medicine

Blogging For Tears

There’s medicine in the sadness, it shines from the curl of tears on cheeks, and the crust of too many that build up.

I miss the peal of her laughter into the night, her body out the window of the car, as she screamed into the sky with the pleasure of knowing it would end soon. She’s gone now along with my hope to be with her forever. The x on the calendar came and went, in blood stains on a tub, and an email of thanks to me.

He brought me happiness in his angers. It shined with passionate release, and the things in his path were music. He made it with fury in a mesmerizing pound of rhythm, from his spirit. The altar I made for him is gone now, somebody stripped it down to burn. White lightning in the alley.

I think about him at times. He’s like me, a kid with too much feeling. He can’t shut it off. He’s curious and misses his father who died the same way. He will never be domesticated, he’s got the itch of too much mountain air for that. I hope his survival becomes more joy than pain.

What a man! He made me feel like a mountain of a worker as a kid. I never doubted the danger of our friendship, I relished in the deliciousness of somebody who cared to be good, and had the courage to be wilder. I wasn’t surprised when he left the earth, just wistful. I miss his laughter, his admiration for my spirit, and the feeling it gave me to return it.

My adoration for these people will get me in the end. I caught the fever of the road, the pitch of the boat, and the trail of happiness, in not fitting in long ago. They have pain you can taste, that builds into the burst of their lives.

Their stories are bizarre and comforting, in the extremes I know as truth. I find it in their lack of ability to conform, and the glee they hold onto so fiercely. If I doubt them, I begin to anticipate the whisper of a knife. They look me in the eye with danger, and thank me for the honor and respect that was shown, and then dance into the night.

When they grace me with a tear, I can see it bled from their soul. Their look of surprise turning into recognition, becomes our friendship. After that our union becomes palpable, and I beg them to edit their words for me. I hold onto the moment with them, as it consumes me with purpose, and I’m thankful for the secrets I won’t know.

What shines through the filter of my desire to not be a witness at their trial, are things like, “I don’t know what intimacy is.”, or “My father is in prison, and my husband was chopped into pieces in the alley.” What do you do with that? Hold your judgements for the actions, not the results of past actions. People are not what they did yesterday. They have a moment in time to share, and its gone.

The art I love most comes from people who have the courage to preserve a chance, to witness these tragedies. They aren’t stuck on a vanity streak. They look to the outside of a person, and see the trail of pain painted on their social status, and embrace the inside of that person with a question to themselves. The cost is compassion. The reward is love, and a conscience that can sleep, in a bed of art.

My friends in low places tend to die faster, but they also know how to live. If you ever get the chance to sit on a curb with somebody and hear them out, they might lie or steal from you until you learn how to do it right, but you know what? You’ll get to enjoy tears that aren’t your own, and those tears are some of the best medicine.

People on the street look out for each other. Be one. A person on the street. Humanity is the transcendence of animal nature. That to me is taking the “fight or flight” urge, and turning it into the mercy of patient kindness. If you look out for the people on the street, they remember.

Are you curious about what goes down in your neighborhood? The best neighborhood watch is done by the guy in front of the store asking for change. If he’s there every day, it may be that he’s allowed to be there, because he is actually a priceless member of your community. Give him a cigarette and listen to his story, as the next time you see him, he may just smile.

An update to this post on the following morning:

Some people choose to wear rose colored glasses, but the dust of the world builds up, and their view becomes dim. I admire the way that Dennis uses his blog to reach out and clean the lenses of them with his efforts, as a radio of the street. His latest post inspired the flow of my thoughts for this article, and following up my last post of “Blogging Makes Laughter” with this one is fitting, as the joy in embracing the less fortunate, can be seen in between the lines of his stories.

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A key to the garden gate

for love is

religion isn’t

shaking power

already given to

no need for graphite

oil in the mechanism

parted the rose thorns

brushed away rust years

the keyhole shines of buff

fresh coats of tears on wood

all paths lead to the threshold

you wake up blinking into the sun

heat rises in your eyelashes of pain

a phone wandering late into the night

missing how it should unmake me feel

the wall is standing taller against stares

swept the inside clear of dirt and shrub

planted flowers for what it was before

threw dirt on what it never will be

crammed clay in the lockway

stuck a nail in the keyway

it was never locked

still you pound

from far

astray

of me

“Hey Bully! I Make Friends With Pretty Girls!!”

196I’d rather share an apple than eat one in front of somebody, is that because I don’t sell apples?

It seemed to me in high school that the beautiful people with their white perfect teeth and shiny new cars, were the offspring of the same type of people. You put a rich pretty and a rich pretty together, and that’s what you’d get. I prefer the odd pretties who drive cars for function…maybe that says something about my parents…and the cars I drive….

What you said about popularity in school was true to me on a basic human level too. Over the last year of dealing with disappointment in my love life, I had friends choose to steal, scorn, and spite me. I saw it as a reflection of my past generosities, and how they were ashamed not to return them.  While they fought themselves in prideful rejection of pain while preserving their social status, my heart broke again.

Being willing to fall into misery with the hope of expanding my capacity for compassion, was a hard choice to make.  At the same time, perpetuating a cycle of hatred because of unmet expectations, doesn’t feed my spiritual well being and wastes my life energy, so it was worth the effort.

As my friendship filters thicken, I’m saddened by the ones who added layers, but the people I’m learning to appreciate more help me feel content:  Thanks gal, for inspiring this post with the spark of our friendship’s potential.  Bullies Beware!!

A strategy for coping with a narcissitic culture

In my path towards emotional well-being, I’ve been doing my best to understand how the direction I choose to lean in responses to life’s challenges, determines my contentment in a narcissistic culture. That’s the way I see the economy of the world these days, it’s narcissistic in the way that it’s addicted to its reflection in the mirror. People are the mirror, and the power behind cash is looking at itself with greed.

I scored a 12 on a test determining how narcissistic I am, but the test results would change depending on my mood and circumstance. For example, in my patterns of coping with misery I’d score low, while in the state of enthusiasm embracing a dream, I’d score higher……it’s been a fascinating concept that I’ve studied for several years.

I wonder what would be the healthiest spiritual score, or what a sociopath might decide to give themselves, knowing what the answers would mean for the results. Psych central generalized the scores saying that 12-15 is average, and that people like celebrities would score higher in the range. What is your score?

What is the balancing point of health between generous and selfish decision-making? As I don’t want to be a monk pursuing the perfection of compassion for ants, I wonder at my hunger for power. How much will be enough to satisfy my natural tendencies of showmanship, and the basic needs for my ambitions? Power is scary to me, as it’s one of the basic hungers for us as animals, and I need to have a way to quench the thirst, without becoming drunk on it as an Executive.

How can I define for myself boundaries for responding to others, in a way that is ethically and morally righteous, without sacrificing my financial stability and dreams? In an ethical business, the question of narcissism would be about fair trade and health of the workers.

Since I was a kid, I’ve had the degenerative habit of helping people more than I help myself. This is why I’m seeking to improve my responses to different people, and establish a more formalized approach to my generosity. I’m narcissist bait. They can smell the tendency to help on me like a pheromone, and I don’t want to continue to invest in people who see the world as revolving around them, only to have them scorn me when I ask for what I need, or say no to a request.

Who is narcissistic in a healthy way, and who is just using me? It’s a hard question to ask, and one that doesn’t feel good to bring into a friendship, but it has become part of my survival, so I want to improve the diagnostics of it. These are questions I ask of my heart and head for the sake of preserving community and love, amongst my family and friends.

As a reader, you are welcome to use of my efforts here for your benefit, as that is a main part of my intention for blogging, and if you are a narcissist I pity you, but if you are bait like me, I pity you also. Maybe someday we can have a healthier friendship, trading equitable efforts for satisfaction, but until that day, I will continue to attempt to inspire you with mine, in the hope that if I need to say no, or take a break, we can still be friends.

I love my blog, and as the traffic here grows with my skills in social media and writing, I’ve found the trade in it more enjoyable. It’s taken me years of investing money and time to reach this point, and I appreciate the people who have been here encouraging me along the way.

I love that when I write something spicy and rowdy, Lesley likes it, and every time I go to her blog, I enjoy a shared sense of adventure.

Having a muse is valuable to me, so I want to again appreciateIW, as we share a common dynamic of thought, and it provokes my fingers tapping on the keys. If I ever get writers block, I’ll show up.

Finding the irony of your blog OM, is perpetually satisfying to me. For years now I’ve been stimulated by your articles, meeting your intention of irritating everybody wholeheartedly, with a balanced approach when you manage to irritate me. If you didn’t manage to irritate me, I would question how much I care about you, so your winning me over with your content good or bad. As ever, I appreciate the charms of your technique.

I’m loving the new photographs emanating from Poland thatEmerald Wake is producing, and I say emanate to communicate how much I’m surprised by the vivid colors that I hadn’t known were possible in an image.

As usual Marina, you are a godsend. Every time I go away for months, and learn to regret it because my traffic is dismal, there you are encouraging me with likes, for most of what I write. With the exception of the time you took to move with your husband, you haven’t given me a chance to miss you, and that I hold dear.

Steven, I will be coming to your site to remedy the missing of your voice here soon, and hope I haven’t offended you with my slapstick voyages into taboo subjects. When I write about the wildness of men like you, I think of you and worry that I may be sacrificing our friendship, with the cagey words of my expressions. Please don’t take anything personal, as I still look forward to eating swan with the Queen, and I don’t anticipate that changing. 😉

To the newer friends I’m growing to appreciate, including any I haven’t mentioned specifically above, or here:Christine, Shawn,TK,Erik,Dennis, and Christina, this link will help your SEO, and it can only attempt to show you the gratitude you deserve for your efforts in encouraging me here. I’m curious to learn more about you, while balancing my pursuit of traffic, so if I’m not liking your stuff, blame me for following too many people, and writing more than I read. I wish I could catch what you write every day, as it feels imbalanced at times for you to admire me, with no return.

I love to see who appreciates what in terms of my writing, so it’s always fun to find a new like or follow. As I know I’ve missed many contributors to my passion for this canvas with this batch of thanks, and I hope you haven’t taken it personal, if I didn’t link this to the fruits of your imagination.

Without the likes and follows of this blog, my writing would still be like this boat. Thank you, I feel it starting to float.

Without the likes and follows of this blog, my writing would still be like this boat. Thank you, I feel it starting to float.

Success for the Entreprenurial Artist

084Maybe I should start a hotline: 1-800-2gr-aves, and hire out as muse for revenge. It’s always seemed like more fun to think about it, than to actually do it.

I could be a denizen of hate, wearing a cape with the symbol of mutual demise, and paint my soul onto the seeds of war.

Unfortunately as an artist, this is just another example of way I could make lot’s of money, by meeting the demand of a tainted spirit.

Let me know if you want a business plan, as I have too many, and it bores me to think of the ones I know will work easily.

Give me a slice of impossible, mixed with challenge I might never meet. I live for a climb up a ladder with no rungs, a rope with a grappling hook of spaghetti, and a group of friends who toil tirelessly, to dig a dream well.

Keep your spite, anger, profits, and earnings. I want passive income in a stream of effort, building into a dam that will blow into sharing, for the betterment of people who dare to care.085

I know people who sweat on the tear drops of disappointing times, and they bed down on the loneliness of collectivism, in a house of individuals.

With their last breaths they pump community supplies, each heartbeat as a vision of planting seeds, into the demands of an age.

So yes, add a “Donation Button” to your blog, as it’s proven to work, and if your efforts continue to build the well-being of all, your reward should be to share in it.

Here is a comprehensive analysis of how to generate income blogging, from an old schooler whose second biggest income stream, comes from donations.090

As we share the wind on the boat named “Media Medicine”, I hope this helps to fill your sales.