Monday, November 30, 2009

Funny How those Fingers Work… or not.

Well, it’s obvious I’m not gonna make the deadline for NaNoWriMo.

Sorry kiddies.

Nevertheless, I will continue to work on the book. I will say that I’m happy the challenge got me off to a great start.

Thank you very much.

Happy December, everyone!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Normal Isn’t Natural

Gee, why am I suddenly hearing Ethel Merman singing this… ?

Get out of your mind
And back in your senses.
Normal isn’t natural at all.

Get out of your mind
And into your senses.
Natural is nature’s normal call!

Do what you want
Be who you are
Scratch your own itch
Scale your own wall….

Find your own find
Be your own kind
Send out your pitch
Grab your own niche…

Get out of your mind
And into your senses.
Natural is nature’s normal call!

I’m probably stealing the tune from someone (sounds so Cole Porter-ish to me… but it’s my own words… (I’m pretty sure)!

Gee, I sang that to my Flip Video… I looked so old and scary… but it sounded good! Gotta fix the lighting… and wear my hat. Yes siree. That was fun!

Tomorrow will be a good day for that. Yep.. with the hat! Jazz hands and a cane would work too! Maybe Ksaldria would like to join in?

I’m sitting up super straight again… maybe I’m meant to be a lyricist…
A bard by any other name
Can sing as sweet… ?

Okay, I’m a Quizmo… we just don’t have serious moments when we can help it. We let those “normal” folk around us do it (be serious) for us… it’s called delegating.

Hey! Ksald, you and I can do a whole song and dance! That would be fun!! What cha think?

I have the coolest hat! (To be revealed!)

Thursday, November 19, 2009

May the Fastest Fingers Finish First!

It’s officially been declared… WAR!


Ksaldria, (Travels Aboard the Blue Selkie) has declared a NaNoWriMo Word War with moi, Quixwrite Quizmo,  in order for us both to WIN the 2009 National Novel Writing Month challenge.

Of course she did this on purpose to slow me down as it’s taken me hours of wasted writing time figuring out how to wedge in the widgets at the left, and officially except the battle.

So, dear Ksaldria, may the fastest fingers finish first!


Monday, November 16, 2009

Aura Colors and Pam Oslie

Just after my mother’s passing in January 2002, I discovered Pamala Oslie who reads auras and has a very cool on-line test  to determine your colors, which I took, and I also purchased both of her books, Life Colors, and Make Your Dreams Come True. Super interesting reading and learning.

Back then I determined I had four main colors. Most people have two.

My colors back then, according to an old journal entry I found that started this whole thing back up again, were blue (love, sensitivity), violet (art, creativity), crystal (that reflects the aura of the person I’m with—therefore, no crowds… I can’t be everybody’s aura at once, don’t you know) and yellow (the free spirit—someone that doesn’t understand why they have to be serious, don’t tell a yellow what to do, good at procrastinating, money not important).

I took the test again the other day, and now there are SIX colors… no wonder I’m so screwed up! Add lavender and indigo. (But don’t those go with a blue/purple combo?)

So like the many “gift markings” in my palms… I’m also blessed with a many colored aura.

Lavender is the color of living in daydreams, in a fantasy world. What is the “real world?” No such thing, a “real” world. Isn’t the “real” world the world we make up?

Indigo is the old soul. I’m not so sure about that one for me, but heck… I sure feel like I’ve been around the block more than a few times, and I’m tired of hanging around with a bunch of bozos.

I was listening to past recordings of Pam Oslie’s radio show. (the archive list is on her website, so you can listen too… ALL very good listening!) She’s quite a sweetheart. Very cute. I was frustrated about all my colors, and took a gander at sending her a question about it… in her little ask a question box. I thought maybe she would answer it on an upcoming show. So, I asked my question… why so many colors? Got brave, and “just clicked send.”

The dear gal emailed me back within minutes. I had sent her the link to this blog, which is something I wouldn’t normally do, but I thought maybe, she read a little of the story, and give a little insight.

She did even better. Sending the link to the blog was a very good thing… not that she read any of the words (that I know of), but that my picture was there for her to read my colors from.

Sure enough… and she did help clear up my confusion, she says I’m a yellow/blue with violet, who’s added  and the other colors. She says she and I have the same life colors… yellow, blue.. with violet. No wonder she’s so cute!

She went on to explain that sensitive yellows often score high in crystal. (Once again, you can take her little testy-pooh at her website, to find out your colors. She’s very good, and listen to her past radio broadcasts too!) And that a lot of people who have violet, score high in the indigo. Go figure. As for the lavender, she says I’m probably doing some soul-searching and “and maybe trying to figure yourself and life out.” Do ya think??

Pam is also a professional psychic. I didn’t know this till I listened in on the show. She communicates with persons on the other side. Very cool! So it’s not just about colors.. which is a wonderful gift.. it’s about life, past present and future.. where we’ve been and where it can take us.

The funny thing about this whole thing is that I want to know more about Pam… how she ticks and what makes her work, rather than more about me.

In truth, I know about me… all too well. But learning about me for over fifty years now. So then… why oh why do I keep searching?

Sigh…  It’s cause it’s what I do.

Laterz Gazerz

Thursday, November 12, 2009

A Graceful Upsidedowness Part 2~The Light

The way that spiritual event described in the last entry was really not detailed enough. I’d like to tell it a little better… Yes, the bottom line is that it happened, and the ecstasy not only was, but still is there, it’s a matter of finding it again, and staying in that space of always being a part of that – space –  albeit in our own physical world.

How come it takes the darkest hour, the blackest pit, to seek and remember always the bliss of the brightest and the whitest light?

I think it was summertime and I had just finished a three-day fast. I was living in a little house-behind-a-house. A tiny, two-roomed guesthouse that was originally built as a pool house. My home was behind the landlady’s full three-bedroom front house with her own backyard that anyone going to the back-house had to pass through.

My place was somewhat like the secret garden. It was fenced off by eight-foot high walls of purple and gold bougainvillea laced with orange lantana, blackberries and a myriad of wild flowers.

A large gate opened to my wonderland of another large yard complete with a full-sized swimming pool. Now mind you, the concrete pool no longer held water; the bottom had long been removed so it was full of weeds and more wildflowers. The old wooden diving board, however, was still intact and in place. All in all, it was a wonderland.

I loved that little house. I lived there for seven years with Bosco, my faithful Irish Setter, umpteen cats, and various other critters that came and went.

With the help of a clever (and very strong) friend, I was able to turn the bottom of the pool into a terraced vegetable and flower garden. Very cool.

Like I said, the house had only two rooms, I called them the “living room” and the “other room.” There was a Murphy bed in the wall of the “other room,” but I never used it. I slept on the floor in the living room on bedding that I rolled up and stuffed in the closet each day.

The place was funky. The living room was obviously a much later addition. It was paneled in rich golden pine, yet when I first moved in, the low ceiling was unfinished. The exposed insulation was an eyesore, so my first order of decorating was a trip to Cost Plus for three inexpensive East Indian type bedspreads that I stapled up to cover the pink and silver stuff. The sheets filled the spaces perfectly, the room was warm and cozy and I was a happy camper.

The “other” room was not as distinguished. It had only a small counter top with sink for a kitchen, to which I added an electric wok and a toaster oven. Nearby there was a cubby-hole in the wall for a small refrigerator, a tiny bathroom lurked around the corner, and the Murphy bed, which I covered over immediately with board and brick bookshelves and, needless to say, never used.

But it was a fairly large space. There was plenty of room for my drafting table and a large dining table that I mostly used for my art stuff.

I did love that little house-behind-a-house.

Anyway, I was at the end of a fast. I worked for a vitamin store at the time and was big into health foods and all that… still am, just not as fanatical. Earlier that evening I had been chatting with my landlady about her dance business. She was trying to think of a good name, and maybe I could come up with a logo.

I don’t recall being depressed at all at the time. I was happy, I had my dog and cats, I had a job I liked, and I had my own very private little space.

I was sitting on the floor in the living room propped up against the big stuffed gold chair – the only piece of furniture other than the bookshelves, a small TV and, the small ugly, old console stereo. (I thought nothing of driving all the way out to the valley to go pick it up from a friend of my mom’s who just wanted to get rid of it. But it worked, it was free, and I was in no position to afford a new one.)

So, there I was leaning against the chair using the seat as a table, happily doodling dancey designs. The Beatles’ song, I’m not sure of the title, but the line, “and we all shine on, like the moon and the sun and the stars…” repeated loudly and vividly through my head… then… suddenly, without trying, I slipped into a trancelike state and literally lifted right out of my body!

In no way was I trying to do this, but I didn’t fight it. I knew what was happening. It was scary, amazing, and wonderful all at the same time. From above, I watched myself sitting there frozen in mid drawing against my golden chair. Then I lifted right up and out of the building… over the houses, over my favorite beach, then back over the lights of the Los Angeles, soaring across the country, faster and faster but not too fast to know what was going on. Then, over the water again.

Meanwhile, back on the floor, my physical body sat in state of suspended animation yet fully aware of myself and my surroundings.

The flying me (as one often does in dreams), came to very high, very beautiful, very vertical white cliffs. I turned upwards and soared straight into the heavens.

The stars raced by me like a light show until it vortexed into a tunnel, a dark curved tunnel. I could see a glimpse of a very bright light ahead. As I curved towards the light, it got bigger and brighter. I didn’t think anything could be so bright, but it was.. and it got nearer, it became brighter still! It was almost scary, but there was no turning back…

WHAM, I was there, I was IN the light, but I wasn’t IN the light—


Omnipotent, omnipresent, omni-everything!

I remember thinking, perhaps my physical self even saying out loud over and over, “Oh, my God! It’s got me! Oh, my God!”

I don’t think I can even begin to explain how magnificent it felt! To be absorbed into this… energy. The ultimate orgasm is about as close as I can get.

Remember “Beam me up, Scottie,” from the old Star Trek days? And when Scottie lifts the lever they turn into little light energy fields and disappear only to be reassembled on the mother ship?

Well, that’s kind of what it’s like.. except you’re beamed in a bigger energy. There is no distinguishing any bit of you, of your energy of your being, from it… because you are IT. You are IT… God, the Universe, Spirit, Light, Love, call IT what you may, but IT is real… very, very real. And very, very wonderful.

I did not want to come back, no siree, but something somehow told me, I couldn’t stay, at least not there, like that at the time. Next thing I knew, I was reluctantly back in my body, but ecstatic over the journey.

For the next, at least month, I walked around in a state of absolute ecstasy. The journey was so remarkable.

I learned, first and foremost, that death is not at all a bad thing. Pain and suffering.. not a great thing… but in the end, death is wonderful, it is a rebirth in a much better place. And, I’ll bet you anything, you’ll forget all about physical cause you’re just not physical anymore, you are so much BETTER! You get to go to that extraordinary place! There is absolutely no need to fear dying.

But the biggest question I’ve faced ever since is, why? Why me?

I know I am not alone in being blessed with this glimpse, many have gone to that heaven and come back to our earthly plane only to tell of the wonders. I’ve read many near-death encounters that tell of the lifting of the spirit, the gazing down at the body, the tunnel, the white light… then the zap back.

In my case, this was not a near death situation. Not at all. I know it now and I knew it then. At all times my body was right there sitting on the floor… in a way “with” me.

It was a gift. An amazing magnificent gift… a gift of knowing there is so much more than most mortals care to believe, or can conceive. Thank you, God! Thank you, Universe!

I still wonder. I feel so… privileged. I like to know the reasons for things, but this one is still puzzling. Why me? Why the gift? What makes me so special?

Don’t get me wrong, I certainly do not feel superior or better than those who don’t know this
I do appreciate the gift, the gift of absolute knowing that there is another realm. And that we are of that oneness, of that energy and bliss.

And all I can suppose, is that the reason is… I’m supposed to tell about it. To help reassure others, that there is life, or another realm, after death. It’s taken me over twenty-five years to finally get the courage to blurt it out… but more possible still is that NOW is the time. NOW is when the people are ready to listen… to hear… to strive to feel the bliss.

At the time, I told only my brother and sister of the experience. I was afraid to tell anyone else because I figured they’d just think I was nuts or making it up. Spiritual awaking wasn’t something many people talked about those days, or at least any body I knew. It was kind of like, if you weren’t of a formal “religion” you were bad, a witch, evil, “hiss, get the crucifix!”

I told my mother about it years later. She, almost upset, asked me why I didn’t tell her back then. Don’t know? My mom was pretty in tune with it all, it took me a long time to figure that out too. I knew at an early age she was psychic, but I didn’t know how any of this all linked together. I knew too, that we are all one. That God is everywhere and everything, we are only physical forms inhabiting this body, this earth. It just made sense to me.

I am honored to be shown the proof. To be part of the proof... as are we all.

~ * * * ~

Monday, November 9, 2009


Well, it's November again and time for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).

I wasn't sure if I was going to participate or not, but on Oct. 31st, I found an old journal and was inspired by the entries to just go for it.

At some point in the book, I encapsulated in a thought bubble the words.. "a graceful upsidedowness."

"Hey, that can be the title!" I thought, and the rest is now emerging.

As you may know, the goal of NaNoWriMo is to write a 50,000 word novel within the month of November. Since that’s about 250 pages of type, the idea is to just write the dang thing! Forget the editing and fixing. In December you can go back and edit all you want.

So, dear friends, you’ll probably find more than a few major or minor errors. Please forgive me. I’ll keep editing to a minimum at this point.
Cranking out so many words in one month is a monumental task… but I wanted to share some of the goings on this year. And I’ve been wanting to post… so here we go…

  A Graceful Upsidedowness

I found an old journal I had been looking for the past few months. Funny, it was right where it was supposed to be, but I couldn’t find it. I looked in the same place several times, but it just wasn’t visible till yesterday. It was there all along, but I suppose I wasn’t really ready to find it.

You know it’s hard work being depressed, but I’ve had a lot of practice, I’m getting quite good at it. The journal, with entries ranging in date from November 2001, to what I wrote as 6-6-6. Interesting that I would even write a date like that? Nevertheless, the first two years of postings, mostly in poetic form, confirm my practice. I was in a very low place, almost as low as I am now. It was just a good practice round.

As I read through the pages, the pain and pleasure was all too obvious, at least to me. I wrote very clandestinely. Clever, many of the words, the drawings too… Wow, did I draw that? Did I write that? Who was that talented person, depressed as she may be, and where the heck is she now, when you need her?

The entries swing from depression and repression, through the total ecstasy of love, then back down again which is clearly noted on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year. The final entry as follows:

Don’t try to be me. You’ll be sorry.
Too many trails traveled – too many times having to return—but each time a piece was left behind. There I am, in parts of woods and forests that most likely are no longer there. My little heaven’s now someone else’s business, skyscraper or backyard. I miss me. I miss my adventures. My hiding places.
There I am on sandy beaches, on rocky shores… ignoring all responsibility until the sun begins to set too deep and finding my way back would be a treacherous treat.
Lost and found all in one instant. Found in the movement, lost in the retreat.

No, do not try to be me – admire a small part if you must, but there is nothing left but long gone beaches, woods, creeks, forests and suburbs that never cared.

My mother cared that my shoes were wet when I came home—a tell-tale sign I had strayed way too far.

Please don’t be me. You will be sad.
That was the last “dated” entry in the book… yet there is one more writing. A final plea for that special place, that voice, the genius inside to find its way to the surface once more. It’s a recount of an event that actually happened to me when I was in my mid twenties.

The printing in the book is big, blue and bold, a not-so-neat version of my standard uppercase printing.
The most extraordinary experience with God I had was joining him/her. It was wonderful—ecstasy!
I came upon a white light so enormous—so huge. I was engulfed and I became a part of it – NO – I became “IT”—IT was me, I was “IT’—GOD! It was wonderful. I was a gazillion particles of the most brilliant white light. I was THERE. The whole time my physical body was totally aware of my surroundings. I kept repeating, “Oh, my God! It’s got me! Oh, my God!”I crossed over—however briefly, to see the first bit of heaven. I did not want to come back! It felt so good! An orgasm beyond description!
I wrote that story apparently to get God’s attention. The next paragraph is the plea…
Now, God, I guess I’m asking for inspiration. My poet seems to have disappeared. Writing – if I have to – so what’s the inspiration? Music felt good tonight. [I must have been playing the banjo.] I can study all their methods, but I still do it my way. My fingers have a mind of their own. It’s simple, just like my taste buds.
So again, I called for my talents in a six-six-six backwards way. The rest of the pages, not too many, are blank (kind of like me now).