On Health Care Reform

Hey Health Insurance Companies!

Your essence is good.
It is your job to help us with our health care.
You finance it through our monthly payments.
Your service is that we don’t have to have the savings to cover our asses.
You shoulder our responsibility.
It is not your job to deny claims or tell doctors how to do their job.
It is your financial incentive to help us stay or get healthy.
What are you going to do about it?

Hey Lawmakers!

Expand the taxes on products that make us unhealthy.
We already have a liquor and cigarette tax.
Tax corn-syrup, sugar, partially hydrogenated oils.
Lawmaker, laws are to protect all of us.
Do not sell us out.

Politics, Rant | 15.01.2010 19:54 | No Comments

Adversary

My adversary is the office Queen.
Today he shit on me.
But harbinger of lessons
Repelling me to go where I need to go.

Oh yeah?
I will transform this situation,
so that it serves me.
My thriving life force.
Don’t throw me under the bus
and expect me to protect you.
I am overqualified for this.

This hostile situation
will be my stepping stone.
I will choose personal power.
But what about Love, though?
What about her?

Love is in standing up for myself.

Rant | 21.10.2009 19:45 | 1 Comment

I don’t want to be a June Cleaver

Or do I? She’s kinda hot and keeps a tight ship, cooking and everything.

Who am I really?

It’s been coming to light that I have a problem with imperfection. Or something. Perhaps it is informed by a desire to merge with the heavens and ultimately leave this troublesome earth. Whether it is imperfection with my baking, or in the state of affairs at our house.

I find that I am guided by statements that begin with “I can’t stand it when…” This does not serve me; in fact, it makes life rather miserable.

Living with two boys whose last priority is cleanliness and tidiness of our house has been challenging. I have been resenting the way that it has been playing out. The story that I tell myself is, that I don’t want to be June Cleaver- I don’t want to be responsible for everything round here.

I tell myself that I am the only one who does any upkeep around here. Why do I have to be the one to almost always do dishes left in the sink, replace toilet paper, etc. etc. At least they take out the trash and recyclables, but only when they are piling high. I hate piles, I can’t stand it when things pile up. They may not prioritize these things, but it is disrespectful and inconsiderate that they leave the house such a mess for others.

When really, it’s not personal. They don’t expect me to do it. It is not a priority for them. But it is for me, and this is where I want to start butting my head.

So how do I transform this? I shoudn’t seek to control the situation. Or should I? I am reminded of the porcupine medicine, which I discovered in healing– the porcupine, whose quills I have to beware because they end up in my belly. The porcupine reminds me to be playful, and the poem goes something like this: stickly prickly, do not push your way into my life without consent. Unasked advice has a price- control is not good intent.

Generally, I must create a space for imperfection, for what simply is. This state of affairs is not going to go anywhere, not even with a huge battle with my roommates, and that would not be pleasant or productive. Cleaning is definitley more my thing. I must remember that when I don’t hold back, when I provide my talents, the universe supports me- the boys support me in other ways.

I release the urge to control my surroundings. All that I can control is myself. I must continually let go of my ego hassling me about what is “right” and “wrong.” What is Tao for me is what serves me. That is to control my house with perspective, as a Taurus, clean, orderly, sensuous, meticulous. I can’t resist it, and putting up so much resistance has taxed my energy. When I create a space for imperfection and disorder, I create a space for love, and for me to be myself– really, truly, lovingly, myself. Humbled, and in service. To myself above all, and to others.

My man said it himself. “Just ask and we will do a cleaning jam together.” He is committed to an hour of cleaning a week.

Cleaning jam, here we go, and I am loving it.

P.S. Going deeper– maybe I was resisting being a wife! Rebelling against tradition… except this is not really a traditional situation. We’re not married, and I have two men in this house. I have a job, I pay rent. Maybe I was being a spoiled only child- wanting everything done and not wanting to do any of it. All these tasks, and I felt like I had to do them all– but I don’t. I am growing into being a woman, it’s time to own it. I cook, I clean, I have a life outside the home, this is what I do. The boys have what they do too.

Before I moved in, my man said that we are partners. He’s committed to me. It’s time I not hold back doing wifey stuff- not hold back for lack of a label and a title, for rebellion, for some chimeric “equality” and women’s lib. Who am I really? I am a woman, a partner, a friend, a lover, a nurturer. I am being taken care of, it’s ok to give! Every little thing does not have to be split evenly. Everyone pitches in their strengths.

I ask for the power to discriminate between situations where I need to not hold back, and lovingly share my talents, and situations where I righteously ask for help.

Rant, Reflection | 3.05.2009 9:07 | No Comments

I WANT SUGGGAAAAARRRRR!!!!

I didn’t want to believe I needed diet changes before, but there is no other hope for me right now. I want to THRIVE health-wise!!!! NO MORE CROHN’S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m trying the alkaline foods diet. I feel better already. I’ve been on it for about 5 days. But I miss sugary snacks. I miss honey, jam, chocolate, milkshakes, bananas, cheese, bread…

I just want a little bitty square of chocolate.

But I DON’T want inflammation.

I’ve also started a colonic regimen.

I WANT A CURE.

Rant | 11.02.2009 15:29 | No Comments

Oh For the Love…

So, I’ve been working through some residual hurt feelings. I know it’s unfair, but tonight, I was angry at Love.

When I feel romantic love, I’m out for the real thing, baby- the fairy-tale romance, the white knight on a dark pony. A contradiction in terms, perhaps, but I have an idealized version of the idea of love in my head when my heart’s fires go up in flames ignited by the object of my affection. Up into heaven I’d go, swirling away, with visions of grandeur, love, and passion.

I’ve always been terribly let down. Eros and longevity never went hand in hand. That to me was always so, so sad.

Maybe I’ve gone about love the wrong way this whole time. I’ve always carried around this idea of romantic love I’d received as a kid. I can’t seem to think that all the fairy-tales and love-songs in the world had nothing to do with that. I’ve begun with the idea of the ideal, and applied it to the few great loves that have dotted the landscape of my heart. I loved each of them, at least I thought I did. Did I? God knows… They all have a piece of my heart. It’s theirs to keep.

Just like how some people get angry at God for letting certain tragic things happen, tonight I was angry at Love, at my fate. As suddenly as it came, the anger melts away. Only I could actually deprive myself of love, tell myself the story of my abandonment. It really is all in my head.

From before I can remember, I’ve felt like I’ve had a hole in my heart. I’m sticking my finger in it to poke around in there. I’m taking the light of the Love of God in there to help me see.

I’m looking for seriousness, sincerity, and emptiness.

I’m thinkin’ the hole actually may be in my head.

Love, Rant | 26.02.2007 2:58 | No Comments