Tag Archives: Spirituality

Today is February 19, 2018. I am alive and okay.

2 Replies

I try to put my heart on paper.  –Osama Alomar

I’m actually a little depressed today. No reason…unless it’s because I’ve been silent and absent in my writing. I haven’t blogged for a couple of months. The young adult novel I’ve been working on has been quiet for a month. I miss my characters but not enough to really visit with them.

A friend asked me why I write. I had to think about it for awhile. While thinking, I thought of socks in the winter and flip flops in the summer. Writing is the best meditation and link to God that I know of. I think most people have entered the zone at some point in their lives. It’s a place of complete freedom from self. There is no depression. There is no schizophrenia. There’s a feeling of floating on my back in water during the night, the stars ablaze, the moon, large in its friendliness.

Granted, when I’m in the zone there is no human contact. After coming out of it though I am a better friend. Both my parents are dead so I’m no longer a better daughter. Why am I better in my relationships? I think it’s because my soul has rested. I’ve been imbued with God.

Writing is like having all the cherries line up on the slot machine. It’s like using a hand to lift a fork and feed myself chocolate cake with an outlandish fudge frosting. Writing is scribbling on paper writing in joy even when creating an evil character.

As I’m certain someone has already said, I live to write and I write to live. Without a pen, without paper, I flutter in the wind never landing squarely on my feet.

This blog has fueled me. My depression is a little less. I’m reminded that I don’t have to be silent. I don’t have to be absent. I wink with my friends in mind and am offered peace.

 

Advertisement

Today is November 13, 2017. I am alive and well.

2 Replies

…aren’t we more like pack mules/than gods most days, picking our way/across the desert or up a mountain path with avalanches/and the heaviest of loads are our grudges and fears/while poetry and beauty rest on our shoulders like fairy wings/or one of those pastries in a shop in Paris,/almost too beautiful to eat, but eat them we do/with their frosting of butter and sugar and eggs.   Barbara Hamby

The truth of our pain is all we have, it is the key to who we are.    James Baldwin

An artist must learn to be nourished by his passions and by his despairs.  Francis Bacon

I love quotes and thought these all related nicely. I write “the truth of my pain.” Maybe it’s true that “it’s the key to who I am.” I also believe my passions are the key to who I am.

My pain is deep and not preventable. Because it’s deep it rarely shows up unless I let it. It can storm and I won’t get wet because of my umbrella. Discard the umbrella, and I get soaked. It takes awhile to dry off. Living with pain with no barrier to disguise it can lead me to tears. It also leads me to people who share my same experience. They have made it through and I can too. I watch as a raccoon puts his paw in a jar to fish out a coin. With his paw clenched in a fist, he cannot pull himself from the jar. He has to let go of the coin in order to free his paw.

I have let go of the coin. I write about having schizophrenia. I write about multiple suicide attempts, I write about being alcoholic. Pain can attach itself to all three of these things. But I don’t stay there. I let go of the coin. I step out of the mud. Sometimes I get help cleaning myself off. Help is always there and it’s okay to accept it.

My God takes care of me. My God always has my back. The right people are placed in my life at the right time. My friends nourish me. I am passionate about loving them. I also hope I nourish them. It’s beautiful to watch my cats bathe each other. They are always clean, but they don’t go outside.

I go outside. I live a good life despite occasional falls. I also write about great things, not just painful things. My car still runs after 256,000 miles. I have the money to get my teeth cleaned. I fill the grocery cart with fabulous foods. I loved the same man for fourteen years without straying. Although we’re apart, I still do love him. I am comfortable in my own skin. I am passionate about flowers bought on Friday, about words falling in line with each other to make a sentence, a paragraph, a page. Life is here. Life is staying.

Today is October 30, 2017. I am alive and well.

2 Replies

Everybody knows if you are too careful you are so occupied in being careful that you are sure to stumble over something.   Gertrude Stein

I don’t throw caution to the wind. I am careful in my life. And I don’t think I’ve stumbled recently. I’m not certain what stumbling looks like unless it’s to fall or stutter. I do stumble over my words often in conversation. My brain takes a quick nap and I can’t think of what I’m trying to say. I don’t know if this is because of my schizophrenia or my medications. I know I’m not stupid. But I also certainly do know I prefer writing to speaking. I’m a rather quiet person.

Do you think Gertrude means physically taking a tumble? I don’t wear high heels. I believe high heels gives one the opportunity to stumble. It’s hard to fall off of flats or boots.

How else might one stumble in life if not physically or verbally? I looked stumble up. It means to fall into sin or waywardness, to make an error (blunder), or to come to an obstacle to belief.

Do I stumble in my faith? Do I have moments when I don’t believe everything will work out? Are there moments in which I believe that God doesn’t have my back? Yes, but rarely. I spend most of my time feeling blessed. This has been a long time coming.

The reason I am careful in my life is because of my mental illness. I will do anything to not become psychotic. Psychosis is a shadow in my mind. It is a parrot with a sharp beak. It is news announcing terror. By structuring my life, I avoid pitfalls. My roommate says I’m so predictable she could set a watch by me.

At times I regret rarely being able to be spontaneous. I am in bed by eight and still wake tired after eleven hours of sleep. One of the meds I take causes this. I’m not complaining, though. My meds have given me life.

My roommate says there is someone out there who will love me and not be bothered by all my quirks. I know my ex did and does. Maybe that’s how I will stumble. I will stumble upon someone who will lift me up, who I too could lift up. I would love to stumble over a duffel bag full of money. The most grievous thing I’ve done is not to have spent my money well.

Writing this has been like not being able to move over a lane to make a left hand turn because of traffic. Why I picked such a challenging quote to respond to I have no idea. I stumbled onto the quote and I have stumbled over the quote. So much for not stumbling!

Today is June 22, 2015. I am alive and well.

2 Replies

I am an alcoholic. My natural state is one of drunkenness, yet I’m sober 21 years. I have schizophrenia. My natural state is one of psychosis, yet I’ve been hospital free for eight years. How do these miracles happen? I allow a spiritual God in my life and take right action.

God is everywhere outside and in our personhood. I can know myself deeply and get beyond self. Self is connected to all. Self is connected to God. The more aware I am, the stronger my source of instinct and intuition. Think of the notes of a symphony. Think of trees and leaves.

God will not do for me what I can do for myself, but God will do for me what I can’t. God lifted me from my natural states of being. Today I live a joyous life.

I’ve heard it said that I need not apologize for my God. I hope that you who follow my blog aren’t put off by my faith and belief in divine intervention. The artist William Blake called what he believed in as cosmic imagination. I like this. I am free to contemplate a life filled with cosmic imagination. With this contemplation comes a belief that I call shall not want. Eventually, I get to this point.

I want a house with a fenced in yard and doggie door complete with dogs. I wish I could follow my ex and spend time with his grandchildren. They call me Auntie Kristina. I hope they don’t forget me.

My desire for things may not pass, but I will acknowledge today that I want for nothing. I have everything I need today to have a joyous life filled with purpose and meaning.

Grams and Annie, my cats, sleep on me as I write this from my bed. When I brought them home from the Humane Society, I thought they were feral. I thought they would have nothing to do with me. How wrong I was. Grams, the neediest, often pesters me for pets and needs my full attention. She bats at my hand when I hold the phone, a book, or a pen.

Cats are of God. I actually believe they are psychic. They know when dead family members and friends enter the room. I take comfort in this like I do while eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked ice cream.

Today is March 5, 2015. I am alive and well.

Leave a reply

I’m going to share my work with the 12 step from my 12 step program. I hope that I am not losing readers because of focusing at times on the spiritual. And I hope I’m not losing readers because I claim to be spiritual and not religious. If I’m losing you, please let me know that.

Step 12….having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

I didn’t wake up one morning and think or feel spiritual. It was a gradual process that occurred over a period of time while applying the 12 steps to my life.

I live with a God consciousness today. I am not the person I was when first waking into a meeting of the 12 step program. That person I was could have not stayed sober. As that person, I was anti-social, angry, untrusting, and completely self centered. I hated the person I had become. Drinking alcohol soothed me like a cherry lozenge placed on my tongue. After the lozenge dissolves, there is a little period of numbness. Then the numbness wears off and at times my throat screams louder than before.

God is a rhino, and a baby cub at peace with each other. God is to be found at the foot of my bed, inside my worn shoe, between the pages of books, and under the willow. God is to be found everywhere.

I wish I held God foremost in my mind 24/7. But my hat slips and I fall into fear and worry. I can tilt my hat at a different angle with little difficult. Sometimes I don’t think to do it so quickly, so I stew–a carrot once sliced is placed in water to stay fresh. When removed from water, it shrivels and dries out. I reach for another carrot from the refrigerator. There are none. I drive to the grocery store and find an abundance of carrots. Life is good.

I’m glad for the idea that we “practice” spirituality. It would not be good if someone said “be spiritual every minute of everyday or else the leg of your chair will break off and you will land on your ass. Every time.” How many times I wonder, before I break my tail bone.

I can give God a human personae. I believe God can take any form. God can be a mass of electrons at rest. God can exist in a handshake. I know if helium is pumped into a balloon, the balloon will float away, reaching into the sky.

Today is January 9, 2015. I am alive and well.

Leave a reply

How intimate do I want to be with God? Answer, very. I want to trust that all that is placed in my path is meant to bring me back to the front door. I want to know that after going left for several days, I will go right again.

There are many kinds of bushes. Some are simply more familiar to me in the desert. They require little water. I, on the other hand, require much water. My cup runneth over all the time. The water slaps at the side of my glass. I drink heartily from the tap. It is not just bottled water that I drink.

Religion does have its place. It brings many people to God. It brings many people to faith. Many like the choir singing “Amazing Grace.” I would mention another hymn, but I don’t know of any. I don’t know of religion. I am without a church. This is neither good nor bad.

I feel free of buildings. Walls cannot contain me. The breeze is crisp like a leaf of refrigerated lettuce.

There are many stones to hold in my palm. The weight of them is heavier than a hundred dollar bill. I may want for money, but somehow the bills are always paid with enough left over to buy an ice cream sundae.

I love God. I love the hats that God wears, and that if I put on two different socks, God still smiles at me. There is room in my heart for miracles, mine and the person who stands beside me at the bus stop.

Today, it is a miracle that I’m not stashed away in some psychiatric hospital. It is a miracle that I’m not drunk and begging at the corner, liquor slopped down the face of my shirt.

I rest today knowing there are daisies. The colored kind, not just white with a yellow centers. I am exposed to all kinds of moons. And the sun, although it stays the same, feels fresh each afternoon at noon.

Grams and Annie, my baby girl kittens, sleep against me as I write this. I am at peace today. The world is large and safe. I can dash from one door to the next, but often catch myself is a slow walk, heel toe, heel toe. Dear God, be with me. I will talk with the stranger on the elevator, wishing her a good day. I will go to bed with a clean mind and a heart filled with petals. The night will move on and I will again awaken to a new day. Grams and Annie purr.

Today is October 24, 2014. I am alive and well.

1 Reply

Excerpt from my work in progress. I have not come up with a title yet.

I believe I experience meditation when I write or make art. These two things take me out of myself, which is a good place to be to meditate. I refer to it as active meditation, as getting into the zone. When writing, all that exists are letters weaved to gather to create something that wasn’t there five minutes ago. Words become the wings of God, paragraphs, the feet, the page the mind, and the chapter the heart. I have given God a human persona. I believe God can take any form. God can be a mass of electrons at rest. God can exist in a handshake.

The soul of God shows up if I write authentically. I feel like a vessel of something I don’t understand, but care to know.

“I pray for knowledge of His will for me and the power to carry it out.” I know when I’m on track because there is a certain peace that washes through me. A calm that I can’t manifest on my own.

Today is May 19, 2014. I am alive and well.

Leave a reply

I feel like I’ve been mentioning God quite a bit. I have a deep spiritual connection with something larger than myself that allows for coincidences and deja vu. God also helps tame my fear, which is often times out of contral. But I don’t want to lose followers because of talking about or mentioning God. So then that brings up the question of who do I write for.

I know I write for myself, but because this is a blog and not a journal entry, I am also writing for an audience. A blog is a broad thing, larger than the expanse of an eagle’s wings, larger than a shelve of books, and maybe as large as a dictionary. Because of this, I”m not certain of my audience.

I am not religious. By stating that does it mean I am losing followers? I do believe in God. By stating that, do I lose atheists? I have many friends that come form many different spiritual experiences and even religious experiences. The religions include Judaism, the teaching of Islam, Catholicism, Buddhism, Wiccan, and the Metaphysical. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention Atheism.

I do try to be as inclusive as I can because I believe the world ought to be inclusive. There are plenty of roses stripped of their thorns to go around for everyone. Hell, I don’t even mind a bit of thorn as long as it doesn’t harm my core.

My core is what I try to offer my readership. It is what I like to read of others. There is something to truth telling that is mind boggling. More truth, more light. The dark isn’t a bad thing, it’s simply a moment waiting for batteries. There too is truth to be found in shadows. A shadow can be a lovely thing; think of paintings and chiaroscuro. Think to what fun it was to first note as a kid your shadow following you, or even your shadow leading you. Light, dark, shadow–there is a place for all of it. A grand place for all of it.

Today is March 10, 2014. I am alive and well.

Leave a reply

Let my spiritual voice speak. I am very interested in this. As a person with schizophrenia, how do I know when I’m coming from a delusional place? What about the voices I hear; do they blend together creating a new voice I can trust? I think not. If I listen deeply enough, my spirit blankets me. It allows for the goodness that is me to come to the surface. I glow in a spiritual essence. On bad days, the voices want to strip me of this, leaving me vulnerable to chaos. Chaos is not cemented to my life, rather it is a paper bag that disintegrates when a match lights its corner. I am free. Spirit resides inside of me and prompts me to eat oranges.

Today is March 2, 2014. I am alive and well.

Leave a reply

I have started a second book. At this point, it remains untitled. I wanted to include an excerpt hear–Spirit is the charcoal outline of a better me. She is the presence that moves me toward God. She is the presence that keeps me cradled in his being. My Spirit glows even in dim light. Her laugh sends bees to the stars. The bees return with pieces of honey comb strapped to their backs by fine thread. Who straps the honey comb to their backs? Pixies maybe. Fairies maybe. Somebody who is tanned by the stars and moves around in the deepest dark.

I watched The Conjuring today. It scared the bejesus out of me. Thank God I wasn’t raised Catholic, then it would have really scared me. Is demonic position possible in this world? I’d love to hear what you have to say.

Thank you for your readership.