whispered love spells

yesterday as i was driving
i don’t know why
i played & replayed
the song “loverboy” by billy ocean
i do not know how many times
i listened to the song
feeling a pull in my heart
painful & yet…
i kept playing the song
crying along to the lyrics
feeling the pain of it
but enjoying the pain of it?
being an empath
i am never sure if i am feeling what i feel
or feeling what another person is feeling…
in this case, i guess, billy ocean
but
i kept playing that song
then i looked up to see that the semi-truck in front of me
had a sign on the back of it
a picture of a beacon with the word “beacon”
yesterday i wrote about how my heart
has become a beacon
my heart is a beacon…but
i have not taken down the walls
around it
so i am kind of like a lighthouse
warning of the rocks…
i wonder
how do i take down
the walls
how does my heart
become a beacon
of welcoming?

i am still accepting patrons (just a dollar a month!) over on my patreon page where you can read my whispered love spell and see the entire page of this gustav klimpt inspired inking (yay!)

also, two more pages of “stolen,” my art journal adventure as i explore a past life as a kick-ass celtic warrior queen.

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wanted: strong & silent type

this guy showed up in my tarot spread a couple of days ago in the “near future” position of my celtic cross spread.
he could either indicate something to be found inside me (self-reliance, closeness to nature, steady & practical) or he could indicate someone coming into my life.
please please please be my punk rock lumberjack poet! my own sweet shepherd.
i can live alone. i can do this. i can sort of be practical if i have to be, but i don’t wanna. i really really don’t wanna.

i read in the empath survival guide that there are three kinds of partners for the full blown empath (me.)
they are the intellect, the empath, and the strong, silent type.
i want door number three.
i argue with intellects; i don’t think i could deal with another empath; i need my lumberjack.

once upon a time i married a strong, silent type. a nice earthy earth sign (taurus.) it was nice. he had his room; i had mine. we ate together–but different meals (he was all meat & potatoes–i am fanatic about veg.) we would go out to live music shows & have cocktails & he would take me out to eat all the time (i like being fed.)
problem was, he didn’t know what to think of me.
and my empathic abilities could not deal with his waffling on whether or not he wanted to be with me.
he pulled away, and i pulled away even further.
like to another state.

but i think that he is the closest to a stable relationship that i have experienced.
fire signs ravage me & leave nothing behind.
air signs irritate me & make me want to do things jut to spite them.
other water signs are fun…but too much of the same leaves no room for passion.
earth signs. they sometimes irritate me too–because they are so fucking stubborn…but they also help ground me.
something i do need.

so, universe, if you are listening. i am ready for my punkrock lumberjack poet now.
thank you

pool of empathy

i hear a song
& feel
the pull of sadness
at the broken
heart
of the singer
i hear music
& feel
elated & enamored
just like the
musician
in love
…do i need
to turn off
the radio?
do i need to
stop the music
to discover
my own
feelings?
lost in the music
of others
how am i
supposed to know
if these are my tears
if this is my heart
breaking
my heart
singing
when my song
is mixed
together
with
the world
around
me.

ever since i was little i would tell people that i am empathetic to a fault. i only learned in the past few years that i am what is called an “empath.” i feel everything.
everything.
it is overwhelming sometimes. plus, i have to close my eyes when watching violent movies. i just have to think about the scene in diehard II where the bad guy gets an icicle in the eye, and my eye begins to ache a cold ache.
reading stories to the minions, one mention of bedtime, and i start yawning.

i don’t know if this makes me special (i have noticed that some guys have started using “i’m an empath” as a pick-up line???) or if it even matters, but recently i realized–as i listen to music almost non-stop in my waking hours–that i am feeling more than just the music. i am feeling the feelings of the person writing the music. singing the music. i will get crazy sad or breathless with love and not know why.
so now i am wondering…how do i know what i am actually feeling? if i pick up & tune into the emotions behind music so much that i mistake those feelings for my own…how do i sift through? how do i uncover my own feelings?
there is a whole feeling world around me, and i just need to figure out which of the feelings i am feeling are mine.

fallen VIII

it isn’t all fun & games
when you’re
the devil
when your darkness
oozes & embraces
for one thing
you can feel
all the pain
in the world
you feel it
so intensely
& you no longer know
how to need
you long to feel
human
but you shut down your
humanity
you had to
in order to not collapse
under all the
torment
you can still feel
the desperate
lonely
your own desperate
lonely
but you cannot convince yourself
to
need
the antidote
is need
you need to let yourself need
but
you
can’t
you
won’t
for you to need
is a dangerous thing
that will rip open
too
many
wounds.

i am exploring need in my working the healing wheel. i have realized that i do not let myself need anyone. if you ask me, i will state, “i do not need anyone.”
and in my head, this is true. there is an exit strategy in case of loss. for everyone i know, i have instilled an exit strategy in case i lose them.
i suppose there is something deeply wrong with me
that i refuse to need anyone.
so, weirdly enough, i have realized that i need to learn to need…but i have no idea how to do that.

seven hundred years

sometimes i feel 
like i have been alive
for seven hundred years
i barely
remember 
yesterday
so for all i know
i’ve been alive
forever
&
i wonder
if i’ll ever look back
on these days
of struggle
of isolation
from the comfort
of a soul mate’s 
embrace
look back
in wonder
& awe
how did i ever survive
such desolate
times
to feel peace 
in my heart
while remembering
a time when peace
was a fantasy.

this, and a few more pages to come, were written yesterday when i was feeling especially hopeless & suicidal. good times…. being a single mom with next to no support system. i need to tell y’all, do not try this at home.

strangely, once i accepted that there was nothing to hope for, i felt a bit calmer. that’s me. finding comfort in the concept that i will never find comfort. 

this page does not have my standard issue self-portrait…unless you consider that that is my soul flying under the full moon. 
owls symbolize being able to see what others cannot. i identify with the owl, though i assume everyone else can see what i see. 
which, i guess, is not the case.
so!
i make art.

i may have gotten a little carried away. i think i painted my words out.

emotional cargo pants

sometimes i think
i must be crying
someone else’s
tears
must be feeling
someone else’s
pain
must be haunted
by someone else’s
ghosts
how could one person
feel
this
much?
maybe i am cursed
maybe i am blessed
maybe it is
my destiny
to pocket
not just my own
suffering
but a piece
of everyone else’s
as well
people who don’t have
all the pocket space
i do
i must be a pair
of emotional
cargo pants
used to carry
all the woes
of the
world.

you know,  emotional cargo pants to go with my sweater of depression. to be found in my neurotic wardrobe.

this one’s a bit messier than usual. the thought was difficult for me to express in the right way. i suspect there is a spectacularly poetic way to do it…but i am falling short & struggling with it.
additionally, my rapidograph pens were being assholes….as is in their nature, but i still love them.

rain down my soul

i’m on hold
for the moment
neither
moving
forward nor backward
just
quiet
static
my heart beats
still
i breathe
i am
but i am also
not
the rain falls
&
i feel it
in my soul
maybe the rain
is my soul
falling from
great heights
to seep
&
soak
& to remind me
to feel
not just other people’s pain
but also
hope.

so much anger in this one

i have a touch of the rabies.
my brain feels like it’s on fire.
i tend to absorb energy…something about being an empath…and i had a crazy distant relative show up on my doorstep with all her stuff, inviting herself to move in and tell me everything wrong with my life and me.
her energy was so fucking fucked up. i felt myself turning into her.
by the end of her surprisingly short visit, as she was escorted off of my property by the sheriff, i was terrified.
i hate being scared. i hate it. but i was having flashbacks to other times in my life where i have felt trapped by unpredictable and angry angry nasty people. you know, like last christmas.
i went into survival mode. repeating to myself, “do not engage. do not engage.” laying low and wishing i had a panic room and wondering how i let this person just walk through our front door and threaten my children.
how did that happen?

i don’t know if she triggered something…or if it is hormonal…or if i am just perpetually broken, but now i am spinning out feeling like an awful mom and just wanting to disappear.

so this is a doodle as i was trying to figure out how to draw my children in a journal page i am working on.
yes…children as pygmy demons.
my four year old hates me. seriously. maybe i will work on a journal page about that as well. but he does. he tells me daily. as well as telling me he wishes i was dead.
so, yay mom-time.
meanwhile, i might just have another beer and stare at the wall and practice my skill of vanishing into my own brain.

ps. i was working on this outside to spend time with my therapy goats…so there are some muddy (at least i hope it’s mud) footprints on my journal page.

i’m (not) fine!

old wounds
fall open
when you least expect
your insides
spilling out
on the hot
sticky
sidewalk
& you’re all like,
“that didn’t hurt,”
as you refuse
to let
anyone
help
you.

just stuff. processing everything, sometimes things surge to the surface and catch you off guard. but you keep processing through it. stitch it back in. continue the journey.

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