words

Day 195: Where I Stand Naked

| Aspergers Girls

One un-deep thought by Sam Craft: “I had such a good hair day yesterday, I just don’t know how I can live up to that today.”

And now the deep:

My fixations consume me. They bring me to a place that no one else can reach or touch. A place I feel safe and not vulnerable: a place of discovery, of grand interest, of dreams, of dynamite thoughts and imaginings, of newness and possibilities. My fixation is like a light switch to me. With my intense focus, I am able to turn off the rest of the world—particularly the problems and woes. I can at last breathe in and stop fretting.

For the most part, when I have an intense focus I feel alive and with purpose. There seems to be a reason for living. When I do not have a fixation, I feel lost and unprepared for the day. My special interest is like a backpack filled with vital life supplies for me.

Trouble is, eventually, about every three to five months, my fixation/special interest switches. Just out of the blue. Bam! I wake up, and the fixation is entirely gone. Wiped clean. Think window cleaner to bathroom mirror. One swipe and the toothpaste splatters that you’ve been staring at for ages are gone. And you wonder why you stared at those splatters for so long! Unless you are anal and wipe your mirror everyday…which is so not me.

With the clean wipe, every bit of desire and hunger to learn or study or explore the topic is gone. It’s like a thief in the night came and stole my impulse.

I’ve gotten to the point now that when a fixation starts, I can step back, outside myself, look at the calendar, and track pretty much exactly when the fixation will leave.

This tendency to fixate made relationships with men when I was younger rather difficult. I’d have a giant crush on someone. Hugely so. Bleed out poetry and breathe lust filled thoughts, and then wake up to discover (usually after winning a guy over) that I truly didn’t even like the person. Then the challenge began, as I was so desperate to not be alone, that I’d stay with the guy even though they now gave me the creeps. Nothing like kissing a guy who makes you cringe.

Since being married my fixations are typically not other men, which I’m sure my spouse is relieved to know.  However the fixations are still there, and strong as ever. I move through interests like one might move through fad diets. One month this, three months later that. The funny thing is, that each time a new fixation comes, I think: This is the one! This is what I’ve been waiting for. Kind of like I did with men.

Truth be told, my latest fixation was blogging. And wouldn’t you know it, about five months have passed, and I woke up yesterday with this void and lack of desire to post. A new fixation has taken over. That of walking and photography. And the old fixation, that of blogging, has ended up in a pile with some of my other past interests: Farmville, slickdeals.net. I’d like to add cleaning to the list…to put it in a pile, too. But cleaning has rarely been a fixation for more than a day, and that’s typically when the house is so dang messy, I have to clean to breathe.

Last year my fixations included reading over a hundred spiritual books, Buddhist studies and retreats, turning a room in our house into an office for my spiritual coaching business, planning retreats, and studying techniques for spiritual readings. I lived and breathed spirituality. Until I woke up in late May of last year and the fixation was entirely gone. Presto…Emptied of all desire. Then I switched to getting a degree in counseling. And that became my fixation. In my first college course, I read twice the required readings, and delved into every project, spending ten hours on an assignment, when clearly one hour would have been adequate. The counseling fixation ended in February. And then the door opened to blogging. Blogging was like a whirlpool that I gladly leaped into. And now I find myself, just coming up for air, and standing on the shoreline all sopping wet and confused.

I don’t want to blog anymore. The desire is gone. The fixation vanished. And I think my swimsuit is still in the whirlpool. So I stand naked, confused, and unaware of just where the heck I’ve been, or at least where my brain has been for the last four-plus months.

Odd sensation. I explain some of this feeling of emerging from a special interest in this well-read post

And so today, I am sharing where I stand naked—on this shore utterly perplexed and baffled, finding myself once again in awe of how I am consumed in something, and then seemingly spat out by the vortex and set back on my feet, only to wonder where the heck I’ve been.

The good news is, with my new current fixation of walking and photography, you are bound to see more photos of the great northwest than you ever signed up for. And, of course, photos of my good hair days!

~~~~~~

*** I am still going to blog…just not everyday.

And music isn’t a fixation; it’s a way of life. So that shall always be, as my love for you!

Day 186: Even the Darkness

| Aspergers Girls
Turtle through scope
Sam Craft

Monster of the dark, why do you come to me at night and steal my joy so readily; and leave me shaking, a small child, lost alone and terrified?

Monster: I steal nothing, young heart of mine, that you do not wish already stolen, that you have not already offered on table for me. Nothing you have not called me forward to retrieve and swallow whole. Nothing you do not already miss because you never allowed yourself to seize it. This fickle mind of yours, so solid in one truth, and then the next. How bitter the taste to savor something that is already abandoned.

Monster, I do not understand. How do I wish anything to be stolen?

Monster: You speak of love. Love, love, love. You cherish love. You want love; but when this love is given to you, you know not what to do with it. Instead it as if you spit on love. Spit and spit, unwilling to even grasp the idea of someone loving you. And yet you say you love? Ha! I laugh in your face. I spit in your face. If you loved than you would gladly take this love they give.

Monster, this is not true. You live in a false illusion. What you see is the fantasy world. You cannot see my world. Only muted shades of black and white. You see no colors. You do not know what I feel and what I hold to me.

Monster: Then why don’t you take in what these people tell you?

Monster, I do not know. I want to. I open my arm and hands and heart and mind, and I want to. But I cannot feel it, any of it. Everything of this world feels numb to me. This world of love. Everything seems a ribbon or prize…nothing that I am worthy of. I cannot take these prizes when I do not feel I have been a participant in the race or contest. Yet, life feels so very much like a contest, where in everyone is struggling for prize. And I don’t want to be like this, yearning for one prize after the next. Constantly striving. I just want to be.

Monster: But you don’t take at all. You don’t accept at all. You are this constant giver who will not receive. And that makes you a monster, too. Do you not see? The greatest gift is to accept what others give, to with open hand reach out and accept their truth as your truth. This is not absolute. This does not make them right or you wrong. This does not make you prideful. This makes you real. And yet you play this dance where you cannot accept, cannot stand to feel. What is it you fear from these feelings? What do you fear?

Dear Monster I fear loss. I fear if I collect anything—friendship, objects, compliments, words, or thoughts—that they will eventually be lost. People leave. People perish. Objects come and go. Opinions change, and words they are shape-shifters based on the speaker and witness.

Monster: Yes. Yes. But you miss the greatest point, the finite reason that your theory, your way, is flawed. For if you spend your whole life not accepting for fear of loss, then you spend your whole life losing for fear of accepting. You set yourself up from the start to suffer loss over loss, without remission. Where if you were to open your hands and let some slip into your possession, then chances are you will hold onto some and lose some. But then again, even the lost was once had. With your way nothing is ever had. Why are you so afraid to feel?

Dear Monster: If I let myself feel, I risk everything. If I let myself love, I risk everything. If I let myself think for a fraction of a second that I am special, I risk self. I do not know the fine line. I do not know how to remain humble and how to accept love at the same time. I know how to give love. I know that well.

Monster: No, you do not! You do not know how to give love. You think you do. You think love is sacrifice. Love is not sacrifice. Love has no feelings, other than love. Nothing that pulls and tugs, digs or plunges, nothing that burns or confuses, nothing that makes someone hurt, is of love. You are not giving love, you are giving fear. You are giving what you think love is. You are giving a safety net, a security blanket, a voice to calm the potential storm. Do not look at people as if they are about to explode or cry or reject. Look at people how you want to be seen. How do you want to be seen?

Dear Monster: I want to be seen as a loving worthwhile being of light. I want to be seen as important and special. I want to be held over and over again in kindness and affection. I want people to come to me for shelter and I want to receive shelter. I want to be weak and strong. I want to be happy and sad. I want to be me in totality and to be loved unconditionally.

Monster: Then you have your answers. Let people see your light. Let people see you are important and special. Let people hold you in kindness and affection. Let people be your shelter. Let people love you unconditionally, in all your states. They are trying, but you are not letting them, dear child. That is why I steal from you at night. For you leave everything out on the table like scraps for the dog. And I smell this waste. I smell this discarded love. And of course I come after you. I am hungry. I am starved. I am the monster that is you, who refuses to eat, and instead cried that there is no food. How many times must a man say he cares until you listen? You feed off of ghosts and cry of starvation when there are plates full all around you. How can you point fingers at me, this monster, who only comes out crawling when he is called by the bitter woes of you? You ring anger’s bell. You ring sadness’s bell. You summon me again and again with this feast of forgotten love. And I take. Of course I take, because you will not.

Dear Monster: Friend indeed, a part of me. Here to show me what I cannot see. How I trick myself time and time again thinking there is something in the shadows stealing and haunting my dreams; when in truth I am my own shadow, my own monster, my own robber of hope. How I do remember now, my familiar face—the hideous claws—the fang-like teeth—how I remember hiding them onto myself so I could face the world. So long ago, I hid you monster, my fierce protector and guide. So long ago when you were once beautiful, a lovely song, a summer’s sweetheart. How I hid you and disfigured you, and made you this hideous teacher to blame. And now you come out, to me, in truth, and I take your hand. I see your beauty. Your eyes. Your hair. Your breath. The very essence of you. You are beauty from the dark. I am beauty from the light. And together we make days upon days, birthed out of wholeness and completion. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing at all. When even the darkness is me.

Day 183: Sunseed

| Aspergers Girls
Flower in my yard (July 2012)

Embrace

I am your vase, your soil, your moisture, your sky, and your sun

Whatever you will, I shall be

Speak and I shall breathe

Call the stars by name and I shall remember

Everything I am, I give

If not for you, than for no other

I  will hold you day upon day, carry you where I go, smile at your beauty

I will watch in adoration as you unfold, as bud becomes bloom

Again and again

I will move where you move, bend where you bend

Your presence my completion

I will reach with careful hand to touch frail softness

And find myself, uncovered and awaken

I will curl into the glen that is you, collapse into your welcoming green

Finally I shall be home, and weep to the angels so

Finally I shall be free, and embrace the echo of my own laughter.

~ Samantha Craft, July 2012

Sunseed

I am gardener, I am maiden

A sunseed in your pocket

A dewdrop on your tongue

A blossom calling to the bees

Come to me, take what is yours

Carry me away, pollen upon knees

And turn me, transform me, into honey gold

Take me, whatever vision of light you be

For I am yours

~ Samantha Craft, July 2012

Day 167: The Arms of Fear

| Aspergers Girls
Washington, USA
Sam Craft Photos

~

“Man has in inexplicable light and beauty

Do not compare this to the moon

Which shines only from the outside.”

(What I heard as I awoke this morning. A gentle whisper in my ear)

The Arms of Fear

This automatic writing is a direct way I pray and listen. It is in many ways my meditation, the technique I use to find answers to the deepest questions of my soul. This is the original response, heard in words of my own voice and seen in symbols inside my mind. Nothing has been altered or edited. I typed the words as quickly as I “heard” them. I believe the Spirit resides in each and everyone of us. You are precious and dear, and very much loved.

You will never die.

You will never be alone.

Release this fear of dying alone without love, without notice.

You are noticed every breathing moment of your life, inside the seconds, inside the flashes of moments too small to calculate or for one to take note.

You are beauty in all its truth. There is only one truth, and none can erase this truth.

There is a reason all spiritual truths speak of US as a unity and a coming together in love and peace. There is a reason for all that Is and all you see, think and feel.

Too much time is spent in idle fear: reasons and circumstances blown out of proportion, in that the degree in which energy need be spent (if spent at all) on a perceived problem is gigantic in degree to said problem.

Seek not outside yourself for solutions; instead seek within where we stand waiting, arms outstretched in gentle acceptance. So much suffering is over done, and over due to stop. Like the book that is borrowed and late in being returned, thus is your worry and apprehension. You have borrowed this so called “fear” and instead of returning what was once borrowed, you hold onto it as if this fear is of value, and your possession. Go back and return this fear to wince it came. If the fear came from before, go back and revisit, only in returning leave the fear behind.

There is no use of fear after the lesson and growth has occurred. The only use for fear is in what you choose to use fear for.

We see you using fear to control you; you have come to think this fear is the entity that has borrowed you, and has kept you long over the time you were due to return to wholeness. The question to ask yourself, when fear is perceived as “borrowing” you, is from whom did fear take you from. Whom does fear need to return you to? The answer is quite clear. Is it not? Fear took you from us, from the light, from love.

He is a dancer without a partner, who finds what he can to occupy the empty space between his arms. Choose not to climb inside his shaded and disguised embrace. For what fear offers is like the lion who offers the lamb a chase, the bird who offers the worm a tug, the carrion that offers the rotten to life. What good is this gift from fear, this empty space that folds its spiny arms around you and offers nothing but pricks of thorns? Why do you thusly run towards his arms time and time again, as if something will change? As if an alteration will transpire equivalent to a miracle. Why do you seek miracles from the face of fear? While here We stand awake, outside the shadows, clear and untarnished, available and ready to embrace you in Truth, Power, and Kindness beyond limits; so why do you turn your back on this eternal love and instead run to the shadows of an empty promise?

We know the answer, but we ask you still the same, for your own betterment and trusting of self and truth. Trust in the Truth. This is simple enough. When faced with fear or US, choose us. Every time choose us, and watch how we are always here, watch how we treat your wounds as whole and perfect, your journey as necessary and triumphant, your experience through perception as interesting and heroic. We shall not judge, or steer you in the wrong direction.

Yet, this fear, this shadow in need will feed on you, spinning and dipping you too fast and too deep. You shall see no light with fear, only shadows of what could have been had you not slipped into his spindly grip.

Search not this fear. We will be your everlasting partners, never ceasing to support you, never vanishing for one second (or less), and never once questioning your deeds, intention or purpose. For we have seen you before us. We have seen you behind and above. We have seen every side of you like a holographic image, and in so doing we know YOU. We embrace you. We know you even greater than you know yourself.

So when these thoughts of fear start a circular dance within your mind, call on our name, the name that rings true to your soul, and we shall be there, like it is said with bells on our toes and circular, everlasting love in our hearts.

There is no need to fear My Precious Child, for we are with you and have always been. This dance you lead is for your benefit. Lead for US, and release this need  you carry for Fear to lead. He is no greater leader than the ant that has deserted his line and hoarded the bread crumb for himself alone. He is none greater than the chariot without a driver, an ox without a rein, a beaver without teeth. Fear is useless, selfish, and above all goal-less. He has no goal. He has no plan. He only runs wild and feeds without knowing why.

Pay him no attention and watch how the echoes grow louder—the echoes of truth and justice. Release this fear, this bed partner you no longer need to rest beside. Come find true rest with us, and with intention only we shall vanquish this fear and banish not your trust but your distrust. You are so deserving of our love. You need only release.

“Arms of Fear”
Sam Craft 2012

Day 164: Undeep Road Thoughts

| Aspergers Girls

What I thought about while I drove eleven hours (700 miles) to California.

  1. “God gives us dope! God gives us dope! God gives us dope!” (Remembering back to when my young boys screamed this through the house, after they misheard the song lyrics: “God gives us hope.” I never had the heart to correct them.)
  2. Oh, I can pinch much less fat around my waist now.
  3. I wonder if I should use the all-wheel drive option for hills. Oh, what the heck. Let’s see what happens.
  4. Blue sky! I see blue sky! I wonder how tan I’ll get?
  5. “You know what?  Bird shit could easily be considered abstract art. Just look at it. (points to sidewalk) Even a good artist would have a hard time duplicating that.” ~ My middle son’s comment a few weeks ago
  6. The time when I was twelve, the seventh grade fieldtrip was to Ashland, Oregon, a seven hour school bus ride. On arrival I stepped on a nail and had to go the emergency room for a tetanus shot. On departure I threw up all over the backseat.
  7. The time I was a teacher and went to science camp with my fifth grade class and ended up in the emergency room for severe breakout of poison oak.
  8.  I’ve been in an ambulance at least six times.
  9. The time when I was a student at middle school, and in science class a boa constrictor snake wrapped itself around my waist, went through my belt hoops, and got stuck. I had to give the boa constrictor’s owner my pants to take home. Why does weird stuff always happen to me?
  10. There are a whole lot of songs about love and heartbreak on the radio, that pretty much cover every possible scenario, and that I’ve just about experienced every single scenario.
  11. My muse. My darling muse. The enigma who makes me read, write, and digest erotica.
  12. My youngest son is much like a wild hamster in the way he nests and clutters up the backseat of the van. Is there such a thing as wild hamsters?
  13.  I never ever see tailgaters in Washington, but see them all over California.
  14. Who thought it was a good idea to close California state parks? Who thought it was a good idea to elect the Terminator as a governor?
  15. Country singers can make anything sound sad and sexy.
  16. It was so kind of the restaurant waitress to subtract the price of the vegetarian omelet from my bill after I politely explained that they might want to be careful not to accidentally have chunks of ground beef in the veggie omelet.
  17. How wonderful that you have to let someone pump your gas in Oregon. It’s the law.
  18. How fortunate that out of all the gas stations in the upper portion of California that I happened to pick the only free full-service gas station. And that the man with the one arm and missing teeth who pumped my gas had the most beautiful energy and spirit. And that I could feasibly marry a man with one arm and missing teeth. And that looks do not matter to me nearly as much as the energy I share with a person. And that I need to stop worrying about my looks, because I radiate love and positive energy. And I am beautiful just like the man with one arm and missing teeth.
  19. How great that so many people have the capacity to travel the manmade road, through manmade passage ways, passages that were exploded with dynamite.
  20. Trucks are sexy. I would make a lousy truck driver.
  21.  I think way too much about way too much, and could probably survive with my sanity intact in solitary confinement because of my vivid imagination and inquisitive thought processes.
  22. For some reason the phrases “pump my gas” and “big rig” sound erotic.
  23. I’m so happy. I wonder if I drank too much iced-tea.
  24. I’m having a really good hair day.