Category Archives: 2015 Musing

12/19/15 musings – my many multiple personalities

So last night when I went to bed, I thought about what I had blogged yesterday regarding fear. I did make an effort yesterday to become aware of my fears, obvious and subtle. Holy shit. I am surrounded by it. I am surprised I did not run away screaming into oblivion. It is everywhere which is probably why I think I appear in this body.

Anyways, I put on some of what I call deltasonic music. That is music that supposedly emits delta sound waves which is good for sleeping… calming the brain blah, blah, blah.

I don’t know if it helped or not. This too was an experiment on my part and something I’d never done before but Lord help me, that is who I am and have always been. I have a friend who likes to tell me I am a frequent visitor to the buffet table of ‘how life works’ (which is also the name of an interesting book btw).

So I put this music on and sort of twitched around a little and let go of everything in the interests of letting this sound do it’s job. Well… call me crazy, but I swear I could feel brain cells rearranging inside my head… kind of like gettting rewired. It was a most unusual experience and probably a product of my imagination, as everything is, but I kind of enjoyed it all the while praying I would not wake up more intellectually handicapped than I already am.

When I DID wake up, the first thing I thought of was the experience I had a few years ago of being in two places at one time. I think I’ve blogged about that before, but in case you missed it, in a nutshell (the one where I reside) I had read a book where the author claimed that had happened to him and the whole time I was reading it, all I could think was BULLSHIT! One day that load of bullshit fell on me while at work, literally. I was running a long column of numbers at my desk listening to some jazz cd when before me appeared an old dancing partner who had some time ago laid his body aside. He took my hand and we began to dance to that jazz music (which he introduced me to earlier in this life btw) right there in the middle of the lobby of my workplace. All the while I sat at my desk tabulating my numbers. I remember laughing and telling my friend I hoped I wasn’t fucking up at my job while I was busy dancing.

So that was my first memory this morning and at that point, I realized on that day I was really aware of not two, but three, of me. The one working, the one dancing and the one who was watching it all happen at the same time. I felt around on my head. I was sure there was a blowout somewhere and my brains were leaking out. Is this the real thing, or is it fantasy? (to paraphrase Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody). I’m telling you the older I get the wierder life gets. I love it all. I love to share it even though one of those that resides in me secretly believes this whole existence is pointless.

I hate to admit it, but I think I might need to reserve a rubber room somewhere. I seem to have developed another personality. Shhh… don’t tell anyone, okay? Still… some days a rubber room seems preferable. I wonder if they serve good drugs there…

Writer’s Comments: This shit that bubbles up out of me from seemingly nowhere… what is that? Where does it come from? What does it mean? What does life mean? What is it for? Is there a purpose to any of it? Hard to imagine there is when you figure you don’t take one blessed thing with you when you leave, except the love you have shared/given. And that info is straight out of an NDE I had after surgery. Yet another questionable experience. I have to say that I’m beginning to believe those philosophers who tell me that I am MORE than I appear to be… depending on which I’s I am looking through! LOL!



Musings – Fear

Fear is something made up. It is not real. God did not make it. (Why would He? I can find no good reason for Him to.)  We did.  We made it.   Of this, I am certain. Since it is not real, God cannot see it. He does not experience it. So asking Him to help with it would not work.  Being not of this world, He would never understand.

Fear is like a ghost. (Who ya’ gonna’ call?) A product of the imagination projected into a space that will immediately accommodate. Anxiety… trembling… uncertainty… These are the tenets of fear. Our bodies immediately react and send us running to a ‘professional’. Be it a prescription writer, or a mind blower, the answers we receive are just as unreal and damaging as the fear is. Since it all came from within in the first place, how can it possibly be poofed away from somewhere outside of us? The whole thing is like a hamster wheel… like the dream I had where I was inside a car running as fast as I could but the car was standing still… I was going no where fast. It freezes us in time (also unreal). Makes us believe in stuckedness… No forward motion. No hope of getting out.

So how do we break that cycle of fear? How do we release ourselves from that unGodly terror that fear produces?

My immediate first thought is to quit making it. (Let go and let God? Is that where THAT came from?) Vigilance would be a good start it would seem. To be vigilant over thoughts. To reject fearsome thoughts as soon as they are recognized and turn them into something kinder, softer, loving… fearLESS. If projected fear can have such a terrorizing effect on us, would kindness not be the antidote?

What a great experiment. I’m going to try it! I’ll let you know how that turns out.

Writer’s comments: Hmmm… this makes me sound like I live in constant fear. I would love to deny that. If I look closely though, I find it is undeniable. Evidence abounds, subtle though it might be. I hold it in my joints and in my muscles and in my nightmares. In my clenched teeth, in chewed nails, in my stiff neck, in the splinter that found it’s way into my finger.  In the cigarette I finally put down (no wonder they are so hard to quit!)  Subtler yet, in the thought that these things are even possible. Interesting…


Money 8/17/15

Money is a wierd thing it seems. At least as far as my life is concerned. It does not seem to act as other things do. It’s like the rules don’t apply, or they are bass ackwards or something.

All my life I’ve had money. Not to burn mind you. Always enough. To the point where I was never afraid to share. Never wore bras with secret pockets. Maybe because I never wore a bra! That’s a different story for another time!

The fact is, I just never worried about it. And one of my biggest pleasures was to share it. From the time I was a wee lass, I never felt the need to keep it all for myself. I bought people lunch, or a drink, put gas in their cars, paid their way into movies, or dances, or bingo, or got them a ‘super burger’ after school, gave them the dime to call home (I’m old) or 15 cents bus money so they didn’t have to walk. Never thought a thing about it. My allowance was their allowance.

When I moved out of my family’s house and got my first apartment, it killed me to have to budget for rent, food, heat, those added expenses I suddenly had. I had this odd little 3-ring binder with envelopes in it. It was a recipe thing. Each envelope was marked for a different food I think. Or maybe a different meal course. I can’t remember. I only remember remarking them heat, light, groceties, rent, etc. On the outside of each was the amount I would have to come up with on a certain date to pay for those things and every paycheck was divvied up and distributed into those envelopes so that when the time came, I would reach in and the right amount would come out to pay what was due.

I did not understand ‘hoarders’. I did not understand ‘saving’. Saving for what?

Now I am 65. My needs seem much less. I am retired. I don’t need a ‘wardrobe’ to impress my friends (I noticed men didn’t care what I wore – again another story). I have no urge to travel far and wide. Been there, done that, when I was younger and could really enjoy it with no physical repercussions. I live on a fixed income. One that I paid into (Social Security) for over 50 years. I have no real pension or ‘official’ retirement fund because I was always changing jobs. I would become bored and need to try something new so I did. Never had one bit of trouble finding a new job, and usually in a different field to learn something new. I worked for a doctor, a lawyer, in banking, for government and industry and for little mom and pop operations. I even had my own company until it got too big and I had to either legally hire employees and comply with all the rules and regulations that went with that, or just quit. It was on the cusp of damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I didn’t. Who needs all those rules?

Anyways, back to the money end of things. I really have no income to speak of now. (I do write books but they are not climbing up the best seller’s list – darn!  LOL)  I can find only one reason to lament this no income condition. I still want to share. It was one of my greatest pleasures and one I really can’t afford right now. Boo hoo.

I started this out saying I thought money was wierd. And here is why. Everything in my life I have ever given out has always come back to me. Everything from love to lunches. Everything EXCEPT money. Where is that 20 I gave to the waitress? Where is that 20 I put in your gas tank? Where is that dime that allowed you to call home?

Now I find that blogging this has given me a little clarity. Maybe it’s not the money at all that comes back to me. It’s what that money bought. What it bought HAS come back to me. The lunch, the ride, the phone call home. I am indeed grateful for that. I never really considered what that money was used for. I just saw it as money. Here, have some.

Now I am not starving. I have a car and a roof over my head and food on my table and friends. I miss my money. I miss sharing my money. If I let it, I can easily get depressed about not having any extra money. Not because I’d save it but because there is none to share. Isn’t that wierd?