The Quest for an Abudance in Sunshine

where you find: the key to happiness, personal experience, a redhead's poetry, book reviews, new science, nature, rock'n alt. medicine

Tag: god

Let The Animal Inside Your Body Love What It Loves

I woke up again in the middle of the night after a four hour sleep, feeling anxious as if I was back in the restaurant. In my dream I was dropping the customer’s money, it was all getting mixed up, and they were all impatient – I already knew i wasn’t getting a tip from any table. It’s been like this almost every day for a month straight, and I’ve only worked there since the end of May. I am so unhappy as a server – it’s not as easy sounding as “delivering food” but I’m not here to justify why I feel so ashamed that I shut my eyes tightly, wrapped in my blanket, next to Eduardo. Tears seeped through the cracks of my eyelashes and spilled into my other eye. All I wanted was for those around me to have happiness. I’d been away from Florida almost 2 years. I have the things I wanted that I didn’t have – whenever I felt bad about my job, I wrote down the things I was grateful for. Remember when the trailer you lived in didn’t have a shower or place to wash dishes? Remember when you didn’t have a car, and you had to walk 11 miles to town just for a job that paid you under the table? I’ve been reading blogs about people who leave their lives in New York or some city, who leave their mortgage and their coveted 9-5 job for van life. I’d love a slower pace job, where I didn’t wear a uniform and run around refilling drinks hoping that guests left a dollar over 10%, to cover tipshare. Hoping I didn’t get sat a 17 big top. I’d love a job where I was at a desk, even if the hours dragged by, at least I’d be treated fairly. All I wanted was for those around me to have happiness – I was so grateful to have this apartment with my AC, and a place to shower, because I remembered having to take showers at my Aunt’s when I had the chance, and laying naked in the trailer, sweating in the Florida summer. It was so hard to find a job in my last town, but here in East Texas, you could pick one up at any glorified fast food place. And here I was, finally with the things I needed for basic survival, i could afford food and gas and the internet, a fridge, things most young people take for granted. And here I was, my soul silent, because I was so bitter. Bitter that my mom had to work to death. That Eduardo couldn’t make movies. That I wasn’t a writer like I dreamed of being since my earliest memory, stuffing receipts and envelopes into my great grandparents typewriter, so i could hear it chirp like a bird.

I am reluctant to leave my position for something that doesn’t pay as much. If you’re an experience server, and can handle waiting on 30 people, you bring home a lot of money. I know servers I work with bring home almost 500 dollars a week. Plus my 2.15/hr, I make at least 10/hr. But the stress – the abuse, sometimes it doesn’t bounce off me.

I’ve spoken to my manager each time I got overwhelmed, a brief one-on-one in his crammed office. He has a way of making decisions for me. I told him I wanted nothing more than to work a few times a week and that i’d find another job. “you want more hours? I’ll give you more hours. And there’s nothing to feel ashamed about not being able to handle this, we’ll give you a 4-table section.” But still, I was trapped in the weeds, and I could tell after messing up with that big top, he wanted to fire me. But he needed me to cover his split shifts – the lowest ranked shift on the totem pole.

I tell myself to stay positive, it’s money every day and if I do this for a year, I can go back to school. And then I started to cry, because there are so many symbols in my life that meant I wanted to reinvent myself. The violin I finally got, but can’t tune. The pharmacy technician trainee certificate, a sign that I wanted to be better at math. My hula-hoop, a plastic circle that symbolized my passion to dance. But I had tried to get into ballet, and that was too far. (You can read my other blog, HALO for that chapter) And all the blogs i printed out about living in a van and traveling, because I wanted to see my family, and because I wanted to go to the mountains.

I fought back tears because I knew that if deep down, I was not living my purpose, how tortured does Eduardo feel, not having the money to produce his movies? How does my mother feel, wanting to go to college, but not having the time or energy from her job?

And then, it struck me, that I should just pick up my violin, drive to the next town in my beat up Pontiac, and get it tuned, and play outside, and take online lessons. (violinlab.com offers in depth online tutoring for less than 25 bucks a month! )To drive to my friend’s house and ask her if I can borrow her ballet barre dvd and install a “barre” from the bamboo Eduardo cut down. That I should go to the library and print out the free pdf file from http://www.pharmacy-tech-test.com/pharmacy-tech-book.html, and buy the medical dosage calculations books and study. That I should buy an LED hoop so I can get lost in my flow.

And I kept thinking about all the books that affected my life. I’ve always believed that certain books come into your life at the time you need to read them. How at one point, I stopped reading fiction and poetry so I could read about war, history, and travel memoirs and spirituality and yoga. And I knew, deep down, I needed to write books.

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Love Frequency

Far from my Florida home, my thoughts started to roam in a brand new bed in a unfamiliar log cabin tucked in private countryside. My thoughts began like this: “I love —” following my mother’s name, my sister’s name, along with bittersweet memories. My mom laughing over burned biscuits or chain smoking cigaretts. My sister tapping on my window at 5 in the morning balancing two beer cans in her hands. My heart was oozing with love, overflowing with love. My shaggy dog’s white curly hair and overbite grin. Eduardo was sleeping beside me, I took him in my arms and held him tightly. I never ever want to let him go. Suddenly, I was really terrified. I never been so much in love and never hurt so bad at the same time.

Deep down I understood that nothing lasts forever. Somehow someway we have to say goodbye.

I wanted to know for sure that everybody I loved would be taken care of. In these dark moments with my head against the comfy pillow, I felt open and bleeding with love.

Vulnerable.

Then another thought, a reasuring gesture, came to mind. This will be hard to explain, and if you’ve not been on this plane of thought, you may want to discontinue reading. My thought was, I’m afraid because I feel like God is not there. To me, God is love. God is energy. I had to tell myself to trust in God and have unwaivering faith. When i tightened my grip on my sleeping beauty, tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes and I thought, God is with me. Right now, and I know it because of all the love I feel.

I decided to write about this event a week later, but this sums up the beweldering feelings that came to me my first night here, in a new city, in a new state, starting a fresh life.

Whenever I feel bad, a signal goes off in my brain that warns me. “Negative emotioms have activated. These negative vibes will only cause more pain and suffering.” This thought awareness helps me tune in to a happier station. I think about my sister and me and Eduardo smoking pot in the backyard. I think about my black cat, GG and her pink tongue sticking out. I fill myself up with love and don’t distract myself with the uncertainty of the future. It is not useful to … how do i put this? it’s not useful when you’re in that position of vulnerability to imagine the future without the ones you love. It will not make it easier when the inevitable happens.

That song from Kansas comes to mind. I know the whole song. “Now don’t hang on, nothin’ lasts forever but the earth and sky. It slips a-way.”

The ramifications of living in the moment will dissapate the fear. I’ll pick up the phone and call my mom and leave her a message, I’ll send my sister a picture that reminds me of us, I’ll kiss my boyfriend as he sleeps and watch him smile as he dreams.

Screen-write Apology rated R

I had an idea today, taking the pieces out of a cell phone and arranging them on a white plaster board. It had something to do with this thoughtful rage considering our connection to everything. There was a white box full of heart-shaped glasses in assorted colors, why they looked like jelly beans. When you approached the board with the entrails of “cellular” parts, you had to pick up the heart-shaped glasses, and look through the hearts framing those parts.

I’ve been really sick lately too,  why I was so sad, I can’t remember. I’m sure it’s because Edwardo has to leave my side every Monday morning and doesn’t come back until Friday night.  Nothing alleviates me more than his therapeutic love. I made myself get up after spilling ink over a yellow notepad, yellow journalism, and get dressed. Find some clothes and choose to be happy right now. I learned that lesson I long time ago (it was in my junior year, I read The Traveler’s Gift by Andy Andrews. It was my first self-help book I read.)

There is no time to waste, so I moped back to my bedroom and sifted through some clothes. All the long sleeved shirts were blue. I desired lace. My beloved vintage Bongo shorts that come up above my belly button. I chose a turquoise top w/ long sleeves & deep neck dive,  over that a lace top that I had to tie behind my neck. My face is the only thing I can’t seem to repair, it looks beaten up, puckered up, red eye sockets even though I slept all last night under a stagnant fan and two bed covers, trying to sweat the sickness out.

I wish I wasn’t so intense. So, my sincere apology, I’m sure I scared a lot of people off. Times are hurting my tender heart, I guess. It’s also her anniversary.