I have been given messages as of late to write. I would love to fall under the idea....But I have no idea what about....but that would be a lie. Not really a lie, but not a fully formed lie. I know there is something in here dying to get out, but it only has inertia as of now...nothing else.
Years ago, I wanted to write so I sat down. Some of the ideas were fairly interesting. One was as I crested into my late 20's...How in the Fuck Do You Drive a Buick. Using a Buick as a metaphor for having to be grown up. In another phase, I wrote a page of starting lines for a book. I would love to find those. There is a contest about the first line of books and some of them are outrageous. Reminder to look that up.
Going back to the Buick idea, I truly have no idea how to be a grown up. I have a husband, house, car, 3 dogs and a job in corporate America, I vote.... to prove I am grown up....I am currently doing laundry as it is my Sunday. I have to vacuum later during the Duck game to make sure it gets done. And people in my high school graduating class, just celebrated our 35th high school graduation anniversary. Check fucking mate! Laugh.
I don't think there is any one else so responsibility laden or focused as myself. I feel as if I am FORCING myself to be in the Buick's driver's seat to seem normal. I have never been normal and always hid to be perceived as normal. The idea of why that occurred is currently formulating as I type....I am sure it is not as scintillating as the preview.
As with everyone, I had a dysfunctional upbringing. What multiplied hat dysfunction was the fact I had feelings and perceptions and capabilities. My family had no idea how to react. My mom took it as thwarted artistic talent, and I always felt pressure to do that. I right now have 3 kits for art as well as a "tool box" of things to manifest artistic brilliance....to no avail. when I think of my artistic bent, I can look at my lack of artistic projects as a poor self esteem or lack of motivation (my favorite mantel to torture myself with). Now thinking (this the idea which was being formed up there), there are things I need to share to people in a message (or myself) which I am compelled to do in an art form.
I made my sister a thing...lol, I have no name for it. Looking back at it, it could be a talisman keeper which I infused with blessings, guidance, and hope. It was made of cloth. I cannot recall anything about making it. Which guides me to the realization it was a message or something which I needed to give her or she needed to receive. But sewing it by hand, was the pallet.
Recently I have created a pouch for a stone I chose for someone. No idea how to do it. I mean I have seen the drawstring felt ones but it had to be different. I went to the quilting shop and picked out the fat squares, put them down, picked out others, put them down...I was searching for what fit...not only the person but the pattern in my minds eye which hadn't even shown itself to me.
I found the button first. The button I wanted to use to close the pouch. I felt a sigh in my chest. No other idea how to explain it. Then it fit with a pattern. Another sigh. I came home and started the project fairly late for some reason. I was going to put it off but I was pushed to start it...the driven to complete it.
It was hard. I have "older" vision so threading a needle was frustrating and to multiply challenges, I have longish acrylic nails. At times, completing this 1x1 1/2 inch pouch, I shook with consternation. I couldn't put it down. At one point, I did. I was doing laundry while completing this project and I put it down to put away some laundry. It was invisible to me. As I was searching for this little thing, I was also searching for the reason why 1) I couldn't find it and 2) What I had to do to be able to "see" it again. My husband found it. I would have never found it without him. Note to me...somethings need to be completed with other people.
If you see the completed pouch (no I don't have a photo) it looks very rustic. I can see my struggle and determination in the misshapen form and the haphazard stiches. But explaining it to my friend was a century old story I have told over many lifetimes....Women in indigenous cultures (in my soul's history, women of magic or skills) would create items for other women imbued with chants, spells, protection or hope through their gifts. Each stitch, I told her, was a thought, memory, or wish for the recipient from the giver. Then I told her the type of stone I had included.
My soul was happy. All of those before me and all of those in me which create me...was complete. Complete with this gift and use of my skills. And the friend appreciated it.
Thus going back to not being normal. I can't do this for everyone. Someone had seen the pouch and requested one. I shuttered myself. Because I can't share that part of me with everyone. He felt that. I am still not driven to make him one, I know he is on the list...meaning I can...but it is not been created within me yet. I have only recently been able to feel more open about things I feel and things I perceive.
In past times I had been punished for those skills, gifts, messages. This time around, I shutter myself and hide it with humor and crudeness. People say I am rude. Ok. Sure. Name it to help you find another label other than the one I barely have created for myself. Which, I am sure you are asking, I don't have for words yet. The "gift" is what I call it now. I don't have a label for me, because it is from centuries ago and doesn't fit into a word today.
Even now I am hesitant to share this (laugh with the masses who teem to feed from the my ethereal wisdom....derisive snort) because there are always those who need a term, a label or proof or even something for themselves. That is not what my soul's journey is this time.
I can even imagine not sharing this with some people I care for as they will not be able to orient themselves to this nor my words. For many fully living the life with these gifts as their moniker is their soul's validation. For me....TBD, to be decided. Right now....let's see where the next steps take me.
HD
