To a certain type of little girl, there’s nothing like pink ballet shoes.
I mean NOTHING. Nada.
Before I was Princess Rosebud AND before I was Rowdy Rosie, I was simply Rosebud.
I was ballet-obsessed.
A little ballerina in pink tights, leotard, and ballet shoes, and once in a blue moon at a recital, I was lucky enough to be chosen to wear a pink tutu. HEAVEN.
Yes, I was a bunhead. And proud of it!
There was the special red letter day all ballet dancers wait for; the day we’re told our feet and legs are strong enough for POINTE WORK –and that means TOE SHOES.
To dance en pointe is the epitome of a dream come true.
You never forget the day your mom takes you to Capezio to be fitted for those first toe shoes. Smelling and stroking them all the way home, hand sewing the satin ribbons in the perfect position, tying and retying them, clumping around the house on hard flat soles that feel like wood, hours spent staring at your reflection in the mirror. I AM A BALLERINA; ignoring the promise made to Madame NOT to try to stand en pointe without her specific instructions.
Innocence and hope and aspiration all wrapped up in pink satin.
These are my old shoes, the toe box full of lambs wool. I’m walking around in them right now…and my feet are killing me, lol.
I definitely can’t execute twelve fouette turns in a row like the good old days. Never mind trying SIXTY-FOUR!!!
Down in the village. there’s the cutest little ballet store, and I couldn’t resist a new pair of soft shoes for barre work-and an adorable shirt–pink, of course!
And I know what you’re thinking and NOPE, I’m never going to grow up, don’t even ASK!
Counting your blessings and creating a list of things to be thankful for has a real foundation in science and might even change the way our brains work, according to a brain-scanning study in NeuroImage.
It brings us a little closer to understanding why these exercises have these effects. The results suggest that even months after a simple, short gratitude writing task, people’s brains are still wired to feel extra thankful. The implication is that gratitude tasks work, at least in part, because they have a self-perpetuating nature: The more you practice gratitude, the more attuned you are to it and the more you can enjoy its psychological benefits.
Feeling grateful is very good for you.
Time and again, studies have shown that performing simple gratitude exercises, like keeping a gratitude diary or writing letters of thanks, can bring a range of benefits, such as feelings of increased well-being and reduced depression, that often lingers well after the exercises are finished.
Changing our neural pathways of any old tapes we run of self loathing and lack of self worth and depression with replacement thoughts of being valuable, of deserving love and respect aren’t new ideas but they’re new to ME. Louise Hay is a well-known proponent of positive self talk and affirmations.
Recently, I started sporadically attending free Friday mediation classes at the Deepak Chopra Center in La Costa because I thought I needed a little jump start to get to the next level of peace, harmony, joy, and NAMASTE.
After one of the sessions, I purchased Deepak’s little book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success. I just found a pdf of it here, if you are interested in reading it, too. It’s an easy read with valuable insights and suggestions.
I like knowing that I’m headed on a path toward increased compassion and gratitude, hoping to make the world just a little bit kinder by being more kind and grateful.
The Project of Happiness outlines seven steps toward the goal of a joyful and fulfilled life.
I’m grateful to all of you who read and follow my blog.
What are YOU grateful for today?
*Thanks to http://bulgariastories.com/2015/11/2612/ for JFK image
I spent the entire day with one of my oldest friends. We had lost touch for many years but picked up the thread as if it were only hours between chats, and not the chasm of time that separated us.
It was my fault. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I apologized and she forgave me.
So simple. True. Honest. Authentic.
Here are three of my favorite things to celebrate and be grateful for on this kind of overcast and cloudy Sunday.
Yoo hoo! Over here! *waves arms furiously*
Hi, Donald. How ya doing today?
As Judge Judy often says, and I’ll paraphrase…put on your listening ears. You have two ears and one mouth for a reason.
Let me make myself particularly clear.
My parts belong to ME.
MY eyes, MY nose, My arms, MY uterus, cervix, ovaries, and vagina.
Not yours to invade and certainly not yours to grope or grab at the behest of one of your NASTY little whims.
(See, there’s the proper use of the word “nasty“. Donald, don’t refer to Hillary Clinton as “nasty” because that’s REALLY a whole lotta narcissistic projection going on, DONALD, along with some garden variety “pot-calling-the-kettle-black” blameshifting, smearing, and gaslighting.)
Unless I invite you in or ask for your opinion, keep your grubby paws to yourself.
If I get pregnant and do not want -FOR WHATEVER REASON- to grow the little sperm/egg combo to maturity, it is my RIGHT, not YOURS, to determine the outcome.
D’ya hear me?
MY REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS do not include YOU.
Do you hear me now?
Do you understand? Comprendo? Verstehen?
I am a woman. Stay out of my body. Stop telling me what I can and what I cannot do with all of my parts; past, present, and future.
Here’s an insightful article on Huffington Post by an OB/GYN.
Donald Trump Confuses Birth With Abortion. And No, There Are No Ninth Month Abortions.
(Photo courtesy of http://photos.gograph.com/thumbs/CSP/CSP519/k5193117.jpg)
Before I was Princess Rosebud and Rowdy Rosie, I was a little girl who loved to dance in pink tutus and satin toe shoes.
A sweet and innocent little girl who was very gentle and sorta clueless about life.
Who loved animals (especially wolves and coyotes and foxes and mountain lions and bobcats) but all animals really.
Who never had to face life’s seriously sucky tribulations, cos life was pretty good most of the time.
Especially when there were seashells to pick off a sandy beach. Or someone thought about me and brought home a handful of seashells from one of their vacations.
Seashells make me happy. Butterflies make me happy, too, but that’s a different story.
This is about death. DEATH. Not a metamorphosis.
Death is pretty final in a lot of ways. I mean in this plane, on this Earth, when someone dies, stops breathing, heart stops beating…well, that’s pretty final.
Why do some deaths hit us harder than others?
Randomly searching for something on the internet, I discovered that a friend and business associate I hadn’t seen in a long time had died of cancer a few months ago.
I didn’t know. No one told me. How did this happen, that I didn’t know?
The death and the not knowing shocked me, rocked me to my core. I was sobbing. Not him, I thought. Not him. Good men like that should live to be one-hundred-years at least.
(I could tell you how it happened that I didn’t know, I could elucidate, fill you in on all the deets, but then the story would be all about me and not a way, however small, to honor this fine, fine man.)
I heard him say this one thing a thousand times, “Hey guys, here’s just another rusty brain idea I’d like to run by you.”
He was one of those true-blue, honorable, faithful, simply noble, ethical, principled, reliable, honest, trustworthy, dependable, SALT OF THE EARTH men.
They don’t make them like that any more. Trust me on that. It’s really so simple, when you think about it. Not a difficult way to live one’s life if you know what’s really important.
All men (and women) should aspire to conduct their lives to that standard. A decent man with character and a deep commitment to his wife and family.
A never-give-up kind of man. The very definition of what a man should be.
If you needed anything, Steve was there. Especially if there was food involved. Oh yes, Steve loved to eat, that’s for sure.
I sent his wife a letter expressing my sorrow for her loss and apologized for not knowing and not attending his memorial service.
She wrote back almost immediately.
True to form, he never told anyone of his battle with cancer. Thinking back, I remember he was always showing up with bandages all over his face and head from skin cancer surgeries, but he brushed aside all questions about his health. The cancer spread and though it was quite painful, he never complained.
One day he collapsed and died in his wife’s arms, the only place that was ever really home to him.
I honor you, Steve, and I will miss you forever. More than you could know. This is a big loss, a big death, and my heart goes out to your lovely family.
Before I was Princess Rosebud, I was Rowdy Rosie, did you know that? Something must have happened over the years to morph RR into PR, but she’s BACK! (You can read a previous post about RR here: https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/07/02/the-story-of-rowdy-rosie/)
All you need is a little patience, right? Well, to paraphrase my rock and roll crush, Axl Rose, I guess I needed twenty-plus years of patience, ‘cos that’s how long it took between Guns N’ Roses concerts. At least for me.
When my good friend from Cowboys and Crossbones told me their Not In This Lifetime tour was one of the best concerts she’d ever attended, my ears perked up. When I discovered GnR would end their US tour in San Diego, I knew I’d have to something about it.
I dusted off an old Rowdy Rosie sheer lace spandex camisole I’d kept safe (just in case) since the nineties nestled in tissue paper and wore it over a black and white polka dotted push up bra, squirmed into skinny jeans so tight there wasn’t an ounce of space to breathe, added studded moto boots, and the look was complete.
Not too bad for a grandma, am I right? (DO NOT ANSWER THAT RHETORICAL QUESTION!!)
After a slight mishap at the trolley station where I accidentally fell onto the tracks. No adult beverages nor any mind altering substances could be blamed…the sun was in my eyes and it was SUPER crowded-sometimes the truth is BORING, but the truth is what you get in Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife…
The opening act was the Cult, do you remember them? They did a great job of holding our attention until Axl hit the stage.
OK, here’s where more truth comes in.
We are all aware of the inexorable march of time; it can’t be stopped, we all get older, look older, feel older–none of us really has a picture in the attic (literary reference to Picture of Dorian Gray)-even Botox and a skilled surgeon can only for a brief moment hold back the tick-tock of aging.
So…when that sweet bad boy child of mine, the now fifty-four-year-old Axl Rose first appeared, I do believe there was a collective GASP from the crowd, or maybe it was just me? I mean, I know it’s been 20+ years, but I really expected him to still look like…
Side by side comparison…Where did he go?
And it didn’t matter at all. Once he started to sing, I was transported back to that special place where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky (lyrics to “Sweet Child of Mine”)
He’s still bad boy sexy though, and if I squinted, he kinda sorta-well no, actually not at all.
He’s aged, I’ve aged, we’ve all aged. He’s had some work done, not exactly a total Mickey Rourke, but a bit, and he’s brave to step on stage knowing how the world sees him in reality versus in dreams (oops, my bad, hee hee.)
I screamed like a teenager.
I danced like no one was watching (no one was) and had the BEST TIME OF MY LIFE.
The biggest difference in the two concerts from then and now -except for the cost of the ticket lol-was the ubiquitous presence of cell phones capturing every single moment. I’m guilty of that too.
When the first chords of “Welcome to the Jungle” started up, there was nowhere in the world I would have rather been than experiencing that iconic moment.
They played nonstop for more than 2 1/2 hours and ended with “Paradise City”.
As we ran to grab the trolley back to our vehicle, we saw Slash drive away in his black limo SUV and he waved to us.
BEST NIGHT EVER.
And now I’ll have a forever scar to remember it by…
According to Awakening to the Spirit World by Sandra Ingerman and Hank Wesselman, “Shamanism is the first spiritual practice of humankind and dates back tens of thousands of years. The fact that this spiritual practice of working in relationship and in partnership with the helping spirits is being widely used today speaks to the potency of the work.”
Shamanism is a practice that involves a practitioner who reaches altered states of consciousness in order to perceive and interact with a spirit world and channel these transcendental energies into this world.
Hold on a sec…yes, you’re on the right blog, I’m still Princess Rosebud, still Enchanted Seashells haha, just doing a little ENCHANTED exploration with the spirit world in addition to gluing seashells to any available surface. With a nature. land, and animal connection, how could it be anything but good, right?
Let me clarify…I’m not a shaman. Did you think I was? Nope, but I met an amazing woman who is a shamanic practitioner,and I’d like to share her story and my experience with you.
I met Carmen in January. I had undergone an emotional and total body 10.0 earthquake, a tsunami of pain that ruled my life so unbearably for a couple of months until I was so devastated that I was literally unable to function (I’ll tell you all about it when I can.)
A very good friend suggested that I seek out the support of a shaman for healing from these deep heart wounds.
Always a skeptic, I was so far out of my mind and spirit and soul that I would have reached up to the sky to pull down a star if that could have helped me work my way out of depths of despair.
Serendipity, divine guidance, luck, coincidence…who knows what it was, but I found Carmen located in my own little town and booked an appointment.
I had no preconceived ideas about what to expect. I didn’t even Google “shamanism”–I don’t remember how I drove to her office.
I walked through the door with shoulders hunched, tears streaming down my face. There was a candle burning and the scent of sage. I don’t remember filling out her information form…why are you here, and later I saw that I had written, “to save my life”.
Between bouts of sobbing, I told her what had happened to my world; it felt like a death but no one had died. I felt like there was something strangely wrong with me; not a medical issue, although I had absolutely suffered some health issues due to this seismic shift-but more internal, cellular, organic. I felt like there was a toxic or malignant entity inhabiting my body, causing me an incredible amount of despondency- I was tormented.
What is a shamanic journey?
In shamanic practice it is believed that part of the soul is free to leave the body. There are various times the soul might leave the body, during dreaming or to protect the soul from trauma. When a shaman is initiated onto the shamanic path, they usually learn how to send their soul forth intentionally, on the soul flight which is commonly called a journey or the shamanic journey. In early shamanic societies, many shamans were initiated because of having a near death experience. Death being an experience when all of your soul leaves the body, the near death experience is thought to teach an individual to travel with the soul.
The shamanic journey occurs by shifting awareness or consciousness in order to allow part of your soul to leave the body. The drum or rattle is frequently used. The slow repetitive rhythm shifts the individuals “rhythm” so that he or she can journey. Just the way a soothing song can help an someone achieve a calmer state. The rhythm of the drum puts you in the right state to journey. The drum beat used is very close to the frequency that is measured from the earth, and has proved effective for the majority of people. [From https://www.shamanlinks.net/shaman-info/about-shamanism/the-shamanic-journey/]
I’ve learned that everyone’s journey is different. Mine involved an out of body and trance-like dreamy experience — meeting my spirit guides and my spirit animal (a wolf, of course), and a feeling of release of toxins and pain–and a sort of rebirth. I felt as if I was physically still in the room and simultaneously travelled away from my physical body. When Carmen brought me back from the journey and I regained my awareness of the present moment, I felt completely changed from the person who had walked in two hours before. Lighter, less burdened, less desolate, less weighted down by a thousand ton boulder crushing my heart.
Are you asking yourself if I exaggerated or if it was as intense as I’ve shared? Yup, it was, and even more so.
And all I know for sure is that I felt better walking out than I had walking in, and for the most part, that’s stayed with me, along with a renewed sense of purpose, and maybe even healed a bit.
Happy Birthday to all May babies (and ME ME ME ME)
I’m reminded of my Hello Kitty birthday three years ago that was AMAZING and so much fun.
Hello Kitty is My Soul Sister…
No Hello Kitty this year, no special plans — my life has undergone a planetary shift of gigantic proportions, but I’ll try to find a level of JOY, because why NOT?
Reasons to be happy:
1. I’m alive
2. I’m breathing
3 My new grandson is healthy and amazing
4. Birds are singing
5. The garden is thriving
Sometimes it’s the little things that mean everything.
I am so sick of WordPress and its messed up problems. I’ve written this 3 times and it still won’t format correctly, so please excuse the obvious issues and blame WP, not me.
I hear her heart beating, loud as thunder
Saw they stars crashing
I’m a mess without my, little China Girl
Wake up mornings where’s my, little China Girl
I hear hearts beating, loud as thunder
Saw they stars crashing down
I feel a-tragic like I’m Marlon Brando
When I look at my China Girl
I could pretend that nothing really meant too much
When I look at my China Girl
I stumble into town just like a sacred cow
Visions of swastikas in my head
Plans for everyone
It’s in the whites of my eyes
My little China Girl
You shouldn’t mess with me
I’ll ruin everything you are
I’ll give you television
I’ll give you eyes of blue
I’ll give you men who want to rule the world
And when I get excited
My little China Girl says
Oh baby just you shut your mouth
She says… sh-sh-shhh