don't care what they look like. It's just not true. But to fixate on what you don't like about your physical appearance is damaging to the soul and can steal your joy faster than almost anything else. So, I'm simply not allowing that to happen.
My sister and I have extreme features. She has large hips and I have large boobs. We also have large eyes and noses. Finally, we both have big mouths and loud opinions. But that's just us. Big butts, boobs, eyes, and hearts. Ya, I said hearts. And I accept it. We're not the Kardashian's - no, no we're too smart for that. But we aren't eating Gilbert Grape either. I'm just fucking chubby! And one hell of a good time.
Shit.
Last Sunday I was having dinner with a very attractive male friend of mine when we started discussing the working out. In the middle of my sentence I said "I'm a chubby girl...I may always be..." and then thought OMG did I just say that out loud to him?? As if he couldn't tell by looking at me that I'm not a tiny twig of a woman. My friend chuckled at my comment and the conversation moved on. He didn't stop to insert comments such as "But you're pretty" or "You have nice eyes and a beautiful smile". And I was grateful for this. I don't need validation and it's obvious I could drop a few. But this is where I am. I'm not by any means headed for a scooter (by that I mean a Hoveround not a Vespa) and I'm also not stroking out in extreme heat. I'm just chubby for the love of god!
When I got home I pulled myself together and said, out loud in the mirror, "Carrie. You are what you are. Get over it" Deep breath....in and out. Okay..okay, okay, okay! This is me right here and right now. I'm headed to Italy in just over a week and I'm not going to beat myself up any longer for not looking they way I want. Life is too short and time can't be wasted trapped in the "what if" zone. Finally I've started accounting for the things I like about myself in personality and in my appearance. I really hate when people say they don't care what they look like. It's just not true. But to fixate on what you don't like about your physical appearance is damaging to the soul and can steal your joy faster than almost anything else. So, I'm simply not allowing that to happen.
My sister and I have extreme features. She has large hips and I have large boobs. We also have large eyes and noses. Finally, we both have big mouths and loud opinions. But that's just us. Big butts, boobs, eyes, and hearts. Ya, I said hearts. And I accept it. We're not the Kardashian's - no, no we're too smart for that. But we aren't eating Gilbert Grape either. I'm just fucking chubby! And one hell of a good time.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
No Such Thing as a Spotless Mind.....Right?
I've been watching too many programs about the universe. I'm elbow deep in a series on the Science Channel called Through the Wormhole. It's hosted by Morgan Freeman and with his silky voice and comforting demeanor, he proceeds to scare the shit out of me on a weekly basis. Topics covered range from the complexities of a single strand of DNA to likelihood of alien life on other planets, in other galaxies. And I can't help myself. When I see there's another episode saved on the DVR, I rush to learn about all the things I need to know at night when I'm trying to sleep but my brain in swimming with thoughts of immortality and super robots with a collective brain. Yesterday I sat down on my roommate's uber sofa to catch up on last week's shows. This episode was about memories. How they are formed, what they can tell us about the subconscious mind, and how they can be manipulated into becoming a false memory. One created by another person who wants you, for whatever reason, to remember something as they did, or as they desire you to remember. And it's not hard to do! See, humans by nature are eager to please. And if someone we trust is telling us "No! It didn't happen like that, it happened like this!" we tend to think that, perhaps, we've forgotten details and they are right.
I found myself laughing out loud as I recalled an argument I had with two dear friends about the timing of a silly incident that happened in Rome last summer. I'm certain it happened the way I recalled it but my two friends insist it was just the opposite. It's nothing important, life changing, or deal breaking and the timing really isn't necessary to the actual funny part of the story. But two people insisting I'm wrong made me question my memory. See, I pride myself on having a great memory and when I'm challenged I often ask for proof. Fine! They both think it happened then when I said it was some other time. Fine. But I started thinking of other memories. Those buried deep in my subconscious. The kind, good and bad, that have helped to create my personality. The traumatic moments that caused me to be more cautious, and the happy kinds that helped develop my sense of humor. And then I started thinking about people in my life who have actively sought to manipulate those memories. Now, I'm not talking about the two friends. They weren't aiming to disagree with me as a form of manipulation. I'm talking about specific things remembered that altered my life and, for whatever reason, I was encouraged, coerced to remember them in a completely different way. Wow. This is a powerful tool of control. If someone can convince you something happened differently than you remembered or not at all they could, in a sense, change segments of your personality.
And then I started thinking of all the times it actually happened. And have I ever been party to memory coercion? Oh god!! I'm an asshole!!! Okay....deep breath.
Of course when stupid mistakes are made, we'd all like people to forget about them. For instances, not long ago I made a huge mistake. I lost control of myself and made a complete asshole of Carrie. For days I walked around with my head lowered and hid in my apartment until I felt like it could blow over. Finally, I spoke with some of the friends who were present for this falling apart, and after my apologies to them, I apologized to myself, learned from the situation and moved on to laugh about it all. I wish they could just forget it ever happened. I wish it never happened. But I can't change their perception of my actions, and why bother? But they remember it in a certain way and should I try to alter their memory, I'd just cause more strife for myself. But back to this idea of someone manipulating your memories, let's dive into that for a second. Here's how it works - according to Morgan Freeman and the Science Channel anyway. You recall an incident, be it happy or traumatic, and someone you trust tells you it didn't happen that way. That you are wrong. And if you fight it or stand up for yourself, you are then called "crazy". So, inevitably you start doubting yourself and wonder: "Am I completely insane or did that really happen?" This is one tool used in a psychological manipulation approach called Gaslighting. I first heard about it in a blog I follow called The Current Conscious - I highly recommend you take a look at it. Anyway, what happens is someone convinces you that what you've experienced and remember didn't happen and you're told it's insane, crazy, or ridiculous. So, self-doubt settles in making it seem as though you can no longer trust your own memories. Now, the science of memory is complex and nobody has flawless memory. However, when something is clearly recalled (as much as possible) and someone else tells you it's insane, you start to believe it. Dismissing your recollection and ultimately changing your perception to a person or situation that should have acted as a learning experience. AHHHHHH. It's exhausting.
What it all boils down to is the power of suggestion is mighty. It can change your thoughts, memories, and future reality. It's how cults work to begin manipulating their masses. Convincing them their family and friends don't care or don't understand how important they are and the cult is the only refuge. It's all part of the the complex puzzle of manipulation. And it's just one piece. And even knowing it's possible without a blink can be so scary that you begin to wonder "who can I trust?"
It's all about that dirty word: manipulation. And face it! We all participate in some form or another to get our way. As children we learn to cry a certain way or act out for attention. That behavior doesn't go away simply because we became adults. Instead it changes as we mature and those of us who are trying to be responsible adults recognize when we're being manipulative and childlike. But some people are just stuck. I'm not going to lay blame on the world and say I've never been a part of these tactics. We all have. But there are just some repeat offenders out there. And, for lack of a better term, they want to bend our thoughts and memories to suit their will and desire. I've been examining my own behavior lately. Knowing when to stand up and back off. The more we make ourselves aware of selfish tactics, the better our relationships can become and thrive in a healthy, life-giving way. At least I choose to believe that.
Science tells us that humans are the smartest animals on the planet because we have cognitive thought. Well, with that comes emotions. And with emotions comes choices in dealing with something so delicate; the human spirit. Wouldn't it be easier to lay in the grass, soaking the sunshine, scratching our asses? But alas, I am a human. We are just mere humans.
I found myself laughing out loud as I recalled an argument I had with two dear friends about the timing of a silly incident that happened in Rome last summer. I'm certain it happened the way I recalled it but my two friends insist it was just the opposite. It's nothing important, life changing, or deal breaking and the timing really isn't necessary to the actual funny part of the story. But two people insisting I'm wrong made me question my memory. See, I pride myself on having a great memory and when I'm challenged I often ask for proof. Fine! They both think it happened then when I said it was some other time. Fine. But I started thinking of other memories. Those buried deep in my subconscious. The kind, good and bad, that have helped to create my personality. The traumatic moments that caused me to be more cautious, and the happy kinds that helped develop my sense of humor. And then I started thinking about people in my life who have actively sought to manipulate those memories. Now, I'm not talking about the two friends. They weren't aiming to disagree with me as a form of manipulation. I'm talking about specific things remembered that altered my life and, for whatever reason, I was encouraged, coerced to remember them in a completely different way. Wow. This is a powerful tool of control. If someone can convince you something happened differently than you remembered or not at all they could, in a sense, change segments of your personality.
And then I started thinking of all the times it actually happened. And have I ever been party to memory coercion? Oh god!! I'm an asshole!!! Okay....deep breath.
Of course when stupid mistakes are made, we'd all like people to forget about them. For instances, not long ago I made a huge mistake. I lost control of myself and made a complete asshole of Carrie. For days I walked around with my head lowered and hid in my apartment until I felt like it could blow over. Finally, I spoke with some of the friends who were present for this falling apart, and after my apologies to them, I apologized to myself, learned from the situation and moved on to laugh about it all. I wish they could just forget it ever happened. I wish it never happened. But I can't change their perception of my actions, and why bother? But they remember it in a certain way and should I try to alter their memory, I'd just cause more strife for myself. But back to this idea of someone manipulating your memories, let's dive into that for a second. Here's how it works - according to Morgan Freeman and the Science Channel anyway. You recall an incident, be it happy or traumatic, and someone you trust tells you it didn't happen that way. That you are wrong. And if you fight it or stand up for yourself, you are then called "crazy". So, inevitably you start doubting yourself and wonder: "Am I completely insane or did that really happen?" This is one tool used in a psychological manipulation approach called Gaslighting. I first heard about it in a blog I follow called The Current Conscious - I highly recommend you take a look at it. Anyway, what happens is someone convinces you that what you've experienced and remember didn't happen and you're told it's insane, crazy, or ridiculous. So, self-doubt settles in making it seem as though you can no longer trust your own memories. Now, the science of memory is complex and nobody has flawless memory. However, when something is clearly recalled (as much as possible) and someone else tells you it's insane, you start to believe it. Dismissing your recollection and ultimately changing your perception to a person or situation that should have acted as a learning experience. AHHHHHH. It's exhausting.
What it all boils down to is the power of suggestion is mighty. It can change your thoughts, memories, and future reality. It's how cults work to begin manipulating their masses. Convincing them their family and friends don't care or don't understand how important they are and the cult is the only refuge. It's all part of the the complex puzzle of manipulation. And it's just one piece. And even knowing it's possible without a blink can be so scary that you begin to wonder "who can I trust?"
It's all about that dirty word: manipulation. And face it! We all participate in some form or another to get our way. As children we learn to cry a certain way or act out for attention. That behavior doesn't go away simply because we became adults. Instead it changes as we mature and those of us who are trying to be responsible adults recognize when we're being manipulative and childlike. But some people are just stuck. I'm not going to lay blame on the world and say I've never been a part of these tactics. We all have. But there are just some repeat offenders out there. And, for lack of a better term, they want to bend our thoughts and memories to suit their will and desire. I've been examining my own behavior lately. Knowing when to stand up and back off. The more we make ourselves aware of selfish tactics, the better our relationships can become and thrive in a healthy, life-giving way. At least I choose to believe that.
Science tells us that humans are the smartest animals on the planet because we have cognitive thought. Well, with that comes emotions. And with emotions comes choices in dealing with something so delicate; the human spirit. Wouldn't it be easier to lay in the grass, soaking the sunshine, scratching our asses? But alas, I am a human. We are just mere humans.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Summer Has Arrived
The last month has been so busy that I've completely neglected my blog. But it was worth it. We wrapped up a season at the ballet which meant saying goodbye to a lot of special people.
But now it's time to turn our eyes to summer plans! I've got a load of projects I'm currently working on and while I thought I had more than enough time to completely everything, I'm finding summer has arrived and is slipping right past me. SLOW DOWN!!! Actually, I'm ok with the speed of things right now. I'm in a better place emotionally than I was last summer, so things just seems to generally feel better and not as lonely and desperate as last year.
I have so much to look forward to that I can hardly contain myself. First, I'm moving. Ugh. Now that can come and go! I will be ready to move to my new home. See, I'm moving in to a friend's house. Not just any friend...she's a dear friend. Julie and I have know one another for nearly 16 years. I never really thought we'd live together but after a lengthy conversation, we both came to the conclusion that we could do this. It will help both of us save money and provide me with some distance from the office which I desperately need. And really her house is freaking HUGE!. I don't know how she lived in such a large home alone. But she's a strong woman so, really, It's no surprise. So, by June 1st I will all moved and can begin to focus on another project which is arts and crafts. No really! I have some painting and crafty projects I want to do while I have some time and being in the new home with more room will help me get focused and finished. Also, I need to finish some songs I've started and get that shit uploaded!
Finally, I have my vacation to look forward to. I'm all booked and I don't really have to plan anything other than picking out a few items such as comfy strappy sandals (ya right), and random other pieces of clothing I want. See, I'm going back to Italy. Ahhh. And my sister is coming with! God I could just burst into a million pieces with joy when I think about sharing such a beautiful place and people with mia bella sorella! We're both over the moon about it and somehow talking too much about only makes time slow down so...I don't spend too much time on it. I need vacation time desperately and to have one like this with Dawn is a huge blessing. I'm sure the closer July 14 gets I will start to write more. But until now I'm focusing on tiny projects and having a good time with friends.
Ciao!
But now it's time to turn our eyes to summer plans! I've got a load of projects I'm currently working on and while I thought I had more than enough time to completely everything, I'm finding summer has arrived and is slipping right past me. SLOW DOWN!!! Actually, I'm ok with the speed of things right now. I'm in a better place emotionally than I was last summer, so things just seems to generally feel better and not as lonely and desperate as last year.
I have so much to look forward to that I can hardly contain myself. First, I'm moving. Ugh. Now that can come and go! I will be ready to move to my new home. See, I'm moving in to a friend's house. Not just any friend...she's a dear friend. Julie and I have know one another for nearly 16 years. I never really thought we'd live together but after a lengthy conversation, we both came to the conclusion that we could do this. It will help both of us save money and provide me with some distance from the office which I desperately need. And really her house is freaking HUGE!. I don't know how she lived in such a large home alone. But she's a strong woman so, really, It's no surprise. So, by June 1st I will all moved and can begin to focus on another project which is arts and crafts. No really! I have some painting and crafty projects I want to do while I have some time and being in the new home with more room will help me get focused and finished. Also, I need to finish some songs I've started and get that shit uploaded!
Finally, I have my vacation to look forward to. I'm all booked and I don't really have to plan anything other than picking out a few items such as comfy strappy sandals (ya right), and random other pieces of clothing I want. See, I'm going back to Italy. Ahhh. And my sister is coming with! God I could just burst into a million pieces with joy when I think about sharing such a beautiful place and people with mia bella sorella! We're both over the moon about it and somehow talking too much about only makes time slow down so...I don't spend too much time on it. I need vacation time desperately and to have one like this with Dawn is a huge blessing. I'm sure the closer July 14 gets I will start to write more. But until now I'm focusing on tiny projects and having a good time with friends.
Ciao!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
1, 2, 3, 4, 5...6 Senses?
Recently my friend Julie and I had a conversation that may seem odd to others, but felt perfectly normal for us considering we talk about things that make most people feel uncomfortable. I don't remember how the subject came up, but we found ourselves in a lengthy conversation about people's scents and how distinctly different they are from one another. Of course we can't smell our own scent, that is unless we're in dire need of a shower, but the scents of those people we love are so strong and linger in our sense memory. We are, after all, the human animal. Now, I'm not talking about perfumes, lotions, colognes. I'm talking about the way the person smells. I tried describing Julie's scent to her - earthy, musky, comforting. And when I go for long periods of time without seeing her, I recall her first through my sense of smell, even if she's left nothing behind. I asked her what I smelled like and she said "Just sniff your pillow". Oh! Okay, ya that makes sense. So, I did just that. What I discovered is....Mom and Dad. I felt immediately close to them - one part Dad, another Mom. I kept my nose buried in my pillow sniffing and found myself feeling safe. Feeling perfectly okay with the way I may smell to others. It smelled like what I was looking for after waking up in the middle of a nightmare. I was pleased with the discovery of Carrie's scent. And, if I have to admit, a little disappointed that I didn't smell of exotic spices and oils. No, my scent was that of home. And does it smell the same to others? Of course not! They don't have the same base memories as I do. So, I simply smell like me.
I think because it's spring time I've become more aware of my senses. I've taken longer to listen to layers in music, I've kept my eyes open a little wider should I miss something, and I've touched things with a linger. I have to admit, I'm a toucher. I'm very tactile and will reach my hand out and touch just about anything to feel it. That's the kid in me and why I got into so much trouble when I was young. I was always touching. And I find that throughout the day I seem to constantly to be holding something between my fingers, subconsciously feeling it. But all this to say I've been very aware lately. It feels necessary. As if I need to experience things through my senses to make stronger memories of them. And all of this seems to be speaking to me through my "six sense". There's a nagging gut feeling saying "remember this, don't ever forget it". And it's all coursing through my human nature in touch, taste, smell, sound and sight.
I would venture to say that we're all pretty comfortable with taste and sight. However, scent and touch seem to be a bit taboo on some levels. They seem to be the more personal or private senses. However, I've been letting down those guards, taking in the texture and scent of everything, everyone I love. I need those memories to linger. I need keep things with me on another level. One that speaks to my nature, to my core.
My sister told me once that when she thinks of me, she can recall what I smelled like when I was a baby. And when I think of her, I can almost feel the texture of her hair in my fingers. The soft, almost like a spider web silkiness of her fine hair is a strong memory and I love it. I just love it. And those moments when you're taken back to a certain time and place through the senses is like reliving a moment and you're emotions can swell, overwhelming the urge to fight back the tears. Last summer I decided to make a huge pot of beans. I soaked them for 24 hours, then put them in a slow cooker over night. In the morning I woke up and started my coffee and popped in the shower. As I was toweling off, I was hit by loads of precious memories. The mixture of cooking beans and brewing coffee smelled exactly like my Grandparent's house. They've both passed away within the last few years, but as soon as I caught the aroma in the air, I felt as if I would walk into their kitchen and see Grandma sitting at the table and Grandpa washing dishes or making Sticky Icing Cake. I felt in that very moment they were both with me. I felt them and knew they had to be there. My soul felt gooey and warm I wanted so badly to touch my grandmother's hands. But, somehow I felt like I did.
Right now I am relying heavily on my senses...all six of them. Because it's absolutely necessary.
I think because it's spring time I've become more aware of my senses. I've taken longer to listen to layers in music, I've kept my eyes open a little wider should I miss something, and I've touched things with a linger. I have to admit, I'm a toucher. I'm very tactile and will reach my hand out and touch just about anything to feel it. That's the kid in me and why I got into so much trouble when I was young. I was always touching. And I find that throughout the day I seem to constantly to be holding something between my fingers, subconsciously feeling it. But all this to say I've been very aware lately. It feels necessary. As if I need to experience things through my senses to make stronger memories of them. And all of this seems to be speaking to me through my "six sense". There's a nagging gut feeling saying "remember this, don't ever forget it". And it's all coursing through my human nature in touch, taste, smell, sound and sight.
I would venture to say that we're all pretty comfortable with taste and sight. However, scent and touch seem to be a bit taboo on some levels. They seem to be the more personal or private senses. However, I've been letting down those guards, taking in the texture and scent of everything, everyone I love. I need those memories to linger. I need keep things with me on another level. One that speaks to my nature, to my core.
My sister told me once that when she thinks of me, she can recall what I smelled like when I was a baby. And when I think of her, I can almost feel the texture of her hair in my fingers. The soft, almost like a spider web silkiness of her fine hair is a strong memory and I love it. I just love it. And those moments when you're taken back to a certain time and place through the senses is like reliving a moment and you're emotions can swell, overwhelming the urge to fight back the tears. Last summer I decided to make a huge pot of beans. I soaked them for 24 hours, then put them in a slow cooker over night. In the morning I woke up and started my coffee and popped in the shower. As I was toweling off, I was hit by loads of precious memories. The mixture of cooking beans and brewing coffee smelled exactly like my Grandparent's house. They've both passed away within the last few years, but as soon as I caught the aroma in the air, I felt as if I would walk into their kitchen and see Grandma sitting at the table and Grandpa washing dishes or making Sticky Icing Cake. I felt in that very moment they were both with me. I felt them and knew they had to be there. My soul felt gooey and warm I wanted so badly to touch my grandmother's hands. But, somehow I felt like I did.
Right now I am relying heavily on my senses...all six of them. Because it's absolutely necessary.
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