Feng Shui in Bed

In Feng Shui, there’s meaning in the way we position ourselves in bed before slumber. Depending on the direction your head faces, you work on different things.

North: Enhances physical manifestations and balance
East: Speeds up life- good for depression/slugishness
South: Enhances ability to remember dreams/develop intuition
West: Slows life down- good for stress/ hyperacitivity

The way it’s taught, it reads, N/S/E/W, as they are naturally counter to each other, the opposites, seemingly offering opposite effects.

Armed with that knowledge, I quickly got out my compass to see what I’d been working on for the past eight months. I was facing west. That was probably best for me, but south was intriguing, so I slept facing south. And I did have amazing dreams (but I always do). Sometimes, I’d start out facing west, as that was habit, and I would awake, and travel south, hoping to develop my intuition. I never slept well when I did that.

So, I’m adjusting the Feng Shui teachings, here in this blog for ten-plus people to read: Always travel clockwise. If you start out west, go north first, then east (but I always skip east. I’d rather not speed things up), and then I end south. It is by far the most restless sleep of all the positions, but damn the dreams and ideas that ensue! Can’t beat it!

Ten Simple Pleasures

1. Making a small child smile, or better yet, laugh
2. The final resting pose in yoga, shavasana
3. Seeing a unique bird randomly fly by
4. Writing the first sentence. The perfect first sentence
5. Hearing an old favorite song you’d long forgotten on the radio from beginning to end
6. A crisp glass of Sauvignon Blanc on a hot summer day
7. Daydreams
8. Experiencing picturesque, meaningful and physical dreams during slumber
9. Reflexology
10. After hearing a funny joke or story, the tears and soreness in your tummy that ensue post laugh

Honorable Mention:
First kisses
Turning heads

And yours???

Back in the Saddle

I'm writing again. I've had a surge of creativity and just can't stop. I wrote this for a contest (I didn't win). They provide the first line and you add to it. Let me know what you think. I can post it now that the contest is over.

Tessa sent up a hasty prayer for forgiveness as she slipped on the dress Mama had bought her in exchange for a promise not to marry Al. I watched her through the crack in her door. We shared a bathroom, and she always left her bedroom door slightly opened, which irritated the crap out of me.

Mama had the sight, and last night she said Al wouldn’t be a good husband to Tessa as she paid for the dress, somehow believing that the dress was more important to Tessa than Al. Maybe it was. Nevertheless, Tessa complained to me the way she always did about Mama.

“The whole town lives and breathes what Mama says, followin’ her word to the tee. Why can’t they see that if they followed their own minds instead of Mama’s visions, they would never know if she was actually right or not? She’s robbin’ them of their lives. She won’t rob me of mine.”

Mama and Tessa were always at odds with one another. Some say since the day Tessa was supposed to be born. Tessa was the youngest, and Mama had avoided a Leo-born child three times prior. Tessa was born two days late on a sweltering Arkansas summer morning in July. Mama didn’t want Tessa t be born a Leo like her own mother, our grandmother, and her due date was cutting it close; it was July 22nd.

Mama figured if Tessa was born on the 23rd, she could get away with calling her a Cancer, the 23rd was right on the cusp. She only had a day to play with and sure as shit, Tessa was born on July 24th. The first thing in the morning at that: 1:23. Daddy tells the story that he thought Mama was seconds away from demanding a C-section to birth Tessa before the 24th arrived. Tessa loves that story. It was her first act of defiance, or ‘independence’, as she likes to say.

For all her foresight, the one thing that Mama couldn’t see was that she and Tessa were two flowers bloomed on the same oleander plant—beautiful, but dangerous if mishandled. “They’re both as stubborn as Mother Nature herself,” Daddy always said, “there’s a reason nature’s a woman.” They were never wrong, and neither of them knew how to win or lose a fight nicely, as they were prone to gloating, pouting or if all else failed, destroying everything in their path.

There were several times when we all thought Mama was going to throw Tessa out—or that Tessa would just leave. The first time Tessa tried to run away, she was six years old. Mama had put her foot down and told Tessa that she couldn’t receive phone calls from boys. It was the first of many fights they would have about boys. Al was no exception; he was just the biggest fight of all. When Tessa met Al, it’s as if she knew Mama would take issue with him. His reputation exceeded even hers, and that seemed to make him all the more becoming to her. The whole town was talking about Tessa and Al, but that’s how it was in small rural towns, even the most trivial news was newsworthy.

We were known as the T-girls, although most folks could only remember Tessa’s name if polled. Growing up between the two of them, Tanya, Tracy, and me just felt like we were invisible when they would start up—which was most of the time. Daddy just stayed clear out of the way, working in the rice fields later than normal or having dinner with his friends to avoid the stench of war that permeated the house when they were fighting.

We survived mostly by manipulating one or both of them so that either Mama stayed in the dark about Tessa’s shenanigans: sneaking out, ditching school and the whatnot. Defending Tessa’s actions to Mama. It was hard because they both seemed to just know when something wasn’t quite right or when they were being had, but we didn’t care. We did whatever it took to keep the peace.

So, here I stand, watching Tessa slipping on that bargaining chip Mama bought, and I know Tessa chose a white dress for a reason. I can either enlist the help of my sisters to try and change Tessa’s mind or tell Mama and let her deal with it.

In the name of peace, I think I’m just going to let Tessa figure this one out by herself and experience her life, I wouldn’t want to rob her of this. I have a feeling it’ll make things more peaceful for everyone in the long run and I wouldn’t want to rob the family of that.

50 and Barry

OKAY, so 50 and Barry. I knew I’d catch a little flack for that one. I put it out there anyway. Okay, so, I’ll try to explain.

50 is a train wreck. You can’t turn away. You’re pulled in. Despite the harsh lyrics and he attempts to sing in that NY stained mumble, it lightens the mood. You can’t be angry, only amused—nor can you take him seriously. Some of the songs are rather explicit, as they tend to be these days. It’s not that sex is something new to sing about, (a la Barry White) I just think it’s gotten a little out of hand. Consider this lyric by 50 “If I focus when I’m strokin’ I can change how you walk.” This is by far one of the tamer lyrics.

You probably missed it. Again, the mumble.

Anyhow, I ran into Mr. White in Hawaii at the airport. He was larger than life. I felt compelled to look in his direction, perhaps his aura pulling my attention. As for 50, the ‘G-Unit’ bus was parked outside the House of Blues one day when I was strolling past, on my way either to or from lunch (back when I actually worked for a living). Apparently, I caught the driver’s eye, and he proceeded to inform me about his employer (as if I missed ALL of the artwork all over the bus). I thanked him for his flattery and kept walking. Not interested. So perhaps a 50 near miss?

And no, I don’t really compare the two. Barry was a great singer. I know this. Ok, so emails about the comparison can stop now right?

The Old and the New

OK. I started this blog in the middle of the night/morning. So yes, it was illegible with lines running into one another. Despite my best efforts, using my cell phone for light etc. Anyhow, I'll need help with it. I'd only started it, so anything you can add will be GREATLY appreciated. AND, I'll add it to this blog.

Here it goes. You may recall my Hitler/James Frey blog See Here. Read it first.




I thought I would take it a bit further with musical artists. There are similarities between some of the newer artists and some of the older/ deceased ones. Again, I wrote this in my slumber.

Aretha Franklin~ Mary J. Blige
They both have that sultry gritty voice. Both experiment with hair color. Both are proclaimed "queens" of their respective genres

Sting~ Chris Martin
I actually mistook Chris for Sting. Don't recall the song. Love them both

Michael Jackson~ R. Kelly
Controversial people. Issues with kids. Creative geniuses. Enough said. Not a fan of either, though

Barry White~ 50 Cent
Stop it. Wait, just wait. It could be. Both are sexy crooners. Of course, 50 is liable to throw you up against the wall as opposed to Barry's ability to make you throw yourself up against the wall. Love them both...differently. Oh, and had run ins with both of them!

Any more? I'm sure I missed a slew. The dreams ended on a very good note. I wrote a short story today based on another dream. And I had a separate wonderful dream that uh, well, let's just say it was a very good dream.

My Ascent to Darkness

Many people inquire about my ascent to darkness. How did it begin? When did it start? What were the warning signs? How do you live like that?

Well, let’s see. I’m not sure when or why it started. My best guess is I read something—information. I’m a voracious reader, picking up anything from People to the newspaper to The New Yorker and all books in between, and losing myself in it. Always finding something of interest.

I began eating fast food a lot less frequently until I just stopped completely, perhaps seven or eight years ago. After that, fried foods went to the wayside, and I never looked back. Somewhere in there, I was reintroduced to yoga *ahh, bliss (see January 29 article: Re-introduction to Yoga)*, Tai Chi Chih, and Whole Foods (organics).

I’ve always worked out, but it wasn’t until I began practicing yoga regularly that I actually looked leaner. And I just felt better—so after all that, how could I fuel up with junk?

After an unfortunate dining experience at a local Chinese ‘restaurant’ (for lack of a better word…death on chopsticks comes to mind), I couldn’t drink anything for two days and I couldn’t eat for about a week. I was sidelined long enough to pick up the one book I had been avoiding, Eat Right for Your Blood Type.

According to the book, I had to cut: red meat (no problem), dairy (sure!), oranges (see ya), potatoes (okay…), tomatoes (what! I love Italian and Mexican foods and tomatoes are a staple! And what about lycopene?), and the big three…shrimp, scallops and lobster. See why I put the book down.

Foods that were best included: pineapple, ginger, black cherries grapefruit (contains lycopene), like every vegetable imaginable, red wine (a minor victory), and green tea. And a host of other things were fine to eat in moderation. That was the banana peel as I consciously tried to cut the ‘bad’ foods. And then I decided that I should become a vegetarian~ that was best for my blood type anyway according to the book.

I flirt with it (as I tend to do) every now again, trying the vegetarian way every now again. Eventually I’ll go all the way. All of this has just become second nature, when able to, I just avoid certain foods. I feel less fatigued, and I can be up for hours without too much stress taxing me…but I always refuel on sleep, a major must.

So, why do I continue when it’s so much easier to slip into those old ways? I tutored kids in the city recently and I was constantly mistaken for a student by the staff as well as some of the actual students (see April 24 article: Another Post on Our Differences). I ran into a friend from college whom I haven’t seen since (and never you mind how long or short ago that was) and she exclaimed, “Andrea! You look great!” Twice in five minutes. (Hi Sharon! And Thanks!)

Whole check…I mean Foods weekly grocery bill: $200.00
Being mistaken for a 16 year old: worth every f'n penny

So, won’t you join me? Eat well, try yoga, play tennis (or whatever sport floats your boat) and enjoy the darker side of life.

The Age Old Question

So, today’s topic is: Is love worth the risk? Because I enjoy talking to myself, I’m going to argue both points, so excuse my schizophrenia for the moment.

Love: that beautiful feeling one has that literally takes your breath away. It makes you stop and question whether or not this life, this wonderful life is indeed yours. And the person you’re in love with, could there be a better person on this planet for you? Absolutely not. He knows you inside and out and they accept you body, mind and soul…oh, and flaws…perhaps. But you definitely know and accept him. You didn’t think you could feel this way about another person that you didn’t give birth to.

It’s not that crazy, paranoid pseudo-love one engages in their teens through twenties (yep, I said it…there’s very little real/unconditional love happening before 30). No. This is an adult serious love that knocks you on your ass, and you’re okay there. You want to be there. There’s no other place you’d like to be. You love him, and you love you with him. You make each other better people. You are content with ‘you’ and therefore able to love another. And it’s him.

And then you lose him.

There could be a number of reasons: he grows ill, looses his memory, he left, he died, he found his ‘true love’ or he wasn’t ready for this type of grown up love. It’s as if your entire right side has been shaved off with an x-acto knife. Straight down the middle, starting with your heart, going down and then up. In other words…ouch.

The agony of losing love is unbearable. You’re miserable. You’re still okay with you…you know, loving yourself, confidence in tact. You know that you can meet another man and move on. But the point remains. You don’t want to. You want him. You love him. Loving unconditionally means loving without strings. When you get there, it’s not so easy to turn off those emotions. You still love him. So what do you do?

Is it worth it? It’s not to say that every unconditional love encounter will end up miserably, but let’s face it, someone leaves first. Typically.

I remember a time, not too long ago, I was traveling for business with colleagues. I’m not sure how we got on the topic, but one young lady told a story about her grandmother. On her grandfather’s death bed, she proclaimed that she loved him and would miss him, and if she had to do it all over again, she wouldn’t change a thing. My reaction startled me. I excused myself as quickly as I could and I had a quick cry. Actually, it wasn’t a quick cry. I teared up the entire flight home.

So, taking sides, I would say, that yes. I think it’s worth all the risk. What’s life without passion? What’s life if you don’t feel anything? A waste.

Thoughts?

By the way...Happy Birthday Prince. If you're reading this...I love you. Unconditionally. Call me!

Check Your Emotions

If there's one thing I've learned by playing competitive sports: volleyball, basketball, softball, tennis and golf (these are the top ones for me) is that you can't play emotionally.

When I watch competitive (professional) sports, this sentiment is reiterated. You can't let emotions get in the way of the game/match/competition. You're bound to lose if you do.

I was the captain of my volleyball team, and I had one of the toughest coaches available. His name is Norbert. And yes, I'm sure his name led to his personal vendetta to be the very best. The best volleyball player, coach and police officer. Exactly...nice mix right??? I learned a lot from him about competition that I'll never forget. Perhaps I'll share at a later date.

What I will share now is this: I saw first hand how destructive certain emotions were. Anger, fear, and cockiness in particular. They would bring my game down like the proverbial ton of bricks. That's when luck would come into play-- say a long pause, another player gets sidelined, pigeons on the court. But luck can only take you so far. It can turn the game around, but only momentarily.

True skill and confidence are the only tools your can rely on in the end. Neither of which are emotional. And aren't these essential life tools?

Think about it!