Packin’ Up

 

Packin’ Up

What do I bring

on this once-in-a-lifetime voyage?

Do I take the pieces of my broken mind

or my too-sensitive heart

that people love to rip apart

or my inside soul that

hasn’t stood the test of time.

Nobody else wants this stuff,

so why should I?

I’ll just reinvent myself

from scratch

good at math

ambitious

loveable

succcessful

excel at science, or better yet,

be good at something that pays bills.

Stuff that makes me worthwhile, in the eyes

of society, or maybe for just one person

out there somewhere, in another life.

My suitcase is almost full, but still

I sneak in foolish things

like my imprisoned childhood creativity,

a beloved stuffed animal, or even ten, and

last but not least, my love for sentient

animals and plants,

just in case I have the chance

to be both me, and

someone new and improved.

 

The Weight of the Pier

 

The Weight of the Pier

What is a pier?

A concrete challenge for the waves;

a cold path I follow to the maelstrom.

I dance in salt and grey

until night paints the ocean

with a mirror sheen.

It’s the stars’ turn

and I remember to wish

on their falling bodies,

hoping they light the way

for my ship to come in,

to a magic bridge,

or for you, dream-wanderer,

to take me from this waiting pier

before I drown.

The Way Home?

CricketEditing
Cricket helping her mom copy-edit.

Last Tuesday, my cat Cricket died. She was about 20 or so years old. I got to be with her all day and into the evening, at least. My little Queen Bee.

She was the last of 12 (13?) critters in my animal family. I kinda lost count of how many critters I had, because, well, I can’t count too good. *wry laugh* I started doing rescue work, and ended up with a lot of new animal friends. (<—sucker).

Cats: Sid, Nancy, Forest aka Loki, Lettuce, Smelly Cat, Cricket. Rabbits: Rowan and Charlotte, plus a guinea pig named Bubble Piggy, and an (also adopted) hamster named Russia. And some fish and a couple of captive-bred leopard geckos I got from a herp expo. I’ve got a gazillion pictures I could post, and about that many more on actual film. Want to see? Nope? Fair enough. (Maybe just one more?).

CricketSnuggle
Cricket and (Diva!) Lettuce.

Care to hear about the million and one things that made them all the best critter companions ever? I didn’t think so.

It goes without saying that I miss them so much. All of them. Even Smelly Cat, the old stray who showed up on my doorstep crying pitifully, being outrageously skinny, and in the end stages of renal failure. (And, yes, he looked just his more famous counterpart!)

Cricket had to be everywhere I was in the house, so not having her around is just beyond comprehension. About half the time, I don’t even believe that she’s gone.

I always made a joke of the fact that my livespace belonged to my animals, not me. One of my animal rescue colleagues came over one day, and told me that when she died, she wanted to be reincarnated as one of my pets. But, with all of them gone now, I realize that my living in a house was a lot more than just making sure that my animal friends had a plethora of toys, litter boxes, gourmet food, comfy beds, hidey-holes, playpens (for the rabbits and guinea pigs), and the majority of  my own bed space.

CricketDND
Cricket hiding out until her mom came home.

 

Any house, apartment, etc.  was, and is, expressly for my animal family. Now I’m sitting here in this current too-empty house, and wondering what the point is of living in one place, surrounded by four walls. It’s basically a fancy container to hold all my stuff. Even after all the downsizing I’ve been doing, I still have so much crap. I can’t bear to donate all of their cat beds and toys and food bowls and kitty crates for travelling.

A long time ago, I dreamt of my beloved cat Sid…one of those cats that’s almost like a soulmate…and he was waiting for me by the ocean.

I think of that spot all the time now. In my quiet house as I stare at all my crap I can’t bring myself to get rid of, but at the same time, wish I could just set fire to.

I stare at one of my pictures by Landon Richmond. The one of a little girl in a red-and-black scorched apocalyptic-looking world, using a phone booth. The text in the print says “Can I come home now?”

And I want so badly to go home. But I don’t have anybody to call. Or anyplace to go. Or any money, for that matter. So, every night, right before I go to sleep, I visit that spot by that grey, stormy ocean, with a garden and a forest and lots of magic and magical creatures and definitely some wild horses. And Sid there, still waiting, by the salt-frosted roses.

And everybody else warm and happy and fat and non-smelly in the dappled-sun garden.

I didn’t want to make this into a blog about how much I miss all my critter babies.

I just wanted to put out into the universe somehow that I hope to see them all again. Even in this disjointed blog entry. To finally have a place that feels real. A place that’s safe, where everything makes sense, and a place that I actually belong. I just want that place to exist, somewhere, in some dimension out there.

I’m waiting, too.

CricketMouseToy
Cricket waiting patiently for the toy mouse to pop out of the cheese.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lonely ghosts and an almost-full moon…

 

A very sensory, yet very surreal, week. Or mindset.

Things are both ambiguous and very clear. In mental limbo and yet absolutely certain about…well, see the secrets part below.

A inevitability from which there is no escape, and yet, a promise of a new beginning.

It’s a little maddening and frightening, but also soothing and comforting.

I’m frustrated and resigned at the same time. I’m believing in my instincts and dreams and signs but also practical about their impossibility in this dimension.

The moon is blue-bright and has been keeping me awake, but it’s not even full yet.

There’s lots of secrets, which are also revelations.

Some songs from the 90s are (uncharacteristically!?!?) the current soundtrack to my inner world. Out of nowhere I had this urge to listen to them.

I’m both running away and towards something, simultaneously. Distance, and closeness, all at once.

Nothing much seems to have a point right now, including this blog, yet I’m compelled to put words out there, even if they are trivial, unrelated, or don’t make any sense.

Watched a movie tonight titled “I Don’t Feel at Home in this World Anymore”.

Been wanting to give “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” a re-watch, and re-read Griffin and Sabine, but hesitated to take that literary/cinematic journey.

“Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened. You do not dismiss a muse at whim.” – Sabine Strohem
Nick Bantock, Griffin and Sabine

 

 

Scrambled Sunday x10

 

Muddled would be a good word for the day. Or the week. My eyes/vision has been a little more wonky this past week.

But, then, everything is (still) going wonky. I’ve been trying to meditate and focus on healing and chakras and mindfulness and all that kind of crap, but it’s a frustrating process sometimes, for someone who’s more action- and results-orientated. I wish I had the magic to heal my eyes myself. Or to fix things this 437th (transition) time around. Let’s just say I’m not very good at the whole passive acceptance thing. ROFL.

Been trying to look at blogs but I’m afraid my very old computer (by modern-day standards) might be dying. Or it’s my internet. It feels like the old days of dial-up when you were just staring at that little hourglass going around and around, only now it’s a circle. Still annoying though. A lot of the blogs I subscribe to never even loaded and eventually I had to shut them down. It’s been like that all week. So, sorry if I failed to stop by your blog! 🙂

Then I went somewhere for someone else’s celebration and was staring at what I think is a new food trend–deconstruction/deconstructed. The lemon tart I ordered looked very pretty and artistic but I just couldn’t understand why it was in pieces. Perfect blobs of meringue on one side, dots of some dark red jelly, a rectangle of jiggly lemon filling standing in the middle, and a bunch of crumbles to its left. I was perplexed by the dish. I guess the concept of fancy food is lost on me. *laugh*

But a lot is perplexing me these days. Kinda stuck in a morass of confusion right now while I try to figure things out. Or not. Just sit here and wait for things to come, because endless striving doesn’t seem to bring anything closer?

But, I am having really amazing dreams, for the most part. When they’re not about people I used to know have died without me knowing about it and are now ghosts and watching me as I go through my sad little life routines. 🙂 In real ghost life, they probably have much better things to be doing. A lot of the dreams I’ve been having, I’ve been channelling into poems. The dreams I’ve been having are about the only thing that makes sense right now, which is even more confusing because they aren’t real. As far as I know, anyway. Except for maybe a couple about…well, I’ll keep that a mystery to the general public. My dreams have got me thinking a lot about reincarnation, though I’m still the skeptical science type in some ways.

But, on the real life side, I got my manuscript back from the individual who was editing it (brave soul!). So, I have to get on rewrites. Which I’m excited about, yet also dreading. It’s a mystery/suspense revolving around the issue of human trafficking.

 

So that’s it in my chaotic world. Hope your Sunday is a lot less scrambled!

Anybody else feeling the lure of the fae this week?

 

 

Misfit Wish List…

 

I wish…

…that magic was real

…that it was still Harry Potter’s birthday (dumb, I know)

…that my sheets were dry, so I could go back to bed

…that the dark I once loved didn’t feel so alone

…that I had a secret garden

…or a mystical island

…that I wasn’t the Chaos Fairy

…that something would finally work out

…that the world made sense

…that I made sense

…that I would dream of…well, if you’re visiting me there, you know

…that people loved trees and creatures and bugs as much as corporations and money

…that I would get the phone call (or letter) I’ve been waiting for

…that I was good at something. Anything.

…that I belonged in this world, and not only by way of my dreams.

 

(Off to the real world, now. *laugh*)

Albus Dumbledore: “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” (J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone)

Love and other Mysteries of the Spirit…

 

Neelix: Commander, I don’t think you can analyze love. It’s the greatest mystery of all. No one knows why it happens, or doesn’t. Love is a chance combination of elements. Any one thing might be enough to keep it from igniting – a mood, a glance… a remark. And if we could define love, predict it – it would probably lose its power.–Star Trek: Voyager

“Invisible things are the only realities.”
Edgar Allan Poe, Loss of Breath

“Yet mad I am not…and very surely do I not dream.”
Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat

What a strange time it’s been lately. (Naturally, there’s a rational explanation, but for now, I’m just enjoying the mystery and the magic. I’ve kinda had an overdose of reality, anyway.)

 

Sleepless white nights.

Or very intense dreams, full of symbolism. Jung would probably have a field day, but…

…in real life, the dreams I’ve been having are echoed by an eerie serendipity.

(Actually, I just realised that synchronicity is a better word choice.)

Like Mulder, I want to believe.

Am I losing my way?

But I think I want to get lost.

It’s so mysterious and beautiful here.

Magic is in the air, especially at the crossroads.

I hope I get it right, this time.

*makes a wish*

*believes*

The Griffin and Sabine series might be a good travel guide.

But I have some animal guides to help me find my way, again. (I think).