brightlotusmoon: (Asha)
'Reborn' by Laura Sava (anotherwanderer.deviantart.com/)
'Mirabella' by Rachel Anderson (www.silverstars.us/‎)

Two forms of my own story character, Asha Clara Night, my strongest, most individual, most personal fiction character.

These paintings. Completely different images that look almost exactly like incarnations of the same character of my own subconscious creation Women who look almost exactly like the dreamself I am becoming in my dreams and visions.

Laura-sava-Reborn

Rachel Anderson Mirabella


She was in my dreams last night and many nights before. I haven't decided exactly who she is yet, but in my dreams her name is Asha, meaning "desire, hope, hopeful; life; alive; she who lives." Which says so much, so so much.

She is another dreamself, not a spirit guardian, but much closer to my Self than my other characters (Alicia, Serena, Ananta: my spirit guardian coping mechanisms for epilepsy, memory loss, insomnia, sleep problems, [Alicia], chronic pain and fatigue, depression, anxiety, physical disabilities [Serena], neurology, neurodivergence, autism, total mind-body connection [Ananta].

Asha seems to represent many internal things about my emotions, my heart and mind, my rhyme and reason, my logic, my science, my creativeness and creativity, my power, my energy, my beauty. If she were to reveal herself as a guardian, she would be for emotional states, creative thoughts, desires, loves, patterns, ideas.
Asha is definitely powerful in a way I always wanted to be since childhood: Fae and and Elemental Mage and Neurodivergent and Autistic Witch and Quantum Magic Scientist and Story Crafter and Shape Shifter and Magic Librarian and Magic Keeper.

Asha seems to represent my deep, obsessive, compulsive wish and desire to be one of the psionic-mage superhumans in my stories, to take over for be when I feel failure and self-loathing and terror and panic. I think Asha may in fact be an actual entity, one who communicates outside instead of simply speaking into my visions, dreams, pain flare withdrawings, anxiety attacks.

All I know is that Asha was in every dream last night and throughout the past several sleeps, long detailed intense dreams, and she quoted Kosh. She spoke in a soprano version of my voice that could sing. She was always here She is always here. She has always been here.
I think she was with me since I was a baby. In different forms, in different species, with different names, in different imaginary beings, in different fictional characters. She was made of fire. She used to be a phoenix, a unicorn, a dragon, a star, a nebula. I know Asha. I know Asha in the way I hope to know myself.

The thing is, Asha has a fully active voice when I am completely conscious, aware, awake, functional, and stable. She didn't completely create herself, but she grew and evolved over my lifetime in her own way as a character in my subconscious. She took ideas I worked with and wove them into her personality, behavior, and mentality. My disabilities are hers. She stayed and changed and grew with me like a permanent piece of my spirit. Asha also represents my fluid sexuality - I often visit her in the place she calls home and we make love, representing my desires for love and orientation.

She lives with Alicia in the Wonderland cottage, but she freely moves about my brain more often. She shapeshifts into elemental energies, she moves around my hippocampus and amygdala and temporal lobes and cingulate gyrus and thalamus and auditory cortex and somatosensory cortex and parital lobe and the back of my brain.
She has altered the Wonderland cottage to be something else entirely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two office rooms, a large entertainment living room, a large kitchen, a basement. The outside build would contain concrete, cement, hemp and limestone, bamboo, steel. The glass windows are shatterproof. The doors are hemp-lime and timber. That must say something about my mind's inner workings. Especially since the main reason for hemp being illegal is due to its threat to corporate patentable synthetic fibers and wood and paper product industries, while the medicinal drug potential became subject to false claims and fear mongering alarm campaigns until the original industrial potential became buried under the alarmist anti drug campaigns. Part of me probably knows how powerful this is. Medicine from nature itself and the human brain itself is usually denied and seen as worthless.

Asha represents that part of me that firmly supports the controversial balance of traditional pharmaceutical medicine and nontraditional botanical medicine.
Asha is my activism and advocacy. Asha is the fire that moves my belief in the combination of synthetic drugs and organic drugs. Asha is the phoenix in me that rises after every defeat, every failure, every attack, every oppression, every attack and assault on my truths and faiths.

Throughout many names, faces, back stories, lives, personalities, and individual growths... she has always been Asha Clara Night. And this is how she asked me to look so I could see that there is beauty deep and shining.

I must find and thank the artists for these images, since I found myself taking these pieces of artwork and subconsciously turning them into incarnations of my own fictional character.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151978626835684&l=17dde55bf4

Asha may well be the character in that second novel after all. It won't be this Asha, my Asha; just a version, a more humanized incarnation I can bring out to show the public. This excites me. She could help me write it, just by living in my mind.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
And... some days I wake up from ethereal dreams I barely remember having the intense sense of former pointed ears, former wings growing from my shoulders, and a former unicorn horn growing from my forehead. If I look in a mirror before the dream is fully shaken, my eyes still have a faceted crystal glow, white enough to show every color, ringed by blue-tinted midnight black, and my skin shines from beneath, light rippling across my hands, like reflections in rivers.
Sometimes in those moments I just don't feel human. And it makes me feel wonderful.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Warrior)
http://www.upworthy.com/best-explanation-of-religion-i-have-ever-heard-and-im-practically-an-atheist

Dear every religious person: Listen to this. This guy is a bishop, and he's better at explaining organized religion as separate from the godhead than almost anyone I have ever heard. Dear every nonreligious person: You will be nodding vigorously and appreciating people like this man so much you'll wish every religious person was like him.

This is why I'm pagan. This is why I have no religion. The godhead - a single god, many gods, a source of energy, the higher self, nature, the universe, however you want to identify with it - has nothing to do with praise, fear, love, hate, organization, community, or what each person does in life. It just exists. It hangs around in its own dimension, formless, genderless, minding its own business, occasionally feeding off the soma of belief from living beings who find it pretty and comforting. It lets those beings shape it into whatever form they can recognize most. And since it is so pretty and comforting, people look to it and embrace it. If it makes them feel good, hooray! But to invent controlling concepts like Heaven and Hell just to scare people into running like children to your arms - born again, as it were, as this man says - is not a good way to explain your belief systems.
I'll say it again, but I believe Neil Gaiman did it best with "American Gods" - the idea that all gods are a sort of Mobius strip, circling back to creating themselves out of the minds of humans until they become real incarnations and sustain themselves on human worship... Except I like to think they originate in dimensions both outside our worlds and within our minds. Not quite panentheism... more like the universe being our own selves.
See? I'm so eclectic I don't want anyone else to "convert" to my belief system. I don't even know how to explain it. This is what happens when I'm raised by an atheist and agnostic both with very open minds.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
Another bizarre, color-based fantastic dream last night.
I was walking through a small town full of colors of all kinds. I had my handbag on me and I wondered if I could practice any magic with my cosmetics. However, the eyeshadows from the previous dream were gone.
An older woman came to me and said, "I know what you need. The powders you were using are limited. But these are not. I give these to you as my gift, freely, with no expectations. They belong to you."
She handed me two eyeshadow cases. I recognized them instantly - I own them in the waking world: Too Faced Exotic Color Eye Shadow Singles in Poison Orchid and Midnight Mist. I frowned and stared at her, realizing that her eyelids were painted with a blend of the two. I asked, "Are these stronger?"
"Oh yes," she said. "They heal and harm, create and destroy. Use your finger or a shadow brush. Wear them blended on your eyelids and you are immune to anyone who tries to use magic in a negative or destructive way. Swipe one on each wrist and your own magic will be increased. Wear them any which way you wish and you will be stronger. There is always power in color. Do you wear the red lipcolors that the Art Goddess gave you?"
I tilted my head. "I don't know. I own many red lip shades."
She smiled. Then you probably do. Do you know the names Provocateur, Hot Mama, Pretty Woman, Ruby Slippers, Stiletto Red, Wild?"
"Oh!" I said. "Oh, yes! Buxom and It Cosmetics and Too Faced and Tarte! I always feel drawn to them. Um, pun intended?"
The woman laughed, and her dark blue eyes glowed. "These eyeshadows are Too Faced and the names are no coincidence in this dimension. You come here very often in your dreams." She peered closer at me, nose to nose. "You are wearing Tarte Maracuja Concealer and It Cosmetics Concealer. One day, you will see the true complete beauty, and you may not use so much."
I smirked. "Are you a psychiatrist?"
"Sort of," she laughed. "Empathic witchcraft has advantages. You use color and cosmetics as both enhancement and costume. That is perfect and good. But you must remember that you, as you, are always beautiful."
I took a very deep breath. "It will take a while."
She reached out and pressed her palms against my cheeks. "You will know. You are loved."
It seemed as though she were about to walk away, but she paused and looked at me again. "The Too Faced Lipstick in Stiletto Red and the Tarte Lipstick in Wild. Use them to draw your personal magical symbols where you need on your body, when you come into this dream dimension again. You will understand why once you walk through our town."
I nodded. "And the Too Faced eyeshadows?"
"Oh, you know how they work!" she laughed. "You could even just open them and point them at the sky when you need to destroy your monsters and horrors. Midnight Amethyst and and Midnight Sapphire are designed to work in moonlight, sunlight, and all elements."
I realized that nothing was enigmatic anymore. I started laughing. Behind me, a gateway opened. I stepped back, waving at my companion. She held out one hand, fingers spread wide, and passed a golden-silver stream of light to my hand. I laughed loudly, and the gateway gently wrapped around me and pulled me through. It took a while for me to wake up. I suppose I could call it dream limbo. Light and shadow, color and negative space, filled with serenity.
I will go back. It is my town, after all.



The makeup in this photo:
Too Faced Exotic Single Eyeshadow in Poison Orchid, Midnight Mist
It Cosmetics Hello Lashes Volume Growth Mascara
It Cosmetics Vitality Lip Butter Gloss in Ruby Slippers
Tarte Maracuja Creaseless Concealer

Front facing smartphone cameras with anti-shake technologies are so freaking awesome for disabled people!
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
You guys, I amaze myself. I've been writing helter skelter all over the place: Novel, stories, novellas, blogs, facebook, notebooks with various pens, everywhere... in the middle of a postictal migraine and insanely horrific agonizing chronic pain flare-up following recovery from a panic attack. If I didn't have a computer or paper I might write on the walls. I hurt so badly I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel half fire and half water. Wild and raging, and all I want is a crackling bonfire and a rushing river.
I doctored up a photo of myself and it came out half gold light and half blue light. It looks inhuman. But part of me adores it so much. My face is two different parts. I am two entities in one. When I burn, I am cool. When I am cool, I burn. It is ying yang, dragon phoenix, up and down, left and right, I don't even know. I don't speak out loud except to my cats, I just speak through Story. So much Story inside me.
That rock. That rock that my husband gave me, the rock that he held while standing in Room 217 of the Stanley Hotel, in which Stephen King wrote "The Stand" and used as an inspiration for "The Shining". That rock is still next to my laptop. I am covered in words. I am filled up with Words. I may disappear into Story. I may not even see the world until I have to.
Is this what it is like to live in the land of the Fae and then come back to the land of humans?

jowitchzen2

Maybe it was the super moon. Maybe it is the heat from the sun now. Maybe it is anything.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
Why is it that, in most dreams where I am in physical danger, I am unable to scream or move quickly?
My last dream involved a bad fall and crash at the top of the stairs, while a large group of people were downstairs having a small quiet party. Something supernatural was with me, something insidious. I grabbed the stair ledge and pulled myself up to a kneeling position. I yelled my husband's name, but it was only a whisper. I couldn't call for help, not with the shadowy creature surrounding me. I was moving so slowly. It felt as though nobody was in the house but me, me and the cats.
And abruptly, I realized that nobody was in the house. Adam was at work. There was no party. The cats were all downstairs. It was only me and the shadow entity. I struggled to call on my internal resources, my spirit guardians, but even my psychic voice was muffled. I was not afraid. I was determined. I was badly injured, and I only had myself, and my powers to create weapons and defenses were drained. I stopped trying to stand. I knelt there and mouthed words, calling on the water in the bathroom, the air circulating around the house, the earth under the house, the fire downstairs used to light the gas stove. I pulled in all into me, and with a desperate burst, I unleashed it. The shadow creature shrieked and vanished.
Without any warning at all, the house filled with presence again. There was that quiet downstairs party. I whispered my husband's name again, struggling to turn it into a cry. Someone must have heard. Adam came up the stairs and found me, sagging against the door of the bathroom, my nose bleeding. He spoke to me. He half-carried me to the bedroom and helped me lie down. He brought damp towels and tissues and water with electrolytes. I managed, somehow, to tell him that a negative spirit had entered the house and stole my strength, and I pulled all the elemental power I could to drive it away. He was very proud but also puzzled, since the house was supposed to be powerfully shielded and guarded. I was crying but I didn't mean to cry. It was just a reaction without intention. He stroked my hair and curled up with me, and me took my hand and fed me energy and power and strength, and he said, "Go to sleep, my darling. I'll be monitoring you through our psychic bond and everything will be okay. I will strengthen the wards." He needed to check on our friends. He would back be up soon.
The dream ended there.

It has been something of a recurring thing: My slowness in dreams. My exquisite agony in dreams. My whispering words in dreams. Sometimes I can barely walk for the pain in my hips and knees. Sometimes I can only speak with thoughts instead of physical words. Sometimes my body is wrapped in a floating translucent shell and it is the only way I can move. In my dreams, the pain is so much worse than in reality. But I have access to weapons of all kind and I feel safe, even if something horrible grabs me.

When I was a child, I had flying dreams every night. Even astral projection. Like my father and cousins in their younger years. And if a harmful person appeared, I just waved my right hand fiercely, shouting "Shoo! Shoo!" to make then disappear.

When I was a child, I dreamed of dragons, of ancient tortoises, of unicorns mixed with white tigers, of phoenix birds with feathers of every color. Dragons have never been dangerous to me. Even if some were, there were always other dragons who were benevolent.

It is why I always bristle when I read an article comparing chronic pain to dragons. The only way I can see such battles happening is dragon against dragon. And I am a human amalgam of dragon, phoenix, tortoise, unicorn, white tiger, and fae, wrapped in the skin of a moonlight witch.

Then, why do my dreams cripple me? The only reason I can think of is to teach me to use the insides, the powers coming from my spirit and not my body. My body is very important and vital to me. But perhaps not so much in my dreams.

And I think this piece of art, beyond anything, is one of the greatest ways I can understand myself. Every time I look at it, I weep. I even have that same cane. I know Shinga and I barely know each other, but she knows chronic pain. She knows what being a warrior means. She was in the US Army and was badly injured and treated so poorly during therapy that she has severe PTSD. She is disabled badly. She knows battles. And I want to hold her and hold her and tell her what this means to me.

http://shinga.deviantart.com/art/Awaken-Warrior-and-Rise-378439320
awaken__warrior__and_rise_by_shinga-d69b9nc
(Note: Please please refer to Shinga before borrowing or using this image. Please use the Deviant Art link. This is her work. Copyright Shinga. The only reason I displayed the actual image was in case someone can't click on the link.)
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
You know, it is incredibly difficult to stare terror in the eye and snarl "No, you beast, I AM THE DRAGON" when you have no more hope or confidence or battle left in you.
Most chronic pain advocates describe pain and disability as the "destructive, sometimes evil dragon that must be fought." Fuck that. In this world, I am a blend of dragon and phoenix and whatever dragon they think wants to hurt me can scream it to my face; I will scream right back.
My reserves have been scraped clean. I need to rest. I have a high fever and can barely speak. And I just learned that my digital thermometer turns red and loud above 99.6. LOL. I am my own dragon. And this dragon needs to curl up on a pile of gold and copper and silver and gemstones and go the fuck to sleep before epilepsy dominates.
I am fine. I will be fine. Somehow I always turn out all right.
Until we meet again, warrior sisters and brothers.



Note: no makeup. Except lip balm and moisturizing lotion. But no fear. Not now. No time. Apologies to Body Dysmorphic Disorder.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
Aww, I remember writing this last year and people being very amused.
***
Bright eyed, bushy haired, bright colors, babbling due to painkillers and happy muscle relaxants and healing gemstones and all that weird pseudoscience silliness that I believe in despite my atheist agnostic upbringing.
I've been pagan since I was a teenager, so hah. Polyagnostic polytheist pantheist eclectic witch who will believe even if proven completely wrong. Even when my parents insists that it's just my brain and that psychic powers don't exist, I will agree because that is true, too. There are so many truths out there. I love quantum everything.
See, I follow the Discworld concept: Even if a deity manifests in front of be and insists it is a great god, I will tell it "That's nice. Just because you exist doesn't mean I believe in you. I believe in my Higher Brain smushed with my Subconscious, which you possibly came from. But since you are here, let's party anyway. Red wine?"
I firmly believe that Man created God, and the Universe created both Man and God, and all gods everywhere sprang fully formed from Man's brain because Man's brain is more complex and extreme than we can ever conceive. The universe is bigger than everything.
And I have also always believed in All The Gods, so whenever someone asks me if I believe in God, I always ask "Which one?" which leads to confusion and people thinking I'm, like, evil or something and must be saved or whatever that means. *shrug* I don't care. I like what I like and I don't want to push it on anyone because my faith is mine and your faith is yours.
I just ask that you please please do not attempt to convert me to Christianity because nope nope nope. I am half Jewish, I know that Christianity is a Jewish heresay, I know Yeshua was just a man who explored various believes including paganism and then returned to talk about it, and that he wasn't part god, he was just a very good orator. So, no. I am who I am and if you leave me alone I will not roll my eyes and facepalm at you. I love you all, I always will... but I can love everyone without being bothered by proselytizing. Love is love is love is love. There is no wrong or right, there is only love.
***
brightlotusmoon: (Pixie Model 2)
I don't think I want to leave my house without psychic witchcraft protection all week, because within the next few days there will be scary things everywhere, and I don't give a fuck how plastic and fake they are, I still hate them. And I will bring a pillow to press against my face and I will threaten to beat anyone with my best cane if they try to get in my face with scary costumes.

*loves Samhain, hates Halloween*
*is so close to the realm of the dead anyway that there is absolutely no need to dress up and pretend anything because the veil is close enough to touch*

I don't know if anyone wants elaboration on that.

I will say that I nearly died several times during and after birth: my three months premature birth happened at two minutes to midnight under a waxing gibbous moon and an evening star. My personal magic is more orderly than chaotic. That is, it is a gentle and static magic rather than a wild and intense magic. Both are needed, both must be braided tightly as a unit, but I can only work with one at a time, or there is pain.
http://www.kakophone.com/kakorama/EN/astrology-horoscope.php/1979/4/6

I may discuss more if there is interest.
After my post seizure post-ictal state soothes, and after I rest, and after I sleep.

Any discussion of blood, gore, zombies, decomposing corpses, hideous death, and living dead will be met with silence, side eye, eye-rolling, and growling. (Vampires are okay, as long as they appear human.)

The harvest is coming. Time to drink cider!
http://www.thewhitegoddess.co.uk/the_wheel_of_the_year/samhain.asp

I was recently given a private reserve skin cream on Etsy that the
owner, a fellow witch, picked out the name "Moonlight Witch" from my
list of possible names. It smells and feels amazing and makes me feel...
well, at home! Plus, I feel more comfortable and charged up when I do
pagan rituals under moonlight.

Moonlight Witch Gypsy Body Creme reserved for Joanna:
Cocoa Butter, Shea Butter, Olive Oil, Grapeseed Oil infused with powerful extracts of Blue Lotus Absolute, Dragon's Blood Resin, Amber Resin, Coffee Extract, Coffee Grounds, Coconut Flakes, Frankincense, Myrrh.
"She walks the path where moonlight shines, for it is there her strength she always finds."
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
How it all began:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151013741440684&l=48f6e7bcb2
Click on the '1 Share' button to see comments that inspired the title of Peaceful Dragon.

Copied from Facebook.

***
Now I am too exhausted to... what was I saying?
I'm going to bed now.

Also, someone just called me a "Mediterranean Warrior Fae with coffee cognac amber eyes." That makes me feel happy, and also strengthened.
***
Today is a day of pain too extreme for mere words.

But that's why my favorite eyeshadow is called Psychedelic Sister.

My mind has special places in which I can safely lose myself during transcendental meditation, in which my imagination and sensory perceptions can be shaped, molded, and altered bit by bit to work alongside damaged neural pathways, to become fully psychoactive on my own, through my own private power.

This will take years beyond years, but I have eternity in the spirit world. Sometimes my senses are surrounded by and colored in various shades of purple, with color shifts, duochrome shimmers, and iridescent glimmers of every color I can think of.

I know Psychedelic Sister is just the name of a shimmery deep amethyst cosmetic pigment, but it has a special meaning. Just like various other eyeshadows.

Urban Decay
Loaded: Deep metallic emerald
Evidence: Shimmery deep navy blue
Hijack: Deep metallic teal
Lost: Medium metallic brown
Snakebite: Shimmery dark bronze
Shattered: Shimmery gold turquoise
YDK: Shimmery cool bronze
S&M: Shimmery steel gray taupe
Midnight Rodeo: Glittery silver taupe
Maui Wowie: Metallic golden beige
Last Call: Metallic sugar plum
Darkhorse: Shimmery deep mocha
Half Baked: Shimmery golden bronze

Too Faced
Midnight Mist: Midnight Sapphire Violet Duotone
Poison Orchid: Midnight Amethyst Gray Duotone
Firefly: Shimmery Antique Gold
Petals To The Metal: Metallic Brown Blue Duotone
Violet Femme: Shimmery Lavender Gold Duotone
Enchanted Garden: Golden Espresso Duotone

Maybelline Color Pearls Marbleized
Downtown Denim
Persuasive Plum
Lawless Lavender
Navy Narcissist

It really is amazing and powerful to me, how color can help alter the way I see myself. The instant I apply concealer or foundation, it begins.
Urban Decay Naked Skin Foundation in Shade 2.0
It Cosmetics Bye Bye Concealer in Light
Lauren Brooke Creme Concealer in Warm Light
Lauren Brooke Creme Foundation in Warm 2
CoverGirl Olay Tone Rehab Foundation in Classic Ivory
Raesin Images Creme Foundation in Linen 2
Korres Quercetin Oak Concealer in Fair

Obviously this is a lot, but my memory is quietly being gently destroyed bit by tiny bit. I always write everything down. All it matters is that I can alter my palette constantly and see myself in new colors, in new ways, every day. I am art.
***
In the lair of the Peaceful Dragon.
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151018197555684.415074.640545683&type=1&l=74078a637b
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151018374415684&l=99512fe686
Filled with strong colors and shiny things.
***
Thing I have most recently learned about myself: When I am having a pleasant conversation on Facebook about something enjoyable regarding a status or a photo, I should feel absolutely no remorse in deleting critical, snide, or rude comments that have nothing to do with the conversation. I have learned that if I really want a critical opinion, I would be happy to privately message the critic and figure out why they decided to be critical in the first place. I like learning new things about myself!
***
Stupid news: Having a temperature over 99.1 and being ragey over ridiculous whims of ridiculous body and ridiculous brain.
Fuck It news: Planning the weekend no matter what. Peaceful Mediterranean Fae Dragon Warrior is fucking peaceful, damn it.
Really Fucked Up news: Actually literally being too weak to finish editing these fiction stories or do anything but limp and stumble.

Time to crawl into bed and rage against the dying of the light so hard that in every dimension beyond this one I erupt into a wild flare and shine brighter than a fucking supernova - until every spirit, alien, and interdimensional entity all rush to gather around, break out the sunglasses, and share popcorn.

Peacefully, that is.
***

I will be a good Mediterranean Dragon Princess. With many shiny things. Including coffee and chocolate and honey, and chocolate honey coffee.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
I don't know why I've been treating my online places as confessional kinds of things, but I have so many friends here who know me and understand me that it is hard to not talk about things.
I have been having issues with Body Dysmorphic Disorder again.
That is all.
I am working it out. Klonopin and therapy and exercise and pampering really can help my personal issues. It is difficult to talk about OCD problems sometimes, especially if it sounds like white whine, but I don't know what else to say about that.
I wish I could open up and talk and talk for hours, but right now I can't. My throat feels raw. Eating is not as much fun. I will see how my mind is tomorrow after I wake up and do my usual medications and meditations.
Also, sometimes when I leave the neighborhood, my brain opens up to all kinds of paranormal things, and I let some of them in. Sometimes they are very comforting. I know our home is well shielded, but there are so many times when I want to go out there, drop my shields, and shine like the weird paranormal beacon I apparently am, just so I can say hello to other dimensions.
I am glad I was raised to be skeptical. It helps me see everything from every angle and make my own decisions without strong external influences.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
So, yeah.

Today so far has been a day of "Let's drug Joanna up with opiates, anaglesics, muscoloskeletal relaxants, caffeine, migraine remedies, skin hydrators, itch relief, cramp relief, nausea relief, anti-fatigue supplements, and focusing supplements."
I woke up at 11:30, felt sick, took a very long shower with very hot water, took half an hour to get dressed, then fell back onto the bed, where a cat inevitably sat on me and licked my face.
I went inside my brain to talk to my Frontal Lobe, represented by a stern, petite Eastern European woman with sharp cheekbones, multi-colored eyes, pouty lips, bronze skin, calico hair, sturdy curves, long hands, a sloped nose, and a deep voice.
"What about food?" I asked. "My digestive system is being uncooperative right now."
"I know," she said. "Go get that high-calorie nutrient-dense smoothie you bought at Fresh Market and then make an acai smoothie when you're ready. Later, try some plain cheddar and soup. I had a conference with the medulla oblongata about that. Don't take anything for the digestive stuff, by the way."
"You sure? Because you know the amygdala and I..."
"Yes, yes. But I mean it. You can drink some Pepto Bismol if you really want, but you need that nutrition. Go pick those cherry tomatoes out back, too. And the water. Keep drinking the moringa water and the sea buckthorn tea."
"Did the medulla oblongata tell you that?"
"Yes. Every part tells me everything."
I paused. "Can... can you make me hurt less?"
She bit her lower lip. "Well... see, the nociceptors tend to have minds of their own. Like teenagers and toddlers rebelling and tantruming. Well, also like adults tantruming. Have you ever seen a grown person throw a tantrum?"
"Of course. It's embarrassing."
"So... I can team up with some of my other parts to try. But keep in mind that considering our massive damage and dead parts, there is only so much we can do. But we can make sure to help you stay upright and conscious and able to respond to external stimuli. The limbic system is a little twitchy, though. It's making the hippocampus twitchy, too."
"Oh, hell," I said. "What about seizure warnings?"
She paused. "I can try. I promise I will try."
I nodded. "I know. I know how busy you are."
She smiled. "I'll keep an eye on the temporal lobes and parietal lobes."
I nodded. "Thank you, Lady."
"Just rest for now. Okay? Keep yourself calm. We will be here for you."
The Frontal Lobe representation held out her arms. I slowly moved forward, and she embraced my mental avatar. Her touch and body radiated cold and hot and kindness and love and severity and power and strength and control and understanding. I couldn't put the rest of it into words. I was a pebble at the bottom of a river, with ripples widening all around me.

My meditation ended. I opened my eyes and stretched my neck, and felt almost refreshed, except for the parts that hurt so badly I almost left my body.
So I sit here, typing very very slowly with what sections of my Neocortex will allow through all this fog, casually watching animated films in the background to relax me and give me humor. I am very cold, wearing a silk cardigan (when did I acquire all these silk cardigans anyway?) and considering warming up the house because the Raynaud's Disease is attacking. But I trust the Frontal Lobe to take control as much as possible.
We will see what happens.

(Also, if anyone on my friends list knows more about this sort of thing that I do, please feel free to correct me in the comments.
http://www.brainhealthandpuzzles.com/brain_parts_function.html)
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Because I am always looking for myself: in the deepest waters, on the longest roads, across the steepest mountains, through the farthest galaxies, behind the strongest walls. Because those waters, roads, mountains, galaxies, and walls have been mine forever. One day I will really meet myself, and it shall be fascinating.
http://youtu.be/b5bTYSjYg_0

brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Because hells yes.









brightlotusmoon: (Default)
My wish and desire for tonight's Dreaming:
To be in a dimension where I have no body and can change shape at will, and where my syndromes are astral Creatures that I can battle with a glowing psychic sword named Serenity that can transform into energy shapes of all sorts and skills.
That is all I know for now. I wish and desire for many things.
Baby steps, Annie. Always.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Adam and I took advantage of Venus' last hour across the sun. We did a private pagan ritual, charged my amber bracelet, made love and played with magic, discussed magic, and then discussed the fact that my psychic senses were much stronger than usual. Adam theorized that because of how I entered the world, I've always been deeply connected to the spirit realm, as it were, and to some psychics and magic practitioners I seem intensely bright and shiny while to other practitioners I seem dim and closer to ghosts; in any case I seem to have an ability to sense and attract supernatural and paranormal energies. I used to be like shiny candy when I was in college. When my friends went on "ghost hunts" they took me as a sort of bait. Adam says I shouldn't be frustrated that I don't actually know what all my talents are, and that nobody can tell me except myself. Which actually is frustrating, because beyond the sensing and attracting, I have no clue.

Anyway, enough magical thinking gibberish to make skeptics laugh forever, I have actual reality to think about for this post. Well, other than wanting to open a discussion about Humanistic Paganism which I include in my wild menagerie of weird beliefs (agnostic polytheism, pantheism, eclectic paganism, humanistic paganism, shamanism, animism, cosmic consciousness, transpersonal psychology) that are probably contradictory, but whatever; I refer to the great speech in Neil Gaiman's "American Gods" in which Sam tells Shadow what she believes, which is lots of very awesome things.

Yesterday, Adam and I went grocery shopping specifically to sustain me for the next two weeks, as Adam will be working in other states too often to come home. Today he goes to Pennsylvania and returns on Friday, but after that I probably won't see him for most of June. The cats and I should be perfectly fine, and if I need anything I can call a friend to help.

I can't talk about the death of Ray Bradbury yet. It will make me cry again. I will go through my library and pull out every Bradbury book I own and pile them up and sit there, watching them and meditating, and then I will read all of them, one by one.

flinch

Nov. 5th, 2006 03:55 pm
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
I had a moment of severe self doubt.

The novel I am writing -- the science fiction novel -- is based on a common theme that, in reality, causes much argument, discord, and often verbal violence: Human beings taking on non-human spiritual forms.
A human with the "soul" of a non-human creature. Sometimes they are called Otherkin. And they are constantly riduculed. They called called insane, retarded, stupid, schizophrenic. It is horribly depressing for me to watch them get verbally attacked on forums and communities -- the attackers usually have nothing intelligent to say, except, "You are a moron and you need help. Dragons [for example] don't exist. You're crazy!"
Stepping in: I am not otherkin. I believe I have "spirit guardians" whose forms are not human; ie, dragons. I believe I can connect with those guardians, let them merge with me psychically. But I don't think I have a dragon soul; I think I have a human soul. However, I do think part of that "soul" is Fae. Therefore, I may be deemed crazy, stupid, retarded, in need of psychiatric help. Which is fine. Maybe that's true. I'll never debate that. Don't they say that one out of four people may be "insane"?
Now, I could just as easily have a spirit guardian that is a small mouse, a fruit fly, etc. That is the argument that some people give ("If you could be a dragon, why not a ladybug?"). Some people feel that those who believe in spiritual forms use it as a form of escaping reality, of wish fulfillment, because a dragon is such a regal, powerful form, and a bug is not.

To my original point: I believe that human beings can be connected to nonhuman entities or forces, and sometimes in the astral plane they can actually become these entities (dragon, unicorn, etc). Which is the premise behind my novel.
But I've come to realize that when my book becomes published, some readers may question whether or not I, the author, honestly believe in what I write about. And if I say yes, I may experience some severe ridicule and argument.
This is why I try and keep quiet about my personal beliefs in this department, and express them through fictional writing. It's simpler. And yet, I am not going to stand up and say, "Oh, no, I don't believe any of that, ha ha! It's all nothing." Because it's not my truth.

I'd like to ask other writers of fantasy and science fiction about how far their personal beliefs extend when they write.

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