I know my clarity right now and it is …

I know clarity right now and it is ….

bringing to me this moment here, now.  My hair is wet and cool hanging on my head, as the water begins to evaporate and my hair becomes lighter and lighter, not so heavily weighted down by wetness and curls beginning to form about my head.  Soft cloth covers my naked body. My new nightgown, purple and soft like several layers of a nice feeling T-shirt perhaps, draping and hanging down to my ankles, warming me against the slight chilly morning air in the room.  I hear a slight click of the keys under my fingers as I type these words, the only noise in the room, except Julie’s chimes on the phone. I hear them through the headset, black and shiny sitting across my wet hair beginning to curl.  The chord drapes itself from one end, across my tummy and around the black metal drawer like thing upon which my white keyboard and mouse sit.  Then it goes across my phone and up to a hook behind it, preventing it from lying on the floor under my feet.  On closer inspection the keys on my keyboard are white and set into a silver metal base.  My shiny magic Mac mouse sitting to my right ever ready to help me navigate across my computer screen.  My computer, lovely friend, sits in front of me as I type covered with yellow sticky notes.  I am my God Being. I am living my Brilliance ….

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One way I want to become a better writer is

One way I want to become a better writer is, and I am ready to create time every day for writing. I am a flowing fountain, like a spring bubbling up from out of the ground, endlessly offering herself to us.  She pours herself out onto the ground and the water soaks in and in and in and eventually a trickle forms into a river-let and a creek and sometimes a whaling river comes down the mountainside.  Some may drink or none may partake of her beauty, it matters not whether others are nourished or delighted. She keeps on being herself, doing her thing, and allowing herself to be shared, come what may without attachment. I know I too am like that spring, ever flowing with words, which long to be poured out upon the page.  I feel tight and full and over full when I do not allow time for them to pour out and dance and slide and slip and drip themselves into phrases and sentences across the page breathing their life into my life.  My breathing life into life itself with every word I share with myself, whether or not others read. For in the grand scheme, my words become real the moment I release them from the prison of me.  The moment I say OK they are here, I will let them out to play today.  We are all connected and so every word I release onto the page changes my day and everyone’s day, like the streams flowing through our lives.  While I am blessed by these actions, I bless the world as well and we are never the same, because I came to the page and shared.

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the story my emotions want me to tell …

the story my emotions want me to tell today goes like this    i am ready to wash away the past gunk from decades past    i want to scream out loud until i can no longer scream with some music   let out any last essence from the past   cry beat the pillows until i am flowing clean and clear    i am ready for newness  i am eager to begin a new life authentic and juicy and vibrantly me    free and unfettered by what has been   everything which has been was perfect   each step led me to here now where I wake up from my sleep   my emotions long to be felt and embraced fully   my emotions long to be danced clearly  authentically   my tears long to flow rivers down my cheeks     my emotions are ready for all they can be    today i stop creating the sludge  today i stop holding back  clenching  not feeling  creating garbage clinging to my bones     today i begin fresh and new  attracting a new partner   writing my books   inhaling the juicy orgasmic delights each day can bring   today i begin anew   vomiting the past into the arms of the Divine  to compost into the magic of a new born day   today emerging like a new blade of grass shining and glistening in the arms of the sun’s embrace    i am here to grace the day with a vibrant new delightfully joyful me

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What I truly want to write today …

What I truly want to write today is.… I am enjoying the ride so far!! I am involved in a 30 day Creating the Impossible and chose a new lasting relationship with a man of my dreams.  I was scared and it was surely something I really wanted and yet seemed impossible to create in 30 days.  Yet miracles happen all the time, so perhaps maybe this one.  I was really scared to share this with others however, most people in this group would be strangers. OK  The the 3rd day you were instructed to ASK for advice and support. Take 100 actions steps, ask 100 people! That was out of my comfort range!! That was not what I expected. Yet I was committed.  What did I have to lose? If I did not get a man, I would just be without a man.  I wrote a nice email with my requests and began going through my email list. I sorted things out and just sent one email at a time, pausing to send love and blessings and appreciation to each person I was sending an email to.  I took a breath and let go of my attachments to receiving a response, or to what feedback I might receive. At the end of the day, before falling into bed, I had sent an incredible 87 emails!! I did not even know I knew that many people! I even called my daughter since she had used a dating site! So I am proud of myself. I want to pat myself on the back and say “I DID IT!!”  I asked for help and support!!  So far I received 15 replies with some great tips!! I am doing something vibrantly new and exciting today!! Creating a new intimate loving relationship in my life!! Hurray for me!!!

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Either .. Or

Either Or

I grew up
and often lived
in an either or world
a world in which things are
right or wrong
good or bad
left or right
forward or backwards
it was as if
every choice
was
this or that
I was divided in half
i could never have it all
I could only have a little piece
i realize that now
why i have lived
a divided life

life is really
this and that
good and bad
right and wrong
left and right
AND
everything in between
not ever seen
in the either or example
cutting myself into slices
was unnecessary
chopping others to pieces
was also not needed
no more guessing
confessing it was all wrong
the song is a chorus
of notes
strung together
not just this note
or that
I do not paint
with just this color
or that color
it is always
and forever
an AND and and
my choices are endless
and infinite
random and organized
known and surprising
and
everything in between
seen and unseen
i now revel
in my unlimited
choices

© Morgine Jurdan  10-1-2010

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i experience bliss … delight .. contentment ….

i experience bliss delight and perfect contentment when i sit in my magical air chair which hangs on my front porch, a big silver ring screwed into the ceiling by my front door and it hangs freely, beige canvas softly sweetly calling me into its magnetic arms  come  come come it invites me into heaven   floating freely in the air, gently moving to and fro, even my legs comfortably held up by a canvas sling i am taken into another world   i am a child  i feel embraced by the divine  by god  by the air   no cares as all   i float away  close my eyes and see things i normally never see sitting in normal chairs   this chair floats in the air, flies, smiles for me and with me and through me   it is magical and brings me home into the present moment   in my magic chair i notice the textures of the air  the green moss hanging so lazily off the branches of the tree  birds jumping from branch to branch in search of tasty morsels  i hear the beautiful chorus of birds singing and their voices pierce my skin, caress my heart and mellow my mind    i am so kind to myself and the world whirling around in my magical air chair

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when my heart opened deeper

when my heart opened deeper

i remember as if it was yesterday   my feelings were caught up in my throat    the world stood still for a very long and endless moment  it is as if no one in the room were moving and there was only my breath a bit bent as my neck was twisted up laying on the table   tears streaming rivering down my cheeks   hot  spirit filled tears   i could barely believe what i saw    it was too real    too  amazing   too magical  it did not seem real

my heart opened wide and took in the entire room  every person, all the lights, the glistening through my tears,  dark red blood glistening and dripping onto my belly   there was also a glistening white chalky substance sprinkled about    here she is perfect as can be  she grew inside me  she actually is real here now on my belly   the doctor laid here here for me to see

is there anything more beautiful in the world    is there anything more precious than this baby  this precious child  this precious moment here now  me crying for joy  crying in wonder    gratitude pouring wordless gushing from my lips and from every single cell of my being    oh my god look at this magic   this amazing bundle of love and joy    behold this speck of god   i reach out and touch this wonder    this little bundle of iridescent love laying on my naked belly   our hearts our touching,   they surround each other  they merge and mingle for we are still one    touching her she touches me and we wonder here and now  in this silent space where time stands still   we imagine if more love and wonder could  ever ever fill a space like this

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when rules and inspiration meet ….

when rules and inspiration meet I write in a way which my readers can comprehend what i desire to share Van Gogh could have practiced making designs which made no sense and yet the iris mesmerize people, because they are familiar enough to engage their curiosity with i write with spaces between my thoughts leaving off the punctuation so my readers know when I might be pausing between thoughts or taking a long breath when I write it is as if I have words swirling around me inside an experience and i am choosing to lasso the most appropriate ones which might convey some abstract thought like how it is to experience god hugging an olive tree in the midst of a workshop i became the universe i expanded to a place which had no edges i could decipher i felt as if i were experiencing myself as every star every person the planets the weather there was no me involved it is actually a wordless place which graced me and took me away on its wings private and shattering any rules by which i had lived my life up until that moment yet in questioning my experience i had to lasso some words with which i could make an attempt to hold it in my fingers and share

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I smell ….

when i smell   the ocean  i  feel as if I have come home  i feel primal as if i am taken deeply inside the magic of life itself   the air scented with salt and sand cleanses my body mind and spirit  purging all that is not important away  i am drawn into the present moment with every endless wave lapping at my feet   i inhale the sweet salty ocean and my body opens wide  my arms extend to reach way beyond the galaxies i know of into a space and place of unknowing   I am floating in this space of clear clean magic   the salt lingers on my cheeks and touches my tongue  i am undone, unwound  unbound and free    it takes me home  to my source  to that place from which I know i came and into which i will pass into someday again     i long to lay down and be carried away by the waves floating me beneath a sunny sky, releasing my feet from the ground surrounded by the water floating me free  letting go deeper and deeper into a freedom of love holding me   supporting me like a leaf in the wind  twirling and swirling not knowing where i come in and where i will end

when i smell I remember my cat KC  short silky shiny black fur she always smelled of flowers  outdoor sweetness  where did she go   where did she play or lay today   was this her fragrance or was it infused in nature    i loved to hold her near and inhale her fur   it made me smile   she would beguile me with her smell   it was as if she were a magic cat   light and magical  and perfumed with the scent of god ..

I remember my father’s studio where he worked, designed, drew for hours on end, did airbrush and some painting. I am reminded of it many times walking into an art supply store. I can smell the gray gum erasers which he kneaded like plastic dough, to refresh again and again during the day.  Pencil lead actually has a fragrance when drawn upon paper for hours on end.  Faint fragrances of water color paints can settle around in the room, urging one to find a brush to bring them onto the page.  The huge drafting table, metal and wood, standing in the corner surrounded by shelves upon which he kept his paints and pencils and drafting materials.  I can almost see my father there working, in the middle of the store, metal drafting pencil held between his teeth, eyes fixated upon the drawing he was working on, and the smell of coffee lightly scenting the air.

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I remember ….

9-26-2010

if you have blockage in writing plug in

I REMEMBER

Friday Catch up Day

i remember when i  had a catch up day friday
recycling plastics and cardboard
deposited checks and one not taken
picked up jerry at the subaru repair shop on 82nd
breakfast at besaws
goodwill  dragon rug and basket
jerry back to car
me resting in car by library
shopping
freddy  waste basket  lint roller  art stuff
lunch at chinese gardens
goodwill new clothes new me new colors
dinner at paparazzi one of best ever
home
hurry to unpack
taking Cedar out to pee now and then  pee on sidewalk

pick one two three

I remember going out to eat three times in one day    i never remember that happening in this way before    left early in the morning depositing checks in a machine returning them because one was torn  driving through recycling and meeting jerry where he left his Subaru for repair  lets have breakfast he says   Besaws is great  noisy cafe filled with people talking  chattering of dishes  warm smells of eggs and potatoes, sweetness  coffee   shall i remain raw and choose fruit or order something else   i choose farmers hash with eggs and potatoes dotted with sweet caramelized onion and accentuated with pungent dark green arugula and topped with cheddar cheese   it leaves me feeling heavy and tired   later on after noon i dine on some little pockets of veggies at the chinese gardens delicate and light accompanied by sweet winter melon my favorite drink there  still do not know quite what it contains  and small delicate sweet coconut in a little crust  ahh looking out the window at the gardens slowly the afternoon.    late that evening driving home have an argument with spirit insisting i eat again at a new restaurant in a little town  ahh  ahh one of the best meals of chicken breast and shrimp with a cream and mustard sauce over perfectly done veggies green beans tomatoes, mushrooms and onions   I took time to let the staff know I felt I had been honored by partaking of such delicious food  used a piece of bread to soak up the last of the sauce on my plate not wanting to leave one drop of sauce on the plate

For more reading on my writing and talking to my friend Sheila http://writingforhealing.com/bread-soaking-up-and-giving-life/

each sentence could become a writing ……

******************************************
later on …

I remember… last night i watched a very haunting movie and woke up several times last night  …  Mockingbird Don’t Sing

In watching the movie I remembered living through it the actual event when my son was born! I remember the TV coverage and the father killing himself the day of the trial. I remembered seeing or hearing glimpses….  i could not get her pictures our of mind  ….

being tied to a potty chair from the age of 20 months, naked except for  a diaper ..sometimes put in a straight jacket and laid in a baby crib with chicken wire on the top   beaten and growled at if she made noise and fed baby foods and pablum for almost 12 years of her life, a prisoner in a room with foil on the windows and a mentally ill father abusive to her mother and brother as well

i remember going on line afterwards searching for what happened to her after she was in several foster homes, severely abused because she could not be “normal” enough to be accepted …  it makes me wonder what IS normal   i keep going around and around wondering about this and how we treat each other and society and how we separate out those who are not acceptable to what we define as “normal” and who decides this and these things    how about the brother no one talks about ….. five years older …raised by his grandmother to protect him until she was hit by a truck and dragged down the street in front of him and killed and he was back in this home again… he was also beaten and beaten

then I remembered even more   a very distinct and painful memory  wondering why i did not say more   why my parents did not say more and i guess no one knows not being these people   i remember playing with a neighborhood boy named Carl Sherman when I was about 10 or 11 years old. He was about my age or a year or so younger. We went to school together and played with out group of friends.  One day for some reason we went in his house when his parents were gone. It could have been to go to the bathroom or something.  I started to open a wrong door and he stopped me.  Later he said he would show me what was in there, and I could tell no one or he would get in big trouble.  He told me his sister lived in that room, however, she never came out.  He would sometimes go in there and roll a ball back and forth to her, as I remember.  I think she was four or five years old. The room was completely black.  There was paper or something over all the windows. I remember I could tell there was something moving, yet there was no talking.  It hurt me to my soul.  I could not understand it at all. He just said there was something wrong with her.  I always wondered what happened to her.  At that age, I had no concept of calling the police or reporting anyone and today I so wish to understand if I was being shown that for a reason. I did tell my parents and I imagine they thought I was exaggerating. They also did not know Carl’s parents.  I don’t know anyone who did, as I remember. They kept to themselves a lot.

so I guess this story is haunting me to bring up memories   memories leading me back to the question WHAT IS LOVE ASKING ME

remember it says   the world needs more LOVE  …  you saw the movie   you remembered the other little child locked away in a dark room   you can assume there are many more   neglected children in need of love and light    bring them some light  release them from this bondage by bringing light to them every day    sending them love and light and knowing it makes a difference

remember love is needed   the little girl Genie  Susan Wiley needed love most of all   she was in need of someone giving her unconditional love regardless of how she acted how she responded to anything   loving her for the sake of loving her   yet she became a study case  people attempting to prove or disapprove their theories   love was a reward for speaking or learning to do things  they wanted to turn her into something “acceptable”  that would make them famous and her famous  they cared about her  she was genuine and real and had inside her a brilliant spark growing   there was a seed planted when she was released into her freedom  something which could have been nurtured and grown if she was loved   spent time with finding out what SHE wanted most  following her lead and her direction they would have had great success   the challenge was they all thought they knew better  they were the experts determined to transform the wild child into a brilliant child because they knew better   just one more lesson  one more test  one more reason to make her into something other than what she was

innocent and beautiful  lovely charming  overlooking her spitting and running around   her confusion   she wanted to learn  she would point at things and want to know what they were had they allowed her to learn at her own pace   things which brought her the most joy   it would have transformed humanity

the lesson love gives you Morgine is to always allow things their own space to be authentically themselves  when you interrupt the butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon, it becomes deformed, never flies and it dies.  adults forget … Children are your TEACHERS regardless of how deformed and mentally challenged they are. Note how little Susan was so excited about learning things when she was left alone.  She wanted to know the names of things.  She would touch and feel things as if she were blind. She spent those many years blind, sitting in a darkened room.  Someone taught her sign language.  Think about this.  She had been punished for making noise, so this was simply a much safer way to communicate than attempting to teach her speech after being so brutally beaten for years for making noise.  You do not erase the abuse and trauma merely by teaching someone to speak.  She was such a curiosity they totally overlooked what might be going on inside her mind, nightmares, the conditioning patterns of her abuse still running through her life.

Just remember, allowing life to flow through you.  Allow things to always be fresh and new and exciting.  Allow these children, all of them, to remind you awe and wonder are only a change in perception.  If they spent more time observing and following an entire new world would have opened up.  Instead they attempted to mold her into something “they thought she could be” and they would be proud of, and they would be looked up to for their grand achievements. They were afraid to allow her to lead the way and for that lack of courage, milestones were lost all the way around ….

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