eleventhbeatnik

musings of an aquarian age counterculturist


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The punchline? My ass.

Given the emotional upheaval of the past few months, I’ve lost a great deal of weight and as a result, I’ve been forced to engage in my least favorite activity  – clothes shopping.  In my world, this is on par with suffering through a root canal.  But my old pants were sliding down my hips, and despite my reluctance to buy anything while in transition,  I had to suck it up and pick up a couple of things.  The most significant item was a brand new pair of jeans purchased a few weeks ago, the likes of which I have not indulged dropping coin on in YEARS.

Basically, I bought the jeans because they fit, were on sale, and I was in a hurry.  Labels mean nothing to me, so I did not take note of what I was trying on or what I eventually bought.

Until today.

Let’s face it.  Sometimes the universe has a warped sense of humour.

And no, this is not an inside joke (seriously: see recent posts).  Even if it were:  the punchline will be located on my ass for the foreseeable future.

Bottom line?  Ha!  Literally. Fidelity remains an important theme in my life.

Fidelity

Photo credit: eleventhbeatnik

 


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HumaneMyth announces the launch of the 50,000 Pigs Campaign

HumaneMyth announces the launch of the 50,000 PIGS CAMPAIGN at:  50thousandpigs.org

50,000 PIGS….
Joe Maxwell is the Vice President of Outreach and Engagement at The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS). He also personally profits, along with his business associates, from sending 50,000 individuals to slaughter each year.

50,000 PIGS…
It’s hard to fathom the magnitude of this number. Imagine these individuals standing in single file. The line to the slaughterhouse would stretch for over 28 miles. If they were to be killed in sequence, it would mean the life of one pig would be taken every 11 minutes. 24 hours a day. For an entire year.

50,000 PIGS…
These animals, and countless others being used and killed by HSUS’s collaborative partners in the meat industry, have been abandoned to their fate by many activists and organizations under the influence of HSUS.

With nobody else to advocate for them, will YOU be their voice?

Turning a blind eye to industry collaboration is not animal rights work.

It is not animal welfare work.
It is not animal protection.
It is not animal advocacy.

It is a betrayal of the animals.
It is a betrayal of fellow activists.
It is a betrayal of public trust.
It is a betrayal of the cause of justice.

It is time to BREAK THE SILENCE and confront the betrayal.

BE A VOICE FOR THE 50,000!

50thousandpigs.org

50thousandpigs.org


Ode to Halloween

Dear Halloween:

This thank you note is long overdue.

Yes, it is pretty much guaranteed that you will never read this (you are a cat); and in all likelihood you really don’t care (you are a cat).  A cool cat, but a cat nonetheless.  Clearly then, this is more for my benefit than yours.

You adopted me at an animal sanctuary in NY.   At the precise moment I needed sanctuary myself, you rescued me.  This, to me, is living poetry.

You wait for me at the door when I arrive home from work.  Dog lovers think they have the edge on this, but as you and I know, cats are capable of so much more than the stereotype reveals.  If, of course, said cat likes you.  Or feels like it.

You allow me to cry all over your fur when I’m upset.  When the tears dry, you graciously pretend not to notice that my face looks like a puffy cotton ball.

You reach up for a hug when I’ve been out of your sight for a little too long.

You vocalize your feelings.  Pleasure.  Displeasure.  Basically you are not afraid to demonstrate that you like the sound of your own voice.

You sleep on my feet on cool winter nights when it feels like I’ll never warm up.

You do not judge me when I become fat. Or depressed. Or hormonal.

You are a constant source of smiles and a consistent inspiration for love.  Even when the rest of my life feels like it has gone off the rails on the Express Train of Shit.

You are my anchor.

You are loyal.

You are a character.

You are family.

You are an angel in a catsuit.

You are the best.  I love you.

Halloween


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Spring Cleaning the Soul

I recently decided at the last minute to attend a yoga retreat in Northern California.  As it turns out, it was one of the better decisions I’ve made in quite some time.   It was truly a gift to myself.

The retreat center was located in the mountains in a gorgeous setting near Nevada City, California.  People came from all directions, from many different walks of life.  Our days were spent practising yoga, meditating, chanting, sharing divine vegetarian cuisine, and uncovering the mysteries of natural medicines through the sciences of aromatherapy and ayurveda.   Yep.  A hippie chick’s dream.

Spending time with so many other people on healing journeys brought home the idea that we are never really alone in our struggles.  Our stories may be different but our challenges and how we deal with them is often a common denominator of being human.

My heart was touched hearing how others were overcoming illness, loss, confusion and loneliness.  In that time and space we were connected to each other through compassion and caring and it was a beautiful thing.

There were a few people who I instantly connected with, and it feels as though we will stay in touch and remain in one another’s orbits for a while.  We shared great conversation, laughter and tears and I suspect we will see each other again in a similar setting in the not too distant future.  In my view, there really are no accidents.  We cross paths with certain people for a reason, and it is interesting to watch the lessons around such meetings unfold as the days pass.

This experience brought many emotions and thought patterns to the surface (as kundalini yoga frequently tends to do!) and it felt a lot like taking out the mental trash.  How wonderful to do it in a supportive environment where others totally get what’s going on because they are experiencing it too.

I will definitely be saving my pennies to embark on more journeys like this in the future.  Annual spring cleaning of the soul?  Sounds like a grand idea.

IMG_0432


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You broke my heart. Thank you. Goodbye.

You whispered in my hair while I rested my head on your shoulder.  “I love you deeply, more than you will ever know or understand”, you said.

My heart swelled with immense gratitude and joy to finally for the first time in my life, in all my flawed beingness, feel so cherished and loved.

In that moment, I believed in the depths of my soul that I truly had everything.  No amount of money, or success, or material things could match the value of that feeling.  Nothing.

Since then it seems that you’ve forgotten that moment, transcended that place in time.  Perhaps those words are now whispered into the ear of the one that is not me.  The remnants of what I thought belonged only to us shredded and swallowed up by darkness, the dead zone of your heart.

Now, here I stand, the one left behind.  Remembering every word, every kiss, every embrace.  The tears come, unbidden still.  In the beginning, the pain flooded in with the starkness of betrayal.  Now it feels different.  An aching emptiness.  Deep loss.  My memories expand in the realization of all that we shared; and my heart shrinks in recognition of your willful erasure of all that passed between us.

What was will never be again.  It will never be the same for you and I.

That, I suppose, is the foundation of acceptance.  Avoiding the truth of what is guarantees prolonged suffering.  So I now make a conscious decision to sit with whatever emotion comes; breathing in the knowledge that the only way forward is refusing to look back.

There is nothing left to do but say thank you.

There is nothing left to do but say goodbye.

You loved me once.  And I learned how to open my heart again.  Thank you.

You stood by me once.  And I learned that I need not stand alone in a difficult time.  Thank you.

You were my best friend once.  And I learned how beautiful it is to open up and trust; to accept the risk that inevitably accompanies vulnerability.  Thank you.

You broke my heart.  More than once.  And I learned to allow myself to love freely and passionately.  I learned how to let go fully and deeply.  Thank you.

You forced me to say goodbye.  And I learned that without endings, there are no beginnings.

Thank you.

Goodbye.


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Giving up, Giving in

The past three months were an exhausting emotional roller coaster ride.  Despite chronic transition fatigue, lately I find myself feeling as though I’m waking up to the truth of the entire situation for the very first time.  This morning a strong and insistent voice in the back of my mind started saying:  “That’s it. Give up.  Surrender”.

What am I giving up?  Anger.  What am I surrendering to?  Acceptance.

It seems that I am finally beginning to understand that my futile wish to change an ending that has already happened is holding me hostage to hurt and despair.  The last chapter was finalized, printed and circulated without my input.  An opportunity for a do-over never existed.  At least not for me.

This basically leaves me facing the hurdle of acceptance.  Simple idea.  Complex process.  Surrendering frees up space for peace to grow; eventually overcoming the chaos churning inside.  Not easy, but a necessary part of grieving.  Doing so makes room for hope to blossom and healing to set in.

It seems fitting at this time that I am attending a yoga retreat in California.  What better way to give up, give in, surrender.  A path of outward transformation must begin within.

I’m curious to uncover the latest version of myself as I move on to the next chapter.  It feels really good to contemplate fresh pages of writing appearing in my book of life.  Authored by Me.

Om Shanti.

surrender