Thursday, July 06, 2006
I haven't posted in the last couple of weeks because every time that I sat down and wrote, it always came out negative. Negative, negative, negative. You guys would have wanted to slap me even more than you usually do. You would have thought I was so annoying, a complaining wimp cry baby. So, I will spare you the "My son is driving me crazy, why me?" posts and instead will entertain you will pointless points on the past few weeks.
Did I mention that for my birthday a couple of weeks ago, Jon gave me a pink ukulele!? It is just the most fabulous gift, a little soprano ukulele, pink with mother of pearl trim. I've been practicing a bit and can play some chords. As soon I've got a song down, one that I've composed myself, I'll do an audio post.
I've come to the conclusion that my "energies are blocked". Looking for a good book on meditation and connecting with one's spirit guide (don't laugh) at our local New Age bookshop, I was tested by a friendly man to see how sensitive I was at this point to energy vibrations. He pulled out a pitch fork type of gadget, ding donged it, held near my forehead and alas, I did not pick up on the vibes. I did however leave with a great book on the spiritual,mental and physical benefits of breathing properly and a kick ass piece of crystal quartz that to my surprise did not cost four dollars or under. No, it REE-LEE didn't cost four dollars and under. I like them there though, The Mayflower Bookstore, has been there for nearly three decades, it was burnt down by an arsonist and now they have sprung back. Good for them I say and their quite zen owner, whom I must also say is a little Paul McCartney looking. I mean, if Paul had gone all new age.
On such my spiritual hunt, looking for answer to my perpetual, negative burnt out feeling, I also decided to look into our Detroit chapter of the THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. Essential oneness of all beings! Sweet, let's meditate on that. I am also in the process of re-reading "Walden". There have definitly been days lately where all I want to do is run off to my own little solitude along side a slimy pond. Is it weird, do you think, to have a crush on a guy that's been dead for a hundred and fifty four years? That Henry David Thoreau I'll tell ya. A mind is a sexy thing. I dig him.