I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • My Level of Creativity.

    “By Living a Life full of Art, we may achieve an artful life.”  Ellen J. Langer, who also said, “All it takes to become an Artist is to start doing Art.”

     

    As my daughter and I walked around and saw other people’s art, it inspired me to do my own. 

     

    I believe what we do inspires us and where we go and by how we spend our time, for if you don’t consciously attend to your inner passion, your passion will recede into a dormant state.

     

    It literally is true, what we focus on expands.

     

    I have felt the difference in the past few days of feeling the angst of making a point to many who feel it is pointless, in comparison to walking among fabulous art, inspiring fabrics and being immersed in shopping for the right accent for my daughter’s first apartment.

     

    The difference is vast.  One pulls you back into a vortex of manic expression and the other raises my level of creativity.

     

     

     

     

  • Why I left.

     There are times in life you have to realize that there is no common ground, where the differences are just too vast, where white is white and black is black, but the commonality between them is only that they are colors.

     

    Dialoguing the finer intricacies of being in a religion or being outside of it, you will not find a place to stand in agreement, just that one is in and the other is out.

     

    When you leave a religion and the folks who still remain, they can’t see why you left any more than you can see why they stay…and it doesn’t really pay to try and convince someone who is happy and content where they are.

     

    It is far better to gather into your world things that bring you happiness, love, peace and joy.  If theirs if found in their religion, let them be.  And if yours is found outside of their religion, own it and play vigorously in the wide open spaces.

     

    I keep bumping into folks who are in the cult like religion who are hell bent on convincing me it wasn’t cult like…while they still remain inside its strict rules or prison.

     

    There is no way the two shall meet.

     

    One is free and the other locked inside. Yet they have been convinced that it is their will to be there.  However, most of their lives are dictated by the beliefs and guidelines of this faith, they are unable to live totally free.  They are free within the confines of its walls.

     

    All the dialoguing does is affirm the reasons why I left.

     

     http://www.erinstales.blogspot.com/ is where you can see the exchanges…the blog is written by a young girl who just exited the FALC.  The blog post Mine has comments which you can see the insanity of trying to speak to each other, everything gets lost and tangled up…

     

     

  • Being a Beginner!

    The question, “What would you do if you didn’t have to worry about doing it perfectly”, got me to thinking of all the things I have done, and how many I didn't do perfectly.

     

    How it is insane to ever believe that your first attempt will yield perfect results, it is only a select lucky folks who happen on a hole in one, the first time out.

     

    Before I could even list the things I would do, I thought of all the things I have done without knowing how or being able to do them perfectly and yet they have given me great returns.

     

    Number one, being a mom.  There is no training for this, you get a baby and you’re a mom.  And you get to perfect your ways through repetitive actions…and by the time you understand the baby years, they are into being toddlers…it is a learning process one that has you always starting out as a beginner.

     

    Being a wife is the same.  You get married and you’re a wife, no place to practice this and when you become ‘perfect’ seek a spouse…it works in reverse.  Only trial and error makes it perfect. And as with children, it is always in process of growing and as your life changes, the way you are a wife changes as with age etc.  There is no such thing as perfecting the wife skills.

     

    I then wrote about quilting and being an Art quilter.  You can’t begin after you become a perfect quilter… you just do it and the more you do, the closer to perfect you become.  But the horizon keeps moving back, new techniques and ideas come in and you once again begin a beginner and not perfect.

     

    What I loved about the question was how I was able to look backward in my life and all that I have done and how incredible it was that most of it was not perfect and I survived and even thrived in many places.

     

    I didn’t get the chance to learn how to perfectly leave a family before I left or did I have a class on how to be a perfect abused child, to perfectly speak my truth, or how to exit a cult… I just did it.  Perfect didn’t matter.  I became better by doing.  I am not sure there is another way.

     

    Imagine all you have done without being perfect and just imagine how much more you can do by allowing yourself to be a beginner! 

    I love this we need to replace the goal of being perfect with being comfortable as a Beginner.  At least is shows we are begining something, we are attempting we are moving, growing and changing.  If you are not beginning something new, you have stopped living.

    I love being a beginner!

  • Our Dress Up Closet!

    I have been a good solid sensible shoe for so many years, I now have to work at being a frivolous, nonsensical, whimsy, fun little shoe made for say dancing or a relaxing evening with a loved one. 

     

    I was built to carry heavy loads, to work hard and be solid support. My whole frame screams Sensible, with a strap of reliable and a heel of responsible.

     

    This sensible built nature I brought to every event, like wearing work boots to a formal ball.

     

    I didn’t have another side of me, just this one size fits all boot.  When I arrived the scent of no nonsense arrived with me.

     

    As the years have passed, as my age is showing, as I work with the Artist Way, I am learning that there are sides of me I have not explored.

     

    In the past I never took off my boots of being responsible for others…and lately I barely wear them.

     

    I am now learning how to walk in shoes that fit just me.  They don’t have to have meaning or make someone else happy; they are shoes that fit my soul.

     

    Some of these shoes take awhile for me to get used to, for them to be comfortable on me, but I like that they are fit just for me, custom made shoes.

     

    My life went from having only sensible in my closet to now adding flare and charm, whimsy and frivolous…

    It is no wonder I wasn’t drawn towards these types of things, for my inner nature couldn’t relax and be free…and my outerwear showed this.

     

    I think I am heading toward the nonsensical section yet it makes sense for me.

     

    I am adding fun shoes to my sensible ones, I can see my future closet filled with wonderful different shoes…I am on the lookout for new additions that will spice up my life, that will enhance my personality, bring out my inner child…it is like playing dress up in the real world!

    What do I want to play with today? 

    What do I want to try on? 

    How will it make me feel? 

    I love that we have the whole world as our dress up closet. 

     

     

  • Right or True

    A new young friend of mine wrote about Normal in her blog (http://www.erinstales.blogspot.com/) and it led me to the point of just because it is normal doesn’t mean it is right.

     

    Somehow we believe that normal equates right, just because most are doing it.

     

    We somehow have fallen into compliance with the majority and forget to have independent thoughts and even worse separate actions, we tend to find comfort in moving in huge numbers and then call it normal.

     

    No matter what the swarm is doing.

     

    Fitting in seems to be the way of it instead of fitting out.

     

    Even if fitting in means you must do something wrong or go against your inner compass.

     

    I love that normal only means the majority…okay, here is the definition from her blog.

     

    nor-mal
    adjective
    1. conforming to the standard or common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural,
    2. serving to establish a standard.

     

    What is standard for cult like religions? What is standard or common for dysfunctional families?  It is this that is their normal, but it doesn’t make it right or healthy or anything.

     

    Somehow normalcy has slipped by us as a character of being good, when in fact it simply means a repetitive behavior, but not the content of it.

     

    When my life was turned upside down and I went in search of normal, it was illusive.  I didn’t know who I was nor could I find a template of normal anywhere, nor perfection. 

     

    Normal changed for each person and in each situation and again, ruled by the majority.

     

    What I had thought were ‘standards’ of my old religion, were just behaviors all succumbed to…but they were lacking of content…or when put to practice fell apart.  Their only strength came from the number of people believing in them, not in the actual belief itself.

     

    I am certain this is true for most things.

    My father is being held up by the volume of people who call him father, but not by his own content.

     

    I am very wary now of what is called normal…for it could be a lens that changes what lies behind.

     

    I am also very happy to say, I am not a ‘normal’ member of my family of origin.

     

    Normal doesn’t make anything right or true.

     

     

  • Meaning of Crazy

    I am thinking Crazy is a perception, just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I too think crazy is.

     

    It all depends upon where you are in your life.

     

    When I lived in untruths…truth was crazy.

     

    And now that I live in truths, untruths are crazy.

     

    As a child living with a parent who is seeped in falsehoods, speaking the truth is crazy talk and something to get punished for.

     

    You are taught that truth is crazy…whether overtly or by assumption…so you learn that being truthful is how ‘mental’ people speak.

     

    In my experience, those we call mentally challenged are really pretend challenged.  They simply cannot pretend away the realness of life. They call it like they see it.

     

    I have a very strong suspicion that there is a huge part missing in the mental health system, and that is the truth of the reality these people come from.

     

    It is insane to me that the detective that was in my home collecting evidence to arrest my father for being a pedophile, says to me, “I hope this will not affect your relationship with him.”

     

    That is insane.  You are arresting my father for sexual criminal misconduct with minor girls and are asking me to keep a good relationship with him????

    Is it a wonder I didn’t trust the ‘people in charge’ of bringing him to Justice?

     

    So, crazy is a sliding scale and will appear different depending upon the level of awareness and frank truth you live with.

     

    Crazy to me is not seeing the truth or owning your own truth…living in a land of pretending what isn’t so.

     

    I distanced myself from my mother and the siblings that believe like the detective, that sexual criminal misconduct should stand in the way of a good relationship.

     

    Crazy is as crazy does…isn’t that a saying from somewhere.

     

    I guess like love, we all have our own meaning of Crazy.

  • For You

    I had a weird God like experience, I felt what He must feel as we stand begging him with prayers when our lives feel upside down and backwards, when we find our selves standing before him a mess and we want him to fix it, perform a miracle and right our wrongs. 

    A friend calls, she is backed into a corner by choices SHE made and the blame seems to lie everywhere but within her…like a headstrong child loaded with free will she fails to see the choice in a distant, but instead feels the comfort on this end and not the long term life affecting outcome.

    Trying to not make waves on the outside, her inside bears the brunt of it, like a shock absorber.

    Yet there is literally nothing I can do, it all begins and ends with her.

    She has to be willing to make a new choice to reap a new outcome. 

    As I sit and watch, I felt what God must do as others beg him for changes, plead with him to do something, when the key to change begins inside of them, not outside with me.

    “Knock and the door shall be opened…”

    I can offer, as I am sure God offers, wisdom and insights, but not only do you have to reach, you have to act.  Make a move, do something totally different.

    I can share my experiences, my pain and my struggles to get where I am, but each get to walk their own path, no one is cheated of this.

    We all have unique and beautiful lives, living and breathing, ever changing, full of potential and grand changes, but the Universe awaits its instructions from you.

    You stand before the mirror and your life is reflected back to you.  Who you are in life, you determine, how you stand, what you say, how you participate is simply reflected back to you.

    What you put into it comes flying back, a boomerang…never leaving the source of you.

    If I want the Universe to serve me differently, I have to serve me differently. 

    Einstein was so right, “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is insanity.”

    You want to see a new reflection in the mirror, than start acting differently.

    No point in begging God for changes, they all begin with you…you change and God follows. 

    What he wants most is for you to find your unique inner voice, your gifts to share with the world, to be your own self.

    It is like we are an unwrapped gift…and it is up to us to unwrap the layers to find our self.

    Who am I and What is my purpose are two great questions that will lead the way.

    God and I await your discovery, we cannot do it for you…

     

  • Outside of the Mind.

    I went on a tour of The House on The Rocks in Wisconsin.

     

    At a distance it looks like a needle jutting outwards towards a rock formation, and the view from the garden seem architecturally intriguing, the surrounding landscape held trees of various sizes and types all growing on a hilly terrain… right in the middle of nature.

    We spent time in the gardens, taking pictures of the flowers and the fishes that swam in the lily ponds.  If this was the outside, we couldn’t imagine what the inside would be!

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    Our first entry was narrow and tight with low ceilings, dark and airless, carpeting lined the walls and floors and small windows let in a bit of light.

    As we exited into a transitional hallway, where we were able to walk out on the needle we had seen in the distance, we did then see we were above the trees or in the trees and nature surrounded us.  Once again we could see the sunshine and trees.

    And then the tour led us back inside, into dark mazelike rooms and hallways, were we couldn’t turn back and couldn’t get out.  We had no choice but go forward following the signs, “Tour continues”.

    The walls and interiors were lined with a collection of odd things, mismatched and yet similar in feeling.  From masks, to old dolls…their eye staring wildly…stuck behind the glass with lights shining upon them, the rest of the room dark. 

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     And placed in even darker corners imitation tiffany lamps.  It was said he kept the house dark to show off their colorful light. Interesting he honored them more than the brilliant nature right outside.

    The windows coverings were a dark blue, so we never glimpsed the light of outside. 

    And then came the windowless rooms, and in this darkened maze we walked, trying to neutralize the overwhelming heaviness of insanity…a carousel played its circus music, which added to the crazy energy, spinning around and around. 

    We went downward into a huge room that held a wale its innards exposed an octopus draped over it; one huge eye bore down on us.  Even in this huge cavernous room you felt stuck.  A narrow sidewalk kept us walking single file forward.

    Lining the walls was a collection of old toys, like forgotten memories neglected and hidden from children or remnants and artifacts of children.

    In the darkness and cave like atmosphere all things took on a sinister glow…perhaps each cried out from their prison. 

    I have seen old things reverently kept in museums, and these treasures were locked away in the darken bowels of this man’s creation, taking on his energy by how he displayed them.

    Our next stop the ‘house’ café, where fumes of cooking overwhelmed our already churning insides.  Amazingly there were folks dining, we walked by their tables, anxious to be set free.

    As we exited the dining room we met two young workers and asked how much longer the tour was. To which they replied 25 more minutes.  I asked if they could lead us back to the Zen gardens, and one replied he could, and we followed.

    My brother said that the inside of this structure was like taking a physical tour into his abused mind…

    In the years he and I have talked together, we have been trying to get him free from that confused maze like mind.

    He has a picture of himself prior to the abuse, and in it stands a little boy with a red sweater. So we always speak of his inner voice, his creative voice, his Spirit as the little boy in the red sweater.

    It was so incredible that it was a young lad in a red tee shirt that led us out and back to the Zen Garden…just like in my brother’s life.

    I was able to see and feel the energies of a mind gone insane, and see how there appears to be no way out and nowhere to sit down and be at peace, no way to find Light and freedom inside the mind.

    The tour was worth so much more than they charged, for it showed us a walking tour on how it feels to be lost in the abused mind and to see it sitting in reality surrounded by nature.

    It is encapsulated in the midst of splendid reality, shut out to itself, like a huge pocket in the land of sunlight, air and splendor, it is secluded and dark, narrow and airless…it again is like the mind…without the access to the right side.

    And the juxtaposition, Zen Garden – Dark airless rooms, maze like hallways, dead-end corridors…even the fake tiffany lamps could be seen as a false sense of hope or false prophets…just steps away are flowers, waterfalls, lily ponds and peace.

    A young woman we shared our experience with said it sounded like the religion she just exited.  On the outside it has a Zen Garden like look, but once you get in you are lost and in the darkness.

    What was so amazing and telling to me, were the reactions of others, some were doing jigs to the carousel music not feeling the energies there, for it they matched their own levels.  Others were like us anxious and feeling suffocating and needing to get out.

    It was a great gift to see the overall picture of the abused mind, a mind caught up in the crazy making of a dark religion lying in the middle of a Zen Garden.

    For it is literally true, that nature is our own natural state unless your sense of self gets caught up in the left side of your mind…

    We were able to see the insides of the man who created The House on The Rocks.  How scary to build this monstrosity in the midst of nature’s grandness, totally blocking it out.

    Just seeing the close proximity of the wide-open expanse of nature, the brightness, the airy breezes, the smells and sounds of nature, just outside of the darkened maze was profound.

    How like the human experience of either being in reality or lost in the confused mind.  Reality is always here; we just have to find our pathway. 

    The road that leads us back to being our self, to self expression, self awareness, to being the self we were meant to be, our unique expression of who we are…is found outside of the mind.

    “In order to experience the Ultimate Reality you have to be out of your mind.”  Neale Donald Walsh

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    Nature's brilliance!!!

     

  • Original Truths.

    We live life on a spectrum, each aspect of our selves grows and expands, each moment of time is stretchy and flexible, and it is alive with the presence of those we are with.

     

    At times my life is highly charged and ignited with huge pockets of learning, and at others it is the calmness of the riverbed.

     

    This past weekend it felt like it was a place where all rivers merge, where we joined each other in our own truths…

     

    We each stood in all our glory, our feelings, our life’s journey, our experience, and truth alone made us one.

     

    It mattered not our age or our roles in life; instead we see each other as spiritual beings on a human journey…and even more importantly the emergence of our souls out of darkness.

     

    Seeing newly freed beings finding their own power was incredible to witness, to see them becoming aware of being conscious, the energy of their essences shining forth.

     

    Yet without the darkness we would have nothing to compare the Light to.

     

    They have known how it feels to be in the constricted tight spot, and are now learning the vastness of being free, being themselves instead of following along behind a religion that is geared to keep your spirit dead.

     

    It felt wonderful to be with others who are embracing the energy of “You be You” of gathering close their own self, their intuition and voice, to live from a place of what brings them peace, love and joy, to see them discover their own originality.

     

    We all arrived with our own original truths.

     

     

  • I am allowed to feel…

    I lose control of me, when I feel I have lost control of others, and it puts me in a very immature action, where my voice gets higher and higher the more I feel I am losing.

     

    What I can’t understand is why I want control in the first place, when life is showing me I have none, nor will I ever, nor is it mine to have.

     

    Being a mother tests this in ways you would normally not have, or perhaps it is in relationships too, but for me it is in mothering where I lose it.

     

    I lose my decorum or any spiritual idea of being in love, peace and joy…it evaporates quickly and in its place rages an out of control woman who wants control of the uncontrollable.

     

    My son’s life is saturated with folks I would rather he keep his distance from, and this fills me with anxiety that explodes unexpectedly for both of us.

     

    It seems so simple to him, let me be with my friend, let me work for a cheating man, let me hang with friends from a cult like religion, just let me be.

     

    And to me it seems I am knowingly allowing him to engage with folks who are confused at best and due to this fact alone, will not hold his best interest at heart.

     

    Yet my hollering is not helping…and I have no other response.

     

    While I lay in bed after he happily was off again, it came to me to let him go, as he is long gone already.  He has always been there; he hasn’t left just because I have.

     

    I somehow missed this, that when I left, I felt I pulled them all out…even when and if reality and life are showing me different. 

     

    I fear losing them, and instead they are already gone.

     

    I guess I didn’t want to know I walked away from the crowds and places they are comfortable in.  I didn’t want to know I left my children there, but I did.

     

    I raised them with the ideas and thoughts and beliefs of the cult like religion, being comfortable around dysfunctional people, and now I appear like the madwoman as I rant in fear because they still enjoy being there.

     

    I seethed in hatred for living here, for that bunch still having an influence over my children, and I knew that my hatred was directed at me.

     

    That what I rail against is not about them, but about me.

     

    I hate me for the dysfunction I brought to my children.

    I hate it when they show me over and over what I taught them.

    I hate to see it and I hate to own that it came from me.

    I hate that while I became aware, I can’t change my children, I can’t stop the train I put them on as children.  I hate that I now must find peace in allowing them to be where I planted them.

    I hate that I have no control, that I can’t rip them out of the dysfunctional gardens I planted them in and transplant them in a space that is much more kinder to their souls.

     

    I hate that I have to watch them grow there.

    I hate that I am aware in moments like these.

    I hate that loving someone means letting them make choices that are not like mine.

    I hate that I hate that which I cannot change.

    In hating it keeps me from accepting, but accepting at times is a hard pill to swallow.

     

    I am granting me time to hate…like a mourning process.

    I am allowed to hate until I accept.

    I am allowed to not like that which I don’t like.

    I am allowed to feel out of control, when I am out of control.

    I am allowed to feel…