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A Day in a Life

Our Alhambra place, one of a stretch of duplexes, is like a hut, small, old, and cozy. There's plenty of other things to do but I'm choosing to do this. Varying feelings and sensations flow through me. If I don't label them they're merely visitors.

It's Sunday. My husband has the game on. The Saints could move up to second or first place if they win today's game and another team from another game loses. Brianna of Outlander just arrived two hundred years into the past to find her mother. Mirabelle of Shopgirl is entering upon a Tuesday when she will receive her mysterious gloves. Marina contemplates what to do with the rest of her morning. She is not so much contemplating as waiting for whatever it is to become obvious.

Five minutes later and she had read the Tuesday chapter from Shopgirl. The obviousness is still hiding somewhere behind her like a skittish cat. Maybe she should write in her blog. She thinks that she should write what she knows without an agenda. Just her life—simple and uneventful. The best way to start a story is right in the middle.

The Saints are whooping Panthers's booty. Marina read a chapter of What the Wind Knows, a recommendation made by her sister. It's supposed to be about time travel. She can feel it coming but it hasn't happened yet.

Two hours later after some cleaning up, a trip to CVS to get a one-year wedding anniversary card for her husband, scanning some second chance lottery tickets into the new phone app, she finds herself going back to Shopgirl. It's the part when Steve Martin describes the main character's monotonous life. Marina can relate. She is the sub girl to the shop girl. She too watches the clock tick away when she is at her post as temporary teacher. She too finds her job "immaterial" to her artist's lifestyle. She too gets satisfaction from having done her work, her small contribution to society while she whittles away at some book or other or a musical project with her husband.

The Saints won. The other game, however, is more questionable.

A minute later, the wrong team won by a hair. Marina feels her husband's disappointment although he thinks she doesn't care. They are now looking at places to stay for their one year wedding anniversary. Their aim is to go to Sierra Nevada, which will take them on a picturesque drive to find some worthy hot springs.

CREATING MARINA

NaNoWriMo Draft Completed

I am pleased to announce that I completed the first draft of a new novel through NaNoWriMo November challenge. In fact, I finished my 51,199 words a week and a half earlier. Getting back to novel writing was like immersing myself in warm bath water, it felt good and familiar. It did what I was hoping it would do, renewed my desire for writing fiction. It was all there, everything I've learned over the years, coupled with new found instincts that developed over time.

The next step is to let the draft rest for a couple of weeks before doing a read-through. While it's resting, I am working on story development involving character work, plot, and research. Writing the first draft tends to be the heart and feel of the story. The drafts that follow it are to develop what's already there without losing its feel and essence.

For development, I'm working with Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. She's a proponent of short assignments, and now, so am I. That means that you never have to take on the entire project all at once. With short assignments all you ever have to do is take a scene, a moment, an image, a character, or whathaveyou, and just work on that. What is a novel if not a compilation of small moments strung together by theme and feel?

Every day I feel like exploring a different aspect of the story. I've learned that I don't have to work on it linearly. Once the rough draft has been put down, whatever wants to be developed is up for grabs. I believe that eventually it will all come together. If I'm only working on what I feel good about at the moment then I never have to risk losing the feel through the surgical process of writing many drafts.

CREATING MARINA

Wheel of Fortune

My husband and I have a New Year's Day tradition to lay out 12 cards in a circle for each month of the year to come. To get a feel for things in advance so to speak. Wheel of Fortune is my card for this month and I want to talk about it in a post as the events that have transpired have truly represented the meaning of this card. Traditionally, Wheel of Fortune means the ups and downs of life. You could also use Forest Gump's favorite saying with this card, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get." There are deeper implications to this card such as what once was could come back; the circular nature of life. In my life, both the traditional meaning and the coming back of things have proved to be the case.

For starters, work has resumed its rhythm of the years past with long-term subbing. Teachers, for whom I've subbed throughout the years, have been reaching out for coverage. That would explain why I've been too busy to blog or why I started eating wheat again. Maybe. As many of you can probably attest, excluding all wheat and sugar is unsustainable. Eating in moderation and including healthier choices into the diet is more my speed. I find that asking good questions before reaching for food far supersede any diet and they are: Why am I eating this? Am I hungry? Am I tired? Is something else going on? How am I feeling?

Secondly, fiction writing that has been on a hiatus for more than two years now suddenly reappeared this month full force. I've been receiving emails, both purposeful and accidental, from my long-lost buddies from a writer's group I was a part of for over four years. I also finally heard back from a publication about a novel excerpt I've submitted a while back. Lastly and most profoundly, I felt a strong, lively urge to start writing again. Seeing one of my writer group member's emails reminded me of NaNoWriMo, a nonprofit, online organization that supports writers to get that scary first draft out of them by holding an yearly National Novel Writing Month in November where millions of writers aspire to write 50,000 words in one month. With no warning whatsoever, my heart shouted, "THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO DO!"
        I answered, "Okay, okay. But what should I write?"
       A young adult novel that has been buried deep in my files sprung up as if to say, "Pick me. Pick me!"
        I sat down to write a fresh summary of it to see what it had to tell me, if anything changed from last time. Because as far as I remembered, it fell flat on its face and never got up again. However, once those fresh flood gates have been opened, the new summary downloaded through me as if it's been waiting to take a long awaited breath. It's official. I'm going to tackle getting that first sh**ty draft out in one month. That might probably mean no posts for the month of November. But it'll be a small price to pay in exchange for a completed draft of a forgotten book, not to mention the revival of writing itself.

Thirdly, my musical partner and husband, have been receiving plentiful invitations to perform, do interviews, and even be a part of a communal album with the local musicians of Los Angeles. These events have ignited us to prepare to record our long awaited second Non Duo album.

But not all the chocolates this month have been sweet and exciting. I also ate some bitter ones like receiving a notice to appear in court because my employer, Los Angeles Unified School District, wants to appeal the unemployment benefits I received this past summer for being sick 1 day. On that note, I've also been dealing with some unexpected health issues.

Through the ups and downs, I'm remembering my Tarot teacher, Dennis Rudolph, saying, "As the wheel spins, join in the fun when the wheel is up, but go to the center when its on the downward movement. This way, you can never lose."

Anyone up to take a ride on the wheel?

CREATING MARINA

Wheatless Witness

 

Now that I’m on this “no-wheat and skip meals if I can’t find anything appropriate to eat” diet, I have enormous amount of energy. I can see things more clearly. I want to write all this stuff. I even started writing a new novel. I’ve been watching less Netflix. I began to revamp my website. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m going there fast. Did I mention it’s only been two days? What will a week do? A month? A year?

            I know. I know. Let’s not get carried away. Everyone who has ever dieted will tell you that things can shift back pretty quickly. The true test will take place with my next PMS, which is due to come up this week.

            But you know what got me, as never before— clarity. I can see clearer where the energy actually wants to go. I can see where I’m fooling myself. I can see my conditioning and I can watch it burn up. I can see how the body does not die if it does not get fed, if meals get skipped. (Warning: Skipping meals is not correct for everyone. You may take part at your own risk or consider getting your advanced Human Design chart done and it’ll tell you if it’s good for you to skip meals. Typically, the people who should not skip meals, do so all the time, and the people who should, are afraid an asteroid will wipe them off the planet (like I used to believe) if they so much as skip a snack. But please, consult with your doctor.) And oh yes, I’ve also been sleeping a lot less. 

Two Days Later…

 

So, after writing and writing for 5,000 words, all I kept feeling and hearing was: I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. Why am I writing this stupid story? It’s sort of based on personal experience but set to the backdrop of an idea that won’t make me or the character look very flattering. It won’t stand the test of time. And I don’t mean everyone’s else’s time, just my own.

            Then I begin reading Jed’s interpretation of Apocalypse Now, the filmmaker’s journey, not the character’s and I realize that’s what I’m going through here. My own interior Apocalypse and all these stories I’m attempting to write on the outside are merely fun house mirrors of what’s happening on the inside. 

The Next Day…

“If you see through yourself, you will see through everyone.” – Jed McKenna (Jed Talks #2)

A dog barks. A slight panic-like feeling rises and it says: You need to work on the novel. A neighbor speaks loudly to another neighbor in Chinese. I remember to drop my shoulders. I take a sip from a second cup of coffee. I look for something, so I look around the room. I find nothing and then wonder why I looked in the first place. I’m documenting everything bit-by-painful bit because I want to catch myself red-handed when I attach to what appears.

            Why do I really want to explore the novel I'm working on?

            Vicarious living. I know I have enough material to write it. Gives me something to do.

            But it’s not what you want to do, I hear from beyond.

            Right. (I got distracted with what I will do if my long lost friend invites me to her wedding. She’s not even getting married yet.) What I really want to do is focus. Jed gives all this wonderful advice on how to get what you want through a co-creative process with the universe, which is really just one creator doing everything and it’s me. So what happens is that I get distracted by some other things I want: a house, better investment strategies, better way to make a living, writing stories, making time for family and friends. But the moment I approach these other things and get into them, I remember what I actually want and that’s to wake up from what Jed calls the Dreamstate, to cross Event Horizon, to realize Singularity, already understanding I’m already that. But the inquiry is not over. Mooji says, “Don’t stop there.” Even the relief of this realization can be observed. It’s not over. So more focus is required until the realization I AM wipes everything clean. So I keep poking at it and poking at it, creating some tiny and not so tiny holes in this balloon and any of these holes could pop the whole thing. So my job is just to keep poking whenever I’m not distracted, whenever I have focus.

            So I’m trying to focus.

            I remember my breath. I begin to hear the windchimes.

            “Is ‘I need to do something’ a fake?”

            Can it be observed?

            “Yes. But it’s sitting on top of something else. Another belief: Didn’t you say you wanted to be a self-published author and become independently wealthy?"

            Can that be observed?

            “Yes.”

            Stay with Pure I AM. (Website change: Add Ramana’s Who am I? and Mooji’s Stay as Pure I AM)

            (As I’m getting ready to meet with my parents, this is occurring: So most of the time there are no real decisions to be made, just imaginary hoop jumping. And in those moments when a decision is required, the obviousness of what to do takes over).  

            As far as my question above . . . 

                                                                         several hours later . . . 

The mind has me on a leash, but it only has the power to lead me if I’m unaware. With a little more help from realization, the focus becomes sharper, as well as the desire to focus. And it feels like an exciting kind of exercise, if I can call it that. Just stay as I AM. Once the mugginess of what that means is cleared, then it’s just a matter of settling there more and more.

            ‘ I need to do something’ can be mixed up with a true understanding that doing something is correct; however the something that I need to do is misdirected if it’s not angled toward the one thing that I want more than anything, in this case, full realization. So, it’s not that I can’t, it’s about aligning with the one thing that’s truly wanted.

MORE FROM THE LUCID DREAMER

Quality & Non-Duality

I’m sitting under the stairs of a coffee shop like Harry Potter under the stairs of his aunt’s house before he became aware he was a wizard. I think I may just stick with nonfiction for now. Because it seems to be that’s what I keep writing about: my process, observations, where I go, what I do, what I see, what I think, feel, want to share with others… My one-inch picture frame is the corner of this coffee shop looking out at the rails of the trains crossing. A Hispanic woman crosses the street carrying two large bags. Where is she going? What are her days like? She looks like an errand type of woman who does too many things for her family who don’t appreciate her. But she doesn’t care, because she loves to be needed. That’s her reward: for her family to keep needing her.

            After texting with a fellow writer friend about starting our own writing magazine and publishing house, two gals sat down at the only other table by the window on the first floor of this coffee house to chat. That’s why I came here—the ambiance of chatter and coffee making. Words seem to flow better in public places. That happens to be what my advanced Human Design chart says—best luck and opportunities in public places, working with people one-on-one or in small groups.

            My writer friend sent me a two second video of him opening the bill inside a cool box. I liked it so much I asked him if I could include it in my blog. He consented, but then sent me what he considers better versions of the video. However all the subsequent clips are not of the same quality as that first one and here’s why:

            A word about quality—it is something you’re not trying to do. It’s just something that happens in the universe when you think no one is looking, reading, judging, waiting, etc…

            “I don’t love working here. It’s like, well . . . I’d rather be doing other stuff. I’d like already done other stuff like this . . . like working at restaurants. . . There’s other stuff I wanna do.” – Coffee shop girl.

            A middle-aged man came in to look at the artwork on the walls. He hasn’t quite decided if he wants to stay or not. Not. 

            Although I’m not yet sure that I will submit the first few chapters of my novel to a writing contest whose deadline is today, I prepared the chapters along with the cover letter. 

So the personality must be happening without me, despite me, within me, as a temporary focus point, but the focus doesn’t have to be there all the time.

            I keep jumping out because I’m not finding anything when I look within. And I’m not supposed to find anything within. But it gets quickly boring . . . stayed with it . . . got uncomfortable . . . stayed with it . . . got sleepy . . . stayed with it . . . had a thought: I came here to write . . . stayed with it . . . how long should I keep staying with it . . . stayed with it . . .

“Anyone with a simple theoretical grasp of nonduality—the certainty of one and certain impossibility of zero and two—has all they need to burn their ego structure to the ground. The concept of not-two is very powerful, so if you possess this bomb and you’re not either awake or in the throes of internal upheaval, then it never got into the right hands.” – Jed McKenna

So if I feel like I want more to do, then I didn’t get the message. So there’s no two, that means there’s only one here and it’s doing everything, including this personality and all the other personalities. And it seems like I’m seeing many. But it’s all me. Why does it still feel like so what? I still want my privacy. I still want a million dollars so that I wouldn’t have to work. Who’s wanting all these things? And if all these me’s can’t give these things to me, then does it mean that I don’t really want them?

            The ego self likes this and doesn’t like that. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s still the case. I’m aware of the one who’s aware of it, including the one who wants these things. And sometimes is willing to stoop pretty low to get them. There’s this contradictory self who also wants to lose weight, but at the same time still wants to eat pizza and whatever else its little heart desires. It fantasizes about having sushi with her husband later today. It’s doing it right now. It can’t wait to be done with all this writing business and be saved by her husband walking through the door and taking her away from her self and into a sushi restaurant. At the same time she likes writing about this stuff because it gives her something to do and perhaps a light bulb will go off and she’ll have answers to her questions or at least an answer to all questions.

            I don’t know why that bomb is not blowing everything up.

            Detach from the ego self. Watch it. Observe its functioning. Be as much interested in how it works as in what its current obsession is. You don’t need to stop it from doing what it does, just lay back and watch it like a movie.

I submitted my first chapters to the contest.

MORE FROM THE LUCID DREAMER

Fake Sounds, Real Emotions

I’m creating an ambiance of a coffee shop by putting on sounds of HQ Coffee Shop off YouTube for an hour. The library won’t be open until 10 am and the coffee shop across the street doesn’t have a customer restroom. I want to take a break from Jameson. Besides, the energy got Kaldi on its mind. I made myself a breakfast veggie sandwich at home on the right kind of bread—Ezekiel.

I did it. I posted another blog. I fulfilled my purpose. The background noise has 14 minutes left. Isn’t it wonderful to be able to control your reality this way. Of course, the energy of others is a safe distance away. Because I don’t really have to deal with the outside world, there’s an element missing. Sometimes that missing element is good to miss. The comfort of home is here. I can go to the bathroom whenever I want. I can get up and walk around and no one will look at me funny or tell me to sit down. I can eat and drink whatever I want and no one will tell me I can’t bring outside food in or have social decorum force me to order something, even if I don’t want anything. Other times, lack of a real ambiance is an obvious hole. The constrictions of the outside world add to the ambiance. The seeming other who observes you also creates a distinct difference. This “being observed” changes how I behave, think, feel, and what I do. I also feel less alone, more involved somehow even if I’m not interacting with anyone.

            A minute to go on ambiance noise. Then I can go join the real world. Whatever that means. Just like that, background noise fades out like it never was.

I am now at Kaldi with my hot tea next to me to soothe the throat on this hot day. This extreme weather is effecting my system. And I’m on the outside world where it’s socially appropriate to order something, preferably right away. Let’s say if I didn’t order something like that one time when I was with an ex-boyfriend and he insisted we just sit there and don’t order anything.

I felt uncomfortable. The person behind the register was giving me a dirty look. I lowered my eyes, yet not fully understanding why I was feeling so guilty. I’d been coming there for years, always ordering; many times ordering a lot. Sh

ouldn’t that have secured me a time or two of not having to order anything? Which was what I told my boyfriend at the time. I ended with, “we should still order something.”

He went up to the girl behind the register, and instead of ordering, told her that she was making me feel uncomfortable. I turned crimson. The coffee shop girl said, “This is my place of business and you’re just sitting there and not ordering.” She was losing her cool. I thought she was going to call the cops or at the minimum throw us out. My ex said, “We might order something later. We just wanted to sit first. This is not how to treat your customers and I’m going to yelp about this.”

Granted, I never went back to that coffee shop again.

            But that’s how we get placed in our “correct places.” Try and not follow the rules of this world and doors will go slamming. But that’s not the case for everyone and it’s definitely not the case when people think they can get away with something behind closed doors and encrypted Internet spaces. It still comes back to emotion. If one feels bad about certain behaviors, then that one will avoid doing them. Guilt functioning as emotional paste combined with social agreements and we’ve got a fully functioning “dreamstate” as Jed calls it. You won’t let yourself off the hook and the world won’t either. The two keep perpetuating each other. So, I say, there’s gotta be a better way.  

            If, for instance, the inner emotional paste was no longer in service, would the world rules still exist for that person?

            “Emotion is the energy source of the dreamstate. Emotion is derived from fear, but fear is not compulsory because it’s not the only possible core emotion. There’s also agape, most resembling a natural state of wistful gratitude…” Jed McKenna, Jed Talks #1

            So, the answer would be, Yes. The rules would exist but how would our relationship to the world change if we were walking around in “wistful gratitude” versus guilt, which is another form of fear. Wouldn’t it feel more like lucid dreaming? I’m not me, I’m not the guilty one or the lacking one or the angry one, but I’m still wearing the body of someone who was. So this one goes out into the world, who knows the rules of this world, but doesn’t take them too seriously, but who wants to play the game where she gets to come back to this place over and over again. With wistful gratitude for being able to walk around in this dream all the while knowing that it’s a game she stepped into, plays her part the best way she knows how.

            “You didn’t create yourself, you are not the author of your character, so what is it about yourself that you take so personally?” – Jed

MORE FROM THE LUCID DREAMER