ORIGINAL BLISS

For the Love of the Game

Spent yesterday evening with my sister and neice and nephew. I'm not a baseball fan, but it was a treat watching my nephew Chance play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keelyn was there, too. She is going through the "TWO" stage. Everything is "No." But I was able to capture a couple of shots without her really knowing.

 

On a personal note, I have been through more upheavals the past couple of months: a big move, telationship trials, and professional stress.  I lost some things that were really important to me...mostly me. I am going to take some time to heal through art amd will be posting more frequently. 

And I am also going to get back to writing that next novel.

I know, you'll believe it when you see it. :)

Until next time,

Namaste.

Shannan

Evolution

I have been so stagnant lately. Sitting around on my ass waiting for something to happen, for something to be brought to me, for inspiration.

What that means is, I have been sitting around in my skivvies watching episodes of 'Breaking Bad' back to back and not being what I call "creatively productive."

I have forced myself to sit down and write my next novel, Time Walker, but that ends up being sitting down and staring at the words I have already written, maybe moving them around a little, until I give up and go back to watching 'Breaking Bad'.

This is extremely frustrating for me because I have a complete story all laid out in my head, but for some reason I am having a hard time telling it right now.

I could force it—figuratively stick my finger down my throat and vomit Time Walker out—but sorry, that is no fun for me. And the truth of it is, if it doesn't turn me on, I ain't doin' it.

As I was wrestling with my artistic angst one day, it occurred to me, the Creative cannot be forced to manifest. It happens naturally, in its own sweet time; not like a big bang where it all appears in a perfect instant, but in the slow drip of evolution.

My soul has been telling my ego to back the fuck off and give her some space. Sure, laying on the couch for the complete second season of a kickass television show may look like I am wasting time, or it could be I am incubating, or learning how to tell an even more amazing story from it.

Time Walker will get written. It is all there.

In the meantime, I will find ways that allow the Creative to just happen, whether it is through writing, journaling, photography, or finger painting.

Namaste,

Shannan

Knock knock...

 

 

I feel the mischievous, disruptive, but ultimately positive forces of change flitting 'round my space.

But I don't know what form they are planning to take.

And that scares the crap out of me.

In dynamic times and difficult situations it is human nature to react by reaching for and clinging to the nearest thing that can buoy us through the rough waters change brings.

We latch onto people and resort to partaking in comforting but unhealthy behaviors. We long to take the low road and lash out--tempted to scream, kick, and resist.

Rarely, do we respond to change in a way that is good for ourselves.

Well, I feel you coming, Change. I see you lurking out there on the horizon. But this time I will be clinging to what is good and superior within myself; to truth, acceptance, and independence.

Namaste,

Shannan

Photo credit: Dan Zampa

Run, run, run runaway...

 

 

When the road gets rough, the tough hit the road.

 

 

That's my story and I am sticking to it.

 

 

I've been told it is a bad habit: that when shit goes down, I bail. But the way I look at it, sometimes sticking around only makes things worse. 

 

 

So, yeah, the other day, I started acting a fool. It's fucking embarrassing. Really. But because you all have come to expect "raw honesty" from me, I'm gonna tell you how lame I was.

 

 

But you can't laugh.

 

 

Promise?

 

 

I started making a big deal about something that in the scope of love and life, is about the size of flea shit.

 

Got myself all in a tizzy over it; butthurt and pouty--knotted and unhinged.

 

And it was all over something on Facebook.

 

I told you.

 

Stop fucking laughing.

 

You all have done it. Don't judge.

 

K. Maybe you haven't.

 

So, I almost fuck up something really great in my life over social media, and in my complete and utter shame, I jumped in my car and headed for the hills.

 

If I slip out the back and take leave for a little while my head has a miraculous way of popping back out of my ass.

 

Thankfully, it did.

 

I am seeing and thinking and acting like a mature adult again. 

 

For today.

 

Right this minute.

 

Give me a second though, the mood could swing.

 

Namaste,

Shannan

 

 

...Any Way I Can.

Reading: Secret History of the World by Mark Booth

Listening: Zen Garden, OK Go, Ed Sheeran, not an Airplane

Eating: Mediterranean Chicken and Orzo microwave dinner from Target 

ON MY MIND: Getting a massage, working out, blogging on Original Bliss again, finding my Muse again (I lost him somewhere...he was feeling neglected and ran off), and....

LOVE.

It had become a bad word, love...the worst four-letter word EVER. When 'fuck' has more appeal, you know you have a serious problem.

But, unfortunately, it really had become that way, and for so long I haven't thought I would find my way out of that mindset...or heartset, rather.

By nature I am a lover. Put the balls-to-the-wall attitude and risque mouth aside, I am one who always moves to seek and find and give love in the world. It is the bottom line for me, of singular importance. If love is off, nothing else fits. When love is right, everything falls into place.

Every day I try to find a way to be an expression of love in the world, with my children, with my friends, with the strangers I meet, with nature, and when I have one, with my lover. At the end of the day, the final question I ask myself is: "Did I love well today?"

If, in some way, I did not, then I try to remedy the situation. I apologize as soon as possible. "I'm sorry" is one of the best expressions of love~right after "I love you."

But what happens when another has hurt you, has made you feel unloved and uncared for? What then?

See...that is the kicker...right in the jimmy.

It is especially bad when the unloving act(s) are harsh: abandonment, dishonesty, unfaithfulness, physical harm, emotional abuse...those create wounds that take so much time to heal. And sometimes they never really do. 

Unhealed wounds ooze bitterness. You know those people. We all have them in our lives; hateful, bitter and hard, the evidence of the unloved.

See, I was really proud of myself. I had overcome my totally devastated heart...sewn her right back up with some leftover thread I found around here and ventured back out in the world. She was a scraggly-ass mess, though. Her rage was still too present in every encounter.

So I pulled back, gave her a little time to put a scab on. Then I put a little cover up on 'er and hit the bars with her again.

To be honest, I was really only looking for the three-letter "f" word (fun), hopefully with a little four-letter "f" word on the side.

That worked out a lot better. I found them both! In one guy!!!! It was great!!!! I was smiling again. The fancy was tickled.

But then...after a time...the 8-letter "f" word came along.

Feelings.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

And that is when scabby-ass heart didn't hold up so well. She got a little weird. Well, in my case weird is normal...so she got a little weirder than usual.

See, half-healed wounds are not much better. They weep mistrust and keep the heart tight. The half-healed heart, while not spewing hate, still cannot create real love in the world, let alone with a partner. Every thing it touches with its love-attempts is tainted; with fear and with negative expectations.

So the scabs started to itch and scabby-ass heart started to scratch. She became afraid. She wants to pull. She wants to push.

She wants to hide herself away again until the scar tissue takes. "It would be for the best," she says. "So no one gets hurt."

But then she doesn't. She wants to move into it. "He has a scabby-ass heart, too," she says. "You both are kinda fucked up."

"If you just roll with it, and are honest, it will be what it is. And that will be fine."

So that is really where we are today, me and my scabby-ass heart.

If you've ever been there, holla.

Namaste,

Shannan

Embracing My Multiple Personalities!

 

Hey Original Bliss readers!

I had an epiphany this week.

I had planned to start a completely new blog devoted to everything that I do. My writing adventures and my musings on life and my art were to all be over at shannansinclair.com. I would transfer everything there, just like moving from one house to another.

But this week I realized something. I have a lot to say about many, many things.

For instance, I have a blog post brewing about our bodies being our clocks. It is very insightful and made me laugh when I thought about it, which is a sign that it is funny. But it may reference poop, or periods, or the dreaded MENOPAUSE!

And when I thought about putting THAT post on the NEW site, it didn't resonate. It felt off.

That blog is about one part of my personality, and a "business" space for my books - of which there will be MANY and make me RICH! ***Bwahahahaha!*** That site is not for my ranting about kids, and people, and random shit in my mind. In fact, I question whether the word "shit" should even appear on that site.

But I have an alter ego that has an insatiable NEED to keep it real. She says, "fuck you!" to professionalism and making money... it's about authenticity! It's about your truth!

So I decided - I need really two blogs. Either that OR professional help for my split personality.

I am starting with the former to see how that goes, which means that Original Bliss will remain a part of the Blogoverse, that I will be embracing my split, possibly multiple personalities and giving myself triple the amount of writing to do.

Great.

;-)

Namaste,

C H E Z

Shannan's Prayer For Today

Dear Divine Alpha/Omega, All That Is, Whatever That Is,

I am contacting you today to thank you ~

for my anger ~ for the rational, slow burn of outrage I hold within me.

Anger really gets a bad rap down here in the second, lowest dimension from Hell. It's labeled as "bad" and forsaken for a fake, happy-go-luckiness even though we are miserable.

Recently, I have discovered anger to be a glorious thing - indeed, a gift! For it has provided me with the fuel I need for change. It has mobilized me past the constraints of fear and into action.

Thank you for every reminder: for every stupid, crazy, aggravating thing that makes me want to slap him upside the head. Each moment of insanity reassures me that I am doing the right thing.

And thank you further still for restraining my hand ~ because I sure as hell don't need that kind of drama - though he so righteously deserves it.

If you could also please help me in keeping my tongue to myself. Though it would be gratifying to cut him to the quick with some well phrased jabs, that would only keep me engaged with him and diminish me. May my talking, and blogging, about him behind his back bring satisfaction enough.

Thank you, too, for showing me that "Til death do us part" meant when the relationship kicked the bucket.... not when I did. Though I performed every lifesaving measure known to relationships, nothing could resuscitate it. Thank you for telling me to bury the damn thing already, because its putrid carcass was starting to stink up the place.

Please let me hold on to resentment as long as I need ~ to stave off regret. Allow the resentments to remind me that I never, ever, ever, ever, ad infinitum (ever) want to go back into a relationship that was that destructive.

BUT when it is time - when it is no longer useful - help me to release it, because I don't want to end up a bitter, old bitch, either.

And I shout HellYeah!Lujah! Thou hast provided me with a sense of humor. Although others may find my wit irreverent or inappropriate, it surely saves me. And I am so grateful!

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

In A Perfect Storm... Perfect Peace.

"Ethereal" Mixed Media Collage, National Geaogaphic Art Journal Series, Shannan Sinclair

I consider myself a pretty strong person. I mean, don't we all see ourselves in that light? After all the pain, heartache and suffering that we go through, when we come through at the other end of it, don't we think, "Damn! I can't believe I made it through that!"

Well, I have a confession. Sometimes.... I don't feel that strong. Oh, I may look like a B.A.M.F. who's got the tiger by the tail. But when I am alone, and trying to hide under my covers... mmmm not so much.

Sometimes, the pain is agony.

Sometimes I feel utterly alone and completely broken.

But I have also experienced something A-M-A-Z-I-N-G in that.

There have been several times in the past couple of months, where I have been in those moments. I have nothing left in me. No fight. No spark. Empty.

And in the very moment of the deepest dispair a strange and perfect peace embraces me, fills me and refreshes my soul.

Just when I think - I can not go on any further... I am restored.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Follow Your Heart - OR DIE!!!!!

So I watched Oprah today.

I don't usually watch Oprah. I have nothing against her... I just don't like sappy, overdramatized, preachy things. I like authenticity. And although she preaches authenticity - it doesn't feel authentic to me.

I want REAL. Like, really really REAL.

I like my sunshine with some clouds...

my flowers in the dirt...

I like my tears... not to be a pretty, little well-up with one sliding down my cheek.... I like tears with snot and sobs and black, mascara eyes that leave a salty rind encrusted on my face.

But I watched Oprah today, featuring Tom Shadyac, the director of Ace Ventura, Bruce Almighty, Nutty Professor, who gave up the so-f-ing-rich-and-successful life, for a REAL one.

It hooked me. It touched me. And it reminded me of several things about myself that I have let go to seed.

I haven't been living my purpose. I know my purpose. I yearn and crave to be fulfilling it. BUT I continuously put it aside and give my energy away to purposes that are not from my own heart. I get distracted and off-track.

Oprah said today.... "Each day we live not doing our heart's desire... we die a little."

That resonated with me. I know that little inkling of death. I feel it when I close my eyes at the end of a day that I have been completely out of touch with my soul's reason for being.

So I am putting a little Posty on my bathroom mirror that reads - "Follow Your Heart - OR DIE!"

Every morning... as I floss my gums... I will repeat it in my head and go into my day following my heart.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Lest I Forget

Namaste.....