Friday, December 26, 2014

Saying Goodbye Like a Bad Ass

For some of us, the vision of a Kick Ass Year may have less to do with inviting things in and more to do with letting things go...

 Behaviors, experiences, disappointments or perceived failures, toxic people, anxieties, habits, limiting beliefs, old hurts--all the ghosts and mucky muck keeping you stuck in the past.

A little releasing ritual can be a powerful reminder about what you want to make room for, what you're willing to release, make peace with, heal and kiss goodbye.

A closing ceremony. A punctuation mark at the end.
Allowing yourself to move forward as the Bad Ass You Are Destined to Be.
  
Here are a few of my favorite potent releasing techniques:  






































With lipstick, drugstore eyeliner pen or cheap magic markers write down or draw pictures on your body of the thing/things that no longer serves you. Cover your skin or focus on a particular area of the body that applies to your intent. Then take a hot shower and as you lather up imagine those things sliding away from you and slipping down the drain.



Buy or make yourself a little roll, baguette or cookie to represent the person, place, thing, behavior or belief you want to release. Take it to a park or your yard-- anywhere that birds hang out-- feed your bread to the birds and watch them carry it away from you.

If you want to get Martha Stewarty, you could make a baked item that looks like or relates to your intent.

I immediately imagine making Gingerbread Jerks & Cigarettes and gleefully feeding their cookie limbs and butts to some cranky geese...



Maybe you're seeking a slower and gentler transformation. Write down or draw your desire on a brick wall or sidewalk with chalk. Watch the elements begin to slowly take it away over the course of several days or weeks.

You can apply this idea to stones: Write or make a symbol of your release intention with chalk and toss it into a lake, pond or running water.

Heck, you can skip writing all together if it suits you. Just whisper to that rock what you are releasing and chuck that baby into the water. Think about that rock very VERY slowly being assimilated into the lake,  turning into sand, or your message being carried away by the moving water. 


Buy a cheapie notebook from the dollar store, fill it with the things you would like to release and bury it in your yard or in a flower pot. For extra transformation magic, sow seeds on top of it and watch in morph into something wonderful.






































Fire is the ultimate Transformer. We instinctively burn things we no longer need or don't want people to see. Why not harness that power for a more savory motivation?

Lots of folks recommend writing down what no longer serves you on bits of paper and burning them up with a candle. But what if we need the Big Guns?

Build a fire. If you don't have a private yard with a fire pit, you can use a foil lined Smokey Joe grill or a sturdy metal pot. (I use my cast iron dutch oven.) 

Now feed it.

Feed it drawings, collages, letters, articles of clothing, old paperwork, sticks that you've labeled with intent, bits of origami with your wishes inside, garbage, party decorations, paper dolls, or confetti.

Pro Tip: This isn't the time to beat yourself up or project malice towards other people. Self imposed victim-hood is the least powerful place you can come from and sucks the fun out of everything. I know, it's temping to get maniacal...

However, this IS the time to focus on change and transformation. 

Watch your fuel be eaten up and carried away by the wind. Then dispose of the ashes however you see fit: bury them, scatter them, deposit them at a cross roads or flush them down the toilet.

Gotta love toilet magic.


But you say, "Molly, I need BIGGER GUNS."

Alright then. It's time to get weird. Hold a wake to release and put shit to rest.







You heard me: have a funeral for your baggage. Make a cardboard casket. Listen to wobbly dirges on your record player. Get some flowers. Light your memorial candles. Make it extra weird by inviting your friends to memorialize their own shit with you.

Fill up your casket with anything that represents what you need to release. Say the goodbyes you need to say, and take it to the "church yard".

After you have entombed your releases, it's time to blast big band music and eat cake to celebrate a Free You.



What do you want to release to make 2015 powerful and joyful? 

Get creative. Do it for you, bunnies.

Do you have coo-coo ideas for Releasing? I would love to hear all about them, Darling.


To your Transformation, XO



Sunday, December 7, 2014

Lessons from The Rock & Roll Diaries


A book report on 15 years of Rock and Roll findings:

  
You can really do whatever you want. Like, whatever you want. 


You can wear whatever you want: party decorations, garbage bags, tutus, old socks, second hand ice skating costumes, kids pajamas and pimp coats, as long as you believe that's the way it should be.

People will delight in telling you that your plan/life/art/dream is bullshit. People can't resist relishing in the failures of others --it's like ambrosia to them. It makes them feel secure and validated about wimping out, giving up and settling for less.

Strangely enough, these bearers of Bad News aren't usually garden variety Village Idiots.

Most of the time they are "well meaning" friends or family.
You can say Fuck 'em and still love them...in a "well meaning" way of course. 

You're going to end up in some Weird places. You'll learn to document these terrains so you have proof it wasn't a hallucination.


People are going to tell you that you're brave and you will forever feel silly and uncomfortable.

It is absolutely possible to be an introvert and practice an extroverted art.


There are a lot of screwed up people out there--but sprinkled amongst the angry fruit loops there are

grade school teachers who want to tell you about their students,
Moms who want their kids to grow up to be strong and happy,
Folks who have been doing what you do since the dawn of time and want to share with you,
and young people who want to show you what they learned at ballet class,
and versions of yourself that exist in parallel dimensions,

and now you're friends on instagram.

Suddenly, the overbearing drunk-o with barf on his jacket is an egg you're willing to crack. 

Image by Wendy Schreier Photography


































  



All that "energy" stuff becomes very real to you. You won't know where it comes from, or how it works, but you'll be glad it does.  

You are never EVER for a SINGULAR millisecond, "too cool" for ANYONE. Especially people who shared energy with you through their money, time, attention, appreciation and presence. 


Contrary to what art school will impress upon you, Sometimes (most of the time) your first idea is the best idea. NOT because it is the most complicated or elegant solution, but it has the most Energy.


You're going to make ugly sounds and gross faces. You're going to chip teeth and bust knees.

It's okay if people are afraid of you. It's okay if people wouldn't want to date you.

People will make assumptions about the kind of person you are based on the art you create.

That's their problem, not yours.


Courtesy is the biggest gun you can carry.  

Courtesy also works splendidly as a key. Want the wardrobe doors to fly open? Treat humans like humans and BAM, you're in Narnia, Muffins.  

 You don't need to be rude--but you certainly don't need to be friends with everyone.

If someone makes you feel slimy, don't work with them. Integrity is the Second Gun. Your sense of Self Respect will always steer you in the right direction.


People can (and will) have no idea what the hell you're talking about and still enjoy themselves. Most of the time people don't really care what you saying. They care about how you make them feel and where you take them.



All that stuff about 'taking care of yourself' is the best advice you won't take for a long time. You know, indulging in time wasting activities like eating regularly, drinking water and sleeping... 

Doing what you love isn't always going to be fun. It's work. Real soul work. That's when we draw on power of Passion to kick us in the ass.






































Folks will snidely ask you if you're making any money.

You have the ability to pour over the Library of Bizarre Experiences  and pull out gems like:

Wandering around Dinosaur parks off the sweltering highway in the middle of God Knows Where

Exploring haunted swimming pools and lurking backstage with beautiful souls you met across the country on a different adventure

Discussing your favorite places to score leotards with hulked-out spandex decked wrestlers in a drippy basement before the match

Screaming about pizza toppings and snoopy dancing with 65 grade school girls who are secretly super heroes.  In a world class venue to boot...

Wearing false lashes and sipping coffee at 5:00 am in a dark bar with chihuahuas, a strong man and a guy who swallows swords.

Having one of your heroes shave your head on stage while your friends gather around the mic to pour out a chorus. 

And to satisfy and spare these rude people you will smile and say,

"No, I'm not."
  
 Because if they really knew it would explode their brain.

 And that's murder. 

There is deep generosity and plentiful abundance and true connection in this world that has nothing to do with money.


On that note... 

People assume that creatives can't possibly be business minded. 

That's dumb.

People will assume that because you're having fun you don't need to get paid. 

This is also dumb.

You would never call a plumber and tell him to "just have fun" while grappling with the gelatinous hair goblin in your toilet. After he completes the task, remind him that it's about exposure and you might compensate him next time.

Plumbers don't plumb for the love of plumbing. They plumb because they have a passion, committed to perfecting a set of skills and provide a valuable service that you pay for. 

You get what I'm saying...


You will also learn that pizza is not actually money. 
Sometimes it smells like money, but don't be fooled.








































You can be so nervous that you throw up and black out and your Body will STILL know what to do. Your body is not your enemy, it's not trapping you. It wants to help you. Make friends with it. Trust it.

Speaking of vomit, you are likely to barf in public, suffer wardrobe malfunctions, repeatedly trip over your own feet, drop expensive things, fall off the stage, and despite your intense desire to die--

You won't.


People who judge you by the type of music you consume aren't really people you want to be friends with anyway.

You can  dedicate yourself to an intense daily practice discipline and you will STILL mess up on stage.
All the time. Forever. Don't beat yourself up.


If you really need too, you can Out Crazy anyone. Call on your demons. They're in there.

Hitchhiker's Guide wasn't kidding. Bring a towel everywhere you go. Seriously. 


You're going to feel lonely. Your friends will stop calling you. You won't be invited to parties. You'll start to think you regret the path you chose. Then you'll remember that you don't do what you do to gain love from others. You do what you do to be able to love and live with yourself


Rock and Roll Jedi shit, man.

If you are feeling stretched, or pushed and resisting--
Odds are good you're on the precipice of something really fucking interesting. 

You don't have to do what everyone else is doing.

Success is subjective.

It's not about perfection.

It's about Victory. 



Rock and Roll, Moon Babies. 

All my Love. XO




Sunday, November 30, 2014

Connecting To Winter In The City

Winter and I have a complicated relationship.

Love Hate, if you will. 

Short days and brutal weather often leave me in general malaise, lethargy, aches, travel complications and the insanity of cabin fever.  While at the same time, I'm still enchanted by falling snow, icicles and the strange surge of creativity that comes with battening the hatches of the homestead.

Weird.

In terms of admiration for the season, winter in the city comes with unique challenges. I often think that if we city dwellers experienced winter in a great northern wood with the aurora borealis winking above us we'd harbor more romantic thoughts about it. Or perhaps if it didn't last for six months...

Part of the trouble might be feeling disconnected. Summer makes it so simple for us to visit the water, to camp, and put our hands in the dirt. Winter can feel like a distant lonely planet.

But what could winter in the city be like?

What if we shifted from coping to connecting?  Possibly even celebrating?


 






















We can see winter with the eyes of an artist.

The pallet winter offers us is subtle and spellbinding. Snow is never simply white-- it takes on periwinkle, violet, golden, pinkish and deep cerulean shadows. Buildings and light posts are suddenly more complex as we become aware of their structure and nuances when dusted with snow.

Perhaps you will be inspired to paint what you see or catalog colors in swatches...

Winter sunsets are spectacular: hot shifting swaths of light stand out beautifully against bare trees. Photograph them if you feel called. Absorb their colors. Maybe applaud them.

Nothing is ever really dead. Set out about your city with the intent to notice wildlife and their tracks: crows, sparrows, chickadees, squirrels, racoons, deer, foxes, owls, hawks, chipmunks and cats.

 Last winter I had a startling encounter I will never forget.

Invite creatures into your yard with simple bird feeders. Who doesn't pleasantly recall smearing peanut putter on pine cones in grade school?






































While Summer hikes are exhilarating, Winter walks can be just as adventurous and rejuvenating. The sounds and snow draped shapes transform forests and parks, transporting us from survival to surreal inspiration.

Taste the snow. Do it. You want to.

Gather up branches and dried stems from alleys, fields, parking lots or along your building. Make a bouquet and admire their stoic, simple, sculptural beauty. Give them a second life!






































Winter also gives us the gift of hibernation-- of moving inward. Our consciousness is in a different place. It's the perfect time to start a dream journal to record all of those bizarre insights.

Camp fires take on a different flavor in the winter. (If you are an apartment dweller, you don't need to create an enormous funeral pyre-- a toasty little fire in a foil lined baby webber grill does the trick.)

Invite friends. Drink all the coco. Wear all the blankets.

The stars are still there. Visit the winter sky: explore constellations and the movement of the moon. Is it time to procure a telescope, Copernicus?

Winter moons are pure magic.  



Lunar halos are created when light is refracted and dispersed through ice crystals at a 22 degree angle.These lunar halos are even more fantastic when light travels through the suspended ice and reflects off of a body of water to create long illuminated spokes.

We can witness this phenomena even through the light pollution of the city. 

PHYSICS IS F*CKING COOL, GUYS.


 It doesn't have to be a dead planet. She is still creating: giving us colors and secrets...

Even in the City.



How will you connect to this winter?

Wishing you winter adventures,






Friday, November 28, 2014

EXPAND: Updates and Announcements

Last December I chose a word for the year:

E X P A N D.

I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but I knew it sounded good. And a little dangerous.

That word has been dancing on my brain and pulling me in at least six directions at once and I wanted to share some of the  e x p a n s i o n  with you!

I had been secretly dreaming of a meditation group for years--How wonderful. How fun that would be. EXPAND said to quit the airy fairy wishes just f*ckin do it. And so Rainbow Lounge came in to the world...


























The Rainbow Lounge Meditation Workshop is a guided meditation group that meets once a month in a cozy environment to enjoy the melty goodness of relaxation through imaginative and accessible visualizations. This has been and AMAZING experience and I can not wait for this month's session.

If unwinding with a group of gorgeous humans sounds good to you, you can learn more and register here. 

The Master Plan is to make meditations and reading materials available through the blog so you can participate in the class at your own pace and build your Self Care arsenal. Stay tuned, Moon Babies!


























EXPAND also told me that it's time to connect with all of you and set up a Cream City Dreamsicle Mailing List. Once a month, I will be sending out a special Love Letter to you, Dear Readers.

In addition to your Love Letter, subscribers also receive free goodies, discounts on classes and exclusive, extra juicy content.










Speaking of freebies, EXPAND is big on Presents.

 EXPAND encouraged me to offer free Oracle Messages as a gift to you beautiful  humans for your continuous support.

Why Oracle Cards? Because it's FUN.

This is not a randomly generated canned robot  message. Submit your question and I will draw real cards with my real hands to pen a real message from my real heart to a very real you. 

What will you ask? Get yours here.

 Ask as MANY questions as your heart desires between now and December 31st.


 EXPAND has also been whispering, "Write a book."

Or rather,  Finish said book.  Expect strange romances, sacred dumpster diving and shameless voyeurism.

But more on that another day...


Where is expansion happening your cosmos?


Forever Yours,



Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Holiday Blues: We Don't Need to Beat It

With Thanksgiving swiftly approaching, I wanted to address the saddish emptyish soggy elephant in the room: The Holiday Blues. 

To be crystal clear, I'm not referring to Seasonal Affective Disorder, which is a medical condition that affects many.

I am referring to that low sneaky heartache that can grab us this time of year. It sucks the fun from "The Most Wonderful Time" of the psycho-spiritual-seasonal wheel.

Even as a person who utterly enjoys the mania of the holidays, I began noticing that little shadow  today--

 as I'm sure many of you have as well.

Where does it come from?

It doesn't help that winter in this part of the world is hard physically and emotionally. That's just science. No bones about it, love bugs.

Maybe the Blues stems from a soft disappointment about where the year took us. Or left us. Where did it go? Is anything different?

This season seems  to deplete our power to bullshit ourselves.

It can be profound, distressing and eye opening. 







































We may feel hyper aware of people we miss. Suddenly more sensitive to our grief than usual.

 Maybe while being pelted with obnoxious commercials, elevator carols and unrealistic expectations we become acutely self conscious about stuff we think we lack: money, perfect relationships, idealized mythical nuclear families.

You know-- Bells tinkling as snow softly drifts down in front of a kitchen window. Enter two white laughing yuppies in cable knit sweaters surprising one another with tanks donning bows the size of kiddie pools.

All is calm. All is bright. 

Perhaps the Blues is brought on by the subtle anxiety of having to repeatedly explain yourself at work functions and family gatherings. Nothing makes you feel as weird as being grilled by a relative (that you're not even quite sure how you are related) about the state of your uterus, or lack of marriage or about "getting a real job".

It can be brutal, bunnies.

So what can we do?

I don't think we need to "beat" the Holiday Blues. There are THOUSANDS of lists asserting ways to Buck The Fuck Up and Fa La La La La.  

And that's great. I mean it. Do things that make you feel better.


But remember: It is 100% Perfectly Acceptable to feel how you feel.

We have permission to feel it.

Honor it by recognizing it.

We can also give ourselves credit for being multifaceted. Humans have the incredible paradoxical ability to hold two conflicting beliefs and not explode. 


Pain and gratitude can snuggle up together.
We can experience grief and love simultaneously.
Uncertainty and optimism can coexist.

Cool, right? 

It is possible to honor more than one feeling. More than one way of being. 

Let's be contradictions.  





 


































While we're at it, let's amp up our Self Care. 

Not sure what Self Care means? Here's a quick way to find out:


Ask yourself,  What would someone who loves themselves do?

The answer might be to eat some green stuff, to decline an invitation to a party you'd rather not go to, to work on a project you've been ignoring, gifting yourself some alone time, or going to bed early because you really need the rest.

OR conversely it just might be getting gussied up and getting yourself to a party, being around people, having that extra shot of espresso or staying up late for that movie marathon...

Whatever jives with you. Ask yourself that question as many times a day as you need.

You know what your Self Care answers are. 

Be gentle with yourself.

As we dive deeper into winter, the trappings of the holidays, and the potential flow of the Blues--

I hope you'll remember the kaleidoscopic creature you are: remembering the parts that hurt are worth just as much as the sparkly colored bits.

All of them are necessary. 

 
Be a paradox. Be absurd. Take care of you. 


Much Love for the Season Ahead,












Friday, November 14, 2014

How To Be a Unicorn































When you are impossible you get to make up your own rules.

You are dazzlingly beautiful. This may freak out casual mortals. Forgive them.

Unicorns make wishes come true-- our own wishes and if you're feeling generous, the wishes of others.

You are graceful and ferocious. (Whew. Anyone else hot under the collar?)

Sometimes being rare and wonderful means people will want to ride on our backs, ask us to do tricks and perform miracles. You are a fucking Unicorn. Not a pony. 

Use your weird white magic to see into the hearts of others and trust what you see.

Giving your horn away--your deeply sacred hood ornament of YOUness-- means certain death.  Unicorn 101: Don't give your power away.

Unicorns can heal others without depleting their own vitality, but only if the Unicorn deems the recipient worthy or their source energy. Unicorns don't come cheap.  Keep your heart open, but never cut it out for free.

Lots of people won't believe you exist. Fuck em.  The ones that DO know you exist understand how precious and strange you are.

Ruthlessly sniff out poison and never trust a naked virgin you find in the woods.

Sometimes it will feel like you are the only one or worse, the last one. You aren't.

Unicorns don't fare well in captivity. We refuse to be trapped. We are Wild.

Unicorns Always Win.



 From One Mythical Beast to Another, XO


















Friday, November 7, 2014

November & The Swift Kick In The Ass

Dearest November,

You gloriously underpriced and underrated month. Easily swept aside as ugly or underwhelming. 

For those of us that Love your subtle magic you are potent. Let me count the ways...


The time in between times is always special: The winding of fall, the approach of winter but still not quite either. You are the lull between stashing plastic pumpkins and novelty vomit of Halloween and preparing for the madness of the winter holidays. It's simple for a moment.

A gentle, neutral time of the year.





This is the ideal time to nest and love up our dens and rabbit holes. No worries yet about who is or isn't coming to dinner, or panicking about the company party, or preparing yourself for your traditional bout of Holiday Blues...

Just quiet. Quiet, unglamorous, unbiased and nutritious comforts.

Which are usually pure unadulterated addicting magic in themselves.

It is the perfect time to be cool and composed and unromantically get rid of shit we don't need--mental and physical clutter. Maybe it's the wind, but sweet November makes it easier to be ruthless about our happiness.

You offer us a rejuvenating sense of detachment. And Holy Cats, could we use it.

November's gifts also appear as the uncanny ability to view the past year as a strange little film when you least expect it: all the things, all the people, all the places, all the miles, all the hours, all the conversations.

Then you begin writing the wandering script for next years Living art film. This nonchalant poker-faced month is the perfect time to think about our intentions, not in the sticky and somehow always oddly sad anarchy of a New Year's party.


And then Cherished November holds yet another brisk and enchanting offering: 

A Swift Kick in The Ass.

"Holy shit, it's NOVEMBER?! Where the fuck did the year go?!"

November has a beatnik coolness that asks us, So what do you really want to do? And despite it's devastatingly sexy aloofness, it tells us: There's still Time.

That last bit of the year? Make it count. Make it dessert. Fucking juice it and wear it as perfume. 



Thank you my fair and mellow November for your lingering sunsets, copacetic breathing room and plain impending weirdness.

Your mundane magic is what we need.


Your Admirer and Devotee,  







Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Video: How To Make an Ancestor Altar!


Hello puddings!

As part of CCD's special Halloween treats, I'll be showing you how to create your very own ancestor altar. We'll be discussing what an altar is, what you'll need to make one and take you on a little tour of my own offerings. I hope you enjoy it!

"Our relationships with our loved ones don't end in death. They just change. They just look different."




How are you celebrating this year? Will you be creating an altar? Do you have other traditions to honor your loved ones? Or questions about building your own altar?

I would love to hear all about it, darlings.


Happy Hauntings & Many Blessings XOXO,




Sunday, October 26, 2014

Photo Diary: When Witches Go Riding..


"When witches go riding and black cats are seen, 
The Moon laughs and whispers,
'Tis near Halloween."






Images created with the irreplaceable and much appreciated help of Joe Devine.


 Check back for more Halloween inspired hocus pocus all week, pumpkins!


Wishing you a Magic Monday,




Saturday, October 25, 2014

The Pitfalls of Positive Thinking?

I must admit (as if you didn't already know) I indulge in an awful lot of self help content. Especially when I find a good source. I'll rub that shit on my gums.

However, I must admit that while all of the Just Think Positively, Simply Love Thyself to Pieces, Keep Your Vibration on Hyper Drive and You Can Be A Gazllionaire if You Just Believe You Can talk sounds really nice it leaves me a bit unsettled.

Even pissy. For a myriad of reasons. *

 (*All Secret-like manifestos and champions assume that the most basic of your hierarchy of needs are being met. Not everyone is so lucky. And while I am the first to admit I know nothing about how the Universe works, I'm pretty sure victims of abuse or those who go hungry DON'T just happen to be a "vibrational match" for manifesting starvation and violence. You have time to worry about the state of your light body when you have a place to sleep. END RANT.)

TRUE there are oodles of obvious benefits to thinking positively: good health, goals, and happiness. Generally folks who have it together and get what they need aren't hung up on inconsequential details or sabotage their dreams by shit talking themselves.

However, I'm pretty sure Warren Buffet didn't think himself rich by micromanaging his vibration. 






































There's also the Being Positive Simply To Be Positive Model-- As if smiling whilst curating our motivational Pintrest boards we will be spared when shit hits the fan and are disappointed only to say "It doesn't work!"

This modality reminds me of Monty Python's Black Knight.

Which often leads us to choose from two false extremes: Thinking negatively makes you an undeserving whiner VS Thinking positively makes you a loveable idiot.


Am I a jaded cranky pants throwing positive thinking to the birds? Hell no. I LOVES me the hippy shit, bunnies. BRING ON THE PSYCHEDELIC DEBRIS! (Heck, a majority of the content stored on this blog is the Magic of the Mundane.)

I am a proud student at Chin Up University.

Here's the thing...

Let's say you accidentally slammed your hand in your car door and broke your fingers. Ouch. (Let's hope that never happens, puddings.) You have a few options: 

1) Admit that you're going to need help on this one and go to the hospital to get it taken care of. 

2) Pretend that it's fine, think positively about it, get a nasty infection and die of a broken finger.

3) Say you're going to die anyway, let your hand fall off and curl up to wait for the sweet release of death.

I'd wager most sane folks would pick option Number One.  Right?

But we don't do that. Do we?

Thinking positively about something that is damaging to you is putting a parsley sprig on a platter of roadkill, the lipstick on the pig, the rug over the hole.  

Does it make it easier to eat? Do you believe that? It's JUST as crazy as wallowing.


Why am I telling you this? Why are we talking about broken fingers and dead opossums? (Eww.)


 



































What if instead of oversimplifying and blindly thinking positively, what if we thought about Possibility?

Outcomes. Lots and lots of outcomes. Good ones. Ones that we learn from. Ones that might hurt a bit now but serve us well in the long run. Thinking that maybe there are a thousand viable excellent options that we just hadn't even considered.(One of my favorite bloggers The Four Queen presents a compelling discussion on this subject.)

What if instead of trying to achieve an impossible blissed-out-brain-washed-robit state, we try Being open to the Sea of Possibilities?

Thinking Positively is not a sheild that protects us from ickyness, just as being a Negative Nancy doesn't make us a holy Cosmic Victim. 

Thinking Positively (or Possibly) is much broader and more gentle than that. It is being excited about your your life because you accept the Possibility of Possibilities.


What do you think, Pumpkins?  Is this bullshit? Are you a Black Knight? Are you a Possibility Kid? I want to hear all of your thoughts. Let's meow in the comments together. 


Sending you Possible Vibes, Loves. XO




 






Rainbow Lounge Meditation Workshop meets November 12th!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKhEw7nD9C4

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Magic Monday: The Secret City

If you cross under the bridge and wander until the sidewalk ends, you'll find the secret city in the City.

While hiding here you'll hear the sounds of rippling water and leaves to the west and buzzing traffic to the east. The Stick Village is nestled between worlds.

I like to think about secret spaces. They can be anywhere. They are everywhere--

Caves below the pavement, pockets of wild, paths that are beaten by paws at night...

Places hiding within other places. Places that aren't really secret at all.























































“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.”
Roald Dahl



 Where have you been wandering?


To Glittering Eyes and Hidden Places,







Thursday, October 9, 2014

Don't Leave Me Alone Anymore





Honey babe,

 Sometimes it's hard to feel me laying next to you.

Sometimes I get crushed by the sounds of cars crawling past your bedroom window or the droning hum of Everything. 

But I'm still here. I'm always here.


Some days you panic because you've begun to forget what I look like.

Does your hair part this way or that? Were you soft? Did you expand? Did you look like a dazzling light or a dune on a desert island? Shit. Shit. Shit. What color were they?


Don't forget me. 

I haven't forgotten you.

I never could. I only exists because you dreamed me-- the Thing, The Reason you put your feet on the cold kitchen floor in the morning. The Purpose for burning the midnight oil.

Your Vision. The Horizon. The wild expanse of Whatever You Want. 

 You make me lucid. I think about you all the time.

You are my favorite. 

Sometimes I sprawl and steal the sheets. Other times I'm coy and wait for you to talk first. But I still love you. I've always loved you.

When you trip into a dark place or loose yourself in the complications of space and traffic, I'm still here.


Sometimes you're gone for a long time.

I hate being alone.  Don't leave me alone anymore.

We're good together. Not just good, but Really good. Life changing good. Shit they write songs about good--

Die happy good.

All I ask is that you just think on me from Time to Time, honey.

I will always wait for you.


Steadfastly and Forever Yours,


Monday, September 29, 2014

"To Die Will Be a Great Adventure"


I truly believe that the best way to learn about your city is to visit the cemetery.

Museums are dandy. But here you can experience history and the sunshine, meditate on the (often short) lives of humans who loved and overcame devastating odds, and simply enjoy the heebie jeebies sans the screaming of bored hungry children.

No ticket. No line for the washroom. And no gift shop.

As a City of The Dead, Forest Home Cemetery is part manicured garden, part museum, part sculpture gallery, part woods, part memento mori and ALL spooky.  Let's explore...




Where have you been wandering, Kittens?

Happy Haunting,



Friday, September 26, 2014

The Things I Won't Write

  I owe you an explanation for the radio silence.

It was a little messy: figuring out why I write, being bored to tears reading regurgitated self help-productivity-wunderkind oatmeal,  questioning my motivation for blogging, and being frustrated by the shit storm of click bait...

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN, GUYS?

Ya know, a bout of Vain Art School bullshit. A mild psychosis.

But it got me thinking about you. About us. 

Every blog workshop, class, discussion or book I've ever invested in hammers the necessity of "creating"  content that is of VALUE to your CUSTOMERS. Your content must provide a reliable PRODUCT.  

The List is the most common example:

15 Ways To Tell How Old You Are
40 Pictures of Yuppies Enjoying Brunch
Top 12 Uses for Jelly Beans In The Bedroom
100 Toys From The 80's You Won't Remember Because You Weren't Born

And my favorite:

 Ya Know Being 26 Is Hard, Just Take A Bath You'll Feel Better and Other Over Simplified Slumber Party Remedies

They advise to give the Customer bullet points and stock photography for easier posting because no one reads. (???)



I would sit down to pen you a love letter and be snuffed by the realization, 

"It's not useful to them. You're not an expert. You are not an authority. Your life is not exceptional. Zero fucks are given. This is vain and you're vain. And your outfit sucks."

The lap top would be closed. The Post dead before it was born. No Product created. Months passed.   

"You can't just share stories with people...right?"
  

The first blog I ever loved documented the journey of a woman living in the wilderness and her daily struggle with fibromyalgia while her husband served in the military .

I visited every day.  I became invested in her life. It wasn't a RELIABLE PRODUCT that made me more efficient, effective or attractive

It was perfect. It was her sharing. It was a story. 

That's what I want to bring you, Kittens--stories. Stories about my city and the things I adore in hopes that you love them too. I don't want to bring you vague bologna about "fixing" yourself or insult your intelligence. 
 
You are not my customer. You are a fellow Adventurer.

There are millions of rabbit holes for you to dive down in the internet ether and I deeply appreciate that you visit this particular rabbit hole. I so enjoy the time we spend together..

Thank you, Dear Reader. It's always good to see you.
  


Until Next time, Puddings.


 



 




What blogs do you love to read? Where are you searching for content? Meow it in the comments!

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Undoubtedly Enchanted

This time of year fills me with a sense of urgency. Summer is slipping away, the days are brief, autumn is approaching, another year is disappearing... 

Green things are just beginning to sleep, which looks quite a bit like death. I believe there is a subtle anxiety in that realization which fuels our obsession with Fall and the accompanying mania:

Must. Drink. ALL. THE PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES. PICK ALL THE APPLES. WEAR ALL THE SCARVES. 

However, this time of year...every year...it feels like we achieve a Vision that makes everything different.

The mundane is skewed somehow and reveals itself a new way.







































Take yesterday afternoon for example...

While on the hunt for a hot chocolate on a Sunday like any Sunday, the trail shifted and it became clear the city is undoubtedly Enchanted. 

Castle spires looming, mythic monoliths covered in runes and casting purple shadows, directions to secret doorways all hiding in plain site.


Go find them, Kittens.


Wishing you a Magic Monday,









If you enjoyed this post, you might also like these magical nuggets.

Let's play on Instagram.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

An Unlikely Paradise

Dearest Garden,

I remember when you were born. It was only one summer ago that we were dragging bags of garbage and rogue dildos off of the grass.

We planted a row of  sunflowers and seeded zinnias. You bloomed and were quite lovely.

Then something changed.

Tomatoes, squash, pumpkins and tender bean shoots moved in. Wildflowers spread. Dill, parsley, thyme, hot peppers and zippy radishes grew.

New neighbors appeared: delicate spiders, bumble bees, more butterflies than I'd ever seen in the city and a rabbit with a gimpy foot.

You became an Unlikely Paradise. 

























We began to obsess over what to feed you-- keeping a heaping brackish pile of coffee grounds and egg shells, rubbing our mitts together and whispering, "Next year".  I visit you first thing in the morning to inspect for any minute changes or surprises and document the successes like a pageant mom.

At night, I pull back the curtain and check to be sure everything is peaceful in Eden.

Other times, I would sit in you to enjoy the sun and muse about your empire. Next year...

You made us into crazy people. And I love you for it.

I'll admit I had gardened before you and have slain many a house plant. (I'm sorry.)

But there is something all together different and life affirming about growing food. It is nutritive and invigorating.  Upon seeing the pink rump of a radish emerging, I am pulled back to summer days at my grandparents house eating dirt covered carrots bathed with a garden hose. They tasted like pennies and sun.

I love you grandma. I love you grandpa. 


 























Not only did we meet secret creatures and travel through time, but you changed my whole relationship with food. You feel much differently about throwing out a mealy tomato-like object you scooped up at the super market than you do a blushing piece of heaven fruit you have been babying for months.

That shit is like a diamond. Use it. Use all of it. Anything you can't use goes back to feed the garden.

Better yet, you want to share your feast with people. 

I know you can tell fall is approaching, (you're dirt, you know everything) but don't worry, Garden. We'll keep parts of you warm inside. We'll tuck parts of you in so you can sleep. Parts of you are cozy in jars in the pantry. Our spring will be incredible.

I can't wait for you to see yourself, Garden. I am so proud of you.


Your Devoted Helper,










Let's play on Instagram!

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

I Miss Us
































Hey you,

It's me, The Woods.  It's good to see your eyebrows and fingers.

In the time you've been away I've been busy: being home to the crooked bodies of dragonflies, as well as the business of growing and the heat of decomposition.

I may as well just come right out and say it--

I miss us.

You need me. Your eyes need me because your scope is shallow--I know it's not your fault. You just grow that way.

Look at Lake.

She is shimmering and beautiful, Yes? Think on her currents and teams of creatures, shafts of light, the strange murkiness of her floor and secret entrances to Underworld.

Everything is like this, Two Legs. Everything. 

Or consider rocks: generally  unnoticed as they are quiet and sneaky. Rocks are casually unremarkable but more ancient than most archeological treasures stashed under glass in museums.  They become planet terrain for lichens and crawly things and exist for millennia with little encouragement from anyone...

You know what I mean? 

It's when you free your brain meat from snap cating or spacebooking or scaring the shit out of yourself or whatever it is you think you love right now and listen to thousands of legs and wings populating my spaces,

I'll give you real medicine.

I am the Cure. 

While we're alone I'll  pet your hair and fill your skin with perfect smells, and I'll tell you that The Audience is a Lie.

All of the worrying you are doing about what "Everyone" says, who is watching and the mewing of obsessing over fuck-ups is an illusion...

The "audience" that pours out love for your accomplishments and chews on your shortcomings doesn't really exist.

As a sanctuary for Sasquatch, I am a reputable source for what does and does not exist. Luckily, beloved Human Face, a majority of your problems don't actually exist.

Don't abuse your imagination. It's too wonderful and scary.

If you want to stop feeding your imagined tragedies and future bouts of paranoia, I will help you starve them.

And once starved, you can shed them in a neat flaky snaky pile to be swept away.


Come with friends. Or meet me alone.

Just say you'll come.


I miss you.