Tag: emotions

Alice … (Repost)

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 6 Comments

I read this the other morning and thought it was delightful, insightful, and repostable! Enjoy Georgiann and her writings at https://gigisrantsandraves.wordpress.com/.

Alice …

“Why didn’t you stay in Wonderland?” he asked, hands in pockets, as he walked along next to her.  “I think I would have stayed.”

“If you found Wonderland, it would have been a completely different experience,” said Alice.  “It would have been a Wonderland tailored just for you.  It’s that way with everything, especially in out-of-the-way-places.”

“You mean places no one is supposed to know about?”

“I think certain people are supposed to know about those places, either by design or, accident.  It’s their destiny.”

“Tell me again.  What was it like?”

“It seems tighter,” she said, pressing her arms against her sides, Closer.  The sky felt lower.  It’s definitely  lusher.  Sizes don’t always make sense.  Plants and animals can speak.  The colors are deeper and alive.  There is danger and beauty.  There are people who might be considered a bit off, by our standers.  It’s more colorful, but the Queen…well, she’s a bit of a…”

“Problem,” he asked?

“She was unhappy.  Once I realized that, we chatted over tea, and she felt a lot better.  It’s not that she didn’t want to be Queen, it’s that her husband was boring, and not at all supportive or helpful.  She was hoping for the love of her life and instead, she ended up with Mr. Bland.  She was angry because she never felt loved or appreciated.  He never surprised her, or romanced her.  He was no fun at all, so her anger turned into rage and ended up being directed at the people themselves.”

“I can understand her dilemma, but she shouldn’t have taken it on on the masses.”

“I don’t think she realized that’s what was happening.  I told her to get a divorce and marry some hot young guy who liked to dance and party.”

“What did she say?”

“She hugged me and called her lawyer.  I think Wonderland itself let out a huge sigh of relief.  She felt trapped, was waiting for permission to move forward and get rid of the person who was breaking her heart.  She wasn’t sure a Queen could do that.  She baked a lot of tarts, believe me.  She said it took her mind off of him and she always burned a few pretending they were him.”

“Harsh.”

“You never met  him.  I don’t think he would have realized he was on fire.”

“That says a lot.”

“Indeed.  Now double it.”

“What about the Mad Hatter?”

“He was lovely and I don’t think he was mad as much as passionate.  He loved creating hats.  His passion was so large, it couldn’t be contained, and that’s why some believed him to be mad, when he was just unbelievably happy and excited.”

“Did you tell that to him?”

“I did and we danced for an hour, while he threw flowers and ribbons into the air.”

“That must have been interesting.”

“It was fun.  We laughed…a lot.  He also made me another hat.”

“The blue one with the pink and white feathers?”

She nodded.

“It’s my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

“Tell me about the White Rabbit.”

“One pill makes you taller and one pill makes you small….  He was kind of in charge of the drug situation in Wonderland.  He’s the one who put the bottles in the foyer.  The bottles I drank.  I got big, then small.  But I don’t really know what he gave me.  He’s quite a gentleman, dresses well, uses a monocle, which I don’t think he needs, it’s more for effect.  He’s polite, knows how to pour tea and he keeps in touch with everyone.”

“The Dormouse?”

“Adorable.  Sleepy, but so cute.  I doubt he would like to be described in that way, but it’s a true telling.  I think he has magic but he’s too tired to participate in anything.  I don’t know if the Rabbit is his dealer, but if he is, he needs to cut back on whatever he’s giving him.  It’s possible he just eats to much cake.  There is a LOT of cake at the Tea Parties.  I’m not sure which it is. 

As for the Tweedles.  Scary twins.  At least when I first saw them  They looked like rubber balls with heads, stripped t-shirts and matching beanies.  Not the brightest crayons in the box, that’s for sure.  But once I got to know them, I liked them.  They didn’t have many friends, so were a bit out of touch.  I never met their parents, if they had any.  I used to tell them stories, now and then.  They liked that.  I don’t think anyone spent enough time with them while they were growing up.”

“Cat?”

“He was the best.  Imagine a cat who could disappear and leave his smile for everyone to see.  So funny.  Although he didn’t think it was funny.  At least not at first.  We became very good friends.  I’m a cat  person and he could tell.  He did love to tease people and push them as far as he could.”

“It seems as everyone was starving for attention.”

“They were,” said Alice.  “It’s different there.  While they are always willing to help each other, and they do have remarkably strong  friendships, as children, they all seem to have been neglected.  Aren’t you going to ask about the caterpillar?”

“Next on the list.”

“It is absolutely the strangest thing to hear a caterpillar start talking to you,” she said, smiling.  “I thought someone was playing a trick on me and hiding somewhere, throwing his voice.  But no, the caterpillar had quite a lot to say, he’s also usually as high as a kite.  I don’t think he liked me at all, at least not in the beginning.  Wonderland is orderly and my appearance threw everything out of wack.  He did have some good advice, while looking down his many legs at me.  I think we were okay with each other by the time I left.”

“Tell me about the Kraken.”

“Poor thing,” she said, looking down.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll understand.”

Alice sighed and said, “He wasn’t anyone to be afraid of.  All the fear directed at him made him so unhappy.  He just wanted to be treated kindly, to live is own life, his own way.  He had the same dreams as everyone else, but no one asked him how he felt, or what he needed.  People are cruel. I guess it doesn’t matter where they are.”

“Again, why didn’t you stay there?”

Alice shrugged.  “In the end, I just didn’t belong.  I’m not sure I belong here either, but I know this place.  Wonderland felt like living in a dream where everyone dressed up and everything was alive.  It was exciting at first but most everything can lose it’s rosy glow, after awhile.”

“That’s true.”

“It wasn’t easy to leave.  I made good friends in Wonderland.  Friends who wanted me to stay.”

“I’m sure they knew they would miss you.”

“I think I can find Wonderland again,” she said, her eyes glistening, her smile bright.  “I’m  planning to go back for a visit.”

“Can you take me along?” he asked, excitedly.

“I don’t know,” she answered, honestly.  “But I can try and find out.”

Dreams (repost)

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 11 Comments
Elena Moskaliova

I’ve been doing a lot of vivid dreaming lately — I have been for a year or two. I love the madness, the depth, emotions, and the unpredictable story lines that have been popping up.  Now and then there is a nightmare, payment, I suppose, for the magic of the mind, of the next dimension. 

This is a reprint of a blog I wrote back in 2021 about dreaming, and my thoughts about the messages behind the ones I can remember.

Don’t be afraid to dream. The most wonderful people come to visit you through them.

Dreams

 ~ HUMORINGTHEGODDESS

 

This blog is dedicated to my close friend Robin who lost both of her parents a little over a year ago.

Last night I had a dream.

I had spent the day with my mom at her house. I don’t know exactly what we were doing — cleaning, my guess. And talking. 

I was in the living room watching TV, and I yelled into the kitchen, “Where’s dad? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“He was sleeping in there — you must have missed him,” she replied. Then a deeper voice answered. “I’m right here.”

So I went into the softly lit kitchen and there they were, my mom and dad, sitting at a small kitchen table. There were wood scraps on the table; my dad was a carpenter all his life, and was always working on something.

I remember coming and kneeling next to him. Something didn’t feel quite right. Like neither one of them was supposed to be there.

I had a thought in the back of my mind. 

“What’s it like over there?” I asked. 

My dad smiled and nodded but said nothing. So I continued.

“Is it beautiful? Eternal? Spiritual?”

“Yes it is,” he said, smiling.

I lost my mother 49 years ago, my dad 15. Yet I still dream of both of them.

I don’t care what psychologists and scientists and textbooks say about the origin of dreams. It’s the one world man really doesn’t fully understand.

And I believe dreams are a portal. A connection.

Our only connection.

Dreams hold our fears and experiences, along with our passions and imaginations. Those points in our life never leave us. And even if you say you don’t dream, you do. You just don’t remember them. They are a way to remind us who we are. How we got here. 

Dreams are our connection to those who have gone before us, proof that all is well.

In this world and the next.

 

 

Manipulation

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 14 Comments

It’s that time of year again. That time of year that brings more emotional conflict than which kind of ice cream I want for dinner.

The time of year that makes me an unwilling curmudgeon in a season of love and peace.

It’s the Christmas Season. The season of love, of giving, of a baby being born in Bethlehem. The season of helping those less fortunate than you, the season of old traditions and new beginnings.

The TV shows. The TV commercials. Online postings. Social media. The hints, the innuendos, the facts. My poor old heart is having a harder and harder time sifting through the sentimental stuff. 

Perhaps it’s just my age showing. But I am inclined to think it is more the advertising industry taking advantage of my sentimental, over-emotional heart. 

And I don’t like it.

I’ve already seen TV commercials about kids making video books for grandpa about his life with their (obviously deceased) grandma. I’ve seen poor, starving dogs united with fosters and adoptees who will give them a better life. I’ve seen lonely people make friends and the solo star of Bethlehem sparkle above a cold Earth, all to the tune of slow, sad music.

I’m sure you know I’m the last person in the world to be anti-Christmas. Last to be anti-emotional. I love my kids and grandkids and my friends and family to the moon and back. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make their lives better.

But I’m also tired of getting teary-eyed and having my emotions flicked every time I turn around.

In my own defense, I am a sentimental crybaby. I admit that. Always have been. Get all teared up listing to others share their crying jags on this movie or that movie. Crying when the dog dies, the mother dies, when the tree dies.

Advertisers know how to manipulate our emotional strings with visions of old people and young people and just the right music and sentiment, throwing in the product as almost a side-step maneuver.

And I resent being manipulated.

I know there is a percentage of the population that is cold hearted about Christmas and any other thing having to do with humanity. That’s their problem. We don’t need people like that in our lives anyway.

There are far more people who help others EVERY day — not just during jingle bell season. We don’t need to be told to do so at any particular time of year. We help all the time in all sorts of situations. 

A little encouragement to love each other never hurts, of course. But to sentimentalize every thought and passing we have is a little cruel to those of us who tear up at thoughts of our lost family members or days gone by or the days of Christmas past. 

I guess the best solution is to cut out TV and social media for the next 22 days. Which isn’t such a bad idea at all. In fact, I should shun the entertainment world for the next 22 months. I should also skip any puppy/baby/grandparents scenario with a Christmas tree in the background on Facebook.

But awww…. those cute little faces…… sniff……

Gettin’ Jiggy Wit My Emotions

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 1 Comment

Human beings are nothing but emotional barometers. Hot one day, cold the next. And I don’t just mean menopause.

I have always been an emotional person. An overly emotional person. I love till it hurts. I resent even though I shouldn’t. I am jealous over things that I have nothing to do with. I listen to my favorite music and am in heaven. Yet the next minute I drive home from work .shouting “Fuuuccckkkk aaaallll of yooooouuuu!!” out the window.

As I get older the emotions flash way up and way down. And I have to say I don’t care for it.

Yes, there are Meds. There is meditation and fresh air walks  and alcohol and chamomile tea and church. There are many ways to deal with that over-active amygdala. But that doesn’t stop the knee-jerk reactions to everything from too-salty food to pink sunsets. Everything bothers me. Everything thrills me. Thoughts and dreams and desires flood my brain at lightning speed, confusing me with their urgency. Hence, I want to edit, write, read, sew, watch movies, go for walks, throw the ball for the dogs, cook, sulk, scream, and yes, even clean.

One thing I know. I really am at the end of my working career. Instead of going out in a career choice blaze of glory, I’m going out as a fill-in-the-spreadsheet-blank kinda girl. The writing career I wanted will have to fill my days of retirement, for there’s nothing really left at my job. All that’s left of my waning career is the sad click of the keyboard as I fill in number after number after number.

See what I mean? That’s the out-of-control amygdala babbling away. For I really don’t mind my job. And my personal life is so full of family and grandbabies and oatmeal raisin cookies and evening walks that I’m not really that strung out.

But these days I find myself alot more reactionary. I “hate” a lot more people, places, and things. Something I never did in my youth. I also “love” a lot more things than I did when I was 20 or 30. Not only the obvious things like children and husbands and friends and homemade spaghetti, but smooth jazz and classical music, taking pictures, my art blog, Game of Thrones, corn fields, and even…dare I say it…country music.

I wish my highs could stay longer than my lows. That my outlook on myself and the world would lighten up. I hate myself for wasting precious emotions and energy on things I can do nothing about. After all, my future is shorter than my past. And that very thought saddens me.

See what I mean?

Life is all about finding balance. About letting the good into your life. And when the bad comes along, oh well. That’s life. Not holding onto to jealousies and grudges and bad memories. There’s nothing you can do to change anything in the past, and the future is uncertain. So just get jiggy wit it. All of it.

I just wish I wasn’t so moody about getting jiggy……..

 

 

 

#AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek! Part 2

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 7 Comments

A number of you may know (and follow) my second creative friend. David Kanigan creates his blog Live and Learn with thoughts, quotes, research, and philosophy. I mean he’s amazing. I have no idea how he finds the quotes he does. All are thinkers and feelers. He is light and he is deep. I can see his feelings and thoughts through the pictures and stories he shares.

*   *   *   *   *   *    *    *    *

Lightly Child, Lightly.

AUGUST 10, 2017 BY

 

 

 

 

 

 

The love a parent feels for a child is strange…

It’s like trying to describe sand between your toes or snowflakes on your tongue to someone who’s lived their whole life in a dark room.

It sends the soul flying.

~ Fredrick Backman, from Beartown: A Novel (Atria Books; Tra edition, April 25, 2017)

Notes:

  • Photo: Kristy G. Photography (via Newthom)
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Lightly Child, Lightly.

 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Ethereal and fun, I look forward to his writings every day. You will too.

Check out David at https://davidkanigan.com/.

Winter Crabs

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 10 Comments

Im-CrabbyI have a question for all of you, young and old, hot and cold, here, there, and everywhere.

But first, my turn.

I often think the older I get the crabbier I get. I find I have less tolerance, less worldliness, than I did years ago.  This lioness of emotions seems to rear its head during the cold, dark, snowy days of winter.

Does anyone out there find themselves turning into sulking, bulking creatures this time of the year?

I feel bad about this. I really do. I have a job that I can tolerate for another 7 or 8 years, great co-workers, and a short commute to and from work. I have a family that’s fun and loving, I’ve got great friends that ride the roller coaster of life with me all the time, and right now I have a chocolate chip cookie and glass of milk to keep me happy. I’m cancer free (as far as I know), I walked away from a rollover, and my sick cat has turned the corner and is getting better.

Yet still I walk outside and hate the weather, hate the freeze and the snow and the gray. And I find myself saying the “hate” work more often than not. I personally believe hate is a strong word and should be reserved for truly evil people and things, but it seems to slip out on a frequent basis these days. I have little energy to do the things I love, and have insomnia to the max. I feel fat and dumpy and don’t want to deal with either.

This isn’t me — is it?

I am a lover of life, lover of friends and chocolate and watching movies with my grandbaby.  Yet a lot of the time I feel I’m wandering aimlessly through the cold, not caring if I’m entertained or not. What a contrast of emotions. Which, in turn, messes me up even more.

I really think the older I get the more the weather affects me. I don’t remember feeling this cranky when I was younger. Maybe I was, yet I was too busy with kids and soccer games to pay attention to it. I mean well — I am still nice to people, and I do find my way to the computer now and then.  I know this mindset isn’t set in stone, but I do feel it’s stuck in a snowbank somewhere.

So let me know — are you affected by the depths of winter? Are you a Dr. Jeckyll waiting to turn into a Mr. Hyde? Or are you a fluffy snowflake having a wonderful time turning into a diamond?

I’d love to hear your side of the weather. And, if not, you can always growl…