Marilyn Doesn’t Know She’s A Teacher

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Onions can make you cry but so can a heart opening. So many layers so many lessons.

It would have annoyed most people. I should have been annoyed. I wasn’t. My anger would have hijacked the most profound moment. Her anger could have ruined everything. But instead, a life changing moment, a nudge from Spirit. I met a teacher, an angel…Marilyn.

While attempting to park my car I was met with a snow plow clearing the lot. I pulled to the side to let him clear where I wanted to park. Nosed in and put it in park. When he cleared the area, I put it in reverse and started to back up. I heard a beep and realized that someone was right behind me. I quickly pulled back to where I was and put it in park.

I did feel the annoyance rising in me. But then again, by beeping this person, this lovely woman, saved me from smashing her car. Upon entering the store there she stood. Sizing her up, I prepared to be yelled at, I deserved it obviously. “I’m sorry I beeped at you” she blurted out. Wow

Holy shit! SHE’S sorry? shocking. For what, for being alive? I told her I was GLAD she beeped and stopped me – I was totally going to wreck both our cars. “Always beep and don’t be sorry!” She thought that was a funny thing for me to say. We began to talk about things. Families, jobs, why we were at this store…the normal bla bla bla. Until

Until she disclosed her daughter’s situation. Somehow, by the grace of God, I found myself in a very private and profound conversation with a complete stranger. I was deeply moved by her sharing. I didn’t deserve to be privy to any of this. I was the jackass who made a dumb move in the parking lot! Still, she shared with me. Still. I was deeply moved by her daughters will to live. I was deeply moved that she died repeatedly only to be revived again and again.

All because she made the choice to have compassion for me instead of anger for me so close to wrecking her car. She not only forgot about HOW she met me, she trusted that it was ok to tell me about her life’s recent tragic events, in detail. Every detail. I’m still in shock but strangely honored.

Again. I was blown away that her daughter coded several times during her C-section. Several times. Was clinically dead seven times. That hits hard. Even when it’s a stranger. I didn’t want to cry but it was already there. I was crying inside. Profound. It was a miracle mom and baby survived.

Marilyn’s daughter has some complications because of these events and continues to recover.

I was ready to be scolded, degraded, sneered at for being dumb and assuming no one was behind me. Instead, I was met with compassion and understanding. That’s what Marilyn had waiting for me. Understanding and Compassion. How sweet. What an incredible woman that Marilyn. What an awesome day with the chance meeting with my latest teacher. Teaching love, trust, compassion and understanding even for strangers. Even for someone who nearly caused you more angst and worries.

Can’t we all try to BE the compassion and understanding. You never know who you’ll impact and how far the ripples will go. It may be life saving, life changing. We all struggle. We need to trust and see each other. I think it was Rumi who said, We’re all just humans, walking each other home.

I’ll be talking the long way. Past some lovely strangers.

survival

The Best and The Worst

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My Brookers watching me as I live out loud

This has got to be the best and the worst time of my life. I am realizing the fruits of my hard, excruciating labor. Everyone’s imploding around me – I stand tall n steady. Dead nuts steady as an island in a tormented sea. Waves, winds crashing from all sides – yet I breathe. Because I know. That it’s all just. Temporary. And I’m fine. Finally.

I’m an observer. A family of origin- tornado observer. As life fucks the unhealed. Numerous family members who’ve passed up every opportunity to dive deep. Their Spirits, their Higher Selves wanting them to finally swim in the healing waters…they claimed they didn’t know how to swim, the water was too cold, too deep…Excuses. Now they’re drowning, slowly. Publicly.

I should be that – but if not for for the grace of God – I would be that. I should be crushed by the weight of the dark history. But yet I wear survival gear and cling to a life vest. As a result, I am unscathed by the shredding winds. I am whole. As I have already seen many-a-horrendous storms and been sucked up in the torrent – 20+ years fighting for my right to be here, to be seen, be victorious.

The worst part, watching as the trauma screams for acknowledgment, validation, to be seen and heard. The wall being built higher, more reinforcement needed to close it out, shut it up. Fortify the fortress of Denial Palace. My family of origin lives here. It’s occupants smile, gladly welcoming amnesia, loss of sight and hearing as insurance/loyalty to the fairytale. The once upon a slime childhood.

Guests are welcome in the Palace – butlers offer tall glasses of shut the fuck up with a side of “smile even when you’re dying inside” crackers and “let everyone know how loving your mother is” cheese. Secrets guarded as my siblings and maternal influence, inside, are imploding. Keeping the beast quiet and alive and salivating. The old evil licking it’s lips, eyes locked on the newest generation. Ready to feed off the misery, hiding from daylight.

The best and worst playing simultaneously. On the same reel. Sadness and elation. Devastation and joy. No longer experiencing but observing. I cannot go to the Palace. MY acceptance of fake and shallow and control has expired. I don’t fit. Maybe I never did. I can see. I can see the ugly beyond it’s fancy decor. My heart breaks for all of them yet rejoices for ME…

Can I hold both at once?

Like An Eagle

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I sensed the secret you carry. Blaming my physical unrest on food, the two drinks, my sunburn. Your frantic energy, palpable. The fox that showed up, running by making himself seen. Then the snake. Spirit commanding my attention by sending in the wild beasts. Illuminating that which lurks under beautiful smiles. I see it all. Like an Eagle.

The building tension you carry – feeling it in my own neck. Overwhelming. I can take on your energy, at will – as a way of knowing. Then, right before me slowly coming clearer, unfolding with certainty. With sadness. With accuracy. Suddenly I’m doing it. Putting together the clues of your broken childhood. Betrayal by betrayal. All of it.

I can sniff it out. This info comes with a high price – a sudden physical overwhelm, unease. As I realize the reason for your blankness, your habitual guarding, the distance you keep, your refusal to take part in activities, meals, refusal to leave the house, engage. It suddenly makes perfect sense. This protest. This fuck you.

When I witness your many refusals. Reluctance to greet your brother. Opting out of family “time”. The way your mother has to force you to acknowledge your brother. She physically assists you in hugging him. The nervous laughter. I knew. I knew. I could see all that is hidden. Under plastic smiles.

It hit me hard. So blatant. So powerful. This explains so much. I know things. I know shit people would never want me to know. Why do I know? What is the purpose dear God. Please tell me. Don’t be stupid, it’s obvious why I know. I was was this girl, I am this.

Can I actually help? Can I help? How can I? It’s actually torturous to be privy to such delicate, guarded info. I want to help. I want to give her the gift of validation. I want to blow this the fuck up. I want to slay the evil in the room. I want to save her sanity. Hide her in a warm safe place. Where her safety is paramount. But. My heart hurts so much right now.

But. I need to keep MY inner child safe. I need to protect HER. Put her first, reparent HER as this trigger swirls. I can do for her what was not done for me when I was young. I can keep myself centered and grounded and not swirl, also with the insanity of sexual abuse. I will never abandon my inner child to save someone else. THIS is the work. My work. Never jump in to save someone. Make every attempt from ground. From the shore. Have a plan. Process. Otherwise we are all lost in the deep darkness.

Do I say anything? Do I to hint that I know? I cannot expect that she will be receptive. She might deny. That’s not the point tho. She needs to know that whatever she says I will listen. Just open the door and get my healing foot in, or even a toe. Hell, a toenail.

God help me to use fox energy in my heart. Be stealthy, clever. Meet evil with light. It saddens me that she suffers in silence everyday. Everyone is dead around her. Everyone. I visualize ancient, petrified, headless bodies around me. No one to connect with, no one to feel, no one to love. Reach all you want. They’re unavailable. Dead. Tragically familiar. Having to partially die myself just to survive.

Guide me. Use me for her support -either physically or energetically. Please let me be there, as a comfort. As a confidante. The sounding board and voice of reason that I did not have. The safe one. The receptive heart. If she’ll let me in to her closely guarded, sensitive heart. If

My tears and grief are real, solid and visionary. Don’t mess with my fucking intuition. I see through. I see the real. I see your dark, that which you wish to hide. I see your shame. I see your self loathing. Your having to act out to have everyone leave you alone. Throw an emotional fit just to get someone to pay attention.

I know this. Some part of her wants me to see. Is willing. Needs this. Will I be met with that part or an imposter? No way to tell. How much will be receptive? How much will fight, run or collapse and be transparent? It’s frightening to be seen, really seen. Exposed. I got you.

No one knows I can see. No one. I am often met with denial. It’s natural/habitual. I know and sense too much. I have an enormous responsibility with this gift (jury still out on the “gift” term). Heavy burden in my hands being privy to such weighty information. I’d ask Spirit WHY, but the answer is ridiculously obvious. Enormous.

The sadness of the abused children. All shutting down differently. Deadening themselves. you can see the disconnect. The terror in the eyes. Can feel the crazy, swirling, frozen, ungrounded energy surrounding the family. Many kids, many families. Way too many.

We survivors can help. We can be what WE needed. And never could secure. It’s never too late to get what we came for. To give what we couldn’t get. It’s never too late to offer our wisdom, our hearts, our safety. Our love and understanding. It’s never too late. To go out on that branch, trusting it will hold you. Eagle medicine abounds.

Angels · connection · Remember · soul

I Met A Stray (Twin Flame)

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So I met a stray. More like he met me. His tragic accident cracking open our ancient connection. Felt like we had always known each other. Lifetimes ago reflected in this immediate recognition. We had always know of each other. For this was absolute.

The promise of wholeness, never yet realized, in our glances soul deep. The most intriguing of wanderers. Beckoning me to live deliciously, gate wide open. He felt expansive, this stray. Roaming the back alleys and dimly lit corridors of my heart.

I offered my heart willingly. With no care but blind trust. For in return came psychic connection, honor and dedication driven by forces larger. Much larger than ourselves. An energy strangely familiar – like blue electricity, supercharged and exhilarating. Remote viewing, lucid dreaming, visions, Clair-cognizance, clairvoyance the newest gifts.

So high I was. Like a runaway train. Breathless foot chase through crowded streets. Dizzying, bottomless highs. Out of bounds, out of body, higher. I spiraled. We filled our empty spaces, drinking from this supercharged fountain while unknowingly foraging for and excising ancient wounds. Fears and insecurities darkness and unhealed trauma ushered in.

The Stray, a catalyst of transformation. He could not be owned, relied upon, trusted, or changed. Yes, such a beautiful soul energy underneath the rough exterior. monstrous life lesson. An excruciating, scarring chapter of lie down on the train tracks despair.

A lesson I needed to look into the eyes of. The Stray was the perfect currier. Of loss so great, my tender, protected heart ripped and spilled out. Leaking everything held close and hidden. Everything awesome drained out as our human lessons came to the forefront.

Our insides turning outward. As he began to pull away. Run. Hide. Deny connection. Deny it was anything but attraction. The Stray simplifying that which was set to unseat his darkness.

Our eyes meeting was almost too much to bare, ripping into each other. Danger, danger Will Robinson. Visual electricity igniting the wick on old wounds waiting for expression. Triggering my every sad story of not good enough, being invisible and objectified- I was just an entertaining, energetic plaything. The deepest most profound disturb as he began to pull back. A psychic, well wisher, a tender hearted cheerleader.

Aloof and unaware, I attempted to wake the Stray. Insistent that he see what I saw. He HAS to. But you, Stray, clouded by narcotics and years of bad decisions, owned nothing but the present moment. Floating, attaching to rocks on your path but always one foot untethered. Breaking away suddenly, like it meant nothing at all and was normal to have SUCH A RELATIONSHIP.

Leaving devastation/heartache in your path. Blind to the worth of the connection. Fucking blind. The possibility of transformation, until the connection was lost. You just scratched the surface Stray. Taking a lick and reserving buy in. Never totally selling out, never totally opening up for the demons awaiting expression.

The Stray likes to tread water, not deep dive. Even when the amazing is at your feet…the aloof sets in, comforting sleep and you’re off running again. Shattering hearts that feel something more. That are willing to open to both painful and moving truth.

Strays are best honored from afar. The trap is reel. Like a trout that circles the hook, rubbing on it, smiling, smelling, present but careful to contain/conceal their desire for fulfillment. Stray, you were a master at running and not being seen, never getting caught, owned – greater than the desire to stand and feed your primal hunger. Hunger to be whole. You’ve lost your appetite.

So I do honor my Stray. This vehicle of unbeknownst divinity. For opening my eyes to self love above all else. For never again will I love someone more than I love myself. That is dangerous. Keeping all my goodies close, never again reaching outside of myself to merge with those who are unavailable. You taught me that my dear Stray.

Lowering my expectations of others and filling my OWN holes. YOU taught me that, my dear Stray. Not looking for external fixes. That too. Not desiring others to be any diff than who they are, to reach out of THEIR comfort zone and rescue me. Lastly, I learned to honor another’s slumber and not wish for them to excise their demons they cannot see and/or may deny.

So with fondness and gratitude, Stray, you have a beautiful Spirit. My wish for you is for YOU to see what I saw. The magic, the energy of healing wisdom, the essence of unconditional love and pure reverence. If just for a brief moment. Through the pain and pleasure I was most absorbent, healing and expanding into myself. Although I rarely think of you today Stray, if/when I do, you will always be remembered with the utmost respect and honor. Forever in my heart, Sir.

resilient

Rising From The Asses

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When you weren’t looking I was having fun. When you weren’t looking I made friends. When you weren’t looking I got all A’s and B’s. When you weren’t looking I got trophies and ribbons. Praise and encouragement from teachers and strangers. When you weren’t looking I followed all the rules.

When you weren’t looking I was unraveling. When you weren’t looking I was starving myself. When you weren’t looking I kept our family secrets. When you weren’t looking I hated you. When you weren’t looking I was planning to die. When you weren’t looking I felt isolated and weird. When you weren’t looking I wished it was you who died. When you weren’t looking I could feel crazy.

When you were looking I told you I loved you. I keep our family secrets. When you were looking I followed your fucked up rules. When you were looking I believed all your fabrications about people and the way life worked. When you were looking I believed the beautiful, sweet story of our tragic, broken family. When you were looking I was the perfect daughter. When you were looking I silenced the truth I felt so I wouldn’t upset you. I silenced who I was because I always felt defeated. When you were looking I made it seem like I had a sane Mom.

Your looking, an uncomfortable look of ownership, dangerous caged rage. Those eyes tho, burned a hole in my soul. A hole so deep, my lifetimes fell in, waiting to be rescued. But you were still looking so they’d have to wait. Because when you were looking, it wasn’t safe for me to own anything. It would be taken. Any semblance of aliveness was forfeited. No choice at all, the need for food, shelter and love was ever present. When you looked, I surrendered it all, smiling. Set on fine China, dainty flowered setting that hid the tears. Because when you were looking, appearance was Queen.

When I was looking, the color turned to death. I could flirt with pink and green and orange and red but only for a minute and it surely would be detected and devoured. This fed the hungry beast inside you. When no-one was looking. It slithered, smiling, through the caverns of our existence. Spreading it’s brown paralyzing slime onto our child lives. Twisting n turning so we never could sense direction. When no one was looking. Your inner beast ran through our home salivating, relentlessly stalking. This was not a safe existence for children, when no one was looking.

Intolerable and exhausting. Swimming upstream from birth. We surrendered, we yielded to crazy, to the killing of our innocence, our right to be free, to live unburdened. There really was no choice. We handed it over because we’re just children. We craved belonging, safety, love, softness, easy breath, dreams. Sacrificing our well being over and over. The darkness victorious, stamping out our light, our dreams, our drive. When no-one was looking.

Mission accomplished. Torched souls, we assist you in drawing the shades of life, a smiling mask donned in public, living “as if” so as not to raise any suspicions about our fucked little lives. All this darkness placed inside, the saccharine sweet lies conflicting with and twisting our fight for sanity, lucidity, transparency, space.

All this “looking” but no seeing. Your eyes glued shut Mom. You didn’t really have to “see”your food to be able to eat it, now did you? You could smell the life force, the need to be stripped of our aliveness, our need to be silenced and gutted. Sensed like an animal in the night. Just to feed your emptiness. She fed from and possessed our every emotion, when no one was looking. She took everything. Our joy, our anger, pain and peace. And handed us back blankness, autopilot, apprehension, lack of self trust, hate and suspicion of others. Insanity. We learned so many things about darkness and dancing with crazy.

I’ve transformed, Mother. And what a trick this MOTHER word! I’ve stripped your ugly from my existence. No longer a subscriber. I was the one who escaped, by some small miracle, I made it. My Spirit rose up to assist me. I was made for greater things. Without your sad influence. Without you looking, I’ve dug and scraped and washed and scoured you from my loins. 30 years is a long time to live, surrendering one’s essence, in service to another. “Out of service” an outstanding book title I foresee in my future. Although, “when you weren’t looking” could work, too. My mind is free. Free to roam without restriction, censor or proper.

Thank you Mom for leading me to the edge and shoving me off. Body sinking to guaranteed demise, my Higher Self was there to catch my fall. The Human Spirit is a powerful force that can lift you up and beyond what you thought was possible. Listen to the call, take the difficult challenge of putting yourself first, staying the course and rising from the asses.

acceptance · anyways · awareness · Celebrate · Change · Comfort · gratitude · healing · healthy · heart · human condition · Human Spirit · inner work · Joy · listen · Manifest · Moving On · old patterns · persevere · presence · Reframe · Satisfied · See · self love · self talk · soul · Thrive · trust · Uncategorized · Universe · validation

Retiring My Emotional Armor

Featured A Fish Named Karen7 Comments

Yesterday was an emotional day for me. The purging hurt so good. The death of an antiquated pattern, shedding my dumb-suit. My beauty radiating blissfully from under the decaying camouflage. Reflecting on how different I am today. It hit me hard. Like my heart was cracking open to love – love for myself. Continue reading “Retiring My Emotional Armor” →

abuse · trauma · triggers

Just A Shell

Featured A Fish Named Karen7 Comments

Born into a family of dysfunction, I navigated my world the best I could, hoping to be loved, cherished, valued, held and heard. Instead I was met with disregard for my life, repeated, long-term invasion of my body, my innocence, violence disguised as love, safety/security masquerading as control. All at the hands of my parents and male siblings. I was doomed. A shell of a human. Existing in the dizzying cycle of being tossed around in the surf of life – only occasionally able to take a full breath, surface. Pieces of my personality chipped off, the tide taking them far off, away. Never feeling the ground beneath my feet. Becoming dead inside, broken. Accepting the abnormal as normal. As violence, invasion came over me again and again I became familiar with rage. The rage that was growing inside of me. Rage that would never be recognized. Undercover. A secret rage, thoughts of revenge that would bring a sweet, savory smile to my perfect little-girl face. Continue reading “Just A Shell” →

acceptance

Branding

March 20, 2024 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Daily writing prompt

What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?

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My third tatt would be a word. Not just any word. One that has meaning derived from experience, the saddest experience. The honor I would feel with a brand such as this would be cathartic. I mean, the word ANYWAYS has a special place in my traumatized heart. I was forced to surrender my safety and emotional well being to those whose needs were more important than mine, ANYWAYS. I suffered in silence while smiling and pretending that my family was normal, ANYWAYS. I had so much hate for my abusers but was expected to behave kindly, ANYWAYS.

When life seems like a dirty trick, still, 24 years clawing my way up the mountain, out of the darkness, just to make a decent life ANYWAYS… I think I’ve earned the right to brand myself with this brilliance. Placed on my right, receiving hand as I will receive all life has to offer ANYWAYS.

anyways

The Best She Could

December 28, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I think “she did her best” pushes a lot of buttons if we try to ingest those words TOO EARLY in our healing/unwrapping process. I am 20+ years into hardcore healing and I can just NOW try on this phrase “she did the best she could” without triggering the, Yeah but…
So much would rise up – anger, disgust, hate, rage – in side of me. It felt as though this was said (by others) to somehow minimize or negate the damage done. To free her of any wrongdoing, to wipe the slate clean and suddenly she is Snow White and I’m the circus act Tasmanian devil with nowhere to land and be validated. Just me running frantically and trying to get people (mostly family) to believe me, to side with me, to leave her like me…but met with the exact opposite… Like – what is your problem?

This is a complete mind fuck and when finally free from this AND the people who hold you/us as the ones who “can’t move forward, are stuck in the past, want to make people pay…bla bla” we can separate enough to see that she couldn’t give/do/be anything different because of her disowned trauma.

We can still hold our experience but she had hers also. We had needs, but they weren’t met. We needed safety, unconditional love, to be seen, heard, cherished, held, etc.. it’s very possible that 2 experiences existed and that’s ok. It doesn’t wipe ours out. Our trauma is no less valid just because someone denies our experience.

Own it, and all it comes with because this is the catalyst for something greater. Accept the challenge of all challenges and unpack all the heavy. I promise you there is light interwoven on your healing journey. Tap into the body held memories, the stuffed feelings, the fires that burn inside…the body never forgets but with some focused work, will relinquish it’s pain, it’s frozen, it’s swirling, it’s heavy material for healing. It will all work out, you will survive and thrive. Do things differently than she did – Never stop, never give up on who you came here to be.
You got this ❤️

action

Recipe for Suffering

December 2, 2023February 7, 2024 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Today’s got me like – what the hell is going on?! Meeting up with so many disgruntled ppl on my path lately. I check myself because I may be adding to the mix in some sort of way. We usually are…. Some folks come at me wanting to slay all the good, seeming like they want me to pay, to drive me down, want me to be miserable too. It can feel personal. Evil. Tricky. Messy.
Well…no. I’m not havin it. It helps me to imagine their heartache, trauma and maltreatment they must endured as a child – because THAT’s why they act out on others.
They have not been able, for a plethora of reasons, to rise out of the trauma mud. Most often it’s easier to vomit your self hate onto others rather than to sit and digest the feelings coursing through your body and contain them.

Understanding and having Empathy for people who want to drive us down does not mean we are giving them a free pass to act out on us. NOT AT ALL !

We can be understanding and still have boundaries.
We can be understanding and still have our power.
We can decide to not take their attacks personally.
Because It’s not personal.
Be the pretty in a sea of ugly.

Putting our needs first is key. Walk away. Far away. Choose a different path, literally and figuratively. Say no. Don’t show up to fix it, you cannot fix them. Again, you can not fix them. Decline the invite to the anger party. There will be many.

The only thing we can change when purposeful/targeted conflict and aggression come our way – is our attention we give to it. And how we support ourselves. Pull yourself in. Pull your energy back to you, away from harm. Easy to visualize…Protect yourself, this is powerful shit. Jackwagons are everywhere.

Unravel what you may have learned about taking the blame…
I deserve it
I’m worthless
It’s my fault, must be me
I can fix them/this
It will get better soon
I feel sorry for them, I’ll just give in

Replace with…
I am loved
I can ask for help/validation
I am protected
I walk away from disrespect
I am powerful
There is nothing wrong with me, never was
I will do what it takes to feel safe
I can be content in a storm
Breath in calm, exhale their angst back to them

So let’s stop talking about a kinder, gentler nation (and people)- – if we’re not kinder and gentler with ourselves first!!! Because we can spend ALL our energy on trying to CHANGE other people and none of that means a damn thing. It’s actually the recipe for great suffering. Wanting something for someone else makes us suffer. Because they’ll change on THEIR schedule but usually – not at all.

Love yourself harder…this is what thriving looks like. Thrive like someone left the life gate open ❤️ because it is. It is.

acceptance

Gratitude 11/27/23

November 27, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

For The Love of Gratitude 11/27/23

Today I am thankful for the ability to SEE. Visual acuity? Yes, of course… But not only the ability to physically “see” but the DESIRE to self heal. Excavating through the valleys of the human condition- seeing what is hidden, disowned, denied in ourselves…is what I’m most thankful for.

Even if. Even if what I see isn’t pretty.

acceptance

Silver Disobedience

October 2, 2023February 7, 2024 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I stumbled upon these two words on a reel just recently. Silver Disobedience. Immediately joy and a sense of knowing spread across my being. I’m at the age when the white/silver is methodically tip-toe-ing around to frame my face. I should, truth be told, be 100% silver/white by now. I am obsessed with it. It looks badass or I feel badass or maybe both. Yeah, definitely both. I know very few people my age (and even younger) who embrace this look. My own hairstylist is telling me I will look like a hag. LMAO. A hag???? seriously, my face is not hag-ish so I think we’re good.

I’ve absorbed all kinds of fearful comments from well meaning family/friends. “You’re gunna wear your hair like that to __________’s wedding?” “You’re eyes are a warm brown, grey/white are cool colors, it’s going to look terrible”, “You’re gunna hate it.” and lastly, “gray doesn’t go with your brown hair”.” It’s really shed light on the magnitude of fear women have about showing their age, about looking perfect and young. There seems to be paralyzing fear around being seen as Middle Aged and (dare I say…) Elderly. God forbid we relax these rigid, outdated, self imposed “rules” governing how we show ourselves in the world. Come on now, it’s not a secret that we’re all aging.

Personally, I have some pretty strong feelings about aging honestly. I am in love with growing older, so many of us do not get the privilege of growing older and leave this earth before the first signs of aging are apparent. I earned this shit, no longer dumbing my existence down. I have embraced the bullshit of my younger years and transformed my life entirely into something they didn’t want me to be. Unrecognizable to the people who chose to play small. This is the good stuff. The beginning of the age of wisdom and truth. A natural process that should be nurtured and revered not hidden and shamed. It’s a pleasure to be alive. It’s my pleasure to experience life unfolding.

Wise woman, Crone, Elder, Sage…many terms, all beautiful, I think. I feel the honor, no horror. I respect the process. I am the process. We are the process. No apologies. Silver Disobedience because I just don’t make any room in my life for societal perceptions. I’m not interested in maintaining a façade. It’s important to me that I honor every year I’ve had on this earth, it’s all valuable and honest. I’m not trying to be 20 or 30 or 40 or 50 again – I did that already and this is who I am today. This is what I look like today – Silver Disobedience – because I’m not conforming and changing how I present – for you.

I smile when I look in the mirror. My reflection looks wise, self aware and beautiful. I am a slave to no-one, to nothing. I choose to live out loud, loving my own skin, hair and body. Today, it’s as good as it’s going to ever be. Stop chasing time and stand still in this very moment. Who you most deeply are is underneath all of it, she’s in there, she craves freedom and expression…. time to show her the way out.

acceptance

A Container For Sadness

September 10, 2023September 10, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Like a heat rising in my shoulders, sadness rises up and drowns my smile. Covers me in warm mud dragging me down to places I wish to avoid. This child inside calling out mimicing the barred owl. Is anyone listening? She calls out into the insect symphony. The sadness, too heavy, supported only by my allowing, spills around me flooding spaces I don’t recognize.

Ancient supplies this outpouring. Overflowing the container marked for sadness. No shortage of despair. It’s got a voice now. Nothing lost in translation. My body recalls lifetimes of heartstop, eons of tragic, scripts crafted by ancestors. I weep as the magnificence of remembering is spiked with deliverance of physical pain. Gutting my solar plexus as I stand in my aliveness. Shredding my throat chakra when I speak the words of my truth. Smashing my 3rd eye with the stay small message. Oh, then my heart, my beautiful heart – saturated with loss and love ripped from it’s protective cage and thrown to the floor like a used face cloth.

How big of a container would I need? To hold these lifetimes of sad. All that is carried must be gathered up and held and loved and revered. Like a mother’s love, safe, covered, hidden from the cruelty that surrounds. A good mother loving my sadness, witnessing and holding the mess of me. This is the remedy, a quest to open a vessel large enough to hold it all.

acceptance

Hopeless Never Wins

September 10, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

There is beauty in all of it.
Pic property of afishnamedkaren

Tell me it’s hopeless
And I’ll tell you you’re a liar
Then I will show you you’re a liar
With a smile
With grace

When you own your personal power
When you live in your truth
When you realize your original medicine

Nothing is truly hopeless
Hopelessness is the lie

Abundance

When I Sleep

August 11, 2023August 11, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

When I sleep I am free. A freedom that surges and races like a rush of possibility. Glorious vivid colors and images unforgettable with their tag lines and feels. Words and phrases in various languages remembered upon my waking. Repeated over and over on my lips – no logical explanation. A fantasy world rich with prophecy, symbolism and fortune. Usually.

Lasting images can be brought back to life even years after. The details, players and setting recalled like it was the first time. Like I’m brand new. Like it’s all playing out. I record them best I am able. To reflect on, to ponder the wisdom contained. To feel alive in two worlds. To embark on a field trip surrounded by scenes drenched in color. Without a chaperone, someone left the gate open, I experience the wealth of the universe. Alone.

No rules, nothing shortening my inhale or exhale. I lock this experience into my body. Replacing all dis-ease. Long, slow, mindful ease accompanies these wide eyes. Take it in, allow. Come to me my longtime companion. I can’t help but giggle at this privilege. My inner child tickled pink that I accept this mysticism without doubt. She is relieved that I never discount what is seen, felt, heard – like they would want me to. Passing this off as some psychosis or medical crisis. Jealous.

My inner babygirl welcomes play in all forms. I indulge whenever possible. Allowing calls in the lovely. The carnival of thoughts, scenes richer than eyes open. Saturated yet simple. The messages come in, captivating all my senses. I am all in, all about it, it’s all good.

connection · hope · presence

Crabs Are A Vehicle

June 28, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

These precious two stayed with me for 45 mins crabbing. They were so sweet. Owen and Shilo. I love children. They were great to be with. She was begging me to let her go swimming 😳. I needed to talk her out of jumping into the muddy creek, especially so when I found out she does not know how to swim 😳. A family member finally showed up, asked me my name, let them know that I was in charge of watching them now 😳 I wanted to be angry about that AND for the way that adult presented (super drunk) but I consciously chose, instead, to just simply BE with these kids because obviously they need safety. Imagine being handed over to a complete stranger? OMG
They so craved attention and someone who was present and available. Owen wanted to talk me out of my crabbing net, hook, bait, bucket and honestly, I almost fell for it – his eyes were so full of joy 🥰 I wanted to give them EVERYTHING. I wanted to steal them and take them home to love forever…but instead I shared a nice afternoon with them by a muddy creek, catching crabs and talking about nature. You should have seen how proud they were to catch them all by themselves. Taking turns with the net and string. Justin and Olivia and their dad joined us too. And the two newcomers took their turns with the net and string.
Of course we threw all of the 16 back after observing them a bit in the bucket. They were green crabs and way too small.

Every once and a while we are reminded that our calm presence just might be a magnet, a gift for those in need.

We are all exactly where we are supposed to be at any given moment.

We can be there for strangers yet not feel pulled out of ourselves (overextended).

We can remain in our center (not triggered) despite others trauma energy.

Material things are fine but what we all really need is connection.

We can be powerful in the lives of others simply by being ourselves.

Lastly, that having no plan, no agenda, no control over a situation makes you available for rich, spontaneous, meaningful interaction.

Maybe more adventures with these two this week. One things for sure, they need 🙏 + ❤️

I told her that she could hold the net as long as she went and put her swimmies (arm floats) on creek is at least 6 ft deep right here.

Animals

We Are Giraffe

March 14, 2023March 14, 2023 A Fish Named Karen3 Comments

Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?

Giraffe and I, so many connections. Necks, long and lean, both our strength and our weak-neckss. Feeling super tall these days, at my five-foot-three bare bones and all neck-Ed. My energy though, is as tall as can be as I shed what’s held me down, what’s held me out what’s held me back.

Sticking my neck out, I help right the wrongs creating flow and ease. Giraffe, easily able to reach up for food, nutrients, dessert, sustenance, she is satis-pie’d. Like a G-neck I travel higher within myself for fulfillment – or is it filament? as I am light.

In the neck of time I arrive sure footed and savvy, at break-neck speed to tackle issues. Like G I, too have horns, tiny, unseen but felt if need be. “Mess with the horns and you’ll get the giraffe or is it Mess with the giraffe you’ll get the horns? Either way it’s a slippery slope-like back we have.

Yes, our ears big, standing at attention on a funny head, we focus and listen for trouble. But at the onset of any riff G-raff we stay close to home, make a go of it, relying on blending in, turning away from chaos, disappearing.

At times we are invisible, certified shape shifters -Giraffe and I …sisters from different misters, equally underestimated, overlooked. Comfortable in our patterned skin, homebodies are us. GirAfrica and the You Es Hay, our language of love, acceptance and tolerance universitally wonderstood. We arrive seemingly aloof, unassuming, mild and pleasant. Until we’re not.

We are Giraffe.

anyways

All Our Lives

February 25, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

All our lives
we just want others
to make us feel whole.
To save us
to fill in
for what we lack.
When we get older
we realize
that we need
to do that
for ourselves.
Grieve what you didn’t get
and give
that very thing
to yourself.

appreciation

The older I get

February 17, 2023February 17, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

The older I get I sink in to what’s now. Like a bird settling into a nest of hopeful. Accepting the upsets, the seemingly unfair aspects of my life. For they, too, are just as part of the story. Disowned or welcomed -all pieces visible, named. Nesting in the comfort of the familiar held together because I, like the bird, decided to take the time.

I wasn’t aware back then but I was preparing for my eggs. Prepping for my eventual birth which is now. The birth of Me. Stepping into my own power, the less traumatized version of myself. My presence secure, out of the scathing, scouring elements that shaped me. I

In a nest. A dwelling I’ve created, with the help of some really beautiful spiritual souls. Some winged no doubt. But this nest is a coveted solitary soft landing in a harsh world. A place of rest and birth.

Welcome home I whisper to the bird within. She smiles because she knows what home feels like. She knows the comfort of the familiar. She knows where she belongs. The older she gets.

hope

Hopeless is a Lie

February 15, 2023February 17, 2023 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Tell me it’s hopeless
And I’ll tell you you’re a liar
Then I will show you you’re a liar
With a smile
With grace

When you own your personal power
When you live in your truth
When you realize your original medicine

Nothing is truly hopeless
Hopelessness is the lie

The stone profile on the right reminds me of my Mother. She would never approve of any of my posts, however, she would approve of this view I captured on the CT shoreline. RIP

allow

On Crack

January 27, 2023January 27, 2023 A Fish Named Karen1 Comment

Perfectionism……………………….
Per-fect-shun-is-ummmm. Hmmm, shunning the perfect, the pressure, warped sense of acceptable. No more reliving what we’ve been taught. Release the grip on the torch we’ve carried to keep ourselves in check and appear flawless. Allow the cracks to happen…how else will the light get in?

fun

In Love #30

December 18, 2022December 18, 2022 A Fish Named Karen4 Comments

I’m in love with sleep winding it’s drowsy little fingers around my being. Like a river with no particular place to be, no destination. Sneaking past anxiety and rapid thoughts to land softly, completely. Silently. With conviction, convection, confection…sweetness, efficiency and dedication. It’s here.

But I don’t notice as I am won. I am one with that which renews me, holds me, knows me by name. I am too familiar with sleep’s inner child, the toddler. Two and three and four she is. Two and three and four hours of darkness with eyes open wide, open wild. Ages and hours alike. She’s ready to party like some left the lights on. Leave me alone, I whisper, I must rest I’m working on growing older so I may rise. So someday I may be wise.

I’m in love with borrowing nothingness, slowly becoming unaware of my brain’s foul mouth. “Just one more thing….” The brain bids of pressures and deadlines. I walk these misguided Randy’s down the hall, to their cribs for they are just infants and need to be shown the way of time and pace. Maybe the morning grace will transform the have to’s and should haves. Maybe life will slow to the rate of my heartbeat.

Just perhaps I need to tuck those rapid thoughts in next to me. Giving them permission to rest. Rather than to send them away, send them packing just to have them return more powerful at greater volume…Close is best. Covers tight around the edges, lips hushed in the most contractual way. Bargaining with my brain because

I’m in love with sleep.

appreciation

In Love #29

December 18, 2022December 18, 2022 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I’m in love with morning mist. Slipping around unnoticed like a forgotten shoe on the side of the highway. The moisty moist, seeping through obstacles on its path. Unexpectedly, life succumbs to the commanding curtain. As we awaken to the new day, there’s a breach in the outer bands of body aura.

The awareness of the wet, the cling, the intimacy of cool arriving suddenly. Silently. Allowing. Every Season with it’s own version.

Winter’s mist freezes. Preserving perfect ice spheres on each blade of grass, every dry remnant of expired flowers, berries. Frist, it’s called, glittering and shimmering giving note to shapes and shadows. Natures’ icy fingers dripping, building new layers. The invisible becoming visible each air droplet pregnant with moisture. Each finding it’s resting place on the earth.

Spring mist brings with it hope and cleanse. Working it’s way into our lungs. Cleaning and clearing the lung cobwebs of Winter stagnation.

Summer’s mist with its mysterious, muted splendor, loudly claims its plot. Arriving at the tree tops and descending heavily upon the vegetation. The greens greener the browns earthier.

Autumn’s mist that hovers low as the tallest wheat stalk, gives an unexpected hug. The breath of the soul cut short. A slow n steady exhale hijacked by a disowned gasp.

The mists of Autumn. Outlining landscapes of past splendor, once showcasing lush bounty. Rich orange, red, gold, pink foliage now encased in humid, hanging, pregnant air. The foggy veil moves erringly hand picking, encasing each dead and crunchy. Breathing life into the lifeless. Fungus rising to the mist, faces turned upward toward the sky awaiting the gift of moist.

I’m in love with morning mist.

self love

Thriving

December 3, 2022December 7, 2022 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Today’s got me like – what the hell is going on! Meeting up with so many disgruntled ppl on my path lately. I check myself because I may be adding to the mix in some sort of way. We usually are…. Some folks come at me wanting to slay all the good, seeming like they want me to pay, to drive me down, want me to be miserable too. It can feel personal. Evil. Tricky. Messy.
Well…no. I’m not havin it. It helps me to imagine their heartache, trauma and maltreatment they must endured as a child – because THAT’s why they act out on others.
They have not been able, for a plethora of reasons, to rise out of the trauma mud. Most often it’s easier to vomit your self hate onto others rather than to sit and digest the feelings coursing through your body and contain them.

Understanding and having Empathy for people who want to drive us down does not mean we are giving them a free pass to act out on us.

Putting our needs first is key. Walk away. Far away. Choose a different path, literally and figuratively. Say no. Don’t show up to fix it, you cannot fix them. Decline the invite to the anger party. There will be many.

Unravel what you may have learned about taking the blame…
I deserve it
I’m worthless
It’s my fault, must be me
I can fix them/this
It will get better
I feel sorry for them, I’ll just give in

Replace with…
I am loved
I can ask for help/validation
I am protected
I walk away from disrespect
I am powerful
There is nothing wrong with me
I will do what it takes to feel safe
I can be content in a storm
Breath in calm, exhale their angst back to them

So let’s stop talking about a kinder, gentler nation and people if we’re not kinder and gentler with ourselves first. Because we can spend ALL our energy on trying to CHANGE other people and none of that means a damn thing. It’s actually the recipe for great suffering. Because they’ll change on their schedule or not at all.

Love yourself harder…this is what thriving looks like.

authentic

Today I

October 15, 2022 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Today I aspire to be quite, to be poised, to be present. I will allow life to happen around me. I will discern how much I’m involved in other’s shenanigans. I plan to feel into my thoughts to gauge my intention – before I speak. This or better.

abuse · trauma · triggers

Just A Shell

September 9, 2022 A Fish Named Karen2 Comments

Thrive

In Love #28

September 9, 2022September 9, 2022 A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I’m in love with unexpected smiles. The light in the snark, the playful mouth moves when all seems frost. Warming our perception of the jagged edges, the harsh we-ality. Giver and receiver alike, the threat replaced with gentleness. With joy. With connection.

The spread, taking us in new directions. Shattering tension, breaking barriers, it’s the universal, peaceful warrior code. The “I really see you” chipping away at walls, silently dismantling. Stealthily human and reassuring, a wide smile can disarm.

The giver offers the pearly uplift and received or not, it’s out there. A floating smile cloud for the taking. Without turbulence or storm, the smile poised to reign a shower of joy over unsuspecting travelers. We see it, feel it. Keep it or pass it dawn. Morning, noon or night a dentition delight. I’m in love with unexpected smiles.