Attention

"My, my. Look whose all over Facebook with there selfys. Looking for a little attention??? I wouldnt have taken U for quite the showoff. I guess U don't know a person until U follow there feed." ((Winky face, shock face, sick face emojis))

Yea, I guess you really don't.

Inspirational Quote for the day:

With ten fingers to choose from, I've only got two I'd pick for you.

Ladies, gents, my peeps and theirs...

This blog goes out to each and every one of you snapping 50 selfies to get one...

Post them.

Tag them. Litter them all over the place like confetti on a windy day.

We are not seeking attention.

We are not showing off or flaunting.

We are not fat or ugly or wrinkly or scarred.

We are using social media to be. Be us. Be free. Be acknowledged on this planet in this space. 

We won't be here forever. Actually, only a flash in the pan. 

And you, who sneer at us.

Do it too. 

Stop scrolling through our stuff so you can remark about our narcissistic rituals. Get up, snap a selfie and hashtag the hell out of it. Got a zit today? Download an editing app and get working.

Life is way too short to not.

Life is way too awesome to waste with being all bitter and grumpy.

Smile.

Snap,snap.

Post.

Tag yourself 10 times and share to Instagram.

Ice Cold

I disappeared, for a little while. Straying off the path of fortitude.

I cried, daily.

I tried, hourly.

I cared and cared, so much that my chest was caving in with every breath.

I wondered, was that me?

Is this who I have become?

This weepy, weak, sensitive bundle of womanhood. Smiling and saying "I'm fine" to anyone who asked. Being "real" in this made-up fantasy where ladies do this or that.

I strung pearls and sang hymns, koom-by-ahh-Ing the shit out of my open heart.

But that sucked.

Being a lady and doing lady stuff is not fun for me. Koodo's to my women-folk who can pull off being a lady! Don't know how you do it. I actually really dig belching, it feels good and is way better then swallowing it and waiting with my knees crossed for privacy to fart.

I did it because I thought that's what I actually wanted.

I did it because I've wondered to myself if I have it in me, and what it might be like.

I did it because I thought "he" (whoever he is or was) wanted that, and maybe, just maybe, I could snag a happily ever after in woman-land.

Then, what happened, was I threw that in the f**k-it bucket. 

I realized that's not who I am.

I'm sensitive, but not soft.

I'm loving, but not gooey.

I don't care about make-up or dresses. I could care less about romance novels and moon-lit serenades.

I don't want to be swept off my feet.

What I want is me.

Laughing, wearing yoga pants that make them stop in their tracks and go "damn"!

Being the one to say "aw muffin" and "suck it up buttercup". The one that has an annual cry-fest whether I need it or not. The one that people can say anything to, and I accept it because it isn't about me, and I get that. The one who is loyal like a dog and vicious like a sprung cougar.

The ice queen.

The bloody unicorn.

The water-logged siren with sharp teeth, mermaid tail, and the propensity to devour.

No sparkles and lipstick. Just ripped jeans and hoodies. No tears and I-love-you's. Just stone cold stares and the matter of fact I-do-you-know's.

And "him" (whoever he may be), isn't going to be some knight in shining armour soaring in to save the day on his noble steed. 

Nah.

He's going to be that guy who knows that pulling my hair and grabbing my neck makes me purr. 

He will know that what's under my hoodie is worth coming home to. He will know that my softness emerges just enough to love unconditionally, but I will shut that down the instant I feel threatened.

And that will be enough.

Until then, I'm going to get used to being alright with the fact that I'm not a lady, but I'm a power-house woman.

I'll wear a dress now and then, but not to make anyone else happy or to prove a point. I'll stop stringing pearls and admit surgical steel and silver make me happy. I might not live in an ice castle and run around singing about letting stuff go...but I will indeed embrace the comfortable chill of my icy exterior. 

Because maybe it's not from "being broken"...maybe it's just my own kind of magic.

Her & Him

So there's this song, you can't seem to listen to it without hearing her in your memory.

You even glance over now and then to see if she's sitting there beside you, laughing in the sun.

He had this way about him that you can't seem to forget. The way he looked at you. The way his voice changed when he said your name.

That smell on the breeze carries her to you. Maybe only a glimpse of her hair, a highlight in the crowd.

And that thing he used to say, it makes your skin crawl to hear it slither out of someone else's lips. But you can't help but smile, since you can close your eyes and see his jawline as he spoke in profile.

Now and then, your heart stops when she skips across your thoughts. 

Now and then, your throat tightens when he walks across your thoughts.

You race after her a moment, chasing the way it felt to stand beside her.

You curl up around yourself for a moment, missing the feeling of his hand in yours.

Then you place her aside. 

Then you put him away.

Forever is a long time to live hollow.

 

Calla Lily

I was me for a moment, tears streaming and chest caving.

The me that held out her hands and asked what she did wrong.

The me that couldn't compare to all the lovely daffodils.

The me that is easy to lie to and easy to dismiss as waste.

I let that me sit there, I embraced her.

She was so angry. Strangled cries that escape from agonized breath. The kind I don't like listening to. The kind that shred my heart.

She was so lost and confused.

Why again?

I didn't know what to tell her.

I tried to protect her, but she wanted so bad to be seen. She had to try.

Though I shake my head sadly, wishing she had just listened; I also hold her tightly. 

I tuck that me into bed. I tell her a story.

I choose to tell her a fairytale, it soothes her. 

"You don't need to be lovely." I whisper in her silent sobs. "You don't need to be chosen, not one bit."

She looks at me in the windows reflection. Eyes half shut and heavy. 

"Why?" That me asks.

"Silly Rabbit, there is no comparison. 

Some choose roses.

Some choose daffodils.

But the one who chooses the simple Calla Lily recognizes the subtle scent and elegance without a need for show.

You, my dear, are a Calla Lily."

Rush to Judgement

Judgement.

We know what that is. No one enjoys being judged, yet we all judge others. It's part of the human condition that we understand and recognize.

What is it?

That is the question that begins when we decide to practise non-judgement. The long road of becoming non-judgemental is full of roadblocks. It requires much introspection and reevaluation. 

Judgement takes so many forms and seems different depending on how you look at it.

Some will say that ALL judgement is a self-judgement. Some will say we NEED judgement for discernment purposes. I have even been told that "anyone who claims to be non-judgemental is full of shit."

My most recent understanding on this topic is two-fold.

1. Judgement is a way for us to stay safe.

Why?

It is a great big world with a crap-load of people. If I can find fault in someone, that is one less person I need to love.

Judgement is a justifiable reason to withhold compassion, acceptance and love.

By seeing and comparing faults in another, I am able to see a reason to distance myself from them.

From walking around a "creepy homeless person", to severing ties with someone who has wronged us.

Judgement is our greatest weapon and also our strongest shield.

2. Forgiveness is judgement.

I have been a huge fan and promoter of forgiveness. There is no denying the healing benefits of letting go the hurts we feel someone caused us. 

However, the act or need of forgiveness by default assumes that forgiveness is required.

Forgiveness determines that what "they" did was "wrong".

The need to forgive is a justifiable reason to withhold love.

We are doing so many things to stay safe. We have so many reasons to protect our precious selves.

However, we did not control our birth. We cannot control our death.

We came. We are here. We will go.

All of our judgements will fall away into the sea of wasted energy.

I would like to think my time better used. I would like to say that I was not afraid to experience this human condition.

"What is the nature of love, where love appears to be not?"-Emmanuel