Back to life, Back to reality

When you read my post title, did you sing that song? Man that was a good song. The video, however, is a blast from a scary key-tar, dreadlock pony tail, past reality.

So yesterday was my first day back to my reality of working from 8-5, then school from 5:30-9:45. Luckily, we got out a little bit early.

In my True Stories class, we discussed the apparent oxymoron of the phrase "True Stories." The word "true" suggests honesty, while the word "story" suggests fiction/untruth. We turned to Salman Rushdie's description of "magical realism", again another oxymoron.

He reflects on a question of a magic carpet. Obviously, a magic carpet isn't real but, once you reflect on how a person would interact with the magic carpet (how would it feel, would the carpet be sturdy enough to hold your weight, "would it ungulate in the wind", how far could you go, where would you go, how fast would be too fast, would it be cold) it transcends the superficial appearance of magic and enters into the human condition which is real.

The magical is a vehicle to get into realism.

So why then do we need something magical to usher us (or to fly us) into our own reality? What does untruth offer us that we can't access from the truth?

Interesting.....What do you think?

Back to School..

So this is my last weekend of freedom before I head back to school. EVERY other school is off until the 18th except UTD. That is a major bummer. Yet, I would like to reflect upon my short stint at having fun. Happy hour, old boys, new boys, friends moving back to Dallas, long lost friends, failed attempts to meet friends, STARBUCKS boys, family dinners, yoga, holidays, more boys, bachelorette party, dinner with JJO, movies, drinks with friends, more boys, hanging out with my brothers (kiddo was gone most of vacation).

How can I look forward to school? My dates with dead men won't be as much fun.

Eyes on the prize.....not the package. Sorry, that was just funny.

Musings for the New Year.

In my last post I talked about looking forward to the future.

Today, I read "What does aparigrapha (part of the yamas in the Yoga Sutras) mean to you?"

My first thought was: Non-hoarding.

Of course there's physical hoarding (shopping, collecting, even hoarding someone's time) but, then I began to think about metaphysical hoarding.

We humans seem to hoard emotions, feelings, sensations even when it is a detriment. Sometimes we just can't let go. Addiction comes in many forms and on many levels. External stimulants/motivators come in many forms: Good Grades, Love, Alcohol, Nicotine, Food, Sex, etc.

So I think aparigrapha means not letting these external stimulants define your being.

What will you let go of in 2011?

Looking Foward to 2011

If we were meant to dwell in the past, our eyes would be on the backs of our heads.

I think 2011 is going to be the year of intuition. The year of Ajna chakra. (Third Eye, or Brow)

I need to work on trusting my intuition. Lately, I've been shown twice that my intuition is right on. I think the universe is giving me a "follow your intuition, for dummies" lesson. Maybe this is a primer for what's to come next year.

I feel that good things are coming my way. I just need to use my intuition to discard the "clutter" and keep room for what's coming.

Photography by Alex Prager

"Tangled Up" by your humble muse

“Tangled Up”

“Kitty,” Gramma called. Gramma was the one who fed me. When her sweet voice called, I always hurried in that direction. Sometimes my journey to get to Gramma would be difficult. The house was still new to me and I wasn’t sure where I was going most of the time. Plus, I never knew when I’d have to dodge a basketball or hop over a pair of shoes or squeeze in between backpacks. No matter what the adventure, Gramma (and whatever she offered) was worth it. In fact, Gramma gave me my ball.

My ball. It was a lovely shade of red, almost the same color as the roses Gramma kept in the back garden. My ball was different, unlike any other ball in the house. Kind of like me, I wasn’t like any person or pet in the house. No one liked me as much as I liked my ball. When I would pounce on it or box it between my paws, it would run away. Then, it would change shape. As my ball ran further and further away, its tail grew longer and longer until it became one big tail. I never worried because Gramma always made her way over to transform the tail back into my ball.

One day, my ball vanished. No ball, no tail snaking around the living room, nothing. I looked under the couch. I only saw a few dust bunnies and some candy wrappers. The curtains were the same color as my ball but, it wasn’t hiding behind them. I looked next to Gramma’s chair, no luck. I even looked around the big bag she kept beside her chair. Nothing. Where could it be? I hadn’t been anywhere except the living room. Before I could even make a guess…

“Kitty,” Gramma called. She was getting ready to sit in her big, comfy chair. Every afternoon we sat and rocked. Sometimes she pulled something out of her big bag to keep busy with. Other times she sang to me. I kept her company. Purrrfect. This gave me time to think about what happened to my ball. I hopped into Gramma’s lap and started to unravel clues.
I began to wonder if my ball wasn’t lost. It was a really cool ball and the only one like it around the house. I began to wonder if someone stole my ball. Who? The rest of the family doesn’t like me very much. Mom doesn’t like me because I get under her feet. She says I’m too curious for my own good. I’ve heard her complain about moving my ball when the baby is around. The baby! He could have taken it. He’s constantly on the floor pulling at my tail or stealing my food. He’s even taken some of my other toys. Gramma usually catches him before it’s too late but, maybe she hadn’t been watching him this time. What about the boys? They are always running around with a ball of some sort. Maybe they wanted to play with my ball. Whenever I go near their room they yell at Gramma to come get me. Could they be hiding it in there? The only other person in the house is Dad. He’s been in Florida on business for the past two days. Therefore, he could not have taken it.

I didn’t have much time to develop a plan. Gramma was almost done with her afternoon quiet time. Since I already scoped out the living room, I figured my ball must be in a bedroom. If it had been in the kitchen or in the bathroom, Gramma would have found it by now. I was going to have to sneak into the bedrooms. If someone found me in the bedrooms, I was going to be in big trouble. I knew I had to be brave. It was the only way I would be able to find my ball.

Gramma finished our quiet time by petting me softly and saying, “Kitty, we’ve had our rest. This house isn’t going to clean itself. Off you go.” With that I hopped off her lap and fortified myself for the adventure. I decided to start with Mom’s room. She was at the grocery store so I knew I had at least thirty minutes before she came back. Next would be the baby’s room. After mom got back from the grocery store, she would feed the baby. That meant he’d be in the high chair for about twenty minutes. Finally, I’d search the boys’ room. The boys were in school and wouldn’t be home until later. I was nervous. Was my ball worth this risk? Yes. I was sick of being picked on. Someone stole MY ball. The bullying had to stop now.

I moved quickly to Mom and Dad’s room. They had left the door open a crack. It made sneaking in easy. I looked around and found everything neat and orderly. There was no ball in plain sight. A quick peak under the bed proved useless. I remembered that Mom once said she kept presents hidden inside her closet. Maybe that’s where she hid my ball. I looked high and low in the closet among the boxes and suitcases. I found different bags filled with gift wrapped presents but, no ball. All of a sudden I heard a muffled rumbling noise. Mom was pulling into the garage. That’s my cue to scram. I got out just in time. As soon as I bolted past the door I heard the kitchen service door shut. Luckily, the baby’s room was right next to Mom and Dad’s room. Right as mom turned the corner into the hallway, I turned the corner into nursery.

With mom home, I didn’t have much time to complete my investigation. My heart raced but, I had to focus. If the baby took my ball, where would it be? Think. If Mom had seen the baby with my ball, she would have taken it away from him. He would have to hide it somewhere. The only place the baby is alone is in his crib. A quick leap got me into the crib. I saw a red tail underneath the baby’s blanket. Excitedly, I sprung into action. I pounced on the tail and pushed the blanket aside only to see that the red tail was a red ribbon attached to the baby’s pacifier. I heard Mom shut the door to her bedroom. I froze in fear. If mom found me in the baby’s crib, I’d be banished from the house. I took another quick scan around the crib but, nothing even looked similar to my ball. As soon as I thought the coast was clear, I snuck out of the nursery.

The boys’ room was next. They wouldn’t be home from school for a few hours but, I had to worry about Mom finding me. Not to mention Gramma might notice I had been missing. I just knew my ball would be in there. It had to be. The boys were always playing with some sort of ball. They’d even throw tennis balls and play catch with the neighbor’s dog. I got into the boys room and my heart sank. The room was a total disaster. There was no way I was going to be able to find anything in that mess. The room was filled with shoes, clothes, video games, books, Twinkie wrappers, and many unidentifiable objects. I carefully maneuvered around the room, trying not to disturb anything. I saw things that were red but, not round. I saw things that were round but, not red. I saw things that looked like they were once round but, now were flattened. I glanced at the floor near the bunk bed. I saw something red and round behind the nightstand. I crouched and crawled underneath the nightstand and reached a paw out to bat the red, round thing. When it rolled away, it didn’t leave behind a tail. It wasn’t my ball.

“Kitty!” Oh no, Gramma must have noticed I was missing. I had to leave and without my ball. Whoever took my ball had won. Defeated, I scampered out of the bedroom and over to Gramma’s easy chair. “Kitty, have you been into mischief?” she asked as she sat down and offered me a seat on her lap. I purred and curled up trying to find some comfort. Gramma reached down and grabbed a few things out of her bag. She pulled out two long sticks with little hooks at the end. Then, she pulled out something that looked like my ball. It was almost round like my ball, just a bit longer. It was fuzzy like my ball but, a different color. Curious, I carefully got up and began to peer over the arm of the chair. It was really dark in the bag and I couldn’t really see from way up in the chair. I stretched and stretched to see if I could get a better look. Then, it happened. Plop! I fell into the bag. Luckily, I had a soft landing. Gramma scooped me out before I could get a good look around. I had been foiled once again.

“Kitty, are you alright?” Gramma cooed. “You sneaky kitty. You were trying to spoil your surprise weren’t you?” I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. I could only think about getting back into that bag. Gramma restricted me to her lap with one hand and with the other hand she reached back into the bag. She started to pull out more things. Then, I saw it! The beautiful shade of red caught my eye immediately. But, something was wrong. It was my ball or at least it was the tail of my ball. The tail was knotted, twisted, and tangled. What had happened to my ball? “Kitty, do you know what this is?” Gramma asked. “This is your very own bed.” I was baffled. Gramma was the thief? Gramma stole my ball? Of all the people who could have taken it, I never thought it could have been Gramma. Not only had Gramma taken my special ball but, she had made me a bed. Now I had a place of my own. Gramma placed the bed on the floor next to her chair and I hopped into it. It was purrrfect. I heard Gramma say something else. “Kitty, it’s time we gave you a name. How about Scarlet?” Scarlet, I like that name. I was finally had a name and a place in the family. I guess they liked me after all.