energy

Post 248: Love

| Aspergers Girls

Love

He came at dawn’s break

With glowing light

My heart made soldier

To his delight

My fingers his minion

And beckoning call

My body his vessel

As tethered, I fall

Captured entirely

In untimely game

From the utterance only

Of one simple name

Love, how you choose

Like buttercup of land

And captain my freedom

In hourglass of sand

Unturned and still motion

Time plays without one

My world on a shelf

Until love is undone

~ Sam Craft, November 2012

Thoughts on Love

There is the love of mother to babe, sister to brother, neighbor to neighbor.

There is the love that reminds one of self, a reflection of beauty and recognition.

There is the love of accomplishing a sought after goal and reaching one’s highest potential, a satisfaction.

There is a love of enduring and suffering, and sticking things out.

There is a love of familiarity, having known each other to the point of predicting the next move, next statement, next thought.

There is a love of journeying together through trials and tribulations, and hopes and dreams, a love of endurance and strength.

There is a love of opportunity, of hope, of guessing, of wishing, a pulsating-driven love that makes one leap out of bed in hopeful expectation.

There is a love of infatuation, lust, and mingling, perhaps driven biologically or through soul, or a combination, but nonetheless hot and steamy and wanting.

There is a love unreturned that leaves one empty and doubtful.

There is love unrecognized, ungrown, unnourished, ungiven—the love of neglect and forgetfulness.

There is the love of ego-centered built only to uplift self, to praise one to feel good about another, the prospect of another’s potential temporarily filling the void of the emptied.

There is the love of uncertainty, resembling the love of obligation.

There is rule-bound love, created for conforming and people-pleasing, a mask placed on and off as needed.

There is the love of twins, separate but one, who move as mirrors as one another, and cannot help but love what is them.

There is the love born of hate, where battle was fought, enemy lost, and the tears wash out the anger to expose the commonalities of humanity.

There is a love of knowing, of caring, of wanting to fix and make better, to appease the need to reach out and help.

There is the love of smothering and clinging.

There is the love of using to gain, to hide, or move ahead.

There is the love of respect.

There is the love of awe.

There is the love of mystery, a captivating intrigue, without reason or explanation.

There is the love of company, companionship, the release of isolation.

There is love in the word alone, the vibration and energy produced in thought and sound.

There is love in the beauty of one or many, the beauty of nature, the beauty of art, creation.

There is love that is all-encompassing, beyond borders and definitions.

There is love that is far-reaching and healing.

There is love beyond measure, pure elation, recognition and union.

There is love lost.

There is love unopened.

There is love in silence and emptiness.

There is love in a touch, in a dream, in a memory.

There is love in illusion.

There is love.

I’ve been trying to understand what love means since last April. This has been a year of much transition and healing for me, and along with this healing has been the extreme necessity to understand love. This morning I awoke before dawn and was able to visualize a clear understanding of love as the word applies to my life.

I recognize now that I sense a soul print of each person when I first make contact, even if that contact is through words and not face-to-face.  This is not through any one sense, but from another sense I’ve yet to recognize or label. In some ways, the process of sensing a soul print seems to be a combination of all the senses with the addition of a knowing and feeling at a cellular, muscular, and both physical and non-physical level.

When I meet someone, the soul print is in the form of energy and makes pictures in my mind. I feel the person in different parts of my body; for example a tightening of the stomach or shoulders. With many people I feel uneasy both physically and emotionally, and I assume spirtually; with a select few I feel very safe.

For some reason, I can recognize peoples’ insecurities, fears, and misgivings readily, usually in general terms, and sometimes in specifics. I can easily sense states of unrest, panic, unease, addiction, deception, and interior motives. I can readily sense pure thought and unconditional adoration.

The person’s energy triggers memories in myself, and I can connect the energy to past experiences and past encounters.

I’ve felt these “feelings” since I can remember.

I feel energy with every word I write, think, or say. Likewise, I feel energy in other people’s words, whether it is the universal energy of the collective-thoughts of a word, or the intention behind a person’s word. Some words feel false, contrived, and unnecessary. Some words feel like trickery or falsehood. Other words feel free of clutter, clear, and pure.

I can feel a person through their words. I cannot explain it, but know it to be true.

When I worked as a spiritual counselor, I could sit with a person and tell them what I saw, how I perceived them to be energetically. I could see his or her trials and challenges, and also could see direct tools to assist in removing stagnant energy.

I don’t see things in levels, or heights, or degrees. All is equal. However, I see people stuck in a certain spot, often repeating the same patterns and lessons.

I can sense the energy of people trying to be strong and domineering, when they are actually wounded and lacking. I can sense anger and resentment, and these tend to be the most challenging senses I encounter.

How I feel upon meeting someone the first time, does not change. I know instantly if I can spend time around a person and be depleted or remained balanced. I know instantly how much I want to be with that person and if he or she is nurturing to my soul.

Why this information is important to me is because I realize now I equate love to the energy I feel from a person. I don’t feel love for a person. I feel a vibration and sense a soul print.

Where some people say love can grow with time, I do not understand this concept. I love from day one. If I feel nourished by someone’s energy, I feel an elation that would equate to falling in love.

I don’t love a select few. I love everyone. But I feel better around certain people more than others.  One could say I “love” a person based on the energetic vibration. Only vibration levels change. So that would be a false observation. I love a person’s soul print. It’s an underlying vibration that stays the same regardless of how that person feels at a given moment.

I understand now that I do not understand the mainstream’s idea of love.

Love doesn’t grow. I feel exactly the same way for a person the entire time. Their soul print doesn’t change.

At times when a person is happier or sadder, I feel these emotions, but his or her emotions do not affect how much I love or don’t love. Sometimes a person’s actions can have a rippling energy effect of joy or dread that reaches me, but the actions do not affect how much I love or don’t love. My love is not based on outside sources, something I can view externally, judge, discern, or categorize. If I love, I love.

I understand now why I can tell someone I love him or her after knowing them less than a day. And that as hard as I try to love someone more or less, I cannot.

I understand why I cannot get enough of someone whose energy is nurturing and giving and kind and centered. I see more and more how I am attracted to balanced and secure energy: people that love based on the unconditional energy-factors and not the limiting external factors.

When I love someone, I stop seeing the person in human form. Their face and body disappears. This is why it’s hard for me to remember faces, as I’m not focusing on the exterior; I am focused on the energy. When I love someone, I don’t care what they look like, how they age, or change, or are altered outside; there comes a time when I don’t see the outside at all. But there are elements of the physical I might recognize from dreams and distant memories. Something in the physical that draws me to them.

I’ve written this all out because of a driving need to understand love. But now I see the complexities are beyond my understanding entirely. So I will rest in the fact that the more I know myself, and the more I focus on being a beneficial light, absent of ill-will and judgment, that the more I will benefit love. And in this way I will grow; only to perish again with the seasons, and once again reseed, resurface, and stare in wonderment.

Post 240: The Wow Factor

| Aspergers Girls

Wow! I’ve really found myself again.

Transformations and transitions have been powerful.

I looked through some photo albums this early morning and I actually remember joy and happiness and love. I see the person I was and am. I see what a wonderful, nurturing mother I was and am. I see how beautiful I was and am.

I spent so much of my life doubting my exterior and internal beauty.

I’m realizing I am beauty.

I have energy. I’m motivated. I’m excited for life. I’m hopeful.

I recognize my challenges, but carry a hope that all will be okay.

I’m counting my blessings and recognizing what a glorious life I’ve had.

All in all, every wish I’ve had as a child has come true. And every goal I had as a young adult has been met. I know if I died today, I would be content.

I have helped people through my various vocations and writings.

I have reached out.

I have been caring and thoughtful.

I have placed others first, but also learned to pamper and love myself.

It really is quite glorious.

I’m at a time in my life where I am learning to appreciate my uniqueness and also recognize my commonalities with other people.

I am less rigid and structured, more able to relax and understand my thought processes. More able to accept who I am and what I am.

I am even able to look in the mirror and like what I see.

So much growth.

I am very pleased

view from my home in the early mornings

I’ve spent the last two weeks reawakening and cleansing the energy in my house through the practice of feng shui. And I’ve reveled in the process, spending some nine to ten-hours straight some days working on the house. (Can you say “fixation” ?) The inspiration and motivation to clean and organize my home came after more than five weeks of being couch-bound and sick from a series of infections, the longest standing being viral bronchitis.

Symbolically and energetically, while facing physical health challenges, I cleared out much stagnant energy within my body through my constant coughing and removal of chunks of phlegm. (Pardon that visual image.)

Now that my interior being has had a good scrub through, I am setting about to clear out the gunk from the exterior of my life.

Everyday I cleanse my home, I feel lighter and happier in spirit. I have more clarity than I have experienced in years and have been welcoming many gifts through this energetic cleansing process.

I feel reconnected to a part of me I haven’t felt in years. I am reawakened myself in my ability to recognize the effective and beneficial parent and homemaker, friend, and spirit I am.

*as a side note, both days I cleaned my study, the feng shui area for prosperity and money, I was rewarded within hours with unexpected monetary awards.

Observations:

Removal of dog’s crate, his winter jacket, and blanket from the house. (Scooby passed away in February, shortly after starting this blog.)

Release of grief and sadness.

Welcoming of acceptance, love, and peace.

Bagged and boxed up items I’ve been saving for years, incase I ever need them.

Release of thoughts of scarcity and not enough.

Welcoming of trust and abundance.

Removed dirty plunger, stagnant water, scissors, dirt and debris, and clutter from heart-center of house in utility room.

Release of death, destruction, and stagnant emotion.

Welcoming of clarity, newness, and beneficial flow of energy.

Balanced water elements of bathrooms with earth elements such as floral design, stripes, blue and green, and pottery.

Release of flood of emotions and drowning in worries.

Welcoming of nurturing, calmness, and grounding.

Bedroom cleaned and stripped of clutter and most décor.

Release of cluttered mind and unrest.

Welcoming of deep breaths, deep relaxation, and sanctuary.

Children’s bedrooms cleaned and unneeded items given away.

Release of attachment to greed, distraction, and confusion.

Welcoming of having enough, freedom to move and create, and satisfaction in simplicity.

Underneath kitchen sink cleaned of scum and cleaning supplies removed and placed elsewhere.

Release of need to hide the whole of me. Release of burden of poisonous thoughts.

Welcoming of safety, love of self, and emptying of garbage.

Storage closets organized and cleaned out.

Release of past regrets and the need to hold on to the past. Release of cluttered emotions.

Welcoming of order, structure, and ease.

Front entry cleaned and organized.

Release of fear of people and rejection.

Welcoming of friendship and happiness.

Expired supplements and medications discarded.

Release of pain and suffering.

Welcoming of health and wealth of energy.

Cooking pots and pans, canned and boxed food organized.

Release of dread and confusion.

Welcoming of nutrition, clarity, and fortification.

Décor and gifts I kept out of guilt.

Release of pressure to please, fear of hurting others, and retention of unhealthy relationships.

Welcoming of beauty, joy, and pleasure.

Mementos taken off shelves and out of closet, and then boxed.

Release of fear of losing past happiness and hope.

Welcoming of present happiness and merriment.

Sorting through photo albums and photos.

Removal of past untruths.

Welcoming the beauty I was and am. Welcoming the wonderful memories of the family I have helped lift and raise.

Day 213: Lost in my Mind

| Aspergers Girls

 

I have this person inside of me who is a judge, a stern judge, who questions and
reasons continually. He or she, or whatever it be, is relentless in their
search for truth, even when I plead that there is no truth. This entity
scrutinizes everything and everyone, even as I sit back from behind and shout
for him to stop. It as if he must dissect and find connections to
make sense of what he sees. As if my world is not enough and must be recreated
and categorized.

Nothing is easy for him. Nothing simple. Nothing plain. All is
complex. Even the eyes of a stranger are a deep hollow tunnel to dive into and
explore, to be lost from a near glance, and come out unquenched, only to dive
in again and again, to find nothing but the same. To feel depleted at every
turn because the answers don’t come readily, and when they do come they lead to
more questions.

It is an exhausting ride with no end. There is no coming up
without diving back down. There is no stopping. My mind is that rollercoaster
where the hands are up and you are screaming in glee, and then the turn comes
that makes you queasy, or the fear sets in, or the wheel make the sound that
pierces the ears, and you want to get off, you don’t want to ride again and again,
but you can’t get off, not because the belt is buckled, not because the wind is
fast and you face is slapping against it, only because you have forgotten you
are on the ride, and keep spinning round and upside down with no way to leave
what you don’t know you are on.

I can’t explain it. It is too complex and deep, and a mystery to me. I can see a forest, and getting lost in a forest, only to
awake and see that you are in a forest fast asleep dreaming of another forest,
but you are standing watching yourself sleep. It is a complexity so intense
that I am lost in my own world.

I don’t understand why others don’t see things
as I do, at least most others. How they can round a corner and think of nothing
but rounding a corner. How they can focus in a conversation and not feel and hear
and sense the thousand other things happening. What of the dust particles in
the air. The ticking clock. The grime on the couch. The fibers of the carpet
bent. The voice in the head rambling about woes. The tingling of skin. The
thoughts of the next word, and how the word carries a thousand different
meanings.

How can you talk to me and use these words when each word carries
this potential energy and meaning. Don’t you worry that I don’t understand you
exactly? Can’t you see we are not even communicating, really. That what you
sense and experience is not what you are conveying directly with words. That
what you are, whom you are is this huge collaboration of the way your body
moves, the way your eyes search, the sound of your voice, the pitch, the volume,
the breath, the sigh, the everything. How can I sit and be with you, when you
are communicating to me a fleet of ships in just one syllable, and all you
think I see is a row boat on the shore. No, you are a myriad of images.

I am a
vessel that collects, with every sound spoken and every thought unspoken, I
sense you with a sense I cannot pinpoint. I know you more than you think,
perhaps more than you know yourself. I can sense your sorrow, your insecurity,
your worry, your lies—the way you lie to yourself and corner yourself. I can
understand the depths of you while you remain on the outskirts in the shallow,
I swim in your deep.

And thusly, I do the same with me. I dance inside myself,
but not with joy, but in this tangled intertwined string, all twisted and
distorted, unable to tell one feeling from the other, because I am bombarded
all at once with experience upon experience.

To you a doorbell is a doorbell. A sound. An announcement. A door to be opened. To me a doorbell is a lion. A
ringing warning of what’s beyond, the thousand upon thousand possibilities of
one sound, one notion, one voice.

No, when you speak to me I do not hear your
words, I see your journey, I see your past, I feel your pain, I feel your joy. You come carrying the grand gift of you, wrapped and rewrapped, and hidden, and
haunted with ghosts, and you expect me to sit and take the crumb of you, the
one piece, when I see the monster lurching behind, the one that guards your
secrets. And he sees me. And he hungers after me, because he knows I can see
your treasures and truth. And out he comes to attack, to protect, to steal my
gifts. For he is fear’s gatekeeper, and I am fear’s mistress joy, and I wish
nothing but to help you see the beauty within.

I am stung by the wasps of you.
I am stung each time we talk, each time our eyes meet. For I can see you swarming
with truths you dare not whisper. I can see the bees behind you. Each carrying
a part of you, and yet you present yourself as single flower, and want me to
simply sniff and be gone.

How can I walk in this world when everywhere are
these bees, this noise, this stinging, whilst everyone pretends the flowers are
falling from the sky. How can I show you what I see when your eyes can only
reach to the horizon, and mine dig deep into the ocean sky, and swim beyond the
universe into you. I sense your depth. I sense your deep. I know you so well,
as reflection of me.

I know where demons hide and shadows and dark. I know
where light dances. I know the journey within the journey, but I am left to
smile shallow and speak a whisper. To bypass all the stories you carry and
wonder if by chance we shall meet again and you will let me swallow what is you,
so I may feed off of your loneliness and become one with myself.

Can you not see
we dance in isolation, this game of communication? Can you not see me standing
at the wall waiting for your hand? Can you not see we do not have this time,
this patience, this waiting. Now is now, and if you do not bleed for me, if you
do not purge yourself and throw up upon me, then I am left to drown in your
mire, fending for myself, while you walk blindly to your ways.

You bombard me
without knowing. You crush me. You crash upon me with your energy. You paint me
with your past, your future, your present, and your worries. You feed off of
me. You eat what you want and leave, all the while thinking you have merely
said Hello.

~ S. Craft, August 2012

Day 146: Erotic Lentils

| Aspergers Girls

“Do not seek enlightenment unless you seek it as a man whose hair is on fire seeks a pond.” – Sri Ramakrishna

“I will not tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death’s door.” – author unknown

I have like 4 or 5 water signs in my astrological chart…hmmmm.

I am just beginning to be amazed by the many facets of Samantha Craft. One day deep philosopher writing words she doesn’t quite grasp, the next soulful author pouring out healing truths from the roads of childhood, later a poet easing an over-flowing heart, and then back to the unyielding sex goddess emerging from used up prude-nun from past life. The loins! The loins!

Wow! My husband is a patient man. Of course, he does get that sex goddess… Did I mention he is doing a lot more chores around the house without a whisper of remorse?

I keep thinking I am going to wake up and magically transform back into the person I was five months ago. Though I don’t think her vessel would fit this wild blossoming spirit. I’d surely burst out within minutes, leaving the old shell scattered and forever broken.

The world seems to be getting even more passionate, appealing, and ravenous by the day. If I have any challenge at all, in the spiritual sense, it’s the intensity of not wanting to run out of time on this glorious playground of planet earth. Just today, after walking in the sunshine, yes sunshine, while at the farmer’s market sipping lentil soup and listening to a flute player, I was just so gosh-dang giddy about living. And it’s not because things are going “well” in the humanistic sense. Really, if I got down to it, I could play you a sad song about my life to make you weep out yesterday’s coffee from your eyes. Seriously. I’ve got a laundry list of grievances I could lay down right now at your feet.

So my overwhelming sensation of joy isn’t because all is well. Not that type of sensation at all. Quite the opposite. I know all is not well; but I’m well in this knowing.

Sipping my lentils from a cup was purely divine erotica. The swirls of liquid brown, the small melted beans, the little onions—I took twenty minutes to sip my small cup of soup!!! I didn’t want the experience to end. It was so sexy and sensual.

Today was one of those days I would have danced in a water fountain, or pierced my bellybutton, or gotten a tongue stud, or kissed a stranger. It was one of those days that felt like Christmas morning.

You know what? I am very much amazed by how many people take walks and complain about life. I honestly don’t know what I would talk about, if I had a walking partner. I suppose I could say: “Look how that leaf is so very green. Look how it dances!” or “Look at that duck. Watch him dunk. See the ripples on the water. Oh the water!” And then stop myself from screaming in ecstasy…Oh, the water! Oh, the water! Not really…but close.

Perhaps I could talk to a walking mate like I talk to my little dog, that I now tie with her red leash to my pant loop so she can stride along my side and I can swing my hands high in the air. We are quite the pair. Her with her Groucho Marx eyebrows and me with my radiating smile. People don’t quite know what to make of us. I imagine they think we’re a bit too cheery to be real. But we are. We are real. And cheery.

I talk to her about things, my little dog. And she listens with a cock of her head, looking up like she knows she is special. And I look down, like I know I am special. And she moves her little legs super fast, and I move my bigger legs super slow, and we walk and walk in the beauty of the world.

I say things to her like: “Look at the water! Isn’t it lovely?” And I lift her so she can see. And then later I wait as she sniffs a butt or two. And I wonder why humans don’t run up to each other so happily, like pups. And then I think maybe that’s my next step. Maybe I’m going to be one of those ladies running up to random people and offering hugs!!!!  Not butt sniffs….not there, yet. But maybe next month.

I can’t wait to see how I will be tomorrow. I truly am a surprise a minute. So entertaining and full of life, and sometimes other stuff too, but nonetheless full and unpredictable. My husband seems to be falling in love with me, perhaps for the first time, as I am actually me for the first time, at least in my adult years. I think for him he’s woken up to a new partner all together. And I’ve woken up to a new me all together. Not improved or better or different, more so rebirthed. And in no way perfect, just entirely unpredictable in nature, mood, and words, and no longer willing to ever, ever tiptoe through life again.

If I am insane, I’m even cool with that. If I am awakened, I won’t say that, seems so silly to say such a thing. We’re all awake! Just some of us keep hitting the snooze button and falling back to sleep for a spell.

Erotic Lentils

I am entangled in your simmering sweetness

Diving into you speck by speck

The heat savored by tongue

Morsels licked up like lollipops

Pick me a flavor

More divinely set for my taste

Pick me a lover

More satisfying

Than the empty bowl from which I drank

The sprinkles left inside me now

A curried-sunset within ocean’s shimmer

To nibble fondly in every direction

Into the inner depths

Through which

You have so easily crept

Sam Craft

[

“Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.” ~ Groucho Marx

Day 135: Riding the Wave

| Aspergers Girls
Maui Photo 2012
Riding the Wave

I’ve stuffed my emotions for so many years. The fire in me is now burning, and I’m loving the independence, and new found freedom. I feel like I’m thirteen again. Only much more wise, mature, confident, and damn sexy!

I love songs, like I did back then. I am dancing. I can’t get enough of the outdoors. I am enjoying my friends, as we giggle a lot over girl talk.

I am so excited for life and all life has to offer. I am very satisfied with who I am, where I have traveled, and what I have overcome. I feel like the Cat’s Pajamas. I am the Cat’s Pajamas! I’m great, incredible, and special. Just like YOU! And I’m moving towards my own style and own innovation.

I’m chuckling over the silliest things, like this definition of bee’s knees:

Coined circa, in the 1920’s, bee’s knees means something along the lines of very good, excellent, great, amazing. A bee’s baskets for pollen are located near its knees, so when the bee’s baskets are full of pollen, they are filled with the good stuff.

That just cracks me up! Filled with the good stuff!

I feel filled with good stuff. I truly do.

And of course this stuff turns into the sweetness of honey! Yummy honey….

I also laughed aloud at the less popular terms of endearment that never quite made it through the years—words like: the flea’s eyebrows and the canary’s tusks. I so want to call someone the flea’s eyebrows. Just once. “Hey, you sexy!” “Yea, YOU.” “You, MY MAN, are the flea’s eyebrows!” I’d like to say that to a biker dude with a bunch of awesome tattoos or a twenty-year old kid, just to freak him out. Old lady diving off the deep end.

I am truly enjoying this rush, whatever it is. I don’t really care anymore. I am happy. Balanced. Loving. Focused. And for the most part feel sane…just constantly aching. But hey, an ache in the loins makes for marvelous poetry….

Here’s a poem I wrote in a matter of seconds yesterday, posted, then deleted. I fretted the words would seem silly and non-sensical to the onlooker. But after reflection, I really dig this poem. It makes sense to me. It moves me. It makes me feel alive. And that’s what I am aiming for during this phase of my life. What moves me. No one is stopping me this time. I’m me. And I love me.

Whatever transitions are happening in 2012, I seem to be surfing the wave of the collective unconscious. Or, like my bud Lisa said, maybe it’s early menopause.

Like I said. Makes no difference. Bring it on!

Maui 2012

Ocean to Moon

Butterflies at bedtime

Tuck wings into sleep

Dream of when we last touched

And emptiness moved in rhythm

The ocean to the moon

Coming from the twilight

Of heart’s intention

The summer wakening

Whispering sweet surrender

We dance

As lovers last remembered

When wisdom paid her toll

We dance

As enchanted lairs

Where lioness is held

Kissing tender

Beneath the nape of desire

Spin me round the eagle’s call

Inching in as rivers to sand

Play me

This tired swooning captain

Into the darkened state

Where silence beckons

And aches divide

Nothing

But ever merging ecstasy

giggles….”Do you want to have a slumber party in my basement”….giggles