Author: A Fish Named Karen

Real, Raw, Truth Seeker, Survivor, Writer, Healer, Intuitive, Beautifully Human. All pictures belong to A Fish Named Karen
love

In Love #21

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I’m in love with long soaks in the tub. Submerged and slippery, moist and memorable. Every time sinking deeper into existence, shielded from the sharp edges of life. Droplets rolling, streaming earthbound to join the masses.

Oh those discards, the misfit toys, traveling away from my body. The warm liquid purging the heaviest of baggage. Leaving it all out there. Effortless. My troubles lathered and cleansed. Cleansed and cleared. Draining slowly and methodically into the underworld.

This cleanse welcomed. Held in love and acceptance. No judgement, buoyant in the lovely liquid, wonderful waves wiping away the weary. I lose myself in this space humidifying my soul. A surround sound energy of contentment flooding, swirling. Im in love with long soaks in the tub.

affirmation · love

In Love #32

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Charleston SC Captured by A Fish Named Karen

I’m in love with the windy whispers through tall pines. Hushed tones of earthly exhale. Softly swaying fuzzy giants, grounded in majesty, looking upward to the sky. They creak, they groan, they cry the tune of the ancients, telling of older times, softer rhymes found in a storybook.

Just dots, we are, in their presence, the lines of heaven and tell are blurred. Lend me your words old wise one. Notes of highest angelic shrill gifting us trunkful tales. Maybe a land of plenty, land of riches, of smells and sticky feels. The voice of the ages, medicine to my soul.

My darling pines so strong and stoic, feathered and furrowed are your clothes; a green forever wardrobe of survival. Sheltering weary men, infant beasts and the aged all on the dreamy skyline of the countryside. Medicinal oils and resins, cones and needles- the Elders understood your worth. I understand your worth. I’m in love with the windy whispers through tall pines.

As the earth breathes, featherless babies, held by your plentiful arms and soft fingers, sway in your comfort. Safe, sound and serene, they sleep. Pines rooted and resilient, thriving in rocky and sandy soil. Your roots expand laterally, reaching out to connect with others. Holding hands and handing holds, all is well with earth.

Your wide base of support offered to humanity. I imagine the core of the earth meeting you with its richness and once again you and I are loved, revered for our magnificence, our presence. The greatest love affair ever imagined between heaven and birth. I dream the dream, in love with tall whispering pines.

Write, Right?
action · authentic · Thrive · warrior · words

Write, Right?

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I wish I could write like words tumbling out of an overcrowded elevator at 5pm. I wish I could write with the hype of soccer fans in Portugal. I wish I could write like my life depended on it. I wish I could write like a blizzard was delivering 3 feet of snow. I wish I could write like the excitement of Christmas morning. I wish I could write like none of my fears were awake yet. I wish I could write like I was brand new on this earth. I wish I could write smelling the salty air of a stormy sea. I wish I could write and couldn’t stop. I wish I could write like a flight to Ecuador. I wish I could write with the love of 10 hearts. I wish I could write until tomorrow morning. I wish I could write like the thundering paws of a black bear. I wish I could write with knowing. I wish I could write with visionary precision. I wish I could write like a kiss on the forehead after a long day. I wish I could write with inner child squeals of joy. I wish I could write with the power of jet engines. I wish I could write and see how I am helping others. I wish I could write with clarity and organization. I wish I could write feeling the encouragement of a good mother. I wish I could write and make it all right.

I will write like words tumbling out of an overcrowded elevator at 5pm. I will write with the hype of soccer fans in Portugal. I will write like my life depended on it. I will write like a blizzard delivering 3 feet of snow. I will write like it’s Christmas morning. I will write like my fears are still sleeping. I will write like I’m brand new on this earth. I will write smelling the salty air of a stormy sea. I will write and not stop. I will write like a non-stop flight to Ecuador. I will write like the love of 10 hearts. I will write until the sun comes up. I will write like the thundering paws of a black bear. I will write with a knowing. I will write with clear vision. I will write like a kiss on the forehead at the end of a long day. I will write to the squeals of joy from my inner child. I will write with the power of jet engines. I will write and notice how I am helping others. I will write with purpose and organization. I will write with the encouragement of a good mother. I will write and make it all right.

Comfort · exploration · gratitude · happiness · Joy

In Love #31

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I’m in love with colorful morning sunrises. Isn’t it just perfection the way a sunrise colors the land? The dark giving way to a deepening, drenched and delightful crayola horizon. Set on go, the peach and firey fuchsia showing up together, never disappoint.

Burning and stretching its way across the east. A front row magical sense of morning, this sacred theatre. Shades morphing as the minutes chase across the stage. My morning schedule halted and once again, I am rescued by unexpected beauty.

Glowing, dancing aliveness showers surfaces on purpose, with purpose. My home vibrating and the inanimate coming to life. Colors bursting from darkness, quenching my whiney morning soul.

I take it in. I hold it close. Essence captured in small sips to save and use tomorrow should the clouds roll. A timeless trademark of magics’ promise. Filling my body with hope and beauty I stare into its sky eyes. Glowing, growing, gone! I’m in love with colorful sunrises.

acceptance

Don’t Forget to Stop For Gas (lighters)

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Imagine a physician telling you that if only you had better thoughts you wouldn’t be having the physical issue you’re having. Just think more positively. Just focus on what I tell you to think about and all will be fine. You must be overly dramatic that is why you are having _______ problem i.e. a broken back, irritable bowel, torn ACL, rheumatoid arthritis, colon cancer…. if you just stopped thinking about your physical probs, then they wouldn’t be an issue. You’re creating these probs. Eye roll.

Wow, we didn’t know we had so much power. So basically, our afflictions are our fault? Great, another reason to hate ourselves, blame ourselves for our physical problems.

I think so many practitioners are not well equipped to deal with strong emotions and honest frustrations about health concerns. This, “you need to be more positive, look on the bright side and you will get better” – is pretty dismissive and alienating and also adds additional layers to our burden.

Sometimes life seems like a dirty trick – things go awry like menopause, for example… I met this naturopath who’s been pretty decent with my care. Lately she’s basically telling me that hormones are controlled by the brain and that I’m creating my insomnia, hot flashes, excessive peeing, mood swings, etc in my mind. Wait, What? Oh, the anger that arose in me. Seriously, I can only pray and hope she “gets” the opportunity to experience how “in control” she is over the hormonal changes in her body.

Talk about shaming someone for something that’s supposedly “natural”. So if we think better thoughts there would be no such thing as menopause…shit why don’t other people know this truth? Market that shit! That the best kept secret.

Said Dr. wants me to feel better about what’s going on. So easy to say Doc, Oh so you have a bulging hernia?, you don’t sleep more than 4 hours a night?, you’ve gained 10 pounds with hormone fluctuation?, etc… I think it would better serve you to bypass the loss, bypass the pain, bypass those dark thoughts, they’re not useful – they have no information for you…bypass yourself and your body after all because, shit, that body’s not a safe place to be. Transcend that mother fucker. Could you imagine such a perspective?LOL

Pretend you’re someone else, pretend it’s not happening, pretend you have a better life. Smile for fucks sake. Because then others won’t feel so helpless, they won’t have to see your struggle. Just shut up about your sorrows, ain’t nobody got time for that. And Jesus Christ, try harder, what’s wrong with you. If you put more effort in this wouldn’t be happening to you. LMAO

I hope I made you laugh! We must laugh because if not, then we’d cry and Lord knows, that’s not allowed, we might get sicker hahaha. I enjoy writing about the gas lighters on my path. I hope you have been entertained.

acceptance

Branding

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Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
View all responses

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

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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 ❤️

The fire that burns inside, let it out
action

Recipe for Suffering

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Afishnamedkaren’s garden happy place

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

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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

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Silver Disobedience

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

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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

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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

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Picture credit A Fish Named Karen

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

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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

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.

appreciation

The older I get

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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

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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

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?