cliodhna’s wave

Paul has just quit smoking after 36 years. his body has gone into shock, I think, as everything the cigarettes were holding down is free and back with a vengeance. He can’t breathe properly and his throat hurts. He says its more than just quitting, he has quit before and this hasn’t happened but I think that maybe he only quit before because he had to and not out of choice and this time his whole mind/spirit/body is involved because it is from a choice to make his life better and more healthy. it is time to purge, the body cries with relief, lets get rid of all of it! i feel for him and I sent him some reiki to loosen some of the stuff.

I remember trying to quit for years, having just the ‘one’ and making myself feel bad about it and then starting again and saying ’some other time’ until I woke up one morning about two years ago and said ‘I’m not going to smoke today’ and I didn’t and haven’t since. A few pangs and my digestive system didn’t work right for a few days but that was that.

The thing is though, I had dealt with the reasons why I was smoking in the first place, my underlying emotional need for a crutch and the fear of facing a future without that crutch. I was staring into an abyss of nothing, an empty landscape where I was lost and forlorn and had no-one to help me. Cigarettes, I reckon, are the sneakiest of the addictive substances, they whisper in your ear and cajole you with thoughts of ‘just the one’ or ‘just a drag’ or they are like the vampire energy sucking ‘friend’ who always wants from you but never gives and uses emotional blackmail and guilt to keep you there.

Paul is also now starting to understand what I was talking about with the smell. Even when I smoked, (and I smoked roll your owns, which didn’t smell the same as ready mades,) I hated the smell of a used ashtray, or the acrid smell of a cigarette burning down on its own. Now that I have quit, I can smell cigarettes off people when they step onto a bus I am sitting in already, or when they smoked, recently or a while ago. I had to get used to it and accept it when I quit. careful not to go the route of the reformed evangelist espousing the cause of the newly converted. Paul has to travel today 8 hours to the mine with his son, who smokes like a chimney, so he will find out exactly what its like!

I still have the occaisional ‘just one’ thoughts, like the other night a friend was smoking the brand of rollies I used to like and I had a moment of wanting and thinking I could just have one, but it passed. I am so glad I don’t anymore, I hated being addicted and depending on them, now I feel so much freer and stronger.

There was once a boy who liked playing with his friends and having fun and being happy and he had lots of friends who loved him and wanted to play with him and so they would pass their days making up games and wandering the countryside discovering lost treasures and making up stories as they went.
He had lots of coats he loved wearing. Some were bright yellow and some were dark blue with stars and some were silver and shimmered in the sunlight and sparkled in the moon light. He had long coats and short coats, some with beads and bells on them and others of the finest silk that slid noiselessly through the air.
He would choose carefully every morning which one he felt like wearing. What colour, what style and at the end of the day he put it carefully back in the coat rack for the next day he wanted to wear it. He took good care of his coats.
One day though, something happened, someone was mean to him, or hit him or threatened him and when the evening came he did not take off the coat. He didn’t want to, he wanted to keep it on as protection or as comfort and he went to bed and slept in it. The next morning he put another coat on, on top of the first one and he went out to play.
From then on he changed. He didn’t take the coats off as he had done before. He kept them on and he began to wear bigger ones and heavier ones to protect himself from the world. He moved slower and didn’t laugh as much as before and his friends gave up trying to cheer him up and eventually left him to his plodding walk and silence. People made fun of him then. Slowcoach, they called him and pitied him and stayed away from him and his gloom. Eventually he stopped going out of the house and stayed there and no-body called to the door.
This went on for a while, until one day, he felt a stirring in his heart. The sun was shining outside after a rainstorm and everything was wet and shone and sparkled like jewels. It reminded him of one of his favorite coats and he looked down at what he was wearing. For the first time in ages he wanted to wear a special coat and he felt dirty and itchy and smelly inside this big coat he was wearing. He took it off and the one underneath and then the next one. How many coats am I wearing he thought to himself?
He continued taking them off, getting lighter as they went down, thinner and as he took each one off he remembered what had happened that made him keep it on in the first place. A heavy black one was the day the bigger boy had punched him in the nose and the teacher had thought he started it and punished him instead. The grey one was the day he stole something and then blamed someone else. The next one down was when he had a fight with his best friend and never said sorry. He also began to remember the good times with his friends in each coat. The green one, now faded with its silver buttons gone, was a day of summer adventure in the mountains when they had found the sheep skull and made a fort. The silver shining one was a moonlight search for fairies and goblins in the forest. He smiled when he remembered how scared and how excited they had been.
He kept peeling them off until at last, none remained and he stared down at his naked body all dirty and grubby. He ran a bath and sat in it until all the soap-bubbles had been burst and he was clean and water soaked and his fingers had water ridges in them. He stood up feeling lighter and happier than he had ever in his life.
I will never let myself wear all those coats again, he thought
He ran out the door naked with nothing on and danced down the street. The children in school saw him and laughed and told their teacher but she didn’t believe them and told them to stop staring out the window. He danced past a house where children were playing in the yard. They ran in and asked their mother could they go with him but she shook her said, ‘You must have imagined it? She said ‘No-one goes out and dances in the street naked’. He danced past a café where people sat drinking coffee but they didn’t see him, they were too busy… reading papers, talking.
Coat boy danced into the hills and the mountains and far away close. He is still dancing to this day and if you are very lucky he will dance past you some day. Don’t blink… you might miss him!

I went for a massage recently and got the knot in my shoulder worked out. She is really good and knows what she is doing and sometimes when she has my shoulder blade and is pushing and pulling it out at the same time the pain is incredible but oh the relief when she lets go and the pain that was there beforehand is there no longer.

I think I identify with this knot I have in my shoulder blade. The constant nagging ache makes me frustrated and unhappy and uneasy and then, because I know it is there because of some unease in my emotional body I judge myself for having it and think oh why oh why can’t I get rid of this, I must be stuck with some block in my energy I can’t get rid of.

So, getting rid of it by massage I know is a short term solution but how nice not to have it and I realized yesterday I actually felt a peace with the world and with myself and only later thought that maybe it was because the knot had gone. Me without the knot in my shoulder. I guess I will go more regularly to her for a massage and let her heal my physical body so I can feel happier and more able to look at the emotional parts I can heal in me. A balance, I know sometimes I don’t want to go and get a massage because I am pushing myself.

I had a revelation about what to say to Paul too while I was getting it, it all seemed so simple. I was being frustrated with him too, wanting to push and not knowing where I wanted to go and I suppose by way of an apology and by way of accepting my own stuff I realized I just actually needed to tell him I was a worrier and a bit neurotic and my mind made me wrong all the time and made me feel bad about myself (no matter where I was or what I was doing) that from the heart I really wanted to be with him, that I was working on it, but that’s who I am. What a relief.

Is there a term like clinical depression that applies to worriers? People whose mind makes them wrong and judges them all the time? Because sometimes it’s like there is two of me, one part that goes with the flow and is happy and knows what she wants and is going there one step at a time and lives from the heart and then another side who I feel I have to fight all the time to stay on the first course, who is fearful and frustrated and extremely angry at what? I don’t know, life in general I guess, the two year old anger that she can’t control the people outside of her, the fear that she might get forgotten or ignored. The part that pushes me and says not enough or not fast enough or not good enough.

I feel she has got smaller. Maybe something to do with the dream about the evil head I had a few days ago. Maybe I have got stronger and am not listening to her and lately how I have been feeling is like a last temper tantrum trying to stay I control. Hope so. I don’t want her anger anymore, or her fear, I know it’s not real. I choose to be happy and when all lies and manipulation and control and fear have been left behind there is only truth and nothing can change that. My truth, who I really am.

We are made of love.

That’s it, full stop, actually don’t need to add anything else, though I could substitute the word ‘love’ for ‘light’ or ‘energy’ or ‘will’.

I have been in awe for a while at the sheer amazingness, unbelivability, simply incredibleness of this existence I partake in. A bit hippy and a lot happy…

But it’s true! We are beings of light and love and held together by our own will and image of ourselves. It’s an act of power to be here in the first place and we take it for granted so much. We worry about our jobs, cars, insurance, the news, the enemy at our gates, politics and sports. We spend all our energy avoiding facing the wonderness of where we are because it is just too damn huge to take in. Or we use drugs to face it while still keeping a veil between us and it.

Stand, little humble, tiny me, without armor or protection in the great wind of existence. I exist, so I have the right to see this. I am here to learn how to be all that I am, not to make money or have children or be a famous artist, though they might happen on the learning journey, they are not the reason I am here.

I am here to learn how to see past my own folly and past the folly of others to the heart of it all. To the source, the fountain of knowledge, power, existence, inside my own being.

There is the risk that the wind will dissolve me, make me nothing and my ego goes into battle mode. How dare he say that, or how can she act that way or he is a wimp or she is ugly. Judgments… how my mind keeps control on me. Stop me from stepping into my own birthright.

My mind is small, my spirit is huge, my mind cannot see past it’s own understanding, my soul is beyond understanding. My mind wants facts, reassurances, control, my heart wants to play and dance and sing. My mind would have me die before it lets go of control, spirit is not afraid of death. The mind is frantic to discover a way of holding on, the heart is infinitely patient, it knows mind will run out of energy sooner or later.

Choose knowledge, freedom, happiness and tell the mind to take a holiday. x

this picture is about the judge that lives in us. I find him very strong sometimes. The guilt that tells us we have done a bad thing, the voice that says we shouldn’t have fun, should be more successful, more happy, more creative, more talented, more whatever. It is also the voice which judges other people too. We judge outside of ourselves so we don’t have to face our own perceived shortcomings. The judge in the picture is not touching the ground because he is not connected with the earth but lives entirely in the mind.
There is healing going on here too though, my higher self sees the judge giving out to the small child and is sending healing energy.
Down with the judge! We are all perfect just the way we are…

The next picture is tears. I find I go straight to tears whenI am doing emotional work. Part of it is buried anxiety or hidden fears or old sadnesses that I haven’t faced and which have built up and part of it is fear of letting go, the mind wants to hang onto to its control as long as it possibly can. I have actually gotten quite accepting of crying in front of people and very accepting of other people crying. I am happy to sit and be a witness, give support and just let them go through their process.

I am sitting in my parents house in Ireland writing this and it is beautiful outside. A perfect irish summer day. Sunny, calm, birds singing. I am going to have breakfast and then go for a walk in the mountains.

x clio

…and the cock crew at midnight, witching hour, space between yesterday and tomorrow, a tiny space of now.

I slept and did not hear his clarion call to the world, that caused small animals to look up in wonder and large ones to feel the pull in their bellies. I felt it in my bones though, and dreamt of tidal waves and earthquakes and great winds sweeping the earth.

In the chicken coop an egg was beginning to hatch, the chick following blind instinct to hit out at the darkness surrounding it, to crack, to break, to push outwards. Imagine! all the world this chick has ever known is about to get as big as eternity.

But then, the world is the perfect size for each of us and we should not be afraid of the spaces between the stars.

x cliodhna,

to all us little chicks pushing out and breaking out of all the world we have ever known!

I finished the two paintings I was working on. Time to tell the story. Paul kept asking me what they were about and I would just say ‘you know, freedom’ very articulate I know but sometimes I can’t say until they are finished and I am so much better at writing this than saying them. So here it is!

I had a dream about a wee brown bird. I took this brown bird away from where it was living because I wanted to protect it. The bird was angry with me for having done this and was going to fly back to where it came from. I was really worried about it because I figured it was too small to do this safely but then I looked and the brown bird had turned into a young man with a backpack on his back and I realised he could do it if he wanted.

The moral of the story? wee brown birds are perfectly capable of looking after themselves

The meaning of the dream? I am that part of me that I figure can’t look after myself. I mother the bird, trying to protect it and it gets angry with me for not letting it live its own life. The bird/young man is that part of me that is very able to take care for itself but just looks small and fragile right now. I have to stop trying to look after it and trying to keep it by me but let it fly and go where it wants to go. Let myself go where I want to go and do what I want to do and trust myself and my wishes and heart wants in life.

I will have the other finished painting and the story behind it in a day or two..

x