Tag Archives: Life

An Embarrassment of The Subconscious

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…of what? Of a totally insane dream.

I had a dream that seemed to last forever and here are some snippets that I can actually recall.

Leon Russell

For no apparent rhyme or reason, Leon Russell (yes, I know) was showing me a ballet move called développé à la seconde, which I thought was even more remarkable because he was slightly paralyzed from a birth injury on the side that was attempting the move.

I can’t even begin to explain how or why my mind connected the Master of Space and Time to a difficult dance position, but that’s the beauty of the subconscious, I guess. It doesn’t have to make sense.

When I was involved in ballet, this particular move was a struggle for me to master. I often uttered a silent groan when Madame Kaliskis said it was time for développé because I knew she’d eventually make her way over to me at the barre and watch me until I felt my leg was going to fall off. She’d say “encore” which meant I had to do it again and again, and then she’d hold my leg up where it SHOULD be, and my task was to hold it there, but I never could.

Here’s a vid of how it ought to look; sadly, my extensions were never this perfect no matter how much I practiced.

Anyway…

As soon as Leon finished with his (quite nice, better than mine ever were) développé, the dream became all about me.

I was driving from my house to Catalina Island which is not at all possible as it’s about seventy-five nautical miles from my area and can only be reached by boat or air, but there I was, driving along a very narrow path with water on both sides of me, sometimes lapping up ever so slightly over the road, which totally freaked me out. This wasn’t a fun part of the dream as I was in a constant state of anxiety and vigilance so I wouldn’t miss the road and end up in the ocean.

(It’s only about twenty-six miles from the Los Angeles area, and the song by The Four Preps is accurate). https://youtu.be/1I7zMKptjRs?si=AwM3Vdcb5Y9iIzee

I remember taking the ferry back from Catalina Island but not sure what happened to the car that I drove along the non-existent road to get there. On Catalina, visitors can’t bring their own cars; most people use golf carts or bicycles. Only a very limited number of residents and businesses have vehicle permits and there’s a years-long waiting list for them.

Since I used to work for the (now defunct) company that used to go to Catalina Island from San Diego, it’s not too unusual to dream about it, but the more than four hour-long one way trip was often referred to as the “vomit comet” because, well, you can probably figure out WHY, haha.

I didn’t often accompany passengers over there for that reason, and because I generally get seasick. Ick.

After I was safely back on terra firma, my subconscious decided to go on another exploration of past memories and my often dreamed about kitty, Bandit, returned to snuggle with me in bed. She loved freshly washed flannel sheets as much as I do and we kept each other warm. The dream ended far too soon, along with the feeling of being safe and loved by a purring machine. That morning I had changed the sheets to soft, fragrant flannel ones, so THAT part of the dream fused with reality.

Strange dream, right? I can’t even begin to figure out what it all means, but it really wasn’t embarrassing at all because I’m fascinated with the human mind during different sleep states.

Back To The Island is playing in my head, so here’s the Leon connection, and to reiterate, this song was written and composed by Leon Russell, NOTNOTNOT Jimmy Buffet, and of course, Leon does it better.

And a live version with a couple of his children in the band…https://youtu.be/UXuPT-p3xk4?si=y0Bx361ND_jKT-wg

Shout Out Good Parenting: More of THIS

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Have you done this?

Recently I was standing in very crowded and chaotic place (physically, not emotionally lol) and I observed a bit older than toddler-aged child having a problem coping with it and was having a meltdown. I could totally relate because I get a bit disoriented in crowds and noise, too.

The mom crouched down to talk with her son. She told him she understood that he was having a hard time and it was OK, that she understood his feelings and was trying her best to figure it all out. She didn’t yell at him, she didn’t censure him in any way; she respected the big emotions he was feeling as he was trying to process this scary atmosphere. She didn’t meet his emotions with anger. This was awesome parenting.

After she finished and he calmed down, she stood up and I told her she was a great mom and handled the situation in an amazing way. It was immediate positive reinforcement.

Her face brightened, and she thanked me, gave her son an extra hug, and they were on their way.

We should all take the extra minute to understand the behavior of little ones and to use that time for emotional support, not to be annoyed or lose your temper.  Listen to your children and validate their feelings. 

Have you ever noticed great parenting and complimented them for it? Sometimes it really does take a village.

Colors of The Cosmos

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The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between rainstorms, the sky around here has been especially lovely.

The rain stopped for a bit and I went for a walk before it got too dark. If I could paint, this is what it would look like.

This morning after an unexpectedly heavy shower, I was able to spot a rainbow before it completely disappeared.

“I’d rather see the world as a rainbow than endless shade of gray.” Amani Abbas






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Another Day, Another Injury, Another Life Lesson NOT Learned

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I’m searching for whom or what I can blame for my latest stupid injury, like maybe Mercury Retrograde or the 11/11 portal?

I surely don’t think I would set an intention for — nor manifest — bodily damage, so I guess I’ll have to accept 100% of the blame for this one, which I knew was going to happen seconds before it did.

Here’s the scenario: I was planning to step off the deck, about a foot or so, onto some pavers. The wind had blown a small rug onto the pavers but at the same time that I chose NOT to bend down and remove it, I had the thought that there was a real and distinct possibility that I couldn’t see where I planned to step down, so I REALLY should take the two seconds to remove the rug — but I did not, and there I was, once again on the ground because I had not only awkwardly trapped my foot between two pavers that were obscured by that damn rug, but, as I fell, the edge of one of them hit me HARD at the exact location of my previous split-open shin, I then fell on my wrist (one I had broken a few years ago) and sprained the other ankle as it folded under me, an ungraceful vision, most definitely NOT a pretty sight; not princess-like in any way.

Ouch.

Covered in dirt and leaves, I sat there for a while like I always do, assessing the damage and shaking my head at my own stupidity.

The scar from before looks pretty angry and a bit bloody. There’s already a bump and a lump and is blooming some ugly bruises, but no broken bones this time, at least I hope not. I can live with the sprained wrist/ankle; at this point we’re old friends.

When will I ever learn?

Somebody once said “a definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” It’s been wrongly attributed to Einstein, but some people think it’s from Rita Mae Brown or a 1981 Narcotics Anonymous pamphlet.

Maybe insanity is not exactly my issue, but I hope one day I learn not to be so careless and impulsive about my personal safety.

Adult Regrets | Forever Young

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I’m not talking about the dark night of the soul burdensome self-condemnation kind of regret, but I was randomly thinking about how sad it is that when we grow up, people stop asking us who we’re going to be for Halloween.

There was always a great deal of excitement around this conversation, “Who are you going to be for Halloween?” or “What are you going to wear?”— whether we dressed as a witch or a ghost or a princess or a superhero or a pirate. It’s a way to step outside of ourselves for a couple of hours, to escape into an innocent fantasy.

Some might claim I’ve never grown up and that’s simply not true. There’s a difference between being childISHly puerile and one-dimensional as opposed to the open-hearted ability to discover and appreciate simple, joyful, childLIKE pleasures in life. That’s a good thing, in my opinion.

For Halloween, I’m never scary. I usually dress like a princess (of course) but next week I’m going to be a ballerina. I hauled out my sewing machine and made a longish sparkly pink tutu with a tulle overlay, reminiscent of Les Sylphides.

I’ll adorn myself with pink ballerina earrings (an unexpected treasure from Goodwill), my toe shoes and a tiara, so I’m really going to be a princess ballerina.

Je ne regrette rien. No regrets. Forever young.

Who are YOU going to be for Halloween?

Wings of Magic

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She soars on her own wings.
Socrates

Meet Princess Aurora!

A couple days ago I was shopping with a girlfriend who was actually looking for Halloween decor for a party but as soon as I saw her tucked away on a shelf alongside sparkly lights and baubles, I knew she had to come home with me.

I had to name her, so she will forever be Princess Aurora. Isn’t she the most magical, adorable girl you’ve ever seen?

I guess this creation was meant to be a holiday decoration, but she’ll live on that chair all year long, or until a special little titian-haired Angel Girl claims her.

Princess Aurora’s magical wings light up, too. Beyond precious. Innocence personified.

I Had a Dream

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It’s a bit unsettling to not be absolutely certain if something is real or a dream, right?

A couple days ago, I went to sleep about 10:30 pm or so. That morning I received my Covid booster and yearly flu vaccine. Because I have a sensitivity to vaccines, I usually get them separately, but this time I opted to try them at the same time just to get it over with.

At some point, my bed started shaking like we were having an earthquake, but I was also dreaming.

I was in the middle of a dream about my mom. I was in my bed and she was in her bedroom and when the earthquake started, she told me not to worry, everything will be OK, and I should stay in bed until it was over.

Since my mom died a long time ago, I guess that part was some sort of a dream, but in real life, the real or imagined earthquake woke me up to reality because at 11:00 pm I woke up/entered another dimension. I checked the earthquake app on my phone and there had been NO earthquake anywhere around here, which was slightly worrisome because whatever it was woke me up.

That’s crazy, right? When we are having an earthquake at night, my bed DOES shake back and forth just like it did in my dream state.

My heart was racing but I wasn’t scared. I kept going over the dream/not dream in my mind because I couldn’t figure it out. I felt what I felt, but if it wasn’t an actual earthquake, what was it?

Earthquakes in lucid dreams can also be a positive symbol reflecting a major shift or movement in our life. These can be personal changes that need the destruction of the old for the new to rebuild.

Houses in dreams are a symbolic representation of the dreamers sense of self. The bed can also be a symbol of what might lay dormant within, as being asleep is opposite to being awake. It might also suggest the symbol of death and rebirth. The bed as an ancient dream symbol has a wide range of interpretations attached to it, connecting the dreamer to intimacy, relationships, and security.

The earthquake part didn’t upset me, but what I couldn’t make sense of is why it felt so real. Maybe the vivid dream was caused by the vaccines?

Later that day, I did experience all the usual side effects that means my immune system is robust and working properly: aches, chills, low grade fever, fatigue, sore arm — so that might have been the reason, but I can’t shake (haha) the real-ness of it all…and how nice it was to see my mom again, no matter how it happened, and to know that she’s still looking out for me.

Numerology: Life Path and Master Numbers

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It’s the time of year for parent-teacher conferences in most school districts. I was thinking about the time my parents went to a meeting and they were told that I wasn’t living up to — or performing to — “my highest potential” which has been the story of my life’s path.

I was VERYVERY smart but I wasn’t doing as well as my teachers expected, especially in math and science. According to all of them, I was capable of great things and should pursue a career as a doctor and my dad also thought I’d be a great lawyer, following in his footsteps. I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t finish either of those life paths, although I sort of started down that road, maybe because there were obstacles in the way, like studying. lol. “I wasn’t applying myself” became the repetitive theme.

Those thoughts sent me on a rabbit hole to learn more about my own life path and numerology.

Numerology is the belief in the mystical relationship between numbers and events, used to interpret character or divine the future by calculating a person’s key numbers from their name and birth date. It is a system that assigns numerical values to letters and uses these values, along with your birth date, to provide insight into your personality and life path. 

Modern numerology is often based on the ideas of the ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras, who believed the physical world is a manifestation of the energetic vibrations of numbers.  

In a crazy coincidence, I realized that I initially wrote about this subject exactly one year ago. Or maybe it’s not a coincidence, whatcha think?

Anyway, I have no regrets because It all worked out as it should.

Due to my not exactly poor, but not exactly stellar academic performance, and especially since I declined the gifted program because I saw how those kids were ridiculed for being nerds and I wanted to be COOL, I instinctively knew how to encourage the Original Angel Boy to love learning and reading and offered supportive nurturing opportunities anywhere he expressed an interest.

For example, when he was six-years-old and interested in dinosaurs, I took it a step further and brought him to the Natural History Museum so he could meet with the paleontologists. They included him in a project categorizing dino bones and gave him some fossils to bring home.

When he realized that the local paper had misnamed a dinosaur found around here, I called the paper and they sent a reporter and photographer to the house to interview him…and yes I still have about a dozen or so of the articles which I’ve shown to the Angel Kids. “Look at Daddy!”

When he wanted to be a reporter, I called the local radio station and set up a meeting with one of his favorite bands that were in town, Trixter, (don’t judge, it was the 90s). After he interviewed them on-air, they gave us backstage passes to the show and we hung out in their tour bus. They were really nice guys and very kind to the Angel Boy, only now I’m thinking to myself, why didn’t I do the same thing with Leon Russell? Another missed opportunity. SIGH.

Since Reading Rainbow with LeVar Burton was AB’s favorite TV show, he wrote a poem for a contest hosted by the local PBS station. All the local kids who participated were brought to the station and I still have the group photo. He won something, but not the national award. The only thing that mattered to me was that he TRIED, not whether he won or lost.

I did all this so he wouldn’t end up like me and it worked. He’s still passionate about learning, reading, and writing, and now he pays it forward by teaching the next generation, so I’m very proud of myself, and AB of course. His bright future was actualized and came to fruition.

Do you know how to figure out your Life Path and Master Numbers?

Add your birth date/day/year.

For example, if your date of birth is 2/12/1938…2+1+2+1+9+3+8 = 26, which is reduced to 2+6=8.

The Life Path number of 8 indicates someone with natural leadership skills, wealth potential, and management talent, but must always use that power for good and avoid greed. They excel at business and finance.

In this case, there is no Master Number because a MN is is a special type of life path number that is a double-digit (11, 22, or 33) and is not reduced to a single digit. I don’t really understand much of this, but it’s so interesting!

My own Life Path Number is 2 and my Master Number is 11, one of the most rare of all numbers, as it can be reduced to 2, my Life Path Number.

Here’s what it’s supposed to mean for me:

  • Diplomacy:  Natural ability to mediate conflicts and bring people together. 
  • Empathy:  A deep emotional intelligence that allows them to understand and connect with others. 
  • Cooperation:  Thrive in partnership and group settings, working to create harmony. 
  • Peacekeeping:  Driven to seek and maintain peace, acting as a stabilizer in relationships and situations. 

Master Number 11 is associated with high intuition, spiritual insight, and a duality that requires balancing a spiritual path with material life. It’s sometimes called the “Illuminator” or “Spiritual Messenger” and represents a gateway to higher dimensions. Individuals with this number may experience challenges such as confusion and indecision, which emanates from a struggle to trust their intuition and a pendulum-like oscillation between extremes. 

To be completely honest, I literally have no idea what that means.

Why is the number 11 so powerful?

The number 11 symbolizes the potential to push the limitations of the human experience into the stratosphere of the highest spiritual perception; the link between the mortal and the immortal; between human and spirit; between darkness and light; ignorance and enlightenment. This is the ultimate power of the 11.

Once again, I’m reminded that I really never did reach my full promise, so those early teachers were obviously correct in their assessment.

Check out your own Life Path and Master Numbers so you can decide if you are living up to your maximum potential. It’s never too late.

A Glimmer of Hope

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In the midst of this dystopian hellscape in which we’re enmired, something beautiful happened in my little beachy town, a glimmer of hope that humanity is not completely dead.

A hundred or so of our neighbors showed up to celebrate the retirement of everyone’s favorite mail carrier.

When news spread throughout his neighborhood routes that our special and beloved mailman was retiring after forty-two years, a plan was formed to host a potluck in his honor at our local park.

This guy has been more than someone who simply delivers our mail; he’s become one of the family. There are few people who have an inner light that shines brightly. We all have been touched by his many kindnesses and we wanted to return the love, not that we haven’t gifted him with things over the years, but this needed to be a spectacular celebration, a send-off he’d remember.

Families from all of his routes showed up with food, decorations, and gifts. People we’ve said hi to for decades now had a name, and we shared stories about our personal experiences; especially his sweet tooth!

Since I’m known to be extra, I contacted our mayor and asked him if he could possibly create some sort of formal commendation or award to present to this exemplary human. He liked the idea which had actually never been done in the history of our city, and asked me to write a little speech for him, which I did. He took it a step further and created Mailman Steve Day and presented him with a framed award.

It was an old-fashioned community gathering, enjoying a beautiful SoCal evening AND happily for me, a little Leon Russell chat.

I yelled out to a neighbor, “Hey, Leon!” because he has long white hair and a beard, so of course I always refer to him as “Leon”, and another neighbor said, “Why do you call him Leon? That’s Jim.” and I told him it’s because he looks like Leon Russell. His response was, “How do you know about Leon Russell? Do you know Mad Dogs and Englishmen?” I showed him the playlist on my phone and told him to pick a favorite Leon Russell song and he chose two of my personal faves, “Girl From The North Country” and “Cry Me a River”.

Someone else requested “Tight Rope” and “A Song For You” and as a crowd gathered, we had a proper singalong. These guys knew every word and we all marveled at the musical genius of the one and only Master of Space and Time. #goodtimes

Best of all for me is that I’m still referred to as “Jason’s mom” even after all these years. It was so heartwarming to have several forty-year-olds (!) fondly remembering the backyard skate ramp and shared lovely memories about my original angel boy. I am so very proud to be Jason’s mom.

This happy community gathering to honor our mailman shows me that there IS hope for our country, even if it’s hanging on by a thread.

P.S. Next Saturday, October 18, is another day to protest the regime, another NO KINGS DAY, and I’ll be on the frontlines to again gather with my neighbors, this time to protect free speech and save America.