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

Advertisements

new moon magic

i call my challenger
i look inside
i call you
wild womyn
to be my challenger
to face my fears
to break down
self-imposed walls meant
to keep me from
action
call me to arms
wild womyn
i am ready
***
i call my healer
i look inside
i call you
unblemished girl
who is still whole &
not
broken
i call you to teach me
again
to whisper magic
to the world around me
to listen
to hear
& to heal
the hurt
deep inside
i am ready.

it’s a new moon. as i work “the healing wheel” i have struggled to do this part. calling my challenger & my healer. so i decided to look inside & see what i could find.
the challenger was easy. i have felt her in there all through my life. now i just have to embrace her & listen to what she has to say.
the healer was a bit trickier as i sought a mother figure, however…
an internal mother figure is strangely absent (thanks, mom) but i found this little version of me. the one who would tromp around the woods rescuing animals & talking to trees. i think she is my healer. i think she will help make me whole again.

so a little witchy woo on this new moon as i continue to try to survive & heal my broken with my art journal self-portraits.
(in case you’d forgotten why i am obsessively drawing myself)

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.

fiercely believing

how do i exist
if no one believes
in me?
my parents
believed in me as a pretty baby
a quiet baby
not so much
when i bloomed
into a strange flower
different 
from them
short of cannibalizing me
like disillusioned 
hamsters
their belief 
faded
sisters
believed in me
in theory
when convenient
one brother 
believed in me
i can say that
because he is dead
& no one can tell me
different
teachers & therapists
well sure
but they were paid to
boyfriends
husbands
i was a game
to win
an uprising 
to squash
a puzzle
to berate
no belief required
friends…?
seemingly quick 
to betray
to disappear
to spout belief
while demonstrating
the opposite
so
much like the tooth fairy
whom i kept alive
way past the age most 
let her dissolve
i keep myself alive
fiercely believing
despite evidence
urging me
to fade away.

while crying in the shower yesterday, i wrote this poem. with the challenge of getting out of the shower & past four screaming minions to the journal on my desk to compose it before it washed away down the drain.
picture that.
i did get dressed first, so be sure to add clothes.

karl shapiro, i think, once wrote a poem about crying in the shower. i think i used to recite it in speech contests. little did i know how useful that poem would prove.

this thought is a bit melodramatic, i suppose. a bit emo. angsty. 
but, seriously, it is something i struggle with. i find it very difficult to believe that anyone believes in me. 
and if they do, i dismiss it as their not knowing me well enough to know any better…or knowing that one day they will stop believing & walk away.
i think it is our nature
at this point in our history
to not believe in each other
to not have invested feelings for one another
in a culture of convenience & right now
belief is too risky.

i made peanut butter cookies (which are kick ass) and i am going to make lo mein & eggrolls for dinner.
thanksgiving just has a bad feeling for me. a holiday of bad energy. as a pagan witch, i have like three harvest holidays & believe in giving thanks every day…so thanksgiving really is redundant for me.

but i do hope y’all are having a good day.
i believe in you!

ps. while pooping this morning (i do my best thinking in a locked door bathroom) i decided i really do need to put my melodramatic art journal musings into a collection with self-portraits. you know, one of those self-publish books.
how do i do that? are their sources that any of y’all recommend? thoughts? 

that’s what i get for going out in public

i totally have some cold/flu thing. crap. we didn’t get sick all last winter. now it’s only november & i’m down. i woke up yesterday with a sore throat & immediately began worrying about the minions who are in wisconsin with dusty.
he texted later to say poppy was down & the others were a bit snuffy & sore throats.
crap.
when you do the whole no-refined-sugar-&-artificial-crap lifestyle…but then let your minions go trick-or-treating & binge on just that…. for a day or so i think all we ate were “foods” we don’t eat the rest of the year (i’ve never claimed to be mother of the year.)
probably a shock to our systems…the immune one for sure.
plus spending a night cavorting with public school children.
i might need to re-think my allowing a halloween binge.
i mean, at least, ration or something a responsible mom would do??

but yesterday i did get out some of the things i need to be working on. i set up space for them on the kitchen table, which means moving the other random things to the other end of the table (homeschoolers, y’all.)
and i did get some work done! i just need to shade the last page of beyond the field, and all of those pages will be ready to send to the author. i have yet to start the final for another illustration project, but i have been turning it over in my head for a day or two…that’s actually part of my process. thinking about it. some label it “procrastination,” but i learned in my writing courses at UW that this is a very important part of the creative process. i call it “percolation.”
and i did draw a journal page, but it felt so much like all the other journal pages that i could not bring myself to finish it. i am feeling a bit crappy about my art right now too. i mean, i know it is being triggered by doing art for people other than myself–i start to doubt me & wonder if i am any good at all.
i wonder if shel silverstein or ralph steadman (two of my favorite male artists) ever felt that way…i am going to go ahead & guess that vincent van gogh did. imposter syndrome on red alert, y’all.

speaking of, i included in my yesterday layout of work to do the workbook “healing wheel” a samhain to samhain workbook. i was late getting started (too busy gorging on candy it seems.) and decided to start yesterday on the new moon. the samhain section is focused on confronting/noticing our fears. i did manage to do my tarot–which told me what it always does–i use distractions & escapes & do not take myself seriously when i really really should.
i tried to cast a circle…making me realize what a lazy witch i am. i was supposed to call a challenger. i imagined my first ever therapist. and to call upon a healer. i imagined…fuck. i could not think of someone who believed in me. so i started crying & closed my circle. later, i thought of a wonderful female friend who seems so open & accepting of me.
but overall i felt like a letdown to my witchy bloodlines.

all i can do is keep trying, i suppose.

maybe i will finish that journal page & post it later.

blackbird man

my shadow man
my thing of nightmares
my samhain visitor
i give you my heart
but you want my soul
i fight for my life
while accepting my death
my birdman lover
i am your
lonely
plaything
a half-dead
essence
a half-living
carcass
not knowing
whether to welcome you
or to fear you
if i should
hold you
or
let you go.

i keep thinking about this dream i had. it felt very strong. my subconscious loves to talk to me through my dreams. this seemed like a message.
especially as it came the night of the witch’s new year.
the time of year when the veil between the living & the dead is at its most flimsy.

i think it has everything to do with relationships. with myself. with men. with the world around me.

i do not remember an ankh in the dream, but for some reason i feel compelled to put the egyptian key of life in the inkings i have done about my dream.

i want to play with it more.
both as a message for me to heed as well as a potential story.

hmmm…my blackbird man….

also, this is the last page of my current journal. i have now done almost three hundred self-portraits since last october.
i made one page for all of my art journal self-portraits in my attempt to stream-line my art & website.
i hope my site is looking better & making sense.

tomorrow–a new day & a new journal!

 

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑