misplaced childhood

If you've ever taken mushrooms or acid, there is this fun little trick to do while you are tripping: look at yourself in the mirror and make yourself age. It's fun, as long as you can get past the image of the mirror breathing and pulsating.

i recently turned 44. Often i look in the mirror during my morning routine, not just to make sure no zits have made themselves known overnight, but occasionally to see if i am really looking at myself. Growing up, i was not confident about my appearance, and mirrors were excruciating; the really looking at myself ritual came about as a way to become more accepting of my face because, when forced to acknowledge it, i realized that i could waste the rest of my life regretting my face or embrace it.

Up until that point i had relied on women i had dated as mirrors. If they loved me, i must be attractive; if not, i must be ugly. Since the divorce, i could care less what others think, and in letting this go i have become more open. Being open is a beauty unto itself... too many years wasted not realizing that.

The Land & The Sea know they are beautiful, not only because i tell them but mostly because they will not grow in fear, apologizing for who they are physically, emotionally, intellectually.

i haven't taken hallucinogenics in 14 years, but have watched myself age in the mirror over 44 years, and still see the boy i had lost.

Left behind?

flogging

Blogging is not as easy as one thinks. When i started in 2006, it was a way to journal, as i have tried to keep some sort of record of my life since i was 13. i still keep a written one, as it allows for more creativity and storage of items such as ticket stubs, programs from piano recitals, photos and the like.

For the past six months i have found it hard to be creative- i am tired of writing about my relationships, as well as my divorce. It leaves little- The Land & The Sea, politics, quirky topics.

One blog i read, linked on my page, never seems to be at a loss for ideas. She lives in a major city, which must provide more fodder, and just has a great way of writing about everyday things. i thought about attempting a similar approach, but not sure i have it in me.

It brings me back to the same question every time: for whom i am writing this blog?

god dog

With this battle of believing in God or not, my "prayers" have changed.

Ever since i was a kid, i prayed while going to sleep at night, like the good little Catholic boy i had been taught to be. At 13 years old or so, the prayers became conversations: rather than listing out who or what i was praying for i started a stream of consciousness in my head. It took until i was in my 30's to start listening.

It is hard to say if i listen well enough. It is what draws me to Buddhism- listening, just opening up and taking in what is being communicated by the universe as a whole. It has served me well in almost all areas of my life- friendships, work, relationships.... with the divorce one big festering example of when i don't do it well.

In late 2008, i was driving home one night, going through my usual plea with the universe: please kill me. i was so angry that i had failed to take my own life, and secondly that i promised those close to me that i wouldn't try again, that it was only the universe that could fulfill that end. In the midst of tears, screaming and a never ending cushion of pain, a phrase jumped into my head:

"If you want it done, you'll have to do it yourself."

i am not quick to believe that that was God speaking, but i am fascinated by how it was so different from how thoughts normally ebb and flow in my head. Sure, it could have been my mind fulfilling my desire, but to this day i am suspicious about it.

At bedtime, i still talk. Perhaps i am talking to myself, but it serves a purpose- i am not sure there is a supernatural being listening, but there is a universe of beauty and soul that receives, as we should all receive, we should all listen. If people want to believe it is a kindly white haired man, or a fat bellied Asian man, or a female wearing a flowing gown of twigs, leaves and sunshine so be it.