Meaty Kaleidoscope

When her voice comes in… it is exquisite. I was smiling from ear to ear. Shaking my head in disbelief. What beauty. I kept me from falling asleep. Kept me able to take in what I was being shown. What I needed to know.

Delight in myself as some kind of goddess, with help whenever I had questions or wanted to see something to gain insight. Delight in the arrangement of color in my space. The beautiful uniqueness of my cave, the vessel of my vessel, my treehouse, my trees. The rainbow light and me, I am in it. I am a composer. I harmonize. I draw good things into arrangement with pleases many and creates very special environment.

(This Was Not Today, This Was The Past Week or Two): Today at work, a old man gave me his ID. I knew he was a cop, like, an old-school detective-type (interested how much I like them, this kind of cop…it’s a very specific type, a specific feel to them). I just said, “You look like a cop. In a good way.” (LOL omg in a good way???) He takes his ID, looks at it, and says, “I was a cop. Back in the day. In the 80’s. That was a long time ago. I’m retired now, but I ran a security firm for a long time…”. I would love to be able to hear some stories and maybe if he comes back someday, I’ll get to.

Sick with faux-covid: My 2nd vaccine really kicked my ass yesterday and this morning! Wow, horrible and strange, but short-lived. But so sweet, Adam tucked me in last night and asked if I’d like to fall asleep to something on the tv. I said yes. He asked what and I said, “you pick”, my eyes already closed. After a few beats of his perusing YouTube, he said, “how does ‘Am I Really Dead’ sound?” It sounds great, I laughed, eyes still closed. Sweetness and joy. lol. It’s sweet when people who love you get you. Best things in life.

The weather just became beautiful, and like last year, I was sitting outside a lot, painting words into water-warped pages. I sat on my balcony, breezy, oceanic-feels. Here it is, back again, full circle, except I feel safe and established here. The fear is gone. I’m well onto my newness and await fresh choices. This home of mine with the sliding door open and the wind coming in. Safety in being loved by Adam and Captain, then outward into the world, this weird-ass meaty-kaleidoscope of a world. Anyhoo, writing in watercolor paint. Sketching. Maybe getting my pictures printed and pasting them into the pages. Very collage. Much medium. I think using fine quality thick watercolor paper so things don’t warp so much (because I value my handiwork). I think I will take pictures of the finished pages and that’s what I’ll use this blog for, using much fewer words. I think I’m finding my pattern here to be a bit repetitious. A bit boring, to be honest with myself, it has felt that way for a while. I guess I need to go live a little and then report when I’ve got a new story.

Record Room II

My notebook and the James Eads Tarot deck.

House has a courtyard entry. Smells wonderfully of blooming jasmine. (Cam told me later – because I wanted to go back out and inhale it – that there is no jasmine anywhere around. I was also smelling fresh, hot tea (not black tea, more like some kind of jasmine-black tea mix. Hmm).

Uncomfortable and getting scared at beginning. The house felt different inside from last time, immediately. Even in the Record Room there was a strange and uncomfortable buzz, like you’d get in a florescent-lit room, which surprised and scared me. The Beatles was playing, and it gave me a kind of mental indigestion. I did not know where this would go, and I was worried about spending the next many hours here. New person on the couch (lovely, strong Michaela, whom I was now meeting for the first time). I also knew that a non-participating Leisha was coming to observe at some point eventually.

I got comfort and distraction things out of my army-green messenger bag: my little, square, blank, hardcover notebook – the one that says “the world is yours” on it that I use only for these times; my colored pencils and pens; my James Eads tarot deck; Mentos mint gum; and my phone to take pictures and/or video as needed.

And so we began.

Outside, hired workers are around but unseen doing landscaping. Summer buzzing noises and rustling of dry palm leaves. I’m in Cam’s backyard with Kenita – a pool, a wood patio cover, it looked well-used as a place to lounge, bake, and commune. The pool, the fences, the shimmer of deep heat and horizontal waves in layers that are freakishly electrical-feeling.

The doubling of things, like a clone stamp. The trees being the strangest green, looking like a painted picture. I’m not sure if it was all just heat waves, or if it was as spooky and wretched as it sure did look. I had to leave it. The traumatized little creatures from the noise and destruction of yard workers. (Thank god Kenita was with me. I JUST LOVE HER – she’s not just a comfort, but fucking wonderfully fun and funny. She is golden). All the comforts of a Mad Max car chase or something. Yikes-ing, we go back inside.

We went into Cam’s bedroom. Aged, sticky with countless Time brand cigarette smoke, wonderful objects full of love, history, and hand-me-down information are placed about. Ceramic siamese cats with shining blue-gem eyes, probably from the 40’s or 50’s. Photos of loved ones. The old, big, dark headboard with a hand-tinted portrait of Cam’s mama as a beautiful young woman once-upon-a-time in Oklahoma – fading from too much sun everywhere except the eyes. (Just beautiful, this is all just so precious to me). Lovely. Friendly lady who was glad I was there. In fact, she was beaming with interest and delight.

The PAINTINGS Cam’s mother painted. Gorgeous, antiqued-gold, substantial frames that Cam’s brother, Michael built. Dancers, scenes of stages and dancers. Foregrounds and backgrounds separate, like a true-life scene. Shimmering movement of bright bodies in the mystical, dreamy darkness of a stage. Yes, they somehow moved, and it somehow was like a glimpse into an alter-reality. It was so beautiful – I was enraptured. I could not believe what I was seeing. It was like witnessing true magic. Hope I get to see them again like that.

(I really want to know what it is like to paint while on. Will experiment. Need to be fully set up before I begin anything).

I feel Michael very much. Really like this guy. I like to think we became friends. He is kind to me, not out of pity, but out of his pure enjoyment of being together and sharing the time.

Later, “read for” Michaela. She was hugely helped. We all could not believe what was happening. It was so powerful. I believe she received exactly what she needed – and with so much love and hope and comfort that all was well and would be well. Deep connections between people that will never fade, that her children, wherever they were in the world would never be disconnected from her even if they paid her existence no mind. There was no cliff to jump off of. No decision had to be made that hadn’t already been made and she was RIGHT and FREE. I cannot go into details, they are too private/personal, but it was amazing and blew us all away.

Afterward, Michaela came to me and put $60 in my hand. I was so uncomfortable. First I said no, but she said “so this can continue”. So, I promised it would go toward the next session to help someone (and it did).

Who is to be helped next (It was Kenita’s son, with loads of advice from Uncle Jim who really enjoyed his smokes)? I’m anxiously awaiting to share this gift with someone who needs some healing, seriously, I can barely wait. Imagine you have a cure but you don’t know what it is for or who needs it. Must depend on the other powers-that-be to do their part. I don’t need to get anxious about it. It’s fun to be excited to do it again – to be excited about living LIFE again. Trusting that it WILL come my way is the hard part. (“The stream will take us home” Haeven – The Sea). Reasons to trust are being shown to me. I can trust “them”. I can trust THIS and because I’m honest about the whole thing, and open, I can trust my SELF. ❤