Creep

It’s almost April.

I am not homeless, not because I have a job but because I have received help.

I have one private student and three-hour teaching (per week) at a college, some nursing school.  It means some change, but far from enough.

I’ve tried to focus on praying and meditation.  I’ve been working with my energies and my thoughts.  I haven’t been able to write much, I wonder if there are enough people who would be interested in reading what I write.

There are times when I almost forget how long it has been without making a living, without eating every day during a complete month, without going shopping, without a proper salary, without feeling proud of my skills and talents.

There are weeks when I can eat almost every day so I can resume going for a walk and doing some exercise.  Although after giving it some thought, I realize it is less than a week a month.  Nevertheless, even if they are only four days a month, I feel alive and I feel well so they count as weeks.  

But there are weeks when I feel so tired, helpless and hopeless and I can only see applications which have no reply, bills which are not paid, plans which I cannot make.  It is then and now when I only feel like going to bed and trying to find some peace during sleep.  Stress brings only nightmares and lack of energy and activity makes me feel like creep.

It feels like sitting in a waiting room at a madhouse or standing at the platform of a train station in a ghost town.

There are no keys, no clues.  There is no map, no compass.

It’s just hope and belief that life cannot be so unfair.  It’s the feeling that sooner or later miracles might happen.

I’ve kept a journal on Facebook and on my Blog, not because I want people to feel pity for me, just because it makes me feel less lonely.  Then if something very bad happens there will be no chance for misunderstandings, the people who really care will find the truth written there.

I have been able to keep internet working up to now.  Both my internet and mobile service are going to be disconnected as soon as the long holidays end.

May be it’s about time things go really bad or they get better for the good.

Susie in gray
March 31st- April 1st

Imagen

A veces la imagen que los demás perciben de nosotros, en nada se parece a lo que nosotros vemos en el espejo.

Es entonces cuando debemos aceptar que estamos siendo demasiado injustos con nosotros mismos.

SL

Sadness

There are days when you are sad as soon as you wake up.  You don’t know why, but your limbs are weak and you cannot make it, you just want to go back to bed.  And when you go back to bed, you want to be in bed even in your dreams.

I have the right to be sad because I am so damn tired, because I have a cruel pain in my chest which will not die even after prayers and meditation.

There are days when you cannot focus on what you have because it is not enough.  You just feel bad because of the lack of so many things.  There are no more crackers for breakfast and that can make you cry.  You know that after struggling so hard you finally have hot and cold water again, you have 3 hours of teaching per week at a college and you were able to eat almost properly for about a week.  Nevertheless, everything hurts:  the lack of love, passion and tenderness; the empty wallet; applications with no reply; this hopeless reality and the inability to make a living.

Today I don’t feel like pretending. Although I know going for a walk and enjoying some light would be good for my health, I am afraid I might faint after the first five blocks.  I don’t want to look positive and happy in spite of everything.  I am not in the mood for waiting until the Universe finds the right option for me; it might be far too busy to take care of my needs.

I have been blessed and help has come at the very last minute so the rent has been paid for the last three months and I am not a homeless, technically.  But if you are not happy where you are, if you are not praised and respected for your work, if you cannot make a living, if you are all alone and there is no hug to comfort you, then, there is no home.

Susie
18th March, 2013

Pedido Nocturno

Cuentame historias bonitas, de brujas buenas, de mujeres sabias, de tribus sanadoras, de tesoros encontrados, de regalos bendecidos.

Librame de tantas pesadillas que agotan mi mente y mi cuerpo.

Llévate los extraños visitantes, deshace los oscuros maleficios, refúgiame en una burbuja azul donde sólo la paz me alcance.

Crisis

Lo que no fluye se estanca y lo que se estanca nos enferma.

La última vez que tuve una crisis de alergia (con asma incluido), fue después de una dolorosa discusión con alguien muy amado.  La sola idea de terminar haciendo lo que todo creían mejor para mí, que en realidad es mejor para ellos pero no para mí, terminó poniéndome enferma y sin poder respirar por un par de días.  Pero me senté a escribir y fue como dejar correr las aguas turbias y el río estuvo sano otra vez.

Esta vez la alergia, el asma y lo que devino en estado gripal con fiebre, lleva casi una semana.  Sin embargo, no he podido sentarme a escribir sobre lo que ruge detrás de mi silencio. Me cuesta desnudar la verdad y plasmarla en un papel.  No me cuesta por mí, sino por quienes podrían leerla.  Poco importa a esta altura lo que piensan o aceptan los demás de mi persona, pero aún quedan ciertas formas políticamente correctas, ciertas convenciones diplomáticamente aceptables para sobrevivir dentro del sistema y no quedar en la calle sin pan y sin nombre.

Básicamente fue duro descubrir que el nuevo camino que busco parece no estar en los planes de Dios o del Universo.  En cuanto retrocedo medio paso en el viejo camino, parece que algunas puertas se abrieran por arte de magia.  

No es que quiera renunciar a mi vocación de servicio, pero me merezco una vida digna, sana, con comida, con placeres, con trabajo suficiente para cubrir algo más que un alquiler ruin.  Si uno tiene todo lo básico que necesita para vivir bien, de algún modo es bendecido, y así es mejor bendecir y ayudar a otros.

Fin de semana en cama.  La falta de oxigeno afecta el funcionamiento de mi cerebro, por ende me cuesta entender lo que leo y me cuesta escribir lo que pienso y siento.  Necesitaba al menos, levantar una compuerta.

Susie sin aire
Soledad Lorena convaleciente
Sábado 9 de marzo de 2013

God and Sunday disillusion

Sunday, about 6.0 pm

I was still in pyjamas.  I heard a knock at the door and my heart jumped.  I thought it could be someone coming to buy stuff from my garage sale.  It could be a friend coming to share a piece of cake.  It could be a delivery boy with some pizza or sandwich.  I was excited.

I opened the little window on the door and I saw a kind couple with their happy faces and a flier in their hand.  I immediately realized it was none of the above mentioned.  And while they said something handing me the flier, the superhighway in my brain was crowded with contradictory thoughts:  “If I let them come in, I could let them know I need food, but then they would stay for a couple of hours talking about Jesus or they would strongly persuade me to attend their next meeting.”  It’s incredible how many thoughts we can have in less than a minute.  I know for sure and due to experience that no Christian in town gives you something for free.  

Everyone believes “their” church is going to save you.  I wrote an article some time ago about religion, churches and people.(El Emporio de la Fe)  Each church in town and people with different beliefs have told me that my problem is that I am not “with them”, because it is “their God”, who is going to save me.  I believe in God, he lives in my heart and I try to find God in every person I meet, in every place I visit.  I may sound silly, but I still believe that if God lives in someone’s heart, that person will help you without expecting anything, because he or she will know that sooner or later you will find your way to say Thanks to God.

So, I took the flier, I closed the little window and I sighed.  You know, I tend to think and see things in terms of signs, clues and messages from the universe or God.  If he was trying to tell me that He is with me and he cares, I am fine.  But sometimes, when things are going really wrong, you need something more edible, so to speak.

Susie
March 2nd 2013

Reading Sunday Ads:

- Working from home: high speed connection for internet. (Forget it from here)
- Age up to 30 or 35

Other skills and areas of expertise seem to be useless.

I want to work. I need a life.
What should I do?

This is my cause on FB.

"The darkest hour is just before the dawn." 

So it is said.

I wonder, is it going to get even darker?

Susie

Sunday mood

Another month, still unemployed

March 2nd, 2013

Expectativas

Entiendo que alguien no  pueda hacer algo, pero si no sabes si puedes, no prometas, porque los corazones sensibles nos quedamos esperando.

Respeto la ignorancia y la falta de educación cuando es la resultante de una circunstancia de la vida, pero no tolero la gente que actúa como si supiera y no tuviera nada que aprender.

Puedo aceptar que lo intentes y te equivoques y perdonar tus errores siempre y cuando no se repitan.  De nada sirve pedir perdón por un error que se comete una y otra vez.

No exijo que me ayudes pero si te ofreces en palabras con un: “puedes contar conmigo”, trata de recordarlo para que cuando golpee a tu puerta no me sienta avergonzada.

La palabra es un don, una moneda preciosa que compra y vende momentos y sentimientos.  Mide tu palabra, úsala con esmero y con respeto.

Las actitudes precipitan tus deseos o desdicen tu discurso.  Cuida  lo que haces y recuerda lo que has dicho.  La confianza se gana con coherencia y con la verdad entera, esa verdad que se dice, se res pira, se siente, se viste y se camina.

Susie
Soledad Lorena
02 Marzo 2013

Ruego

Es tiempo: se reciben donaciones, regalos, invitaciones, milagros, bendiciones, sorpresas a domicilio, rescates y tesoros compartidos.

Being an Unmothered Child

My whole life has been an endless voyage seeking for healing, for understanding and for peace.  From the very beginning (at the age of two or three), I thought something was really wrong with me and I was all the time trying to fix that.

I’ve read books, I’ve joined groups, I’ve talked to people and no matter how high my spirit could fly, I would always have to go back because there was something missing.
There are times when clues are just uncovered and we can put all the pieces together and finally say: this is it.

A friend of mine sent me the Audio for “Warming the Stone Child” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés last night.  It was just a “coincidence” because I was looking for one of her new books.  Nevertheless when I started listening to it I realized I have been an unmothered child with collapsing syndrome and orphan complex altogether.

On one hand, the fact of being able to name it helps to understand things from the point of view of the left-hand side of my brain.  On the other hand, it makes me feel less weird and it gives the emotional right-hand side of my brain a relief for not being wrong, for knowing that everything up to now has been a natural response to a very unlucky and painful childhood.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes

On the audio, Clarissa advises unmothered children to look at their favourite stories or books when they were children.  It does make sense, my favourite stories were:

Alice in Wonderland: what shocked me more was that the characters in the forest went for Happy Unbirthday and they had a tea party almost every day of the year but for one day.  I was delighted by the idea that each day should be celebrated and there was a reason to be happy.  I myself was not happy even on my Birthday “parties”.

Happy Unbirthday

The Wizard of Oz: I wanted to be Dorothy with my red shoes.  I wanted to be able to click my heels and find my way home, my true home where I could feel safe.  I wanted to find each of the witches and ask them all the questions nobody around me could answer.  I also wanted to help people find their heart like she did with Tin Man, because I was so sensitive and I had been born in a family who were Inuit themselves.

Dorothy and the red slippers

Heidi:  I read that book hundreds of times.   I can still recall the images I could see and the feelings I had when I read it.  I was Heidi. I wanted to be wild and free.  I wanted to be happy.  I can still see the fireplace at her grandpa’s cottage.  I can see the mountains; I can see her (myself) running and laughing in that place.  I can smell cheese melting and tasting it with homemade bread.  Melted cheese is still one of my favourite ingredients in meals and it comes from that reading.

Now, I can understand where my intuition comes from.  I can understand why the coldest the environment was the strongest my intuition grew.  I can also understand why I feel alive when I write.  As Estés states:

“One of the great gifts of the unmothered child - and also the healer, and the writer and the musician and all those in the arts who live so close with their ear against the heartbeat of the archetypal unconscious - one of their strongest aspects is intuition."

I would like to share one of the stories on the audio, there are many, but listening to this one was like reading Heidi through the eyes of the adult woman I am now.

The Stone Child – An Inuit Story
Told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes 

There was an orphan that was so lonely and so hungry that no one wanted to be near him.  His mouth was open all the time and his teeth were always showing and tears were always running down from his eyes, and he was so wild with hunger that they had to tie him in the entrance to one of the skin houses so he’d not try to eat the hunters on their way to the seal hunt; that’s how hungry he was. 

They would, on occasion, leave him some rancid reindeer meat or maybe some spoiled intestines to eat, but, as we know, it was more than hunger that was gnawing at him.  Those deep needs that not even the person themselves understand.  So everyday he stretched his chain a little bit and a little bit more, until he could get near a stone that was more or less the same size as himself.   

You see, his mother and father had died one night, and their bodies had been dragged off by bears, and all that had been left behind by them was this one particular stone.  So he wrapped both his arms and his legs around that rock and he wouldn’t let go of it.  And, of course, his people thought he was crazier than ever, and on their way home from the hunt, with animal carcasses slung over their shoulders, they would jeer at him, and they would say, “Analuk has taken a stone for a wife, ha ha.  It’s good for you to have a wife who is a stone, for then you cannot use your hunger and eat her.”  And they went on their way.   

But the boy was so lonely and so hungry that he really had reached the end of his feeling for life.  And even though he had that terrible loneliness and that gnawing hunger, he kept his body wrapped around that stone, and because the stone began to take the heat from his flesh, the boy began to die.  The stone took the heat from his hands, and then it took the heat from his thighs, and it even took the heat from his chin where he rested it on top of the stone.   

And just as the boy was living his last breath, the hunters of his village came by again on their way home from the hunt, and again they called him down, and they said, “You crazy boy!  You are nesting with that stone like it is an egg.  We should call you Bird Boy, you good-for-nothing creature.”  And because the boy was near death, his feelings were hurt more than he could ever say, and great icy tears began to roll down his face and across his parka, and his cold, cold tears hit the hot, hot stone with a sizzle and a hiss and a crack, and it broke the stone right in two. 

And inside was the most perfect little female the boy could ever want.  “Come,” she said, “I am here now, and you are an orphan no more.”  And she gave him a bow and arrows and a harpoon she had brought with her, and the boy and the girl made their house and had babies.  And, if they are not yet dead, they are in that land where the snow is violet and the night sky is black.  They are there, living still.

The story was transcribed from Estes’ audio recording, Warming the Stone Child: Myths and Stories about Abandonment and the Unmothered Child.  

Warming the Stone Child

Transcription taken from Keri.

You do not have to be good.  You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.  You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.- Mary Oliver

Susie
March 01st, 2013

Spiders and Webs

I've loved Dream Catchers since a friend from Montana gave me one as a precious gift and told me the legend when they were not so popular in this country yet.

Now that you can get them anywhere, I always have a couple of them at home although I doubt they are made with the same care and purpose.

Lately, spiders have been invading my house and my bedroom.  I tend to think in terms of signs, clues and symbols.  Therefore I asked Melissa and Lloyd (Fox & Owl) their opinion and this is what they replied:

Fox & Owl

"Spiders are really quite lovely!! 

Spider (Major Totem Energy Surrounding You) Protection, Aid, Wisdom, Creativity, Dreamer, Architect, Manifesting, Communication, Messages

Spider sits upon the wheel (web) a delicate creature, doing delicate work. Weaving her web (or weaving a tapestry, a story, connecting the past, present, and future. A Seer in her own right, wisely discerning what to communicate and what to remain silent about. 

The Ojibwa people hang hoops of spider webs over their infants to protect them from harmful influences.
Southwest American Indian Tribes associate spider with grandmother spider, a grandmother spirit that lives underground. She rises from the realm to offer advice, particularly before a dangerous undertaking. Spider grandmother is linked to past and future. 

Spider holds the thread, and weaves it between the spiritual and physical worlds. 

Spider reminds us that we weave our own fate. We make the choices. It is our story to tell. 

Turn spider on her side (two sections to a spider) and you see the infinity symbol.
Fear is also associated with spider. As well as overcoming them." 

I've chosen a picture of a Light Catcher made by a magic friend Romina.  This Light Catcher is hanging in my bedroom, it looks wonderful at any time of the day and it always gives me a sense of peace and belonging.

Romina's Art