Chasing the Dragon

I will not dwell...
today was hell...
makes me think of diving into the wishing well....

jaws are clenching....
gut is wrenching....
every nerve standing on end....

is going up worth coming down?
we'll shall see..... we'll shall see....

"How long is forever, this time?" Willie

Feeling Good

Recently I've been feeling really good.  It could be the Celexa working combined with my thyroid medication; which has coincidentally allow me to drop over 20 pounds!  I am trying to not over-think this new 'system' but recognize that I am truly grateful for its benefits.

That being said, I would like to give a big Thank You to all of the world's energies that have come aligned for me to experience this newly felt goodness in my life.

Humbly,

Jenn

Two-Take Exchange: Take 4

Swap number four! This swap's image was chosen by yours truly, Aubree, and the following is my "take" on it. I don't title these things, but if I were to title this one, I think I would call it "The Vain and the Obliterated."

As usual, you can pick up Jenn's "take" if you wander over to my blog, Akashic Aisles (follow the signs to the basement). We hope you enjoy both perspectives. Feel free to leave comments, unless you are a spam-artist: in which case, we cordially invite you to...suck it.

"Speculate, Perspirate, Suffocate; all the while forgetting to Calculate the odds stamped upon the heavens and delivered unto our hands...both of our hands...without a digit to spare." -A.L.

Basking in a light that is not the sun, while resting on an ocean floor that is now the same as any other surface...dry, and without purpose. Nobody sees it, but it's coming.

So blind is she that she wishes only to use its heat to change her skin tone, struggling as she is to be the card that society flips over in a match to itself.

"Society." This term and its implications will be told - as parables of warning - under an ashy sky to the unfortunate heirs of the Cleansing.

Unfortunate? Who am I to say? There are gifts hiding in the strangest of places: perhaps under a broken shell left behind by a parched and foresaken ocean?

Nobody sees it, but it's coming.

The broken shells on hardened sands will be tools rather than reminders - or novelty bits of decor, for it is true that such luxuries will become naught but smoky memories that will soon enough turn to cold, but fruitful legend. And the next cycle: will they starve themselves of the fruit?


I wonder. 


Is that a magnifying glass that she doesn't see? How fitting. As her hair is caught by flame and fury, she thinks only of the card she aspires to be in a game about to end. "Do these highlights bring out my eyes?"


Even her grand illusion is brought together in pieces - one frame at a time - like the simplest of all puzzles. Still she cannot see the clues meant to remind her of Origin and Errand.


 She flaunts an Armani dress and flashes her best smile.  Silly, distracted girl.


 It is not the mermaid that is fabled.


Never have the fabled been falsities; and never have fairy-tales been stories reserved for any but the young...For there isn't an Old one among us.


Nobody sees it, but it's coming.



Post Written by: Aubree @ Akashic Aisles: The Basement View

Take-Two Exchange: Take 3

Blog-Swap number three is upon us: I, Aubree (author of Akashic Aisles: The Basement View), am posting my “take” on the below image, while Jenn – who runs this blog, Embrace Your Crazy -  is posting her perspective on the same image across the way at,  The Basement.  And…Voila!  The “swap” has been swapped. 

Before moving on, though:

Already, in three swap-a-roos, I have learned something rather fascinating.  Of course I knew that individual interpretation of all things artistic covers a vast expanse from one person to another.  I did not realize, however, how different the manner in which we discover our interpretations of a single piece can be, and often is. 

For instance, I have learned that I am not detail oriented in my artistic ruminations.  An image does not affect me in parts and pieces; it affects me as a whole…as a story (which, I suppose is not entirely shocking, once considered).  Rather than seeing it as a slow and unraveling depiction of line and color, art impacts me like a tidal wave, and my emotions continue to follow the tale past the point of impact and well into the undepicted village that lies beyond the frame.

Sure, this is an interesting discovery I have made about myself; but that is not why I am sharing it.  I am prefacing the following text with this revelation, because I believe it necessary to do so.

Now, onto the tale: beginning at the point of visual introduction to the simultaneous point of impact….and beyond.

"The masons build, alter, and determine a structure's facade - brick by brick, but be of right mind in knowing that you can fire and replace the masons at will. A continent can be intimidating in its vast and changing terrain, but be of right mind in knowing that the smallest bit of sand and a sufficient wind can change the face of a mountain" -Aubree Luke

  

I have been given occasion to take the Lookout’s seat in two separate watchtowers, each of extreme gift...and consequence.  The towers have been placed on opposite shorelines on the same continent, but they might as well be galaxies apart, except for what they have in common: the light within, and the misery that encompasses their views. 

The two know of each other, because I know of them – invited as I have been to climb the miles of rickety stairs that exist within both.  Also, the continent that divides them sends tales about one to the other, as frequently and garishly as possible.  Yet in truth, they know nothing of the other that can flaunt more value than the briefest glimpse gained as their lights quickly cross, without stopping.   

If only they would stop…. 

One tower is much larger than the other, and despite its weakening foundation, the masons insist upon adding more stone (these are the same masons that refuse to repair the winding and wobbling interior staircase that leads to the light source).  Without considering the tower’s view, the people that run to and fro - casting havoc throughout the continent that divides the towers - think it within their privilege to throw rocks of contempt at this larger of two towers; yet strangely, no mind is paid to the masons who hurriedly add more and more mortar, brick, and stone…yielding not to the cries of the foundation as it screams under the crushing weight. 

The smaller of the two towers is so much the measure that it is but the slightest fraction in bulk of the larger, and though its foundation remains sound in structure, the small tower sways precariously at the mercy of passing winds.  The inhabitants of the continent between the two towers pass harsh judgment upon the smallest, demanding to know why it does not fight to obtain more stone and mortar for itself.  And, in fury and frustration, the continent’s populace covers the frail tower’s facade in obscene graffiti; however - yet again - the masses do not thwart, nor condemn the masons who have chosen to leave the building materials by the side of the road to be weathered and deteriorated by time and element, rather than putting them to good use for the sake of the small tower (these are the same masons that refuse to repair the winding and wobbling interior staircase that leads to the light source).  No one stops to consider the swaying tower’s view. 

On the exterior, these two towers seem to have nothing in common.  It takes climbing the worn and beaten interior of each to understand the viewpoint that they cast their wavering, but constant light upon.  And rest assured, my friends, it is true that each member of the dividing continent(s) will have the same occasion as I, and eventually, the land between the two will lose acreage as Compassion makes water out of land, allowing the towers to move closer to one another.  Indeed, eventually their lights will not be so eager to pass each other by, and they will share a view of commonality that sows a growing reverence.  Finally, when the masons are given their share of responsibility, the faltering stairs accessing the climb to higher perspective will be restructured with blueprints of safe and nurturing priority. 

The two structures will become one, needing only a single light. 

Yet, understand (so as not to be misled with treacherous idealism) that there will be other Towers with viewpoints divided.  They will rise again and again, until every structured pair has housed every light, and every continent in between is dissolved.  Then - and only then - will we all be at home...in the same castle. 

Tonsil Stones!

Tonsil stones are known as tonsilloliths which are calcified matter that gets trapped in the crevices of your tonsils.  Nice, huh?

They can weigh 300 mg to 42 g.  Can you guess how much this little gem weighs?  I've added a penny for ease of estimation!

Tonsil stones are putrid, disgusting, cheese-like, curdled yogurt nuggets which I commonly refer to as gag-a-licious, vomitsville, and utterly repulsive.  The doctor says there is nothing to worry about except horrible breath 24/7.  Oh, that's great, it's not like I ever have to talk with anyone on the job.


You can get them out on your own with the assistance of a q-tip and a little nudge on the tonsil or you can visit the doctor and have them pry it off of your tonsil with a metal instrument- when a tooth pick just won't do the trick.


It's good fun.  So, the next time you're bored on a Friday night, have a peek into your throat or stop on by my house.


There's always free popcorn.

The Two-Take Exchange: Take Two

Hello to you!  Once again, I, Aubree - fellow blogger and good friend of Jenn, am slinking out of The Basement to do my part in our second blog swap by sharing my "take" on the below image with Jenn's readers, just as Jenn, herself, has taken a break from "embracing her crazy" (ha! as IF) to write her words, as inspired by the same image, on the walls of my Basement.  <---click here to view Jenn's "take."  This is our second "swap" thus far, and I am exceedingly proud of both she and I for our dedication.  I mean, seriously: we could've just jumped ship after the first one, but alas...we are warrior princesses that do not give up so easily! 

I hope you enjoy our two takes (this time, completely different - one from the other - as opposed to the parallel thinking that ensued within last week's "exchange").  Happy reading!

I perceive life...within death.

I died.  And never looked back.  Not much to see, in the end.

I rose above the deafening cacophony that was life…and walked away. 


I walked away.  It was easy.

By and by, the joke is on you, my friends…if you still believe in the boatman.

As it is, ‘tis how it must be.  So, I laugh...

Souls perch like ravens, trying to decide who and what is ominous among them.  Keeping score, even in death.  Fools.

Angels speak only to the living, because the living are the only ones desperate enough not to listen.

I died; I chose a direction.  So will you.

I am not the raven; I am not the water.  I am the boatman, ferrying my own clandestine(y) and collecting my own dues.

And by and by, the joke is on you, my friends…if you still believe in the boatman.

The Butterfly Effect

  “and is it right, butterfly, they like you better framed and dried” TAmos

What does anything anyone does matter?  The answer is simply, everything.

I’ve recently thought about this concept and how it relates to everything in the world.  If this is the first time you’ve heard about this, think of the phrases- chain reaction, avalanche effect, chaos theory, and snowball effect and you’ll begin to get the idea.  

As a society, we’re so not in tune with our actions and the implications they cause.  Mostly because we’re only consumed with ourselves, that we barely take the care to give a rat’s ass about other beings, things, or creatures.

I find the quote below interesting.  It shows the relevance of how one simple, natural motion can perpetuate a chain reaction of immeasurable proportions. 

“This is an illustration of the butterfly effect - the idea in meteorology that the flapping of a butterfly's wing will create a disturbance that in the chaotic motion of the atmosphere will become amplified eventually to change the large scale atmospheric motion, so that the long term behavior becomes impossible to forecast”  Quoted by R.C.Hilborn (Oxford Uni-versity Press, 1994). 

So, if we alter the natural course of life, in a very small, seemingly insignificant way, are we altering everything in the world that was meant to naturally occur in the future?  I believe we are. 

Our actions and choices are shaping the future at an exponential pace.  The further we continue to destroy the minutest things we encounter, the less we’ll be able to understand how to forecast the future.