This is a list of general writings, by title.  I think each one is dated on the individual page. They are in no particular order as they don't relate to each other for the most part. They make up the ramblings that were written before the year 2001.

  The newer postings will always be added to the top of the list. And have *(asterics) next to them.

  The section called Angel Speaks here, is a project I did some time ago. I only have two pieces posted so far, so will add an explanation later. They may someday have their own page but I have to dig through older notebooks to find more of them.

  The back button at the bottom returns you to the main Ramblings page.

What does debt mean to me?

It means a lack of freedom, tied to a job or source of income.  It means I am dependant on others for all sorts of security issues. 

Debtfree means that I owe nobody anything and I am free to move about my life without explanation, timetables or other peoples perceptions of what I need to do with my life.  I am in debt because I thought I needed ownership to be free but instead it makes me more trapped by societies expectations.

Success to me would be having my shit together, not responding to life's tendencies but anticipating the cycles and moving through them gracefully.

My career is my life, not my job.

I want to be able to save for spending not spend my savings, there is the switch in perspective.

I don't want to keep being in debt to live my life.  I am disappointed in 'God' for not supporting me in a more supportive manner.   When I was little 'God' took care of everything.  Now, it seems that 'God' leaves everything up to me and I don't want the responsibility.  I was promised rose gardens and all I grow are weeds.

  --- Back To Top

Seneca Rambling                        Sometime In 1993

I wrote this for a women's study class I took in 1993. There must have been more background to provoke it but I don't recall it now. The comment the teacher wrote on the bottom of the paper was....a powerful statement.

A Seneca Woman:

I can see my lifestyle changing everyday and all around my home base. There is no unity of community anymore. It makes me angry to see that the white man can come from afar and wreak so much havoc on our society.

I shake with a rage that burns within my soul knowing that I can not change the rush of the coming tide. The white man has stolen that which time has held of the utmost importance to our kind. He has stolen the freedom of movement. With this loss, we will also experience a stifling of our spiritual expression. We are already loosing the freedom of our family.

Daily, we are given new dictations on how and why we should live our lives. Our values are no longer of importance. What is of value is only what the white man deems of value. The motivating factor of these men in greed. They take what they want.

They do not covet the land. They destroy all in their path and leave nothing in their wake, including, I fear, my people. My anger may be fostered by my own fear of imminent extinction.  --- Back To Top

Here I have been led, not by accident, not necessarily by fate but here I stand precariously balanced on the edge of this abyss. The only direction I can go is forward into the darkness, into the abyss. Going back has never, ever been a viable option. I have heard about depression. I saw it on television, in movies, on talk shows. I brushed shoulders with my sister who watched the world angrily from the shadows most of her life. But, I never understood it. Wasn't I a dancer of the light? Wasn't I a child of God? Wasn't I...Wasn't I? The lost child. Children of the lost. Who was I now? Who was I before? When did I loose myself? I am searching for the light, the lightness, a source of being. There are no accidents and I have created this shadow world I have been exploring, creating. For weeks, I have thrown up more darkness and I shove my way in blindness and it has taken so much of my energy and so much of my source. I feel so drained as if I will disappear into any moment and I don't seem to mind so much. Not as I would have minded on the days of sunshine. I wrote once, recently, that this is the winter of my life for I am dying and then I stopped and cried because I knew it was TRUTH. A part of me must die, has to die soon. The part dying must enter that abyss and see if there is anything on the other side, if there is an end to the long darkness. I must go in search of a light I thought I always held inside but seems to have been terminally extinguished. A dark night for the soul? Perhaps. But I have been here before, I have been here many, many times before. And I live on. How much effort does it require to maintain our illusions? How much does it cost to keep them alive?  --- Back To Top

Thoughts On Dreams                  November 27, 2000

The more I dream, the more I become convinced that the dream does not occur on the inside of our mind. I think the dream occurs in the energy field around the body and the minds eye watches it like a movie on a 3-d screen. The reason I think this, is because when awake, before a dream is captured by pen and paper, you can not recapture the dream by scanning the mind. Rather you must relax and project your energy outward and then pieces of the dream appear in your field that you can re-string through the movie projector and pieces of it will be recalled by the mind only after it is reviewed by the minds eye. And, if you don't reclaim the images from the energy field they dissipate like smoke until they are completely irretrievable. Some images cling longer because the message is so important that until you acknowledge them, you may get whiffs of the dream for days. I think this is significant, because even though the center of your being may be located within, the platform it uses to communicate can be way outside of the body. The stronger my spirit the more influence I might have on up to 20 feet from my core in which case my dreams can incorporate much larger fields of play, combining, changing and manipulating much larger fields of energy and reality. What if when I dream, if you had special vision, you could see the action all around me while I slept in the middle, yet I appear as awakened and participating in the dream?  --- Back To Top

More Thoughts                     November 27, 2000

Old Stars. Old movies and toxic tapes booby trapping me into microwaves like other people. Need to make my own way, do my own hair even if it means going against what others think is best. There is new energy being introduced to me and I need to take my dreams seriously because they contain messages and information and even though it is frustrating, I need to stick with it because it is leading me toward my future and provides me with a challenge as opposed to the old way of doing things. I need to ask for opportunities that are appropriate for my highest good and take what is offered and not challenge the offering because if I ask for only that which is appropriate, then only those will be presented to me as an offer and trust that process. Be clear and stop blaming "God" for what is being offered because I get what I ask for and if I don't ask appropriately then I won't see an appropriate response. Be specific. So my real question should be how to manifest only the opportunities that are for my highest good. And, have faith that these will take me to where I need to be. Don't manifest out of desperation. Take my dreams serious even when I don't seem to need them or the information they contain. Take God out of the equation because it is you who are creating here.  --- Back To Top

Raccoon Watch                             Sometime in 1993

It was amusing to watch the raccoon feel around for the food with his paws while looking around and over its shoulder. He looked very much like he was blind and using his sense of touch in order to find the food. He sat squatted and reared up on his hind legs, little arms extended in front of him as he chomped away on the wheat chex. I tried not to laugh as raisons got stuck in his teeth and he used his sharp little claws to dig at them. Both little paws would go into his mouth at the same time as all other movement stopped except for the furtive digging. He wrinkled his nose on each bite too, reminding me of myself when I smelled something distasteful. I honestly couldn't tell if he couldn't see me because of the light shining onto the patio or if he just didn't care that my cats and I sat on the other side of the glass, watching. Does it seem odd? Something which seems so small and insignificant fills my heart to almost bursting with pleasure. I feel as though my life would be complete to just spend every day feeding the wildlife and watching their little movements. I especially like the fact that "Rocky" left some of the wheat chex behind, probably for a snack at a later time.  --- Back To Top

Encounter                           September 5, 2000

Comments:

I don't know what this piece is but it started with a partial dialogue and I went with it.  There was too much for me NOT to put it in my ramblings section.

"I have never met a woman who could steal my energy away from me, invade my soul and use me for her own pleasures, and against my will.  I did not know that women like you existed, sexual vampires feeding on a mans sexual energy."

I laughed softly in the dark.  "I never meant to violate your energy, in fact, I usually make sure that there is a mutual consent before I borrow energy from anyone."

"And, did you feel that you received that consent from me?"  His eyes glinting in the dark, dangerous slits I could just barely make out.

"No," I whispered, "I felt you fight me then whole way.  It was a difficult accomplishment.  I have never had someone fight me so hard, reject me outright the way you did."  My throat tightened upon my admission.

"What did you promise me when you mind fucked me?  Do you remember?  When you went into my mind and raped me with your energy?  Do you remember what you promised me?"

I smiled softly, of course I remember but what was he proposing at this point, to rape me in return.  I was so tense, tight.  I wanted him so much for real, his flesh upon my flesh, could there really be any type of rape involved in that kind of wanting?   What could I say?  Yes please take me now, what kind of satisfaction would that be for him.  Not really a rape, no.  In a way, it would be almost as if I were taking him again.  My continued silence brought him closer to me, close enough to see the smile on my face.

His jaw tightened.  There was rage, anger I had never seen before.  In truth, felt that he could not have been capable of.  "You think that I could not do this, body rape you as you mind raped me?  You don't believe I am capable of this one small thing?"

He had gripped my upper arm, and chills ran down my flesh, goose bumps on the arms causing my nipples to stand erect.  Did he have any idea what he was doing to me?  I considered his question.  The real question, was he able to hurt me and I didn't think so.  There would be no taking me against my will, my will was already committed, but could he hurt me?  I could feel the rage pouring out of his body but was he really able to toss aside all the qualities in his personality that had drawn me to use him in the first place.  There was a gentleness, a sweet non-invasive quality as though he would never purposefully violate another human beings space, psychi, energy.   Unlike I myself had.  No, I did not think he could hurt me and that was really what he was asking, wasn't it?  It sort of made me feel a bit let down. I literally felt the desire flood out of me.  He could not extract a revenge upon me for I had nothing he could take, nothing I wasn't willing to give up.   There was no challenge in this.  My excitement faded.  I just felt sorry for him.

"I think that you are unable, unwilling to cause me pain.  I think it would be against your nature to do anything that would harm me physically," I said pointing out what I felt was obvious. I didn't want to provoke him, just turn him away gently, like a lost and confused child.  He did not have what I needed, I wasn't sure what I needed but he did not have it.

His thumb rubbed my arm, gently, creating small circles...my breath suddenly hurt me, trapping itself in my throat, maybe, already I was wrong.  I wanted to gasp for breath, push myself against his body, see how hard he was - if he was.  I stood perfectly still instead.

"You think," he said, "that I could not use this anger that I feel for you, this rage that beats my heart into my chest and makes me want to wrap my fingers around your pale tiny neck, you think that I could not transfer all of this madness, channel it into an avenue that could cause you pain?"  He said it softly, his lips brushed against mine in a whisper.  I didn't know what he was getting at, my mind was reeling...I wasn't sure I wanted to know
what he was getting out.  I had somehow lost the upper hand in the situation.  I wasn't scared though, confused perhaps, a little unsure of myself.

"I don't see how," I whispered finally answering his question, our lips so close our breaths mingled.

"Then let me show you," he said, coaxing me to my knees, onto my back...his lips never leaving mine.  This was heaven, I thought, where is the beautiful torture he was talking about?  I shivered, my body trembling as his finger brushed over my body, everywhere...sometimes gentle sometimes rough, I could feel the heat rushing over me...then a coolness creeping over my skin.  Hot and cold, it was deliciously painful, oh yes it was.  He pushed his tongue roughly inside my mouth.  I tasted whiskey and a hint of smoke.  I wanted him so much, nothing could have shut me down.   It seemed to go on forever, this kissing this stroking...I wanted him inside me, now.  And now, and now. God I couldn't stand it.  I reached for him, urging him toward me and he pushed my hand away.  I tried again and he captured both hands and held them over my head.  I was taunt, ready to snap from need.  I began cussing, coaxing, urging...and he rubbed against me, just enough to keep me on the edge of a climax but not allowing me the complete satisfaction of going over the edge and dropping into the abyss.

It took me moments...long moments, time slipped by slowly, and it seeped into my realization that this was his torture.  He was going to keep me here hanging on this abyss, not allowing me to enter, to dissolve myself into the darkness.  I hurt, God, I hurt and a whimper found its way through my clenched teeth.

He whispered against my ear, driving me into a frenzy.  I bucked against him, trying to throw him off, or rub against him in just the right way...I had this need to escape or conquer, something.  My thoughts weren't very coherent but I heard him against my ear.

Never, have I met a woman who created such rage, such anger inside of me. Tears ran from the corners of my eyes, tears of frustration.  I felt like sobbing. my entire being was caught up in this moment and he continued.  Never a woman that could create all of this need inside of me.  And I have never met a woman that created such passion, such desire in me to possess her.  His words were soft and I barely heard them, it was as if he were whispering words of love if I could only make them out.  But he thrust himself inside me, I gasped at abruptness of it all, the suddenly relief of tension and giving of muscle, the mental strain of thinking it was an impossible dream.

I couldn't make sense out of his words, out of his actions even.  I had never been taken over so completely...owned, body and soul.  I wasn't even of this planet anymore so intense were the feelings, the sensations in my body.  I had never had an orgasm like this before, had never had a person touch me in a way that I felt as if God was touching me, inside me, filling me up and pushing me out beyond myself, I did not know where his flesh began and mine ended.  I was no longer sure that we were separate people.  And when I came crashing back to the ground, I lay there stunned, unsure if I had just experienced some kind of dream or fantasy...trying to grasp the pieces of it.   I felt vulnerable, open, exposed.  My heart felt so tiny.  My body felt sore and he was heavy against me.  I pushed my hand against his forehead to find the anger, something that would tell me where this had come from.  He raised sad eyes to me as if he had regrets.  That hurt me yet again.  How could something so spectacular be a regret to anyone, and yet I felt my own reluctance to admit to the experience.  As if I were afraid that this was a once in a lifetime experience and it would never, could never, be repeated.  It made my life feel worthless.  As if all my moments accumulated to create this one experience and now it was done, gone, lost forever and totally unable to be recreated or re-experienced.  I wanted to cry again.

I did cry again.  He rolled me to his chest and shushed me while I lay on top of him.   He couldn't understand, I certainly couldn't explain it.  But I how could a man ever understand the depths this experience had taken me to.  I could do nothing but cry.  --- Back To Top

Fairytale Dreams                           October 13, 2000

I dream of fairy tales

happiness in the end

all this I wish but

ego cannot stand behind

I Melt                                                October 13, 2000

I melt, I dissolve, I disappear.
I come back to myself in a heartbeat
that sits upon the wings of eternity.
I drift here listlessly, in complete bliss
I wonder, occasionally, as a breath moves me
if any others sit beside me
I think they must but I sense them not at all
and then my heart beats and I am falling
tumbling through the chaos
I watch my thoughts go by.
Bye.  Bye!
I am empty.  I am thoughtless. 
I am wordless and wordless.
My self falls. 
It melts.  It dissolves.  It disappears.
Eternity is no longer separated by the beat of the heart
Listlessness does not exist
nor is there any recognition of bliss
when the soul is
and there is nothing else
no thing
else.     --- Back To Top

Imperfect View                         December 18, 1999

It is a harsh reality to have someone else's perception of you rudely thrust upon your own somewhat imperfect view of yourself.  

Never one to pay much mind to what others think, it still hurts my heart when I find that people I hold in high regard, regard me as so much less than what I am.

For myself, I know that I am a work of art in the making.  And, when I view others it seems that I see in them the art that is still in the making. 

And, while we may not all turn out to be Rembrandts, I like to think we at least become a Picasso.  Odd and different but held in awe by our unduplicatable uniqueness.  --- Back To Top

Mistress of Chaos                           October 13, 2000

I am the mistress of chaos
nobody you should know
but somebody you do know
dance with me to the edge
take your rest in the center of the moon
dream with me in color, friend
we shall soar on fairy wings
kiss the tip of a unicorn horn
and ride the moonbeams forever.  --- Back To Top

No Answers                                         October 13, 2000

I don't know all the answers and I don't care.

If all we have is this single point of consciousness and the only thing I can count to be real is this one single moment, then how can I invest anything into the past or even a moment beyond now.

I only exist in this single moment as my pen brushes paper, I become a piece of something that might survive or flicker out like a distant star nobody misses.  If my words sit forever in another's heart, mind, vague remembrances then perhaps I will have kissed immortality but then again it could just as easily be a whisper of the imagination in the dreams of a child. 

For is that not who we have each been, always and we keep trying to not see it but forever our eyes shine with ancient knowledge and our hearts beat with hidden desire and our emotions are only set free when we live the anguish of a diminished youth.  --- Back To Top

Pegasus                                 October 13, 2000

A wing-ed horse of power and beauty
freedom in you I seek
My soul to escape the burdens of my web
the lies of my eyes and mind.
I am free, I am free
but I can not find the bind that ties
You are my carriage
my strength to find my way
I call upon you to assist
and take me far away
I ride upon you as the wind
and leave my wrinkled skin behind
and touch the days of gold again
and live them in my mind.  --- Back To Top

Potential Lacking                                     August 22, 1999

I think more and more about how we create our realities and those people and experiences we draw to us.

I focus alot on people I don't care for much and why it is that I dislike them.  Usually I can narrow it down to one category which is that they show me a part of myself that I really prefer not to see.  When I am not living up to my potential, when I am being judgmental. 

I give more credit to individuals who make an attempt to use their creativity in their own private manner as though they have earned my respect and non-judgment when this can hardly be right.

What if all of those individuals I dislike are trying very hard to use their creativity but I can't see it because I have no interest in who they are.  What if the ones I pity, and there are a few I pity because they attempt and fail...but at least they do attempt.  What if that pity is another form of judgment and is just as unfounded because I don't know how far they have come and I don't know how far they have yet to go?

As for myself, perhaps I should concentrate on looking only at my own mirrors and not the mirrors others hold up to me.  --- Back To Top

A Thousand Dreams                                 August 12, 2000

A thousand dreams, and one memory, propelling one toward destiny, a self-discovery and cleansing of perception that one must put away childhood images and reconcile the past in order to support the present, and hopefully to build a viable future.

It is too much for one to do consciously, so we forget the pain. We twist events to make them palatable. And then, one day the truth arises and spits a new reality and all of our safety-built walls come tumbling around us. We are left to dig through the rubble and see if there is a strong enough foundation to rebuild.

I exercise my ghosts daily, reintroduce myself to them and seduce them to a cause that seems more acceptable to me. Because I have the power and control to effect past events in ways others will never comprehend.  --- Back To Top

We Travel Alone                       December 18, 1999

What I learned today was that no matter who it is close to me and what ideas they have about who I am, it does not alter my belief in myself, who I am, what I am trying to become and how I get there. 

My path again leads down lone roads that even while I am immersed in the throngs of family and friends, I still travel it alone.  

Where do I go from here?  I don't know.

I have never known but I always move, sometimes forward, sometimes backward and sometimes just around. 

Constantly moving into change, constantly dancing with the chaos, and all I can do is be as close to me as I can get. 

Nobody else seems to know how to get here, to just be with me, and I can not help them.  --- Back To Top

What I see                                          September 30, 1998

But, you don't see what is before you

not all that I am

In you, I see all that you are and more.

I see all that you could be,

all that you have been

And, all that you will be  --- Back To Top

Distracted         Circa 1995

Sometimes, I feel greedy.
When I have it all,
I want more.

It's the everyday
incidents
that distract you
from the moment

Every minute,
I sit and wonder
what it would be like
if....

It is hard to remain
constant in stillness
and just be,
and when you are
being
you aren't doing

Is this in conflict 
with the basic definition
of living,
to be doing
human is just being

There really is no
such thing
as a 
living human being

Can we live
and be
at the same time?

What is it that people
are doing all the time?
working, playing
They look like they
are having fun,
being creative,
procreating

But are they being?
when do they be
do be do be do be
do?

(WOW! I must have lost the train of thought at the end of that one....wooohooo!)

Back To Top

Story of a dream or dream of a story?
Penned sometime in the mid-90's

(Preface - this is a cross between a rambling and dream...parts were a dream, that I took to a story, but now I have no idea which parts were which).

I can almost see the street. Dark covered in shadows from dim street lamps and a half clouded moon. I float across the pavement searching. The street feels empty but there are eyes watching from everywhere. I can't see them but I sense them on me, measuring my progress as if daring me to take a wrong direction, to move incorrectly, to fail at a mission I have no knowledge of. I know it sounds crazy but it is as though the entire universe understands my purpose in life, everyone and everything in it knows - except me. I fake my way through and pray I don't stumble and there is this damn dark street that I can't seem to figure out where it goes. I just keep wandering forward one foot in front of the other which is when I realize I'm not walking down this street at all but gliding on it like air. And, this isn't my destination and not really even my journey. It was just a piece of the path I got distracted by. 

The darkness and confusion has misled me into believing that I was progressing, fooling the eyes that watch over me. When in truth the only person I have fooled has been myself. I find myself at the entrance to the library. The concrete steps and walls glow ghostly. I feel welcomed but weary as if the steps are too much for me to climb. My knees feel weak and my inner voice tells me to slow down focus on my heartbeat for clarity. In a minute or two, as soothing as the heart sounds I hear a second beating. Louder, it seems, slightly faster, I feel my heart rate increase to match it. I'm almost crawling on my knees. I reach for the stone wall beside the steps and lean against it for support. Cold stone pressing against my back, keeping me somehow conscious and focused. I am out of breath though I have done no physical exercise. 

I follow the steps with my eyes, slowly up the wall to the corner stone Gargoyle perched before me. It's long snout gleams white in the strange lighting. Teeth glow fiercely, a trick of my imagination, I am sure. The eyes seem to glow an eerie red from where I half lay in the shadows. The gargoyle looks like a winged alligator. The head and the tail anyway. It's body appears quite human like with short arms and legs that again appear reptilian. He is watching me. I don't just think this. He tells me this but he isn't really talking to me - he is thinking to me. I am thinking that the second heartbeat is his when I become aware of the dwarfed pachyderm coming toward me down the steps. I call it a pachyderm because when I thought it was an elephant it corrected me mentally and told me it was a pachyderm. I'm not sure I know what the difference is between the two. 

Anyway, what I thought was a heartbeat is the vibration of the pachyderms feet as she lifts one foot and drops another onto the concrete. You can see why I was easily mistaken. She is coming toward me and as she passes, her trunk reaches out and there is a blinding flash of light. I think she touches me but I am not sure and then I always wake up someplace weird like the bath tub fully clothed or in the kitchen naked with the refrigerator door open and I'm kneeling in front of it. I don't think I am missing any details. It is strange because usually when you try to remember parts of a dream it becomes hazy and you just naturally forget but I can always remember everything in great detail. I miss nothing. 

Don't you think that's strange?

Back To Top

Witch Birth                           August 18. 2000

Her hair blew around her wildly like tentacles from a land bound octopus, snakelike with mind of its own. Lightening fingers split the sky and winds raped trees until they bent nearly in half to caress the ground. The rain in the air had not yet released itself among the moors.

The woman chanted, turning to the four directions, called up the spirits as the sky witnessed her magic and exploded in to the night. The palest hint of moon hung waxing, sickle-shaped, where no stars shine.

Her voice rose, the wind howled, songs of the land came together and in the dark of winter solstice, her body was prepared for birth. The mound of her abdomen flinched as chants changed to screams of pain, then rage, as she collapsed to the ground.

The child girl, 12 months gestation, the sign of a natural witch - born in the caul, signifying psychic abilities. Brittania Jain was born December 22, any year, for she learned to live forever.  --- Back To Top

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