Blah Blah Blog

i was just thinking about the absurdity of making BIG plans. right now, there is something about BIG plans that feels really cramped. on the other hand, my small plans to be near water at least once a week, to be outside everyday, to listen to birdsbugstreesleaveswindbarkslaughs in the park as i watch the sunsetmoonrise seems pretty large. eventually i'm gonna have to return to the land of big plans, but i hope, this time, to bring the small plans along for the adventure.

Peace from The Lise

Comma Man

You will have to excuse my previous blog. I've gotten into this [bad?] introspective habit of being really heavy and analytical lately. I really ought to get a snapshot of myself pulling my underwear out of my ass or swanning out of a pubic bathroom with long ribbon of toilet paper stuck to my shoe to undermine the needless pathos. It's summertime fercrissake. In the mean time, perhaps this will do, sort of. While I am clearly showing off my new yogic powers (this is pretty much the sum of my accomplishments for the year 2010, thusfar) at least you can see how my undies might become lodged in the glutial fold in the first place.

So back to my gravitas. It's like I should end every sentence with ", man" as in. "It's been a rough year, man." Dju see it? OR "I don't know what's happened to me, man, I used to be so much fun." I snuck it in there in the middle - literary device alert - of the sentence [, man] And while I don't actually say "man" after a brief pause (as indicated by the comma,) it's definitely there, like the silent "h" in a lot of French words. Oh, how's this for heavy: "I've really got to work on not being so heavy" (silently) comma man. See how it Pepe Le Pew's me bigtime (silently)?

Moving along. I plan on blogging about tomatoes in the near future. I think it will be rather light and include a recipe for Gazpacho, man.

Compromises

I was thinking about Love and all the bargains made between lovers. How awful to ask One to be less than their glorious Self to appease the insecurities of the Other; and the soul killing that happens when that demand is met. I don't think that is love. I met, briefly, one Beloved whose sole message to me, in a single kiss, was a plea to never, ever enter such a contract. The Messenger is gone but the Message has taken root. I think how cheaply I've sold the things that I treasure most about myself in order to be acceptably and safely lovable. I think I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than to enter in to another such arrangement.

Surely there are Other Ones whose fealty thrives on a daily renewal of freedom.

I'm just saying...

Om Back!

Dear Reader (that would be me)

Everything changes, something is constant. I can't seem to remember my last post, when it was; I'll have to check. Any...I'm in an excruciating period of re-prioritizing my life and with that comes a not knowing that feels frightening. I'm trying to write as if no-one but me is reading this, which is very likely the case. So here goes. I've read about ego death so I'm familiar with the concept, in fact I've read accounts of this so-called death from a number of so-called adepts: Irina Tweedy, Hafiz, Mevlana, Gurumayi, Swami Muktananda and a few regular people, meaning they have not written any books and are known to few, but you know that in their own quiet u. So I'm now having the experience of this and It's - that's right It's with a capitol "I" or, is it capital "I?" And come to think of it where does the end quote go? Before the question mark, like so: "I"? or after as above. As all of this is playing out I'm noticing that I am frantically trying to distract myself from any form of present moment. Feels like I'm falling down a steep slope, everything saying "No, no no!" ("!"?) And then the Present Moment bursts in on me in the most peculiar ways at the oddest times, in really ordinary places. It's like being ambushed by timeless bliss.

Love Hurts, yeah yeah

This blog started over three years ago with me dissing Michael Jackson's face [while he was still alive, mind you] to celebrating Earthsong which I still just love to bits, even though Lee thinks less of me for it. But this is not about Michael Jackson - who I am convinced has gone to a much kinder, safer place.

And so to Love. Love is crazy-making. Brutal. I just don't know how people do it. I've sort of walked to the edge of Love and gazed longingly at that deep reflection of Self. It makes me bonkers. You see, I'm Needy. I'm Needy like Sunday morning [but you would almost not spot it as I have perfected the art of betraying myself and deceiving you in the process.] So here I am in Love and I'm just watching myself and this big drama unfolding all around me. The Highs, the Lows [ah, the distracting elixir of drama], the flatness in between [horrible, horrible with nothing but a small timorous self.]

I had a dream that I was lying next to my lover in the green, green of Spring grass. I wanted nothing from this Beloved and and nothing was wanted from me; we were equally happy in this place of rest. I awoke smiling and sitting up. It was - I had the feeling that - I brought the dream into real life or real life pulled me into the dream. I was beautifully disoriented. But I had this sense that Neediness is slipping out the back door.

In this whole process I'm noticing that my whole operating system of cynical witticisms [OS Cougar Hiding Its Craftiness, or OS CHIC] seems to crash an awful lot. I find it difficult to know what to do when Identity fails me. On the one hand there is a feeling of recklessness and on the other the spectre of annihilation is something more than terrifying.

Life Haiku

About two years ago Unseen Forces began divesting me of my material possessions and after the initial shock and the knee-jerk reaction to being materially denuded, I felt a natural freedom, a huge sigh of relief.

Life Haiku.

For example:

(Okay, Haiku is relative, so just keep in mind that I'm up to 70% reduced in some areas, I'll try to give a running estimation)

Wardrobe:

Running shoes/trainers x 1

Converse:

Chuck Taylors x 1

One Star Sequined loafers x 1

One Star slip-ons x 1

Boots x 3 (none of them practical for extreme winter weather, but they all rock and the black high heeled ones are really comfortable, I mean walk all day in them comfortable)

Heels x 8 (3 black, 2 brown, 1 pewter metalic, 1 ballet pink, 1 purple T-straps,)

Berks, gladiators, flipflops, peep toed sandles x 1 each

Blahnik mules x 1

Flats: 1 black, 1 aubergine

Loafers: are you kidding me? Okay, I have one pair of Todd's that I borrowed from my Mom

OK, shoes still need some work, but there are a total of twenty-something items of footwear in my closet; compared to the average woman of today we can safely say that in the foot wear department I am haiku-like.

Instead of listing items I'll just give linear measurements:

6 feet of rack space, ie, one double sized closet, and that is summer AND winter clothes and outer wear.

Drawers: 24 feet of loosely loaded drawers or two 5 drawer chests of drawers: T-shirts, sweaters, socks, underwear, sports wear, accessories, including handbags and 4 jaunty hats.

Books: 5 book boxes of beloved reads, including The Oxford Concise Dictionary of The English Language

Decorative: 5 boxes, including photos of friends and family and a 1930's small Italian chandelier

Art Collection: 1 painting, 5 prints, about 10 sculptures of various sizes, 5 drawings.

Office/Desk/Tax Returns: 2 orderly book boxes

Furniture: 1 full Tempurpedic mattress, bed and headboard, pair of bergere chaises with foot rest 1 antique side table and a mid-century console and lamp of the same vintage.

Electrical: video camera, digital camera, laptop, wireless microphone

Kitchen: set of All-Clad pots and pans, 2 Henkles knives and 2 boxes of assorted other kitcheny stuff.

Ummmm, that's it really.

Excluding the furniture, all of my worldly possessions* fit in 2 Suburban loads, and the rest can follow in a flatbed with the tailgate down.

*There are a few lingering items in London

Oh, and make-up, if you are a woman then you will really appreciate this:

Everything, everything, make-up brushes, hair-dryer, brushes combs, creams, band-aids, toothpaste, etc all in one box. One box, and not a big box, but a regular book box sized box. I got rid of all shades of red lipstick: there is not one shade of red that does not make me look older and I accept that there never will be. I now have 3 Mac Viva Glam lip glosses, one Viva Glam lipstick and one Rimmel lip pencil and Bert's Bees chap stick for home, office and handbag. Now that is Haiku in the lip department, just ask any lady.

Apart from the clothes and a few desk items it is all packed up an ready to go. I'm ready. Other loose ends are being tied up as I write. Or after I write.

I thought that was going to be funny, but it's not. It's not sad either. It just is interesting for me to see what I have, what I don't have, what I miss and what I don't miss.

Of one thing I am certain, I don't miss the dread of moving.

Life Haiku, by Lisa Prior

two Suburban loads

a bed, chairs, Viva the Glam

London lingering

more Haiku here at the Haiku Generator

http://www.everypoet.com/haiku/default.htm

For expert decluttering visit my friend Annie:

http://drdeclutterservices.com/Site/Welcome.html

The Will to Blog

When I have work I blog. When I don't I don't. I just, you know, don't.