The End of this Blog.

The End: December 1st 2013.

It’s time to bring Creative Meowser Land to it’s conclusion.

It’s time for something else. Maybe there will be a new blog, but with a different focus. It might be called ‘I like woolly jumpers’ or ‘my life in op shops’.

Privacy is a funny old bird isn’t it? I have still been somewhat private despite how open my blog might seem. Oh, the things I’ve left out, you’d be proud of my self control! I may go back and remove some entries, or edit out things that I feel have the potential to do more harm than good. There might be whole entries that no longer need to be floating in the ether.

I got a book of Michael Leunig’s cartoony wisdom from the library and it’s just adorable. This collection is called ‘The Stick’, and I have found it most inspiring.

I’m also considering having a blog called “Less and Small”, where I do my best to have less and less and take joy in smaller and smaller things. This would be pretty challenging for me as I do love gathering little objects and buying clothes from op shops. What if I halved my wardrobe? These are the kind of things I’m pondering.

 Riding my bike and getting back into painting, cartooning and creative writing would count as ‘small things’. I do want a kayak which isn’t very ‘small’, and it then requires having a roof rack, then actually lifting it and going somewhere to use it. 

Do you think that in order to have a small goal you sometimes have to have a bigger initial goal in order to implement it?  What about people who have so much and yet are trapped in the treadmill of debt and anxiety? I suppose having a kayak isn't that outrageous. It’s just sort of big and cumbersome. On the ocean it would be small, and I could kayak for hours and be very content.

I saw Corn on Friday and he quoted Steven Wright “you can’t have everything, where would you put it?”.

This isn’t the way most people think though is it? I spoke to a man and I repeated the Wright quote to him. He looked at me and said ‘I’d find somewhere to put it”. Yeah, up his giant asshole probably.

So yesterday I threw myself into a metaphorical fire. I’m shaken and sore, but in a stable condition. I went somewhere and did some things and thought I might get some answers. 

Conclusions have been reached. No more voluntary walking through fire for me in the near future. Thanks for reading.

Fire Walking

By Candice.

The view of the lake is beautiful

clouds are moving fast in the sky

 blue

             dark fixed eyes

                      Steady intent

I put my hand on his chest

I don’t know what I thought would come of this

Come of this

           come of this

                    come of this

It’s a burning that will never been quenched

not by all of Rotoiti’s heavy water

                   the stench of it

clings to me

sulphur

and fire

excess desire

cows dance in the wet grass

my eyes hurt and my body is remade

no regrets then?

   Drink more water

Feel less sorry for self

Notice the small things

Wear a fire proof jacket.

 xxx

Best Things Lately! Music, water, friendship!

November 27th 2013.  Wow, what  great weekend!

Summer's here!

When picked up (gently) on a shell, this Nudibranch rolls into a little ball and hides!

Went up North (Whangarei) and visited my oldest friend. She lives in a postal code requiring 'rural delivery', so it's quiet and tree huddled, perfect for refreshing the soul and mind. Her three chooks laid an egg each day, the dogs played together like slightly agressive children. During one of our beach excursions I found two amazing sea slugs that I'd never seen before. Behold, they were Nudibranchia! 

The previous weekend (of my birthday) I'd also gone out with Portia and Mum to Bethel's Beach had dinner with other friends, saw Lawerence Arabia playing at the King's Arm's with Otis, and have had encouragement and input from Liz regarding the book I've been trying to write for more than ten years! I'm also finally finishing my hypnotherapy studies, wah hoo!

Dance, dance, it's a Nudibranch!

So it's that feel good thing, where you pick yourself up into the sun and do a little Nudibranch dance because you can! Oh love! Oh life! 

Another busy week planned, catching up with Peter the Tanned tonight, seeing a play with Portia tomorrow, and on Friday I think I'll go to Osho Kundalini Meditation. So this was really just to share a little bit of postive shit with y'all, especically since I'd gone on a bit about depression and anxiety of late. Still, a lotta people get anxious and depressed in a society that's too bogged down in technology, overwork, high expectations and fear of the future (and the past, eek!). 

I feel so transformed after leaving the city and some of the crappy trappings (like spending way too long on facebook). Oh, and I have to say that seeing Lawrence Arabia for the first time live was an absolute treat. They even played 'Apple Pie Bed' and the teacher song! Gorgeous great fun.

Lawrence Arabia plays the King's Arms November 2013. How lovely it was too.

 He's got this moustache that reminds me of mums' boyfriend from 1977; Steve Marshall. Steve was the manager of Mckenzie's in Ashburton, so we moved there for a year (which is how long the relationship lasted between mum and Steve Marshall). 

I loved Ashburton. I went to this old school covered in ivy and bird's nests. I made really lovely friends and had a school teacher who didn't mind that I couldn't spell, she just let me get on with being creative. One of my best friends was Richard Jones. He had pale skin and floppy dark brown hair. He would come over to my house, and even though I didn't really like the programme 'Animals, Animals, Animals' that much, I'd watch it with him to please him. We used to make little books together and he insisted on making them go from back to the front. I would try to explain that a book had to go from the front to the back, but he just couldn't do it, so I agreed that we could do it the way he found it easier. I would write the stories and he would do the pictures. It was a match made in heaven. We also wished we could make our own 'Narnia' wardrobe. I loved him so much, then he moved away. I have kept a love letter he wrote me that was designed to hang on the wall. He kissed me just once after school; a quick peck on the lips. I was thrilled and scared because I thought he'd then want sex (of course, being seven years old, I doubt he'd come to that conclusion just yet, but how was I to know?).

 I will never know what became of him, Richard Jones of Ashburton in 1977/78. That was the year a song called 'Substitute' came out, and I really wanted to understand what the woman was talking about. The lyrics went something like "I'll be your substitute, whenever you want me, oh oh, don't you know I'll be your substitute, whenever you need me, oh oh. Every night, you sit inside, hoping to see her face, you might as well forget about her and find someone to take her place". I tried to discuss it with mum, and she said "it's a stupid song". I liked singing along to it, and I think 'high heeled sneakers' was also on the radio. Being seven years old, the excitement of punk's uprising was lost on me and only snuck into my consciousness when I was eight and songs like Ian Dury's 'Rhythm stick', DEVO's 'Whip it' and 'Turning Japanese' managed to get onto mainstream radio.

And that is the sort of thing that crosses my mind, however fleetingly, when I look at a young man with a moustache. Happy days! Nudibranch dance.

Church Bay, Whangarei. Site of Nudibranchia!

Depression, Assholes and Good Things!

November 14th 2013

Portia and I went to Art In The Dark!

When I last wrote, I was struggling through a 'depression attack'. Like a dark front of clouds moving across the water it came, my tears falling steadily through the night. 
Over the years I've learned to read these clouds, to predict when it's a light downpour and when I might need to get a lifeboat ready. I am not in danger of killing myself, I committed to Living a long time ago! Just thought I'd better be clear on that. 

As I write this I'm aware that while many of us struggle with periods of depression and anxiety, there are so many huge things happening in the world that are truly tragic (the Phillipines typhoon for example). Considering such things doesn't make me suddenly snap out of a 'bad patch'. It leads to further over thinking and then I get more anxious and depressed. I have to be especially careful of what I watch and listen to if I see the signs that a depressive front is moving in. A massive trigger is any situation where I feel abandoned or left behind, so I guess one of the things I'm learning during my time on earth is how to make sure I don't abandon my own needs. 

Portia, pale and interesting, gazes out to sea on a cold windy beach visit.

Meditating does help (hugely) as long as I don't get caught in a spiral of negative thought during the meditation! This morning I had to keep everything on track 'observe, observe ... '.
Yesterday I was listening to the news on the car radio and it ended in tears, but I'm like that even when I'm completely 'un-depressed'. A father held a heater to the right side of his five year old boy's face; the attending physician said it is one of the worst burns he'd ever seen. This man held it there, disfiguring his child for life. I may be out of my 'bad patch' but even writing that down brings tears back up into my eyes. I turned off the radio and spoke out loud, as if addressing that child: "I'm so sorry that happened to you. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." 

creeping around in the park in the dark like a snark

I often feel a massive sense of responsibility for suffering, and when I was young I used to think that if I suffered enough then others wouldn't. That may well have been a huge "Christian Hangover!"

Fortunately, as I saw that dark cloud moving over me, I did all the 'good things' I could think of to help to prevent it from overtaking. Get outside. Eat properly. Call people. Go out. Cry. Move!

ASSHOLES:
Behaving like an asshole and actually BEING one are two different things. I know this because I'm reading "Assholes, A Theory" by Aaron James. All of us are bound to behave like an asshole from time to time, but to be truly defined as one requires consistent behaviours or attitudes in which one
 "systematically allows himself special advantages in interpersonal relations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunizes him against the complaints of other people" (page 4 of Assholes). Assholes are rife (try driving in Auckland), and I'm hoping to better understand how to cope with them upon reading this hilarious and insightful book. I especially like how it shows that an asshole can be charming and even "morally motivated". You can have rather scrappy or boring assholes, but then there are also "dignified assholes".
"Given his sense of his special standing, he claims advantages that he thinks that noone can reasonably deny him. He is resentful or indignant when he feels his rights are not respected, in much the same way a fully sociable, cooperative person is." (page 13).
I'm finding this really useful as I have often dismissed certain behaviours as 'quirky', or I've thought that someone who makes snide and bitchy comments is really just joking. Perhaps not. Perhaps it's a clue that they're an asshole: 

"He is often rude or more often borderline nasty. One feels he has just been intrusive or inconsiderate, though one can't always pinpoint the norm of courtesy he has tread upon. Most important, the asshole gains special advantages from interpersonal relations, not by stroke of continuous luck, but because he regards himself as special. His circumstances are special in each case, in his view, because he is in them. If one is special on one's birthday, the asshole's birthday comes every day." (pg 16). The important thing to remember is that we are all special, but an Asshole tends to think they really are a bit more special than you are (like a star bellied Sneetch or our current foul government).

Good Things
Thanks be to Portia! This little English Rose is restoring my faith in the English Traveller. Most English Travellers (in my experience) have often made Assholing into an art form. They will gladly eat your food, use your things, accept rides everywhere, ask you to drive them to the airport (for far less than the petrol costs) and then bully you if you try to stand up for yourself. They are also often charming and fun to be around. I guess a country that has bullied so many other countries has to produce a good ratio of self entitled snotty beaks. Fortunately Portia doesn't count as one of these! She came to stay for almost a week and it was so much fun! She also has helped me do a massive amount of sorting out in my lovely living space which has cleared my head enormously.

 We did heaps of things together which made me feel like a tourist in my own city. She hugged me when I realised I hadn't been invited to a good friend's birthday event and advised that I 'leave it'. Last night that same person defriended me on facepooh. Very sad and mystifying, but I've decided to do as advised. I shall leave it.

I wish I could be colder sometimes. Only problem is, if I get cold, I get a different kind of depression. The non-feeling one, like you're numb and things just don't seem to touch you. Ugh, hate that one. Haven't had it in years thanks be to the gods. Anyway, the thing is, Have A Depression Plan!

A Depression Kit, or Plan! Most people have a first aid kit, a lot of people pay for insurance for material goods and also for their health. Ten years ago, as I recovered from a breakdown, I knew I needed to do everything I could think of to be healthy and mentally flexible. Not strong, as strong implies a lack of movement, or it gives off that old 'harden up' kind of vibe.
Amazing how a culture that has told people to 'get over it', 'move on' and to 'harden the fuck up' also produces one of the highest suicide rates in the world isn't it? 
 I've attracted a lot of depression or anxiety prone people in my life. I have always been okay with that (like attracts like), yet the problem is, such people find it very hard to cope if I'm the one going through a bad patch. Fortunately, there are people like Handsome Rob, Tieneke, Portia, Tam, The Painter and His Muse, Peter The Tanned, my mum, Jacqui of the old days, Corn Stone, Griz, Daniel H and others who are willing to have friendships that allow for our humanity.

You will also be proud of me: I've finally put the Sexy Ex and Wylie in their place. This means no contact at all. Upon reading "Assholes" I have discovered that they really are assholes, and not even particularly charming ones at that. I know. I had to read a book called Assholes to figure that out? As for The Rooster, he sent a very nice early birthday greeting which I appreciated. 

In addition to the gorgeous time with Portia, I also have caught up with other wonderful people over the last month or two. That includes Raewyn, Griz, Corn, Rob and Tam. Tam's baby is a year old now and he is so funny and adorable. Rob and I did go for that walk over to White Beach and it was really revitalising and uplifting! As for my birthday, it will be fine. I guess there is a gift in absence, and if I keep taking notice, it's the gift of peace. I would also like to thank those who read my blog as I have now had well over 10,000 views. I can't imagine who you are really, that person in Latvia or Russia, or perhaps the USA, and if there's anything in these ramblings that's of use, but thanks for being there. Lots of Love to All! And remember, we are all equally special! xxxx

Not In Love. Not Successful. Not Young, but hey, Less is More!

"God loves everybody, don't remind me." The National, Graceless. November 1st, 2013.

 A year ago this month I was falling in love and having one of the best birthdays of my life. Today I feel down, but on the upside I've learnt to meditate properly and the greatest love in my life would now be a child.

I saw The Child this week and he asked me what the would be the "best thing of my entire life". I asked what he meant - the best thing that I've done, or the thing that others would think of as success, or just what feels good to me? He said "just what feels good to you". So I said it was to love and have loved. To know that sometimes I have talked to people and it's made them feel better. Sometimes people are very sad and I know that at least once I've made a difference to someone who was so sad that they wanted to die. The Child is nine and when we hang out we usually talk about which super powers we want the most, but every now and then it gets pretty deep.

 So, "what about you?" I asked.

"Well," he said, serious and sweet, "this is my best feeling thing. When I'm with you. And when I'm with the dogs ..."

This is high praise. He loves those dogs, so for me to get in with the dogs ... well that broke my heart open. I knew what he meant too - that he feels safe and happy and full of playfulness when we get together. I'm an extra safety net for the heart of a child, so even though I'm struggling with feelings of sadness today I know that my life is worthwhile. Yes, I know it's worthwhile anyway, but it's useful for me to think of something beautiful or good, something that reminds me of why we bother playing out this whole thing (life) at all.

I did a short Vipassana course about a week ago. Three days. It was 'good', but when Goenka's recorded voice told us that to be a serious practitioner of Vipassana it was best to be celibate I found myself slowing shaking my head from side to side. I wondered how many other people were doing the same.

I get it of course. The advice may have made a lot of sense for the men it was first designed for, especially when the first bit says "no raping". I tend to think this kind of thing would be great for the many men in jails who have been taught the Vipassana method of meditation. It's unlikely many men would be jailed for rape in India unless it was extreme and resulted in the woman's death as happened in the New Dehli bus attack in December 2012. I know that there are female molesters and rapists, but they are relatively rare compared to the numbers of men.  

In the same breath, Goenka warns against taking mind altering substances including 'the alcohol'. Beware the alcohol as before you know it you'll be stealing a small Yak from a beautiful woman's neighbour, killing it (fucking it first perhaps, depends what you're into), eating it, fucking the woman, then waking up and sorrowfully blaming that temptress for leading you down the path of passion. Dunno about you, but I'm a bit sick of all the stories in which women are leading men off the path of good (Christian stories are particularly rich with it).

I have my limits firmly in place when it comes to substances, so if a hot farmer beckons me as I'm leaving Kaukapakapa I'm pretty sure I won't steal his neighbours livestock so that he can roast me a lamb. I also can't imagine I would immediately leap into his bed after a few glasses of wine (I was celibate for an entire year whilst living in Korea, I do have standards).

Imagine this little scenario:

"Well love, you look a bit tired, all that hippy shit worn you out has it? Maybe you'd like to join me in my king sized manly bed for a bit of rest?"

"Oh what are you thinking?! I'm practically a nun for the love of meditating and bringing peace to the world! I can't jump into your incredibly comfortable bed and allow you to pleasure me!"

"Ah ha ha, okay then, long as you're sure ... but you must be hungry ... just grab a little lamb from Wally Ditherall from next door and I'll make us a beauty of a roast ..."

"Oh, but I can't steal, that would be breaking my precepts, what are you man, mad?"

"Ha ha ha," he slaps a meaty farm worked thigh, "just kidding love, I know you take that shit seriously. Hey, tell you what, you'll sleep a lot better on the floor of my cow shed after you've had a wine. My mum left some here after she visited yesterday."

"Ohh, actually, a glass of wine would be good ..." and before I knew it there was blood on my hands and a farmer in my dell.

I'm meant to go for a day's meditation tomorrow but don't know if I can handle it. Perhaps this wave of sadness is just the debris coming loose after doing the retreat? It's a purification process, so a bit of crying is probably in order. 

When it gets too much I just think "I'm one of the best feeling things in the life of a child, so it must be okay". 

Tomorrow I'm going to the beach with Handsome Rob and right now The Sexy ex just called and wants to see me. Hmm. Time to mediate.

Just Quickly ....

Sometimes you just have to get your plastic ray gun. Even when you're a grown woman.

Hey there kittens,

I'm sitting with Toscat and have just had a couple of very nice gin and tonics accompanied by chocolate biscuits (macaroons if you must know).

It's been a good day.

I listened to some of these audio CD's by Joe Vitale (hypnotherapist) this morning and felt like I got a clear reminder of how to deal with any 'obstacles'.

Vitale talks about a Hawaiian method of healing (which sounds basic) called Oponopono. What isn't basic is the level of responsibility one can decide to take regarding any 'obstacles' in life. 
http://www.mrfire.com/article-archives/new-articles/worlds-most-unusual-therapist.html

You will notice in all my blogs over the last six months how I have struggled with the pain of heartbreak, how I would forgive and then seem to be knocked back yet again. Well I've decided that those obstacles will be my pathway to deeper levels of love. 

This means that no matter what comes into my life I will use it to look at what's IN ME, not as a judgement of a person, event or object. Sure, I will make stupid judgements every day. I am human. Yet I would like to minimise the poison I might unwittingly spread when I fall into a victim mindset, when I churn over pain or problems and find I can't let go, or that I'm becoming cynical.

Yes, I've been feeling cynical lately, and I don't like it. I've always been resilient. I've always taken the knocks and climbed back up, again and again. This last 'romance knock' really did make me wonder if I could ever love again. 

Fortunately, I listened to the right thing today and I realise that this 'knock' was just another chance to love, not as a little egoistic entity, but as the presence behind all that Is. Yeah, I know. Sounds a bit weird, possibly pompous, but that's the best way I can put it.

What I've learned (or 'unlearned') through Vipassana meditation is how to hone in on that 'stillness within' quite quickly. What I needed and got today was that I can still also direct that stillness into pure love and forgiveness - of myself and therefore of anything or anyone that appears to be 'outside' of me.

That's all I shall say for now. I'm back in that saddle babies. I'm getting back up. I shall Love again. And again. And again. And again .... xxx

Freaky Synchronicity with Rooster, German Mother ....

Wednesday August 21^st 2012

Walking on Sunday I passed a couple with their incredibly adorable little boy. The beautiful, plump blonde mother was holding his hand as he did his best to walk along the track, his face arrested in smiles as I approached. I continued to beam as I walked, then realised I was crying. I clicked. That ‘ordinary’ life might not happen for me.

I have done so well with the lack of ordinary, I have juggled it and worn it to the best of my ability, but I have harboured hope that perhaps a ‘boring and domestic’ life might eventually be mine. Boring and domestic with the right person would sometimes be magical!

 I would meet a kind, sexy, funny man with good taste in music and we’d travel a bit, then maybe have a baby. I haven’t really had a master plan to be honest. Just getting through life and being creative and positive seemed to be the best way. Maybe that’s not what most people do?

Those with ‘ordinary’ lives are sure to have their own longings and fears, and many might be ‘stuck’ with a partner they don’t love or like. Many pretty looking pictures shatter over night due to addictions, affairs, unmanaged depression and unspoken needs.

Speaking of which, let us update on my ex lovers. I’ve waited awhile to do this as I wasn’t sure how much to include. Now that I shall be winding up this blog, I think ‘fuck it’ and will include a little more than I should.

The Sexy (Young) Ex:

I would have been far happier for him if he didn’t keep trying to bed me even after he’d moved in with his nice little girlfriend. Who moves in with someone after two months? It’s silly. I asked what was so great about her and he said he could completely control her. Oh. Well. That’s fucking creepy.

This is one I think best left alone now. And no - it’s highly unlikely either of them read this (reading isn’t one of his strong points). If they did, he’d lie to her, his eyes wide, and she’ll believe him. So that’s fine.

Wylie Coyote

This guy is an asshole. Don’t ever let me go there again. (Goddamn but the sex was good!)

The Rooster

After my last blog entry, I got an amazing apology letter from The Rooster. I assumed it was because he saw what I wrote. I thanked him for the apology and was impressed with it. Moved, I felt quite emotionally confused by a lot of what was said. It seemed he really regretted how he’d treated me.

Could it be that his reunion with German Mother was about as short lived as I imagined it would be?

I responded, thanking him for the apology. The following day he sent another email which showed he had NOW read the blog and was ‘hurt’ that I might think he had purposely tried to hurt me.

Well come on. When someone dangles you off their ego for four months (I made it so EASY for him to get me back!) and then ‘chooses’ someone else, what am I supposed to think?

Anyway. It was still another good email, and yes, his attempt to rekindle the relationship with GM died within four weeks. Threw me aside for that! I bet they both rushed into each other’s arms with the vision of who they used to be four or five years ago, high on the fantasy they created about each other during the absence. BIG come down.

German Mother and the Ms Elegance connection (freaky shit!)

A few weeks ago I was giving my new flatmate, Ms Elegance, a summary of what had happened with The Rooster. When German Mother’s name came up, Ms Elegance said

 “Not xxxxx?” (her surname). I checked off a few identifying factors, including a physical ailment of German Mother’s.

Ms Elegance nodded.

“Oh my god, she’s not a friend of yours is she?”

“No,” said Ms Elegance slowly, “she’s the ex wife of the man I was engaged to marry. But he died before we got married.”(This engagement was about 10 years ago).

There are other interesting things that came from that conversation that I shall not go into, but were little details that helped me understand why The Rooster was so easily led. I thought this was quite an incredible coincidence ... that it was somehow showing me that there are so many things at play I am not aware of.

GM’s already got someone else, and I’d bet she had him waiting in the wings while she went for one last round with Rooster. The new guy has a very common name and I can’t help but wonder if she’s ended up with one of my ‘ex Steve’s’. That would be funny, especially if it were the Steve with a Russian connection!

For some reason, the synchronicity has comforted me. I even emailed Rooster to let him know about it, and I’ve waited awhile to blog about it as I still  have to be careful regarding the privacy of innocents. I’m not staying GM is a bad person at all. I’m sure she seems as lovely as I’ve been told. What I find strange is what seems to be a lack of transparency. Did she hold silence at times when she should have spoken her truth during her relationship with Rooster? Did she try and find that he couldn't hear? She knew that he still cared about me, but while I was off meditating she snapped her fingers and he jumped. A cock snapping to attention.

Tis all for the best I’m sure! It’s been so hard to believe that, yet believe it I must. Only yesterday I cried again for I missed Rooster’s company so much. Then I had to remind myself of what I thought I missed. What I loved when I was with him was how much I could trust him. I thought this was my best friend and my lover. So yes, I am still grieving. I see things I wish I could share with him, but I want to share them with the man I met, not the man who coldly chose someone else.

If I was ‘betrayed’ then in what ways am I betraying myself already, that I am attracting such energy? This is the helpful tool I can take from this situation. Rooster can consider why on earth he felt the need to sabotage a perfectly beautiful relationship.

I will never forget standing there in my cotton halter neck dress, almost feeling like I was slightly outside of my body, keeping myself calm and waiting for him to walk up to me and say “I’m sorry. I love you.” It never happened, and there’s no wondering why or wishing it could have been different. It is what it is.

Over the next few months I shall be winding up this blog. Perhaps I’ll start another. Perhaps not. Love Cxxx