absolution

the one who
wronged me
the one who
betrayed me
the one i
still
love
i laid at his feet
to seek absolution
for my sins
against
him
i held his cold feet
in my hands
i bathed his cold feet
with my hair
with my kisses
he reached out to me
still believing
he
loved
me
but in all the wrong ways
…nevermind
i seek forgiveness
realizing that his sins
against me
are a black mark
on
his
soul
his own soul
to save
the only sins i need to worry
about
are my own
my own
sins
forgiven
i am
free.

the previous post i wrote in my bedside notebook just before falling asleep. this post i wrote upon waking. only while posting them here did i realize both are about sins & forgiveness…maybe that full blood moon shining on my catholic shadows?

this one is written about the dream i had before i woke up this morning. one of a re-occurring theme of my seeming to beseech my ex-husband for love & attention while he is cold & distant.
but this one took on the flavor of mary magdalene bathing jesus’s feet.
which i found to be awesome in its symbolism
(speaking of which…i once had a sex dream about jesus in which he got up & left after he finished but before i did, leaving me frustrated–to return to his flock of women–if i remember right…)

it seems like i have been trying to decipher the re-occurring dream theme about my ex-husband for years.
however, i think this is it. i think i have to let my sins against him be forgiven and not concern myself with his sins against me. i mean, they are his sins. he has to live with that. i have to live with my own.
so maybe its time i let them go.

thank goodness my subconscious finally decided to go with the mary magdalene theme so i could figure out what it wanted to tell me all these years.
though my ex-husband would enjoy it way too much to perceive himself as a jesus figure. he always loves it when someone tells him he looks like jesus (the blue-eyed version)–which happens way too often. fuck, what more would a narcissist want than to identify himself as the savior of mankind?

fallen X

your whole life spent
in punishment
for your sins
did you choose
parents would would not
love
you
naturally following
a choice of men
who could not
love
you
to draw the
conclusion
you
are
unlovable?
your punishment
your sins
your wrongs
you’re wrong
you have not
sinned
you do not deserve
this
hell
you lock yourself
into
no
no more shackles
no more self-flagellation
you are
lovable
you do deserve
love
spread your wings
you sexy
beast
spread your wings
&
fly.

catholicism, that double-edged sword–messed me up a plenty, but also gave my art & writing a flavor that i love.

rick springfield is my patron saint

this is a journal page from just over a year ago, one of several horned images of myself i have drawn

so i was on the third season of lucifer & feeling guilty about binging on a network tv show when i realized that it was based on a neil gaiman character (one of my favorite male writers) thereby relieving me of my guilt.
the tv show has inspired thinking points for me in my latest embracing of my darkness via my “fallen” series.
and then today
after having a friend put 18 hours of music on a thumbdrive so i had music in my car, i realized i had forgotten all about rick springfield.
so i went to google him and realized he has seemingly been creating non-stop since the 80s–when i listened to his music because my big sister was in love with him.
his latest album the snake king, has angels, demons, god, the devil, and the underworld all through it.
huh.
it’s pretty dark & pissed off & has a twangy sound to it–which is not what i expected.
but this is not a review of rick springfield.
it is my own wondering about how when you start looking at the world in a different way, the world is only too happy to comply by dropping crumbs in your path.
being a recovering catholic, i have been both drawn to & repelled by my own darkness as well as any dealings with demons & devils.
since embracing them…new doors are opening & i am being shown the threads that bind us all together.
or, at least, i am listening to rick springfield & thinking deep thoughts.


fallen VII

when i noted that
my children
were
the spawn of satan
i assumed
that if was their
father
who was the
devil
on retrospect
i should have realized
he was too
lazy
unmotivated
& lacking in follow through
to be a king
of the underworld
i, however,
am a dedicated
loving
nurturing
queen of the damned

i’m sure y’all aren’t surprised i was happy to find yet another way to use the madonna & child symbolism.

as i was illustrating this, i was being tormented by my minions. while climbing all over me, three out of four of them asked me who was in the picture (the oldest one claimed he knew better than to ask me.)
i answered each of them, “it’s you & me.”
the two boys acted upset by my drawing horns on the heads.
my daughter did not seem fazed at all. of course, she has a 666 in her social security number & is left handed…. (seriously)
i mean, this devil stuff. it’s a woman’s job. attention to detail. multi-tasking. making sure the right people suffer. women’s work.

i asked my oldest son what he would think if he found out i was the devil. he said he wouldn’t be surprised.
and when i greeted iggy with, “greetings spawn of the devil.” he replied, “it takes one to know one.”

my kids are awesome. i love my lovely spawn.

fallen VI

it’s a relief really
realizing
what
you
are
embracing
your own heart
saying to the
catholic teachings
that tried to school you
in
right & wrong
saying
huh…you were right
women
are
the
devil
but more importantly
the devil
is
a
woman
and, that, my love
is just the very
tippy top
of the
iceberg.

i was having an epiphany when i wrote this page. it all made sense like when you just wake up from a dream knowing the meaning of life.
i will call this an exercise so that it is not overwhelming for you, but it is much more than that to me.
this exercise has opened my eyes & offered me a new way of looking at my life. a new way of looking at the world around me.
i hope i am able to flush it out.
perhaps it will become a book someday….

i have my pandora programmed with a handful of artists & she plays me a random selection based on that…i am amazed at how many songs have references to the devil & demons & angels. i guess i shouldn’t be amazed, it is so much a part of all of us.

we pretend to be “human” but what are we, really? i think we have forgotten.
i, for one, think it is time to remember.

INKtober fifth

what do you do
if you realize
you are still in love
with the person
you hate?
hey–
remember when you
were friends?
remember
when he was your best
friend?
wait–
why are you doing this?
why are you torturing
yourself?
is this just another
“i’m lonely & looking
to fill in the blanks?”
is this just your way
of never
healing?
what is it with you
anyway?
shouldn’t you have
gotten
over
him
already?
or…things like this
the lost forever
is it even
possible
to heal
that
wound?

so, okay, i’m already hell-bound, but i so love catholic art. and, you know, i noticed yesterday that the inktober prompt was “spell” and i did a picture based on swan lake–a fairy tale where people are under a spell.
and today, the prompt is “chicken” and i did a picture based on saint peter–that jesus-denying motherfucker.

blasphemy.
such a fun word.

anyhoo! my art journal inktober fest continues as i delve into that conundrum of feelings i have for my ex-husband. i love him…i hate him…i love him…i hate him. my roller coaster relationship.

do i want to try again? or am i just horny?
more at ten….

(is it me or do my boobs & mommy tummy look better when i’m hung upside down until dead?)

the ascension

okay
so i’m totally
starting
my life…now.
no
for real
right now
seriously
i am starting my life
you see
turns out
i was holding the map
upside down
but now
now
i’ve got it right
& i’m ready
to do this
ready
to start my life…
(watch me go!)

i didn’t plan this one out either…but i had been wanting to throw in some stigmata…what recovering catholic can resist a little stigmata?

we are kind of in a midst of this vein (ha–no pun intended) of my art journal.
my little revelation.
ooh–revelations. there’s another good catholic outlet….

ps. it is less than a week until my 30 year high school reunion. picture every movie you’ve seen about small town high schools. yeah. that’s it.
and i was carrie…except they didn’t even like me enough to dump pig’s blood on me….
so i still don’t have a date…unless tara makes it down here in time….
should i stay or should i go? i did rsvp “no” to the sit-down steak dinner…but “maybe” to the after bar. instead of saying i had to wash my hair–i said i had to put away my livestock…which is true.
still….
i thought it might be in bad taste to ask if anyone cool would be there. odds are no. i mean, in a class of 70-some, there were very few cool people.
& why would they come back?
(i mean other than to homestead with their four children because they were broke & twice divorced & had no where else to go?)
so i need someone super hot & dazzling to be my most awesome date ever…is david tennant available maybe?
or i will just stay home, drink a beer, and look at the stars.

eat me

i would make
a terrible martyr
i am more akin
to jonah
who had to be consumed
by a whale
before he could embrace
his destiny
oh!
to be eaten by a whale
sounds like a relief
compared
to celebrating
the path
dancing down that path
triumphant
in who i am
& what i need to do.

last night i was ready to give up. i went to bed crying. i don’t know what i’m doing. i feel like everything i do is meaningless. i try to take care of myself, but i still look like crap thanks to having four kids and whatever fucked up genes i have that accompany child birthing with seemingly permanent excess fat loads. i’m all like, who would ever love me? i look like crap. who am i kidding?
and then let’s take a look at my art…my so-called art. my terrible writing. do i even make sense? it sucks. i feel like i am a five year old scribbling in a closet hoping that someone notices…angry that no one notices…crushed that no one notices.
i went to bed crying.
i was going to stop.
stop art.
stop ever expecting love.
stop trying.
i was completely & totally planning on giving up on my so-called life.
no hope for love.
no hope for recognition.
no hope for ever earning an income despite working my ass off every day and going to bed exhausted every night….
my life is futile.
my life is a joke.

then. last night as i was crying in the shower, a spider stared me down. a big furry one. it seemed as disgusted with me as i felt.
then. as i sat dejected at my desk this morning, a swallow flew up to my window. three times. three times exactly.

so being a witch…i try to pay attention to the universe’s messages to me. like with the number thing. if you believe the universe is a living & connected thing, then like master ugwe says, “there are no accidents.”
(i that like better than “everything happens for a reason” which is difficult for me to believe…but, there are no accidents? that kind of makes sense.)
and a bird, a specific bird, flying to my window three times, that seems to be a message.

so i got on google and found this site and this information on swallows as a spirit guide. basically asking, are you fucked up? sad? disconnected from your true self? swallow is here to restore your happiness & to help you embrace your journey in a playful and carefree way.
well fuck me running, that resonated.
so i figured i should check with what spider was telling me in the shower. and there it is. finishing what i start. following my destiny. weaving my magic.
not being overwhelmed.
not quitting.

sigh

okay.
how do i do it? how do i embrace my destiny? how do i dance down my path instead of lying down in the weeds next to it & waiting for something to eat me?

to be continued…
(i wonder what spirit guide will show up next…or just fucking eat me.)

embracing my failures

i’m not living in the past
i’m not living in the future
i’m in the right now
& it fucking
sucks
it fucking
hurts
like hell
but i’m present
i’m here
embracing
my failures.

i was doing “yoga with adriene” last night. the theme was “embrace.” she asked us, her youtube audience, to embrace something.
being one to often cry during yoga
being one who having a hard day has become more of a given than an exception
being one to spend too much time inside my head
try as i might
all i could come up with was, “i embrace my failures.”

then cried some more because i had nothing better to embrace…cried while i stretched & toned in an effort to stay sane & fit.

i wondered at my embracing failure. it sounded like negative to me at first. like a failure in itself. i had not found anything good to embrace…only bad.
but then i wondered if it might be a good thing to embrace my failures.
right?
what else do you do with them?
hide them?
hidden things tend to fester…at least in my experience.
so maybe my embracing my failures is a step in the right direction after all.

embrace
resolve
turn around
try again….

so while that percolates on that flame of my brain, on another burner i have this noticing of a recurrence of the number six in my daily life. i have never gotten around to studying numerology, but i do notice when the same number keeps popping up. like when the clock shows my birthday…or my brother’s death day….
being a good (though recovering) catholic, i especially notice a triplet of sixes–which recently showed up on the odometer of the car i just bought. and although i do not cross myself…i do feel an impending doom when i see it.
however, being a born again pagan, i thought to myself today, what does numerology say about the number six?

i found this on a google. six as a life path number. basically spelling out all of the character traits that i have that i do battle with on a daily basis. i mean, yes, of course i want to change the world & fight for the little guy…but why can’t i just lay in the grass & drink a beer? or be a traveler with no responsibilities, leaving when things get rough? why can’t that be who i am? why do i have to be the ultra-responsible, high morality, wanna-be savior of mankind?
does mankind even deserve being saved?
can’t i take a vacation?

no. because i have actually shaped my whole fucking world around raising four children to be different. to not be like everyone else. to creating a better tomorrow in the only way i know how. by being a good mom. a strong mom. and i can’t run away from it. i have to stick to it and keep trying no matter how much i feel like i’m failing…even though it seems like i am always failing…i just have to embrace my fucking failures, and i have to keep
fucking
trying.

wow, see that?
i came full circle.

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