Late night

I walked from Mr. Lucky's tonight. It was both a cold and exhilarating experience. I enjoyed it a lot.. out there with just me and my thoughts, walking through the streets and seeing the lights.

The cold helps me clear my mind.. it focuses me on what is going on, and quiets the entire world around me. All I hear are the thoughts, my own, in my head, and the shoosh of the cars as they pass by.

My hands got a bit cold.. but I have old gloves.. I had 2 pair of pants, 2 shirts, 2 hats, 2 socks.. I could have been twins.

I live about 3 miles from work, about 4 miles from Mr. Lucky's. Lucky's was pretty empty, cept some Mexicans playing pool and some guys hitting on girls. Me, I just sat and listened to the blues on the jukebox. I was alone and having a very good time of it.

I didn't start to drink till my brother died. I'm not convinced it's a good thing, but then, I'm also not convinced it's a bad thing. It takes a lot of the pain away, and allows me to forget, briefly, that there are spots in me that haven't healed yet. Long as I don't over do it too much.. I'm ok. I have only gotten right on the edge once, but that was enough that I became aware of my own limitations, so I backed off a lot.

I don't really like drunks.. My family history is one that sorta created that monster in me. I enjoy the oblivion, but not the loss of control. Sometimes I just need to get to that space where I forget myself, and have a lot of happy people around.

However, I've noticed a change in my personality. I'm not as.... whimpy.. I guess. I tend to be more standupish for myself. Not as much as I could be.. I'm not that big an ass. But I've seen some definite signs in myself that there's a stronger me. Maybe it's something that would have happend anyway. Maybe I needed James' death as a catalyst. I don't know.

I do know this: The three days after, I had 2 very good friends that knew my pain, Spock, and took me in hand and kept me oblivious. Now, I don't recommend being drunk for 3 days to anyone.. but it worked for me. Tim and Sherry, I owe you me.

There is a new one amongst the readers of my dreary writing. A woman named Sarah, who just sorta found me. Some reason I can't quite fathom, she actually likes my writing.. so have pity on her and make sure you make her feel welcome.

Her page is at sarahwarafofera (bannanafannafofanna.. Get it?) and darned if she's not a pretty good scribbler herself. Welcome Sarah, to the pack. Know that long as I exist, you have a home. I suspect that goes for the other Long Lifers in my group as well as some of the new ones. Hope you don't mind and can stand some old folks and some young folks with old minds that tend to be a bit.... er.. rowdy.

Ok.. my brain is fuzzy, and not just cuz I don't shave it. Night, beloveds, old and new.

christmas time, it's christmas time!

And so it goes...

Tomorrow is the 25th of December, widely known as Christmas. It is a time of joy, of putting away old angers and welcoming into our hearts the hope that this feeling, this joining of love and warmth will carry throughout the year.

It can be done, you know. The promise of Scrooge to "carry Christmas in my heart 365 days a year" can be a reality. The secret is to KNOW what is important, and as the Little Prince said "What is important is invisible to th eyes"

What is important to each of us, is exactly that, it is important to each of us. It is an individual thing, settling in the hearts of every thing and person alive. There is, however, common threads. There is Love, and I don't mean that puppy dog, cotton candy, prom night sort of "I can't live without you, and I KNOW you can't live without me" sort of love. The sort of Love that is eternal, that suffers no ill effects due to shipping and handling.

It's the sort of Love that carries well through storms and rocky times and coldest winters. It handles easily the lack of cash, lack of food, lack of fun. It is not dependant on Jobs, Banks, Burgers or Drink. It simply endures.

It's the sort of thing that draws friends, turns enemies, creates bonds, dissolves feuds. It's the sort of thing that melts ice and calms fire, that creates heat and cools fever.
It's the sort of thing that makes a marshmallow from granite and steels the soul to do incredible things.

It's Love. It's not love for another person, it's not love for any one thing... it's love for an idea, for a concept, for the entirety of the whole. It's love for life. Love of life. LOVE in LIFE.

It's a LifeLove. It means, in these poor words which cannot begin to describe the incredible feeling of being in love with all there is, to be IN LOVE WITH ALL THERE IS. Not agreement, not concordance, not bowing to.. but to Accept and Appreciate. However we poor humans define love, this Love is so much more than we can imagine. It is touchable, it is reachable, it is obtainable.

We simply have to forget who we are, and remember WHO we are.

I don't expect a miracle.. no.. scratch that.. I do expect a miracle, but I don't hope much for one. I've had very brief moments of this sort of Love, and I have to tell you.. tis staggering and awakening and stunning. It will leave you with a crystal clarity of mind and a heart overflowing that no ill can befall you because that sort of wrongness cannot enter the reality of what you have experienced.

My Christmas wish for all of you is that you find a quiet spot in your mind to find out how incredibly wonderous you all are. Not just to yourself, but to those you touch, and the entire universe. Trust me, it cannot be done without you.

Love and Light and Laughter,

CjB
House of the Singing Waters.

I simply had to LAUGH

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Twas the night before Christmas...

How many of you remember this tale? And can say it by heart? I think I hit about 80.. maybe 90 percent. No cheating now.

I hurt a good friend today. It was a situation where money was needed, but there was none to be had. I was harsh, as those of you have known I can be, and I regret it. It is Christmas, after all, a time of love, and a time of forgivness. My heart hurts because I cannot do more, so I write it here, dear readers. It's become a halmark in my life to aid where I can, regardless of the cost to me. My needs seem so small compared to those I've known. In some ways, I'm remarkably blessed, in some.. well. it seems less so.

I wish I had a wand to make it all go away, to make it better, to make it perfect. But I can't this season. The Universe has seen fit to pull so much of my material support away that I find I cannot support those I care about in a material way. It makes me grumpy, it makes me angry, it makes me sad.

I'm not asking for understanding, understand (yep.. and oxymoron), nor am I asking for absolution. It's just that this is where I talk, to pour out the insides, so the insides can find a place to go.

I'm sure that a lot of you do the same. Pour out your minds and souls out here. I'm just as sure that most of you talk about what makes you angry, and what hurts you have suffered. I wonder if there's much talk about the hurts you have inflicted?

I know, in the healing process of the heart, that it's important to express not just that you are hurt, but that you have hurt. To admit one side is to not heal, but to create only a lopsided effect. Every one loves a victim, but very few love the snidley whiplashes in the world.

I'm a snidely, and I refuse to be a victim. Any hurts that have been visited on me are my responsibility.. I called them to me, and I accepted them, and I take them as they are, and I do with them what I will.

I don't like pain, especially if I cause it. I call myself a snidely because there have been more than on occasion where I have, by stupidity, ommission, paranoia, or some other silly human reaction caused pain in another. The worst pain I cause is when I have to explain why I can't do something, and have to explain it again, and explain it again. I get frustrated, and I feel as if I'm not being believed. It's a hard thing, and it hardens my heart, and it makes me a snidely. And I'm sorry, but it's true. I work hard to do what I can, and when it's questioned, it irritates me and I lash out. It does not make feel good, it does not make me feel justified, it does not make me look at myself in a better light. It makes me feel as if I will never be a good person ever ever ever again.

Remember the first time you spanked your child? If you were brave enough to spank them, that is.. That's how I feel every time I have to be a snidely.

It's been mentioned that my journals are full of the word I.. and it's true. No denying it at all. Who else should be here? You? I fill more of my life than any one single person, so it's just fitting that I write about what I know most about. The I. Besides, I think journals are a pouring of the Ego anyway.. the eye. Why else write if not about the things that affect the individual.

It's Christmas, and I should be jolly. I am, in a morose depressive way. Well, perhaps not so depressive, but morose. I know I'm going to be going home to probably an empty apartment, and do not a whole lot more than just sleep. Maybe watch some television.. maybe write some more in this journal, which is becomming more and more an outpouring of my life.

Perhaps, I'll write a new Shopkeeper story. That would be nice, as I like it there. It's a good place, though sometimes odd to live in. There have been some times here recently I had firmly and sincerly wished I lived in that magical, impossible world where the impossible is an every day occurance. I would have loved to have been a farmer there, where my only magic was one with the earth, the seasons, the animals, and the slow peaceful thoughts of growing things.

Anyway... Dearest reader, if you can put up with seeing the deep dark underbelly of my life, my thoughts, my beliefs, I'll write them here when I get the mind. If you want to see some wonders and magical things that occur in my life, here they will be. If you think you've had enough of my whining, and complaining about the ordinary things that happen to YOU too, then you are welcome to move on. However, think about this... where else can you go and say 'Yeah.. I've felt that.. just plained creeped out that I could act that way'. Ain't it nice to know you aren't the only one?

Love and Light and Laughter,
Cjb
House of the Singing Waters

The Stars that Fell

It was a crisp and cold night, the sort that you could almost shatter with a careless wave of the hand. There was something I had to do, so I trudged out into the windless and chilly night to do it. I had one gift to find, and there was only one place to find it.

I wandered down to a special place I know.. a secret place, hidden from all eyes except my own. I stepped off the finely paved road, crossed a shallow ditch, frosted over with the night's chill and entered the wood.

Trees parted before me as I found the path I wanted. The full moon shone down it's approval and I made my way through the Darkling woods to the Village of Shopkeepers once again. I was looking for a very special place.. not a shop. I was not there to buy magic trinkets or toys that became something else the second time I looked at them. I was not there to buy a gift that made my loved one ooooh and awwww and cuddle me till tears ran down our faces. I was not there to buy any thing you could hold in your hands. I went searching that which cannot be bought. I went searching for something not made yet, but had already been done. I went searching... a story.( Read more... )

"Well, then," said the Storyteller, "I suppose you won't be quite so long coming back next time, will you?"

And with that, he pushed me out his door, telling me that he had other stories to write. The door still ignored me, as I ignored it, but I could almost swear I heard it ask "You will be back, won't you?" and so I knew that it too missed me. And so, I almost answered back "Of course I will, door", and I think I heard a satisfied little groan as it settled into it's hinges.

I didn't want to leave, but I knew that I had to, so down I went to the streets, and back past the dragon's gate with the statue of the little girl, back through the darkling woods where the trees closed up behind me. Back I went to the Finely paved road, and back I went to my apartment, where I sit now and tell you the tale the Storyteller told me, knowing that I would soon be back, sitting on his desk, listening to his stories of the Village of ShopKeepers.

And that, children is my story for tonight. Specially you, Esme. Merry Christmas!