harold_maude's journal

A quiet moment of laughter

# 46896

I was wandering through my e-mail this morning and opened on of the peices which brought me to one of my currant favorite sites.
It's a scrapbooking site, and although I am not into scrapbooking, it does have alot of things on the site that stir my creative fire.
The reason being is that among the different types of art that I do, I make jewelry. It's classified as beadweaving. My particular view of jewelry of any kind is that I don't want to feel it when I'm wearing it.
So my jewelry tends to be rather no intrusive at least in weight.

Anyway, the charms and picture frames are what I've been looking at. They always chatch my attention and make me want to make some romantic jewelry.
So I get this idea to check out this bead site that I know of.
I go looking and don't find the same kind of thing, which I was hoping for so that maybe I could get a larger number than two in a package.
I know in the back of my mind that what I'm thinking of I'm going to have to make myself. I won't find what I'm thinking of, which is a hybred of the charm and picture frames I've seen on the scrabooking site and the findings on the bead site.
I've been in this place before, and I know I can do this.

Anyway, I decide to go to the gallery of designs because I'm looking for some examples of this new clay that is now avalible which is a glass clay that gets fired, and I want to see if it looks like what I think it does. But no pictures. Just alot of information.

Then a picture caught my eye. It's of this woman I knew years ago that ran a beadstore in the town I lived in for most of my life.
Seeing her picture reminds me of a particular thing that happened that created an offense in my head that never went away.
I read the stuff that's written about her, as I'm remembering this exchange of words I had with her years ago.
I start giggling when I read her accounting of how this type of bead weaving that I was doing the same time as I knew her, was new to her now.
All I can hear as I'm looking at and reading all this stuff, is that I was doing this before you, and before alot of other people too, and now your making it look like your the first person to ever do this, bitch...

In all fairness I did learn some things from this woman before the exchange of words. But what I did with what she taught me was to take it where it led me. And that was out in a field where there were no visable foot prints.
This morning reminded me of other things I've done and explored years before they have become main stream.
It never occured to me to try to cash in on any of what I was exploring, I was just content to be exploring.
It would seem that I have this habbit of being way ahead of my time and so at the time what I'm doing isn't anything more than me exploring and the people around me looking at this stuff and thinking it's really weird.
My timing isn't real good with any of it.

I suppose I should just be thrilled that finally the ideas are getting out there. And in part I am. But there is part of me that this kind of thing drives me a bit nuts.
It explains why at least in part that I feel so completely out of place in most every kind of situation that exists.
I think I was definately born at the wrong time. It's been more painful and more lonely than anything else.

I've learned to treasure the place where I create and explore even if no one is there with me. The evidence that it's not just me who ends up here, is the stuff I see when it finally hits main stream.
It's also why I've had fans when I've been doing this stuff before anyone else. Never enough to make it be all I do for a living, but enough to tell me that even when dancing in these places, there are people who do get it and who want it.

Instead of feeling put out by what I saw, I'll just do what I do and it will be from that place. I've had to learn not to care that people don't get it or me for that matter. It's the only way to keep from getting lost in a horrible place of depression.
I've accepted the reality that I am so completely out of place.
It brings comfort to know that I'm not the only person who has ever been or is out of place now. I have read about quite of few of these people and I know that I'm in awesome company.
And that makes me smile.

Somethings to think about

# 46895

I had an apointment today. I saw and felt something while I was out that I haven't felt this strong before.
There seemed to be this unrest and this disquiet something growing stronger as an undercurrant that is rising to the surface.

I wondered if what I was feeling was my own struggles and feelings, but the faces of the people I saw today told me other wise. I saw what I felt last winter when all I could see was nightmearish landscapes and pits of hopelessness that I had no idea if they would end.
Every skill for emotional survival was used to help me keep it together.

I've wondered if the wall I hit about a year before the mess fell on us and the economy went floaty side up for a while, was a prelude as to what was just about to hit.

I think because we are part of this world we can see what has been called psychic as a normal part of life for the rest of the animal kingdom.
Animals know when danger is comming. If you watch them and move when they do, the chances are your going to be fine are very good.

So maybe my awareness is getting really tuned in to the rest of the human race and the storms that come I feel ahead of time.

I've wondered alot what it would be like, what it would feel like if I was isolated for a while on an island somewhere.
Would everything I feel stop after a while or would it stop abruptly, or would nothing happen.

These questions which have been in the back of my mind for a while now, really came to mind durring the day.

I don't know what to think about any of this. I don't know if it even matters whether I do or not.
The reason is that in nature by the time you see it, it's already where you are.
So if it's not me and I can feel it, that means that other people are feeling it too. The knowledge that something is happening is growing with alot of people. If that's right, then there's no way now to keep it from hitting us.

Walnut shells

# 46893

A couple of months ago I helped a friend do yard clean up and her neigbor has a walnut tree. There were shells everywhere.
I was so intrigued by the shells that I asked her if I could collect some.

All I could see was weirdo aliens..

She said yes and so I got a bag and collected shells. I brought them home along with a bunch of sticks that had fallen off of some of the other trees there. I put the sack in a place where I could get to them later.

So this evening I'm trying to figure out how to consolidate more of my art supplies and I came across this bag with the shells and sticks.
They still look like weirdo aliens. What went through my head at the time came back to mind and so I'm going to build my weirdo alien tribe of the walnut head people. Then I want to take pictures of the tribe as they travel.

I'm thinking this is going to be like that traveling shoe group that I read about a few years back. Someone took several single shoes or was it pairs and took them to the park and took pictures of the shoes and then wrote about it. When it was all said and done the shoes traveled all over the place and it was unique and fun to read as well.

I've got these little grey suction cups from a key board I tore apart and I've got various different odd things that will make great body parts for my tribe.
This should be fun. I've been thinking I'm missing fun in my life diet.

Into the second week of November

# 46887

Time is just flying by. The end of the year is so very close and it's a little hard to believe.

The last couple of days have been very warm. A true indian summer, and it's been wonderful. It feels like a repreve from things just going frigid and staying there.

I'm going to do something I haven't done in a while, I'm going to make cookies this week. It's been over a year since I made some and I really miss doing that. So cookie time it is.

I'm also got a bag of onions today because I want to make carmelized onions and do enough that I can freeze some of them for dinners on down the road. I'm getting in the mood to cook:)

At last Jim Bob, we are safe

# 46878

Tonight after the change for daylight savings time back to standard time took place, it some how made me in a random mood.

I love how my emotions shift gears when I'm awake and other people I know are fast asleep. It's a reminder that I tend to the empath world rather than just the me it's just me world.

Being like this all my life has made it difficult sometimes to tell if the raging I'm feeling is just me or is my radar on over load because someone who is sloshing around in a sea of their emotional run off is unable to keep it to themselves as it were.

It's when I'm alone and everyone that's on my radar has their mind too pre-occupied with jobs or sleep that things settle down enough to where I can actually feel my real emotional state.

I can't remember the name of the person who told me that I needed to build a sheild around myself to keep from getting nailed so much.
I wish I could because I'd like to ask them how to go about it and be able to build one that can withstand some of the stuff that I pick up on and feel so intensely that I can't tell sometimes if what I'm feeling is mine or not.

The last 4 or so years have been more intense than the rest of my life and part of that has been an increase in the shapness of what I'm feeling. There are days it's so bad that I wonder if I've lost my mind and only now am I aware of it.
The amount of depression I wade through is so over the top somedays that death really sounds good.

Then, when I'm alone and stuff settles down, it gets peaceful.
Quiet. Calm. There are nights that as I'm relaxing, the tears will flow. My eyes take a shower after getting slammed with all the stuff durring the day.

Every so often durring times when it gets really loud and really intense I'm finding I just need to have pleasant conversation with another person to let me know that someone out there still cares about me.
Just a kind gentle tone is enough to tell me what I need to know so I can find the strength inside to refocus and get going again.

When I feel the need to get beat up emotionally because failure is screaming inside my head and dripping down my bones, I have a couple of people who comply without knowing what the phone call is actually about.
I've thought about telling them the real reason I call is because I took a bag of blame from the shelf and am eating it and now I feel really guilty and so I need a good solid does of rejection and reasons to loath myself and these people I know who do it so well, are just what the doctor ordered, in a manner of speaking.
I wonder what the response would be. Probably complete denyal on their part. But I can't say that I blame them for their reaction to that kind of news. I know it would be hard to hear that I'm nothing but a judgemental, wanna glorify my ego person.
I think hearing that might just make me so sick that I'd probably puke some chunks...

Perhaps a bit too much visual on that one...

So tonight was no different than a thousand other nights where I'm pissed when I go to bed. But I stayed up tonight and now the house is quiet and I can feel me again. A reminder of what part of me is about.
There are two choices I have about this. I can either just go off and live in solidude for the rest of my life or I can figure out how to build armor for my mind and my emotions so I can continue to stay in contact with the rest of the human race.

I thought long and hard about this. I really did. I know what my instant without thought response would be, and since this is more than just one thing, it deserves some real thought about it.

Being alone would make the world less noisy for me. Being alone would allow me to do art non stop between shifts of work.
Being alone would get lonely sometimes.
Sometimes, as I have discovered, I actually enjoy the company of another person. I love being alone most of the time, but don't get enough of it. But my lessons with loving winter and wanting more of it so badly that I got more than I asked for, have taught me to be greatful for what you have.
Not only that, but it's a good dicipline to learn to enjoy what you have that's good and makes happy moments for you and learn to be happy and content with it.

So I'm trying with this one. I'm thinking about it from every intellegent angle I can.

The other choice is to learn to build what I need and become really proficiant and just keep on going forward. That's the harder of the two, so why would I choose it over the easier and more kind way?
That's an answer I know about, it's been tested already and I know how I reacted, so I know me in this and can answer it.
I choose the harder because showing people something other than pain and misery is worth it.

(insert speech about making the difference in the life of just one person)

It's not as heroic as that, but rather it's about justifying how much I'm worth to myself and the room I'm taking up on the planet. It's a fair trade. Doing good to pay the rent on karma, that's another way to look at this.

There may come a time when I find myself alone. If and when that happens if it happens as a natural course of the flow of me in this life, then I won't be so concerned if I get everything I like about the thought of being alone and none of the parts that I don't like about it.

It reminds me somehow of tress and how they grow, and how long it takes them to get really old.
There are teachers among us that are live in ever present state of incognito. They just do what they do, teaching all the time, and most of the time many people have no clue at the richness of it all that is so close they can reach out and get slapped by it.

If I could be a hybred I would be a cross between a tree and art in process. I would choose a mutated body to accomidate how slowly I would age, and to think of all the art I won't get to fast enough to create and then be able to with time to spare, it just makes me smile thinking about that.

I'd explore every version of visual expression of art that exists. I'd explore it until I could be sympathetic to it even if I decided that I didn't like it enough to make it a more or less permanent part of how I create with art.
I'd explore music until I found where the big complex peices are hiding and then explore those too. Throughly, completely and know exactly what my true music is.

It would be paradise for me. A place that fits me like a perfect laytex body suit. That's my never-never land, my wonderland, my idea of what the state of heaven feels like.
Perfection. Perfect and peerless. Beautiful and complete.

But here I am, in a body that has a limited run. I'm doing art as I can manage to stay focused on it. There are so many things that tug at me and the time I have.
So I take it when I can get it. Even with that much of limitation on me, I'm still producing alot of art. Most of it will just never be seen by anyone, at least not for a good long while. That, even that is enough right now.

It's pretty late and I'm finally getting tired. Sleep is something I can live with and don't feel at this time a particular need to fight against.

So I'll say sleep well...

Common ground

# 46876

When my own black pitted holes threaten to swallow me up, it's easy to forget that I am not the only one who struggles with something.

My eyes and heart are reminded that so many like me in the world struggle too. The struggle becomes a war and the war is a private one that spills out everwhere. When I see this, I am reminded that we are standing on common ground.

The things being done all around us that hurt and wound, leaving scars and lack, tell me that no one is not touched by this. To see it but ignore it is to live with blinders on.

We stand on common ground, wrapped in angry moments that we don't talk about with reason, we just go to war with each other and kill for the sake of something that means nothing if it distroys life.

We are the same underneath the skin. We have bones and muscles and thoughts and ideas and things we hold precious. Our traditions and the things that make family and friends for us.
When we loose sight that these things are not just for a few but they belong to everyone, it becomes easy to hate and see others of the same species as the enemy. This makes the common ground we stand on as unstable as the ground when an earth quake is happening.

When the days grow too long and my struggles bring me dust, and my tears fall on worn and tired hands, it's easy to forget that there are others who are echoing my feelings, my thoughts, my pain.

It's too easy to be proud and say everything is fine instead of the truth. I think that no one wants to hear that I think about how easy it would be to just stop or vanish because what I feel is vast amounts of failure, or loniness. Hate is easy to pick up like a weapon and hold it as a treasure when I forget that there are many who stand with me in this place, on this common ground where struggle is the food we eat every day.

We stand on common ground and look at each other but we forget to see each other as more than just strangers and people that are just like us.

I am greatful for the reminders that come that tell me my voice is not alone, my struggle is not alone, my need for love is not alone, my need for peace is not alone.
It feels too much like I am most of the time.

If I cry will you think me weak or selfish or lazy? I think so, so I don't talk about the fragile things in me. When I talk to you I don't want you to know because I am sure that you will see me as weak and needy without nessity, and scared too.
I don't want this to be the reason for you walking away from me.
When I see that you sometimes feel things like this too and feel the same about these things, I know that you too stand on this common ground.

When I sit in the dark and think about how easy it could be to stop this life, that it would touch no one, because no one is listening, my voice, wether I know it or not, is in unison with many voices of many people who sit in the dark many nights like me and think about escaping life.

I don't tell you these things because I already hurt too much to bare any judgement from you that I am feeling sorry for myself and that all that is needed is a good swift kick in the butt to get my head on straight and get with the program and start being...what ever it is that suppose to be means.

When life has become a road barren of life and abundant in lack the energy to keep going gets hard.
My voice in this is not alone. I am not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just expressing the effects of this common ground.

My generous nature still exists inside. But it has been broken many times and so it needs healing. The need I see around me is as great as my own. The broken trails of trust all around me tell me that the casualties of this common ground are fighting fear for their lives which are constantly under the threat of fear of something.

This is common ground we are standing on. There are many of us standing together but we have a hard time seeing each other because our eyes have grown clouded over.

It happens when our own wounds become more and more and we remain silent. Fear laughs at us and tells us stories that seem so real and those are mixed with the real stories and after a while it all looks the same and we shrink back because we become sure that no one cares and no one wants to hear us when our tears fall in the darkness.

Because the heart that hides love still tries to reach out because the belief is that if I forget myself then I won't be dragged down by what I feel, because if I tell you I'm hurting and I need love and support then you will hide from me because my life has been bent and broken, because, because, because...
This is part of that common ground too.

And we are standing on it, all of us are. Even thoes who have healed are standing here. This common ground is our home and like it or not we are family and that family is called the human race.

We need to stop hurting each other over beliefs and money and the need to be right. We need to see each other with eyes of mercy and kindness more than with eyes of anger and judgement.

I know the hand of those who have spent much time and many years taking what ever they could from who ever they could, I have felt that cruelty, and how helpless it can end up making you feel. Those hands touched to a life enough make prime ground for coldness and bitterness and anger to grow as thick as a rainforest. When the ground becomes that place it becomes hard to think anything good or hopeful.

I can see from your heart that you know that too. I know you hurt as much as me and often, just like me, you don't want to bother anyone with what you have judged as petty things and things that don't matter.
But if they don't matter then why do they often lead to the door where suicide lives?

I still want to help. I don't know how anymore. My own war against the on again off again dance with thoughts of suicide make reaching out harder than it should be. Being reminded that others stand here fighting this too helps me know that inspite of how real it feels, I am not alone.

This post was edited by harold_maude on Nov 07, 2010.


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