Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Cleavage necessary to talk to the dead?

My direct tv goes in and out.  Sometimes I can't get local channels, sometimes nothing.  A few days ago my channel choices were limited and I watched an old episode of Ghost Whisperer.  Good Lord, Love must have been taped into her dress, I would have fallen out or had to stand very, very still.  One quick turn and the girls would be out in their tattooed glory.

I came in towards the end of the episode, she was talking to a deceased mother who gave her a recipe to cook and told her the family grace to say. 

Does this happen?  Can we get recipes from beyond?  You bet, happens to me all the time.  My family members over there are often making suggestions about my cooking.  Cooking is nourishing for me and whomever is eating with me. It's also a time to be with my loved ones.  Blame that Cancer moon of mine but I love to cook.  Just not in a dress I could fall out of in a monty python like thump onto the dinner table.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Sometimes my bed talks to me

Not in a psychic way- my bed doesn't tell me of natural disasters or who will win the Golden Globes.  It does, on days like today, beckon me.

"Come back to bed.  Sink into my double pillowtop, pull up the comforter, close the black out curtains and come back to bed."

Before I was in my little studio cabin I could just close the bedroom door on days like today.  Now, it sits there all day, beckoning me.

Anybody else?

Monday, January 11, 2010

Over the Moon

Moon is a dog client of mine and is missing her brother.  Before today we hadn't met in person/animal. She has gone through gates to find her brother and chewed up the inside door of a car. I've said that for the most part, animals aren't complex and don't have complex thoughts. I'm happy, I like you, I don't like you, I'm sad, I'm hungry, I want more treats, food, toys, walking, etc. Some of the critics of animal communicators (at least critics of me) want those thoughts to be complex like ours. Sammy and Moon have taught me that sometimes this is true.

She's sitting here with us after coming to doggie day care next door and breaking through a fence. She hasn't figured out the dog door in the cottage so she started by pacing in my very little cottage.

After about an hour she came over and put her head in my hands and started a steady stream of thoughts and images to me. Why did he leave me? Where's my mom? Why are we moving without him? I'm too old to make it alone again. I responded to some of the questions and she settled down at my feet.

I was hoping my dogs would play with her, they seem to know better and are taking care of her.
Even the sometimes snotty Neela is gentle with her.  Complex, simple, it doesn't matter.  Today is healing for all of us.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Writing on becoming a writer

I was completing my intentions for 2009 a few days ago, one was to write. Last year began like so many others- this year I will write. This year I did!

Shortly after publishing that post about writing I came across National Novel Writing Month. 3am on the first of November I decided to take on writing more each day than I had ever before, 50,000 words for the month. November also found my birthday, Thanksgiving and a move for me which provided more than enough excuses for not sitting down. Really, I got stuck on one scene and character, never forgave her, couldn't go back. By the end of the month I was just shy of 28,000 words and while not having finished the challenge was quite impressed with myself.

Later, after I had some time to recover from writing 1666 words a day, I had several moments of masochism- no inspiration thought I'd try it again in January. Here is January 8 and my word count is at zero. I'm less obsessed this time. I am here writing instead of opening a new document and looking at that blank page.

Those two months changed my paradigm about writing and my life. November and December took writing someday off the calendar and made it today. I added writer's blogs to my igoogle (formerly just food blogs and craigslist ads) and am savoring the sensual experience of reading a book more than I ever have before. The first sentence, the feel of the book, the smell of the book, the weight of the book. The energy of the previous readers and their fingers on each page.

Now instead of only being overwhelmed at the grocery store I look for characters. Those people around me with repetitive conversations or even monologues where I wonder if I need to be present for this person to talk, now I ask them about their lives and wonder how I can incorporate them as a character. For example, the female , tequila drinking, scripture quoting, tattooed, jealous swearing neighbor- that one I cannot help but find a whole story.

Maybe, according to Elizabeth Gilbert that we find genius or have a muse, not that we are or are not genius. Maybe the issues with so many writers is that they began to relate to themselves as being genius, not having it. Julie Powell writes of butchering animals and cheating on her husband, maybe revealing some tidbits about very secretive, Scorpio self doesn't have to be so painful.