November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 20: Light Blitz

Image by Johannes Plenio from Pixabay

light the night

light my fire

fire of passion

fire of hell

hell hath no fury

hell hath no remorse

remorse for what's said

remorse for what's done

done to death

done and gone

gone like yesterday

gone in a flash

flash and dash

flash of light

light the way

light the night

night without dreams

night without end

end of the world

end of everything

everything ends

everything dies

dies like your love

dies like my dreams

dreams of yesterday

dreams of tomorrow

tomorrow never comes

tomorrow comes too soon

soon the sun rises

soon the night falls

falls from the heavens

falls to its death

death is the end

death is the beginning

beginning of a new chapter

beginning of a new tale

tale whispered in darkness

tale too ticklish to tell

tell me a lie

tell me the truth

truth is subjective

truth will set you free

free falling

free to run

run from the past

run from the pain

pain holds on forever

pain colors all

forever...

all...

~Cie~

Notes:

Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a Light poem. So, I did a Light Blitz. It turned out kind of heavy, though.

Heeding Haiku With Carpe Diem: Senryu: Crystal Pond

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death falls to darkness

or does the soul perhaps leap

to a crystal pond

~Cie~

Notes:

Today's Carpe Diem prompt involved revising this well-known Haiku by Matsuo Basho (1644 - 1694).

old pond

a frog jumps into

the sound of water

Today's Mindlovemisery's Menagerie prompt was crystals. We were asked to follow traditional Haiku rules, but, sorry, no can do when such a stellar Senryu using both prompts has hijacked my synapses!

I dreamed that my wonderful cat Trinity, whom I had to have put to sleep three years ago on November 9 due to brain and lung cancer, was here with me. November 9, 2016, was a garbage day in history. I lost my great friend on that day, and Lord Dampnut was elected "president." It was a terrible time to be alive.

She was such a special cat. I miss her big, chonky body, her big, chonky personality, and her big, loud purr.

The Cheese Grates It: The Holiday Season Broke and Mentally Ill Style

Today is the eighth anniversary of my father's passing. I thought about that day early this morning. I didn't appear to be grieving because I wasn't wailing and gnashing my teeth. I had already grieved watching him deteriorate as he did. There wasn't anything left in me. I've felt for a long time that there isn't anything left in me. I'm not cold, which I've been accused of a lot. I just don't have anything to offer.

The memory that comes to the forefront of my mind is my mother leaving two messages on my phone. The ringer wasn't working on my phone; I would be soon to get a new one. I was sleeping with the phone under my hand, but I didn't feel the vibration. The first message was her telling me that my father had died. The second was her telling me that again, demanding that I call her back, and finishing off the message with "you're never there when I need you." She didn't apologize for saying that, which doesn't surprise me. I informed her that my phone's ringer wasn't working correctly, that I had tried to be aware if a call came, but hadn't felt the vibration. Well, she never apologizes when she says hurtful things, so I guess she and I are even.

I fucking hate this new YouTube push to force people to pay for the service by pausing the playlist every so often to ask "are you still there?" No, Bitch, I died, but my zombified body keeps responding by saying I'm still here. The joke's on you.

In other frustrating news, I guess I paid the price for thinking I could buy yarn and get away with it. I ordered three skeins of yarn to keep working on my blanket, and some payment clashed with another, so I ended up getting an overdraft charge and am now $36 in the hole. Those fucking overdraft charges should be criminal. They only ever harm people who are struggling financially anyway.

Tonight's supper will be turkey chili and baked potatoes. At least those are two things I can ensure that my son will actually eat. My mother's right that he's kind of fussy, but there again, she refuses to believe that he's actually autistic. People with autism tend to have issues with food textures far more than people who don't have the condition. But, of course, my mother is always right.

I was just talking to my son about how we are both, in spite of what has been drilled into us by members of the extended family, very productive. However, we are not productive in the ways they deem worthy. We are terrible with housework--absolutely rubbish, let's be real. We are unable to work the kinds of jobs that they deem worthy. 

If I had ever been able to make my writing pay, they might be proud of me. A little. But it still wouldn't have been the kind of work that they would truly have deemed worthy.

All I'm doing as far as holiday decorations this year is putting a string of lights up on the fence at my son's townhome. We can't have a tree because the four-legged dumbasses will knock it over. When I was a kid, my father became a kid again every December 24, because that was when we decorated the tree. He loved decorating the tree so much and went way overboard. We had so many decorations. Now they never see the light of day.

Maybe one day I will decorate for the holidays again. I don't know. The first year we had a really nice tree was when I was ten years old. That was the year my father got a good position as a professor at a small college and we moved from Albuquerque to a suburb of Denver. Everything was so wonderful on that Christmas when I was ten years old. 

I realize now that my bipolar disorder onset when I hit puberty, which is why I was an emotional wreck during the holidays when I was eleven and trying to hide it so I wouldn't fuck things up for the rest of my family. 

We always took the tree down on the day after New Year's. The year when I was twelve years old, I was once again in a tailspin but trying to hide it. We got the call that my paternal grandfather had died from a massive heart attack while he was out feeding his horses. I burst into tears. I thought it was my fault that he was dead because I hadn't been grateful enough, so God took my grandfather.

I learned a lot about my father's side of the family that year. I wrote a cheeky poem about it recently, which is titled "My Family Skeletons." You can read it here. 

At the time, it was actually very traumatic. My twelfth year of life was not a lot of fun. It seemed like everything was falling apart. There was a lot of contention surrounding my grandfather's will, and I was being bullied mercilessly. I started self-harming, and on one occasion, I swallowed a bottle of aspirin. I ended up with a sick stomach and throwing up. I didn't tell anybody what I'd done.

So, I guess what I'm getting to in my long-winded fashion is that the holidays are not happy-happy-joy-joy for some people. I tend to have kind of a neutral approach to them at this point, but that's because I'm emotionally numb. For some people, the holidays are extremely difficult. It's supposed to be a happy time, and people who are already struggling get added guilt heaped on them for not presenting a happy face to the world.

Please do not shame or berate people who aren't "in the spirit" during the holidays. The joy is not universal.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It Festively~

Remembering Lafayette

I've been working on creating a tattoo in memory of my dear and special feline friend. It will go on my left shoulder. The artwork is by Kami Diox. You can check her out at kamidiox.tumblr.com or kamidiox.deviantart.com

Although I miss Lafayette very much and I wish I could feel his presence the way I feel Gem's (I.e. hugs and warmth) I've been dealing with things. I sensed Lafayette "saying" to me:

"Don't be sad, Mommy. I was happy living here with you. I had a happy life. I'm okay now. I still love you."

Now, I know a cat probably wouldn't use those exact words, but that's how his emotions translated to me. The thing about it is, I receive emotions. My brain translates them into sentences I can understand.

I told Lafayette that I love him very much too and always will, and I will be happy when we're able to meet again. I miss having him come sit up on my shoulder when I lie down. I miss him kneading me. Heck, I even miss the fact that he always stuck his butt right in my face when he sat down on me. Why that cat couldn't be face to face with me, I'll never know. But no, it was always "whoop, here's my butt!"

I like my new job, and Gem and I are doing a lot of writing together on "Fetch."

I haven't been able to continue with my Supernatural rewatch yet. Lafayette always used to sit with me when I was watching and making notes and such. I think I'll be able to start again soon. He'd want me to.

For anyone who think that sounds stupid, well, I guess you think that sounds stupid. However, I sense that he really would want me to do this.

I believe that's all for right now.

 

~Cie~

Nuclear Winter of the Soul

Erasure

Image created in Photoshop

My son's best friend is an eighteen year old trans man who has known very little but tragedy in his short life. He has the third type of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, which is one of the most painful and devastating varieties. His parents were very abusive. His father sexually assaulted him. One of these assaults resulted in the birth of a son, who died at the age of four from an allergic reaction to a bee sting. 

This young man was just starting to get his life together, and has now been diagnosed with bone cancer.

The person whom I've been trying to help achieve a very improbable, miraculous healing "pulled the plug" on himself on the astral level. He told me to stop devoting my energies to helping him and instead devote them to helping my son's friend, who has a shot at remission. He said he will also devote his energies to helping my son's friend.

He signs his own death warrant by doing this, and he knows it.

I have been devastated, both by my son's friend's diagnosis and by my friend's decision. On a logical level, I know he's right, and it makes me love him all the more deeply for being both pragmatic enough and caring enough to do this. The choice was always his, and really, the chance for him to not just survive but heal enough to be functional was very remote. Still, it hurts to realize that it isn't going to happen.

I did a reading for my friend's decision. I will share the results.

Celtic Cross spread using the Lovecraft Tarot.

	The card at the center of the cross, represents the atmosphere surrounding the central issue. The Crawling Chaos: Completeness and intricacy of design. A great work. Achievement, reward, and well-earned recognition. A time of success, prosperity, security and joy. May also indicate travel or a change in residence. (My subject was a highly intelligent and creative person. He has such severe dementia at this point that he can't remember anything he's done, who people he's known all his life are, or even who he is. In my assessment, a "change of residence" can only mean leaving his body.)
	The card visible at the center of the cross represents the obstacle that stands in your way - it may even be something that sounds good but is not actually to your benefit. Queen of Sites (The Church on Federal Hill): The essence of earth behaving as water, such as a hot spring: A warm and generous host, providing shelter and comfort for all who would seek it. A person steadfast, practical, and domestic, able to create opulence and stability in any setting. The qualities of maturity and sensibility, coupled with an innate appreciation for nature and the material world. (This person currently resides in a comfortable care home. He's an "easy patient," the kind that caregivers like doing little extra things for because he's sweet-natured and compliant.)
	The card at the top of the cross represents your goal, or the best you can achieve without a dramatic change of priorities.Knight of Tomes (The Ponape Scriptures): The essence of fire, such a great conflagration. One filled with vitality and passion for life. A sexy and exciting person, daring in their actions, cocky in their attitude, and utterly without fear. Absolute sincerity, coupled with violent emotions that swing wildly from one extreme to another. Boundless creativity and lust for a change of both pace and place. The rapid approach, or more likely departure, of something that sets your world ablaze. Often suggests travel or escape. (This person was actually very shy by nature but as a creative person was very expressive in an artistic sense. He was generally friendly but had a temper if provoked. At least one person who pushed him too far ended up getting decked.)
	The card at the bottom of the cross represents the foundation on which the situation is based. Queen of Artifacts (Stone of Nepemiah Derby), when reversed: The dark essence of air behaving as water, such as a cold rain: A person gifted with both keen logic and natural intuition, giving them uncanny powers of perception and insight. One who easily sees the weakness in any argument, and savages friend and foe alike with biting sarcasm. Dry and vicious wit covering a hollow sense of isolation and dissatisfaction with life. (This individual was actually highly psychic. He made no bones about the fact that he believed he talked to ghosts, and he was able to communicate telepathically with his closest sibling.)
	The card at the left of the cross represents a passing influence or something to be released. Eight of Artifacts (Resonator), when reversed: Learning a valuable lesson from the unexpected consequences of prior decisions. Narrowly escaping criticism, censure, and the imposition of external restrictions. Focusing on the crux of a problem and freeing oneself from a difficult situation. Coming to grips with a past failure or humiliation and moving on. (He actually felt like he had unresolved situations and was having trouble moving on because of this. I think that at this point he realizes there's nothing further he can do in this life to resolve these situations.)
	The card at the right of the cross represents an approaching influence or something to be embraced. Four of Sites (Whateley Farmhouse): Cleaving to earthly power in the desperate fear that it will be lost. Making yourself an obstacle to progress due to lack of originality and a desperate fear of change. Believing that security and identity are based primarily on the possession of material things. Coveting things and people. Living in a cloud of suspicion and prejudice. (This person does not fear physical death, but he wasn't ready to let go of this life. He felt that his life was prematurely cut short. He felt that he had more to do.)
	The card at the base of the staff represents your role or attitude. Ace of Sites (Yuggoth), when reversed: The seed of luxury, debauchery, and physical gratification. The seductions of the material world draw you away from an opportunity for stability and comfort. The need to focus on the practical and understand the dynamics of your environment. May represent a gift, document, inheritance, or physical event. (I believe this addresses his current attitude; that he needs to address the realities of his current situation rather than pursuing a nearly impossible miracle.)
	The card second from the bottom of the staff represents your environment and the people you are interacting with. King of Tomes (The Black Book): The essence of fire behaving as air, such as lightning: A great and daring leader who inspires others to rise to challenges alongside him. An artist who can take hold of an idea and make it a reality through bold action. One who is forceful, charismatic, and honest, leading by example, but unafraid to invest authority in others. A dashing and magnetic personality, carrying authority naturally, and striking at the world with swiftness and grace. (This describes the subject himself. He was one of those people who, as the song says, had the grace to hold himself while those around him crawled. He refused to humiliate himself to gain approval or to put on airs, pretending to be something he wasn't. He was always genuine and always stood his ground, both on his own behalf and on behalf of others.)
	The card second from the top of the staff represents your hopes, fears, or an unexpected element that will come into play. Ace of Tomes (The Necronomicon), when reversed: The seed of a new crisis - perhaps as yet unseen. The start of an explosive situation threatening to consume all who get too close. The herald of birth, invention, or upheaval. An innate and primal force unleashed. May suggest a surge of vitality, creativity, or fertility that can set dangerous events in motion. (The element is my son's friend's illness.)
	The card at the top of the staff represents the ultimate outcome should you continue on this course. Nine of Artifacts (Pickman's Model): Debilitating mental anguish or ill health. Being dragged down by the dishonor of others. Participation in a shameful or regrettable act. Inescapable guilt, mistrust, and doubt. May indicate a death or other catastrophic loss. (The unsurprising but devastating final outcome in this case is death of the subject's physical body.) I was unable to begin spell work on behalf of my son's friend tonight. I was too devastated. I do have a white electric candle burning to clear the air. I hope I can begin the work tomorrow night. Some words from my spectral friend. He has rather an odd sense of humor, which is one of the things I like about him "Please don't feel sad. The choice is mine. I'm grateful for your help. Also, don't think I'm easily gotten rid of. I'm sort of like a fungus. I lurk in dark places and am impossible to eradicate!" If anyone would like to send healing energies or perform spells/say prayers on behalf of my son's friend, his name is Quin. I guess I'd also appreciate any encouraging thoughts at this time. The landscape of my soul feels rather devastated by all this. Love and light to you. ~Cie~ .