Entanglement

Everyone struggles, no one is unique in this regard. To what degree everyone struggles is what makes it relative. Fleeing a war torn nation, drinking from polluted rivers, starvation, slavery and false imprisonment are all struggles that most of us will never know firsthand, thank God. Tell those people that their struggle builds character.  Right now, a ten year old little girl struggles with hearing the words... I wish you were never  born ...a high school freshman struggles with being raped, but never tells anyone because she thinks it's her fault. There's a flight attendant afraid and struggling in New York because she's being beaten by her boyfriend, there's a housewife in suburbia with two babes in diapers whose husband is cheating on her and she is struggling with why, there's an exhausted woman living next door to you who regularly struggles to keep her drunken man from choking on his own vomit while he sleeps, and another stretched so thin that she struggl...

There is, perhaps, no other beverage so insidious as alcohol. I got cold chills upon hearing the ancient origin of the word, from Arabic, Al-khul , meaning body eating spirit. It was believed that alcohol would extract the essence of the soul, leaving the body vulnerable to low frequency entities, leading to a host of questionable, sometimes immoral behavior and eventual blackout. The Body Eating Spirit and I have a long, sordid history together. She has been as much a part of my life as breath. She's been locked away going on five years now—but that doesn't stop her from rattling the cage. I had my first drink when I was twelve. I wasn't a fan of the taste, but of the warmth that consumed my body from the inside out, I fell in love. The insecure, shy, awkward, scared, fragile little girl, the essence of my true self, was put in the corner every time I raised a glass. Drinking made me feel beautiful, sexy, confident, jovial, and free. I adopted the,  it's five o'cl...

What is the point of the daily grind? It's monotonous, tedious and unfulfilling. I know there has to be more to life than this. Happiness should be the staple of my existence after vacating a toxic relationship, but by freeing myself from one prison, I've only succeeded in locking myself into another. Apathy is the mood du jour. Life is never going to be fulfilling unless I make it so, and that apathy operates like a Chick-fil-A drive thru during a lunch rush, handily feeding my motivation and good ideas with bags of I don't give a shit and I could care less.  Einstein said, "Everything is energy and that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy, this is physics." This is the Law of Attraction, the Golden Rule, Karma, what goes around comes around...and it's easy to comprehend, hard to practice with consistency. You know why it's hard to b...

Sit and stare. Sit and stare. No focus. No motivation. Inner dialog that can't form a cohesive train of positive thought. Only frustration. Only negative. Only questions... Why? Why God?! Where is God? Why is this happening to me? What am I gonna do? Why won't anybody hire me? How am I going to pay bills? What's wrong with me? Where is my happiness? Where is my strength? Where is my motivation? Second guessing, second guessing, why, why, why??!! Apparently, I'm supposed to struggle. Builds character. My character is a basket case. No money. No food. No ideas. Twenty-two applications. No call backs. Bad haircut. Hate the way I look. Disappointment. Judgement. No one to talk to. Alone. In my head. With my thoughts. Sit and stare. Sit. And. Stare.

Greetings, my love. Long time no see. To say that I have missed you, would be a crime. There is much to say, where do I begin? A terrifying, new beginning is in front of me. I'm on a dark, desolate highway, lights off, speeding madly into the vast expanse. This last one nearly killed me. I am empty, devoid of happiness, passion, excitement, motivation, energy, hope—it's just gone. I am the living dead. I feel nothing. I say nothing. I don't watch TV, I don't listen to music, I don't read, I don't write, I don't take pictures, I don't eat out, I don't go out. I just don't want to do anything, or  be anything. It's like everything that makes me, ME, is gone. My soul has taken flight and it left behind a ghost that resembles what's left of Traci.  I don't know what to wish for. I don't know what to pray for. I don't know what to do, or who to be. I don't know how to replenish my empty vessel, not that I even care anymore....

I used to write. I used to write a lot . It was a sane way to discard the insane brain. I don’t get a chance to do that much anymore. It makes me sad on a level understood only by the angels and demons who reside in the soul space deep within. In the absence of this priceless personal remedy, I have been taught much about myself. Most of what I’ve learned, all the happiness, love, light and Zen, can easily be thrown out the window before my morning cup of coffee. Clearly I will not achieve Enlightenment in this lifetime! Seriously—to truly know ones self is an actualization many will never realize. I’m not sure many know that they’re supposed to. At 48 I understand and  I’m still breathing , so on I go...still the soul, quiet the mind. Draw nearer to God, and He will draw nearer to you. Despite everything, I am grateful to be right where I am today. Still learning. Peace

When you are little, and you get scared, you run to your Mommy whose warm embrace makes it all better, makes you feel safe again. Who is supposed to comfort us when we are grown, and have children of our own? Who do we run to when we are afraid?  I have friended fear. Fear didn't friend me. Fear is indifferent, it doesn't need you as much as you need  it— fear already has MANY friends. Once you welcome fear into your house, it wears you like a second skin. Even on your best days, you sense it, feel it, you smell it, it lingers, waiting to grab hold of your thoughts and ruin you. Fear, it changed me. It changed my whole life. Fear is everything Love isn't and so much more. Fear grows roots in the head, not the heart. The heart is where Love resides, and always will. Fear is loud, Love speaks in whispers. Fear plants doubt, Love spreads hope. Fear paralyzes, Love is movement. Fear and Love, the head and the heart, the struggle is almost cliché and as old as time ...