i might have to bring out pissy face

I'm quickly grabbing my breakfast before the day starts, now that I don't feel like death anymore.

I was granted 2 days to rest while feeling horrid.  That means that today should be hell.  Putting things off just means more work later.

The Carpenter already told me we have to go shopping after my breakfast.

Or rather, in his words, "After coffee!"

True.  It's mostly about the coffee.

Yesterday, I was sick and wasn't moving much, and the house looked empty despite the dogs running around like the lunatics they are.

Yet, there were children SCREAMING my name outside the gate.  When they didn't get a reaction, because I was lying like a lump in bed, they even tried Papi.

"Andréa!!!!" and a two second break between trying my name again, then, "Hector!!" ad infinitum.  Then there would be quiet for 30 minutes, only to hear it all over again for 20 more minutes.

We had to hide in our bedroom, shutters closed, so dark that when my mother skyped, she asked me if it was already night time.

No mom, we're just in our prison tower, hiding.  Just call me Rapunzel.  Not short of the hair hanging out the window.  That usually gives me away too.  So the shutters were definitely locked closed.

When the time comes that I teach them choir in July, I will teach it on Saturday and drill it into their heads that Sunday, we are to have no visitors.

I'm even going to get a HUGE sheet of material and cover up the wooden slats so they can't just try to be passive aggressive about it and stare at us until we respond.

I will train them yet.

The signs didn't work, but there will be signs on Sunday anyway.

Signs.

A sheet.

Verbal instruction.

If the children don't get it by then, well, I'll have to send in the reinforcement.

Papi will have to put on his cranky pants and be angry with them enough to keep them away.

We moved here for peace and tranquility to heal from so much that has happened in our lives.

There hasn't been any for the almost 5 months we've been here.

When it comes to this problem, we would have been better off in a miserable gated community with stuck up bastards who came to this country, not to be with it's people, but just to use it.

At this point, I'd even weather out being with those snotty people who have nothing better to do than tell me how may dogs I'm allowed to have.

However, if I can train the kids that Sunday is off limits, Papi and I might have a fighting chance.

We might feel like we get to have ONE day a week where the time is just for us.

We deserve one day for fucks sakes, don't we?!?!

Or will this trigger a whole bunch of uber political in Vancouver to call me racist again.  I don't give a shit anymore.

I love these kids, regardless of their class or their colour, so everyone sitting behind their books and computers in their privacy of cushy Vancouver can fuck off before you open your mouths.

You've already ostracized me enough that you couldn't possibly do any worse, so I'm done with all of you.

The point is, I also love my alone time.

It would be the same in Canada.

I like to be alone.

I'm giving them 6 days a week at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Even the locals get one day a week off.

Why not the expats too?

Are we not deserving of that?

I think we are.

They have a month to get it and then Pissy Face comes out.

i take pleasure in my own solitude

i hide.

blogger still isn't being nice with uploads, so HERE is this week's youtube show.

I'm hiding.

There are no workers here today, they start the last of the renos tomorrow.

But this morning, the moment I let the dogs out, I saw Our Favourite at the gate just waiting to see me.

I do enjoy some time with the kids, but for chrissakes I haven't even had my coffee yet and the amusement park that is our house has kids lined up waiting for it to open.

No.

The sign doesn't work.

Words don't work.

I was told by the Jersey Girl that she has a crotchety husband who told the children to never come unless they've been asked to.

She has a heart like mine.

She can't do that.

But her husband can.

I know Papi couldn't do it either.

I'm looking at the clouds forming with their grey, ominous ambiance, the wind coming in with trees swaying their coconuts and am thinking, if it rains again it will mean another day of quiet.

When it rains kids don't even go to school, so they won't bother the gringos.

I entertained Our Favourite and his sister, and Our Unadopted Child yesterday.

We planted more veggies, we watered the garden, we made our homemade mini gardens out of juice cartons, we played with dogs and we babysat the Little Angel.

Today, I need space.

Today, I need quiet.

I never invited people over to my house all too often when I was in Canada, that's not going to change now, but it seems I'm forced to have company nonstop.

I suppose when people would tell me I was a closed off person, or that I didn't open up very much, they were right.

I do like solitude, but sometimes I want to be with friends, when I have good energy.  Not this 'hanging by a thread' energy.

When all the workers are gone and we have our space all to ourselves, the weekdays will be good because there is guaranteed times that the kids will be in school.

Only problem, is they only go for half a day, so there will be half of them at our gate in the morning and half of them in the afternoon.

I can hear the dogs barking at them.

I'm hiding.

I'm tired and I deserve to rest.

If it means I have to suffer by not looking out at the ocean or our pretty fruit trees, so be it.

It sometimes feels like we're prisoners in our house.

If we step foot out the door, we belong to the village, so in the house we stay.

And this house is not what we bargained for.  It's a lot of work.

So, here I hide, no coffee, no view, but no children.

I'm so tired.

Somehow, I have to accept the love of the children and be at peace with having them around 24-7.

I don't know how I'm going to do that.

So for now, I hide.

I think I'll go back to sleep.

i know that i deserve love and i accept it now

R.I.P.

When he took his last breath, it seemed that there was a sigh of relief for him.

He looked peaceful, his deformed jaw seeming less stately.

I touched his little paws with all the affection in the world to let him know I was still there, if his spirit was still in his casing.

The fact that he was no longer in pain was of great comfort to me.

Here, in the Dominican Republic, we don't have the luxury of the option of ashes, so as to place where we can see our deceased Fuzzy Family when we care to say a few words of hello what is left of physical energy.

Here, we must bury our animals.

"I have a graveyard in the back if you'd like," proposed Dr. Bob, "but I think you want him closer to you."

Yes.

We want our love to be near us.

As I asked him how much to pay him for his services, he replied, "No, I don't charge for this work.  To me, this is a gift."

We gave each other a hug, because we both know what that meant.  Truly a gift.

I wrapped his lifeless little body, still warm, in the blanket he passed away in and met Papi at the cement walkway at the entrance of the clinic.

He can't be there for the passing.

I need to be, because I need my little family members to have me as their last vision.

I need them to know that I'm with them while they traverse into that unknown place I secretly wish to visit every day.

I need them to read in my eyes that I love them and will never let them fade from my heart.

I need them to know that they don't need to be afraid, because they're going to a much better stead than what they have here on planet doom, even if it is without us.

They have friends waiting.

I also ask them to stay with me always, and that I will find them when it's my turn to be in that place of serenity.

I've never held a lifeless body before.

It felt so comfortable, that I didn't want to let go.

Please, just let me hold him like this forever.

I can't let go.

He was still warm.

He was still my friend while I had him in my arms, wrapped like a newborn.

I guess in a sense, he was a newborn to a new life.

Papi and I spoke of where to place his body so that he's relaxed and happy.

The coconut trees were much too far away from us.  Also, they're doing work on the roof, so the front of the house was out of the question.

I thought of the perfect place.

On the floor of my veggie garden.

I will see him every day.

He will be part of the life that grows around him.

He will support me as I stand and help my plants grow.

He will be the energy I feel in that space.

We placed him in and covered him with much love, only it still felt so harsh.

I'd never buried a loved one before.

Then, I cried some more.

And some more.

And today, my eyes are as swollen as they were in the beginning of my journey with 'you' here.

I thought I heard his voice last night.

He was always quite the talker.

Sleep my little love.

One fine day, we will be lucky enough to be with you in that place of peace, to become one of the angels I beg to every day for strength.

For now, we grieve.

all that i need will come to me at the right time and place in this life

more time

The angels really do have a sense of humour.

And cats really do have 9 lives.

I asked the angels to tell Psycho Kitty that he would be free from pain.

They obliged.

However, this didn't mean it was time for our little love to leave our arms.

I am sure grateful I wasn't specific about HOW I wanted him to be free from pain.

If I was clear-cut about what I was asking for, he wouldn't be with us today.

With tears streaming down my face, and Papi looking like he was trying to be invisible, we dragged our feet into the vet's office.

Remember how I was saying he still looks like Psycho Kitty from the eyes up?

Dr. Bob told us he has a few more days in him.

His eyes are bright.

He's eating.

Albeit, he IS on his way out.

So, now it's time for us to do hospice work.

He gave us enough medicine to get him through the weekend, buying us a little more time for goodbye.

What it was fixing us with, was an opportunity to allow him to leave with dignity.

The medicine is to make him comfortable, and ease the pain, but mostly to allow him to be himself and enjoy his last days how HE would like it.

It worked.

He slept on the bed ALL night!!!

This morning, he did his famous forehead bumps!!!

He was also being himself, trying to bite my glasses off my face.

This has always been his favourite pastime; trying to steal my glasses.

He used to do it with G'ma's hearing aid while she slept.

It was always fun to do the hearing aid search at 7 a.m. under beds and couches after that little bugger had played with it all night.

We even saw him try to clean himself.

To no avail, but he tried.

Last night, we cut off all the blood encrusted in his fur from his chest and neck, and feces that were stuck to his tail.

He looks absolutely ridiculous, but cleaner.

It must feel better than being so dirty.

Cats like to be clean.

Waking up to find our Psycho Kitty being himself was really quite beautiful.

The angels did answer my plea.

He is not suffering and we get to see our little friend off how he would want to go; loving us to his last day, instead of hiding under the bed whimpering.

My greatest wish has been that he would go when HE decides.

I just couldn't handle to see him suffering.

It was too much to bear.

Maybe, now he could just go in his sleep, peacefully.

Maybe I could be specific and ask the angels for this?

I'll tell you though, I'm sure grateful I get to see him acting the way he normally would, even if he is a bit smelly and there's blood and drool everywhere.

At least his spirit is here.

He is Psycho Kitty.

He has decided that he gets to live his last days as slow as he pleases, being true to Dominican Time.

We get to enjoy it.

my thoughts are my reality and i'm thinking of a bright new day

it's ok to cry today.

He whimpers.

His jaw is deformed, swollen with infection, leaving only a slit at the front in which his tongue can comfortably lie between his two teeth.

I looked in his eyes and told him that today, he will have no more pain, and we said goodbye.

His matted fur didn't seem right for his usually pristine coat.

There was no point in me cleaning him today.

No primping.

No prodding.

No suffering for his already tormented body.

I simply told him he would be free.

Last night, I dreamed his body was only bones, with not a muscle in sight.

Decayed.

He cried to me in pain.

I knew it was his spirit asking me to help him leave.

When I woke this morning to his whimpering, I invited him up on the bed for our last visit before people came to our door and the insanity of workers in my yard took all my attention.

He came willingly.

He knows it's time for a farewell.

He seemed peaceful in the knowledge that he will be eased soon.

I held my hand in such a way, that I could only see him from the nose up, as his eyes and ears still remain a part of the cat that I have known for these years of friendship.

I didn't want to look at the image he has become.

I looked at him as he was.

Psycho Kitty!  Terror of the neighbourhood!

Not one cat would pass our yard, because it was his territory alone.

When my cats moved into HIS house, he was indignant as he stalked them through windows, eyes wide, ready for the kill.

He marked every window and every door with his scent, in the form of a turd gift, meant for my cats to know that this was his house, and eventually, he would find them.

They would be his prey.

Now, he is timid toward all creatures, knowing his strength is limited to eating and walking to the litter box.

We haven't seen him drink water in days.

However, even in his dying days, he still eats voraciously.

Nothing could squelch his appetite.

He still purrs louder than the healthy cats.

That sound, coupled with his food intake is confusing, as it makes us think he must still be fighting.

In our hearts, we know he isn't.

I could see it in his eyes today that he's searching for peace.

I begged the angels to tell him he would be receiving it today.

Today, we lose him.

Today, the angels gain him.

He will visit all those who have risen to the angels and they will welcome him into their peaceful realm.

One day, one beautiful fortunate day, I too will visit this realm.

I will be a part of him, and all the others who have left a whole in my heart.

Each one that passes doesn't get easier, yet it doesn't get harder.

It is just painful in the same way it is when each of them leaves.

Grief.

One of the workers saw me cry today and I had to say it out loud, "Mi gato, se está muriendo," but I had practised the sentence, so he understood fully.

These men who work for us are really quite lovely.  They have good hearts.

So, it's ok to cry today.

I allow myself to feel these feelings.

i embrace the rhythm and the flowing of my own heart

bossy boots in da house!

The pool is being filled with river water!

By tomorrow we should be swimming.  I was hoping for today, as I kinda put my back out yesterday and I'm in a little need of some exercise, pain free floating and fresh blood to pump into the spasm.

I forgot we have a walkway with a step now and I went down jarring my bloody back.

Of course it was because I was distracted.

This damn injured brain can't do two things at once, or there's trouble, and its balance is so horrific that I'm a permadrunk.

I was distracted because was angry about the Housemaid meddling in our business again and telling the workers what we wanted, when we have told her, and them, 20 times what we've wanted.

She wants to keep more of the money she wrangled from us.

Nope.  You steal that amount of money, you're giving us what we paid for.

But she kept on telling the workers, "No door.  Just a concrete wall."

Right.  We just moved to paradise on the ocean to look at a fucking concrete wall.

I don't think so.  We're having our wooden slats in front so that we can still look at the ocean, and that is the last word.

I had to get stern with her and tell her she is not in charge, that she works for me and that if she's going to talk about this, she talks about it with me and nobody else.

Then I had to remind her of our contract of what we agreed upon, and that we WILL be getting what we agreed on.  Period.

This exchange of hardheaded communication was while Papi was yelling at the entire neighbourhood.

You see, we came home from a quick shopping excursion to practically all our neighbours having a party in our yard.

Everyone was hanging out on our deck, sitting in our furniture, hanging out pool side, and kids and dogs were running around the yard.

I have to keep telling the kids to stay away from the pool to set up the ground 'rules', because I'm not being responsible for a drowning accident on my property.

But this was ridiculous.

So, Papi lost it after hearing that the Housemaid was trying to talk to someone in Spanish saying something contrary to what we agreed on.

He yelled at everyone, "If your'e not working get the hell out!  This is our damn home!  This is not a public park!  Go on!  Get the hell out!"

Oh, they didn't understand what he was saying literally, they just knew they should leave, NOW!

From that point forth, the kids stayed on the perimeter and just looked in.

It was then that the Pool Man's wife said, "You're a strong man now.  Now everyone will respect you. You won't have any troubles anymore."

The funniest part was, everyone just went on like nothing happened.

I know that in Canada, if Papi yelled like that, there would be much hostility, glaring of eyes, exchanges of hurtful words and perhaps even a fist fight.

Like I learned from my Spanish teacher back home, it's the way people communicate here.

You fling your arms about and puff yourself up, speaking louder than the one before you, and it's just the way it has to be if you want someone to listen to you.

I have to say, I was a little taken aback, because I'd never seen Papi that angry!

But then, I've never seen myself be so strict with someone who is trying to take advantage of us either.

When the Housemaid and I were finished communicating, I found a place in myself that was stronger than I'd ever seen.

I say that I have to teach the Housemaid how to clean, because from living in a shack her whole life, she doesn't really know what North American clean means.

But honestly, she's training us how to be firm, and the nicest part was, there was no disrespect involved.  It was just hard-nosed heart.

This morning when I let the puppies out to pee, ...

... not that they needed to, the floor was covered in puppy art for me this morning ...

... the workers just waved like they do every morning with a smile.

And you know what?  There were no kids running around our yard.

We're closer to the peace of Casa Paraíso we came for.

That light at the end of the tunnel is shining very brightly as I watch the last of the river water getting poured into our pool, and that damn wooden door is finally getting put up so that I can let the dogs run free.

Shine bright, light.

I can see you now.

i feel good about the way i do my job

here we go ...

Today, to make things simple, we have disposable underwear.

No point draggin' that stuff around.

It's time to say, "Oh, my fucking g*d!!!!!"

This is the day.

And I'm mother fucking sick with some fucking virus.

Lovely.

Anyway, I may be off the grid for a few days.

The next time I write to you, it will be from the balcony of Casa Paraíso with a view of the ocean, or from my hammock while I'm going through withdrawal from morphine.

Without bitch of a back pain.

It's feeling so damn weird, I can't even tell you.

Sadness was the big feeling yesterday.

I will miss this beautiful city, but not the chill.

I will miss my wonderful, loving friends, but I won't miss the cliques, 'mean girls' and their gossiping.

I will miss the restaurants, but not the fast food ones everywhere.

I will miss the accessibility on transit, but not the little bastards who don't respect their elders, refusing them a seat.

Goodbye Ethiopian restaurants.

Goodbye buses I don't have to take anymore.

Goodbye my favourite Canadian coffee, JJ Bean.  You are now being replaced with the best coffee on the planet!!!!  Dominican coffee!!!

I wish I could say more.

I'm just a little speechless.

Exhausted.

Overwhelmed.

And yes, finally excited!

In no time at all, we'll be there, and there will be so much to talk about.

But here's the thing, we'll have to get our internet when we get there.

That could take a few days.

They're on Dominican time.

Their time.

When they get to it.

But I will be back to talk to you about everything, and hopefully, I'll have the new YouTube show for you the moment they get us hooked up!

I'm scared.

But I'm excited.

Well folks, here we go ...

I now have to pretend I'm a straight girl.

Goodbye femme.

this is the dream

grant me the serenity ...

Ah, the holidays.  A chance to be with ones you love, and practise tolerance for the ones you don't.

Alas, both we and them are human, and we can only tolerate so much.  Especially when they say things like, "Why do you have to move all your cats when you go?  Can't you just get more there?"

... love and tolerance andréa ... keep it together ...

The only thing that got me through that one was the grace to give my mother a nice evening and not start an all out brawl.

How do you explain to someone what family is, if they don't have any concept of love?

Every day, I write my gratitude list to My Gratitude Buddy, the Sweet Ex and my MC Guru.

At the end of the gratitude list, we give forgiveness, which most of the time includes ourselves.

After last night, I've decided that the once in a while forgiving isn't going to work on this guy.  I'm going to have to do it every day to try to grant myself peace concerning him.  Every day, I will forgive this person, in hopes that I will let go of my anger towards him.

It's very hard, especially when they belittle your mother, but you know you have no option but to let her be in that relationship.

She wants to be there.

So, here I am, just on the cusp of learning what it is to 'pray' in my own way.

I won't call it 'pray', because it reminds me too much of my upbringing and makes me wanna toss my cookies.

I'd say it's more like talking to the angels that surrounded me the day of my Soul Activation.

So, I started with, "Please, do you think you could help him be a better person?"

Then it went to, "Please, do you think you could help my mom see that she deserves better?"

And then, it started getting really un-spiritual, "Do you think you could just kill him off?  The world would be a much better place and my mom would be free."

That's when the anger set in and I had to get out of bed and hang out with Papi watching television re-runs.

"I'm having anxiety."

"About the DR?"

"No, about Mr. Homophobia."

Seriously.  Papi stuffed a clonazepam down my yak pronto.  The 'talking' to my spirits caused me to roll out of bed and feel my migraine come back to haunt me.

This morning, I remembered that when I talk to the angels for anything, it should be strength for myself, so that I don't allow my anger to brew.

Anger only hurts me.

I also remembered a saying in that group of anonymous drunks that came into play: the only person I have control over is myself.

I need to be stronger and not allow people's crap to infiltrate my well being.

I suppose my lack of peace also came when I ate my allergy food.

There I was, snacking on ginger bread angels, snowmen, candy canes, then moved on to the shortbread and finally finished it all off with a great piece of apple pie.

That binge had my poor little brain inundated with the poison running through it once more, and Hurricane Andréa was in full swing.

Especially when someone said Papi and I looked alike in a recent photo.

I lost it!  I hate it when people say that, and now that's 3!!!!  How could we look alike?!  Papi's all handsome like, and I'm all femmed out!

But I calmed down after I did a poll and found more people don't see the resemblance than do.

I'm going with the majority.  I'm on their side.

Papi just says, "Well, if we look alike, then I guess we really dig what we look like."

I didn't get it at first, but after it made me chuckle when I realized it means we look in the mirror and we each say, "Damn, I'm hot!"

Then when we found each other we said, "Damn!  You look like me and I'm HOT!  Wanna fuck?"

I guess it's sorta funny now.

Certainly wasn't when I had the evil sugar and wheat pumping through my veins at high velocity!!

Anyway, I'm feeling much better now, and all I want to do is ask my angels for strength.

Strength to stay away from the sugar.  That's really all I need.

The rest will fall into place after that.

i release all anger

peace on earth, well, for me anyhow

I'm doing so much better with my anger toward zealots who use religion for hate.

I really am feeling less angry, and it's a much better way to live.

I'd like to share with you what I found on the internet some time back:

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians??

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is, my neighbours. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wriggle-room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev.24:10-16). Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev.20:14)

I couldn't even look at the word g*d without feeling anger to the point of turning red, suffering with my heart pounding.  I would use the above as a way to fight.  Now I see it as a way for my own peace.

The bible was written by mere mortals, pen in hand, in hopes to gain power over people, not love.

My anger stemmed from being exposed to mean nuns when I was raised.  I realized, if these were g*d's people, then I wasn't a fan of this g*d.

Also, as a tiny child, I prayed best way I knew how for my life to get better.  It only got worse.  I then decided there was no g*d and was vehemently against anyone who could ever believe in such crap.  It was my only way to survive this world of hate and anger.

I still don't believe in a g*d, but I'm definitely a firm believer in spirituality amongst astral beings that surround us.

I believe in angels.  Nothing has ever swayed me on this position.

Anyway, my point is, now that I'm starting to allow myself my own spirituality, I'm having so much less anger around that three letter word.

It sure feels a lot more peaceful.  I've spent way too many years seeing the word g*d as a synonym for bad because of all the anger I saw in people who believed.

I can now just put two 'o's in the middle and turn it into something I can believe in:  good.

I believe in good.  I believe we all have the power to reach one another with collective love.  One by one, we can change each person in the world, and change the anger and hate into acceptance of one another.

Last night, I set my alarm and woke up bright and early at the crack of 3:30 am Vancouver time.  This was to meditate with the rest of the people in the world who were celebrating the solstice and asking for peace on earth.

You would never catch me waking from my beauty sleep for anything in the past, but I did it last night.

I didn't feel anything like I did from my Soul Activation, but my intent was there.  I sent my positive energy out as best I could, and imagined myself breathing with the rest of those who were doing the same.

Even if I can't feel the angels all the time, they're there.  They are fleeting and will expose their energy when they see fit.

The angels are here and I have so much more peace.

i welcome, and am open to receive all abundance that comes

death is really a new beginning

Sometimes, I stare blankly at this li'l, white, blog page and wonder, "What the hell am I going to write about today?"

Other times, I have such pressing news about vomiting cats or silliness of the Papirazzi, that I feel I have to write it the night before and do my edit check in the morning.

Today is the, "What the hell am I going to write about today?" kinda day, which to me, is a good thing.

What that means to me, is there is no pain going on emotionally for me right now.  Perhaps I'm feeling some peace?

I won't bore you with the physical pain.  I'm sure you all know I could go on about my bitch of a back until we all die in 5 days.

I'm kinda excited to see the 'end of the world' on Dec. 21st.

While others may think we're going to implode, I'm actually thinking it's like the deck of tarot cards.

The death card is something people are afraid of, but it's not something to fear.

Death of one thing means birth of another.

What if all of a sudden, there was the birth of peace on earth?  Wouldn't that be a mindfuck?  We wouldn't know what the hell to do with that.

With my new found spirit friends, I actually ask them for this.

Peace on earth.

No massacres.

No wars.

No predators harming children and women.

No gangs.

Well, that gang one could be tamed a little if our fucking Prime Minister would get on the marijuana legalization train.

There would be less for those morons to fight about if people could freely get their peace pipes puffin' without the hassle of getting their goods from a dude named 'Spider' down on the corner.

Anyway, back to death.

I'm so not afraid of death, it's life that scares me.  If I'm here living, I want to feel like I've left behind something before I pop off.

I need to feel like I've made a change somewhere, somehow, to something or someone.

I need purpose.  I mean seriously, I didn't survive that motorcycle accident for nothing.

I'm here for something.

Every day since the Soul Activation happened Tuesday, I feel like I'm ready to find out my purpose.

I have so many ideas of how to help people, animals and the planet, that I think my mind is a bit obsessed and overwhelmed with all the options there are out there.

For myself, I need to feel what it was like before I got hit.  I have a yearning to be able to play my instruments for more than the half hour to hour I can do currently, before the pain sets in and I'm back to lying out flat asking, "What's my fucking purpose?"

Playing my instruments is my only version of meditation.  I'm taken somewhere that doesn't exist on this luminous body we call earth.

The Countdown to when I get to experience life without pain killers and without the exhaustion of pain is dwindling.  Day by day I'm closer to feeling my meditation again.

I'm feeling the pull of my next door opening.  It's as if it was a suction of air that drags me out of the plane door at 19,000 feet above the earth's crust, only in slow motion.

Yet first, we have to get through Dec. 21st and our new beginning.

If you could think about the new beginning for you, what would it be?  You know that you can choose whatever you want and make it happen, right?

I can't wait to see mine come to light, whatever it may be.

Well, I suppose I figured out what I was going to write about, and somehow, I still don't know the answer to my own question.

i believe strongly in my powerful, positive self-esteem