endings

Goddamn, I love rituals. Beginnings and endings. Marking time. Rites of passage.

I figure that love seeped into my DNA after sitting in a smokey Catholic church inhaling Frankincense for pretty much my entire youth (it may also explain a ton of other crazy attributes I’d rather not go into).
What it DOES explain is my obsession with incense, focused prayer, incantations, and human sacrifice. Well, that and the fact that I’m certain I had a past life as some kind of mystical druid sorceress taken right out of the pages of Mists Of Avalon.
Or better yet, Merlin.
But more likely the medieval court jester who wore a silly hat, sported pointy shoes with bells and lived under a bridge with the trolls.

Anyhow, I decided to take everything that had to do with my failed business and burn it.
A perfectly legal Ritual Sacrifice. Of paperwork. Paperwork that held power over me.

2015 was the year of dealing with paperwork. I would have rather had a root canal without Novocaine.
I finally found it in me to throw what merchandise remained into an auction and dissolve the corporation which had been insolvent for several years but had retained a kind of sick sentimental place in my heart—like a shitty high-school boyfriend or a threadbare flannel nightgown.

I basically broke up with ATIK. It was time. Actually, it was way past time.

The relationship had become unbalanced. In a nutshell, it had become completely, horribly and totally dysfunctionally one-sided. I was doing all the emotional heavy lifting, holding the history of our love together while Atik went on an extended five-year vacation with a stripper named Trixie, forgetting my name and the fact that we once meant the world to each other.
Oh well, shit happens.

Once the litigation shitastrophy dust had settled I was left with a HUGE satchel that I’d been toting around for years filled with tons and tons of legal fuckery.
It was heavy in all the ways you can imagine and others you cannot. It lived in a shed in the backyard as physically far away from me as sadistic legal paperwork feels comfortable and even though it’s my office— I seldom went back there. I hated that thing.

So I decided to burn the contents as a ritual releasing of the old dragged-behind-a-car energy of 2009-2012 in order to move on.

2016—The Year of Unbearable Lightness. Burn that shit and get on with it!

So I did.

I had to let it go. Stop life-support. Kill it. Put us both out of our misery.

Time of death of Atik Inc. 12 p.m. December 26, 2015.

After quickly going through the toxic waste of debauchery to make sure I wasn’t, in my haste to dance naked in the flames, torching something important, I started the gas in my fireplace, set my intention “DO NOT EVER Darken My doorstep with your toxic bullshit AGAIN!” (I cleaned that up. It was much worse than that).

And then I said thank you to the worst thing that has EVER happened to me for all of the valuable insights and gifts it has delivered. I really did you guys but it’s taken me six years to get there.

Then I squealed with unabashed joy as I watched it go up in smoke. All of it.

My husband came in from outside and said the smoke smelled really bad. Oh, I bet it did.

That paperwork held so much sadness and failure and hopes dashed. It was filled with terse language and mean words. Horrible words. Words that cut me to the core. Words that human beings should never say to each other. Mad words. Words filled with rage wrapped in legalese.

I’m surprised the smoke didn’t get all Voldemort and come back inside the house and strangle me. I’m telling you, that was a satchel full of failure and it wanted to finish me.

But, I have already risen from the ashes—I am FREE.

I may have a had a little help with my pyro-ritual. There may have been a fellow recovering broken-hearted soul who was throwing his/her “annus horribilis” into the fire right beside me.

So now WE are free.

I cannot recommend this ritual highly enough.
Please, please consider doing this with anything toxic from your past. You don’t need a fireplace! I did it many years ago to free myself from a relationship whose grip I could not escape. I just put a large metal pot in the kitchen sink and lit a match burning all the old photos and letters. Many years later I did it again in my backyard on a rainy night (you may remember that post).
http://www.theobserversvoice.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=1877&action=edit

Fire is healing.
Smoke is healing.
Endings are healing.
Rituals are healing.
Starting a new year feeling lighter is healing AND freeing.

And I’ve come to realize I’m a bit of a pyromaniac.

Love you all & Carry on,
xox

Ruby supervises the process about half-way through.

I’m certain my face looked identical to this! LOl!

I was startled Wednesday; on my walk; by a bird…who flew at full speed into my left shoulder and then kept going. Apparently it had a full morning and no manners.

I walk with earphones, traversing the neighborhood in a kind of meditation stupor so you can imagine my surprise when something hit me from behind.

I would have LUUUUVED to have seen my face. I’m certain it was an attractive mixture of what-the-hell surprise and indignation.
I think I may have even yelped…and done a skip-kick.

Some would have called it a scream-cry, although it wasn’t; it was the WTF yulp of a middle-aged woman in yoga pants, with arms weights and boob sweat, chugging along at eight thirty in the morning, minding her own business and smiling at dogs.

In other words, just another fitness failure trying to get some cardio in by walking ten thousand steps in order to stave off writer’s ass.

I gotta tell ya it stopped me in my tracks, (I kept my feet moving while I looked around, in order to keep my heart rate up, YO!) but there were no witnesses to my hit and fly, so I just shrugged and kept on movin’.

Since you know me by now and the fact that I can’t take ANYTHING at face value, I made a metal note to look up “personal bird strike” when I got home. But since my brain is currently made of swiss cheese…I promptly forgot.

Upon returning home I got sidetracked into bringing in the trash bins, sweeping the patio, looking at old recipes, and trimming dead fronds off of the ferns that frame the fountain by the back deck off of our bathroom. That fountain then reminded me in a not-so-friendly-way that it needed to be cleaned. Badly. It gurgled my name, taunting me: Janet…come on…don’t keep ignoring me…stop being an ass…please…clean me…

What was once a lovely, melodic stream of water is now an anemic, name calling trickle, due to a filter that looks like the lungs of a three pack a day smoker. Clogged, black and ineffective.

Three weeks ago I had laid out the rubber gloves and bucket and then lost my enthusiasm for the project and left them there to remind me. So, the supplies were there and I had the time, which meant I got to work emptying the water one bucketful at a time in order to get to the leaves at the bottom and give the filter a fighting chance.

The reason I’m telling you this is: Midway through the scooping of the water — out comes a dead bird. A small, (not a baby) obviously not so bright, brown bird. I’ve observed them bathing and drinking in that fountain for years, so, unless this was a suicide, or a contract hit, this guy had not been the sharpest tool in the shed.

And it made me wonder: What the fuck is the thing with birds today? I can go years, no make that decades, without a bird incident; so I immediately ran inside to look it up lest I see something shiny and forget once again.

There is a ton written on birds hitting widows, planes, and cars, but people — not so much. And when they do, they usually hit them in the head, often to weigh in on a morning of bad bed-head by grabbing a few stands and some scalp for their nest or to warn them away from their hatchlings.

MY bird was nowhere near my head.
Maybe he was trying to grab me under the arm and carry me to his nest; or in order to fashion a cape for me like the birds in Snow White, he was trying to get my arm length measurements.
The jury is still out.

The inter-web also mentions the fact that sometimes birds just don’t see the things they fly into — like I’m invisible. Not a real boost to my self-esteem.

I posted on Facebook: On my walk this morning a small bird flew into the back of my left shoulder and then kept going without so much as a “Pardon Me”. What do you think, texting while flying or an Omen?

When I looked it up here’s what THEY say about Omens:
“Everything is an omen, really.(We knew that) There is a reason for everything, nothing happens by accident. We just need to learn to realize these omens and how to interpret them easily. The more “wild” the omen, the more “dramatic” the outcome, or so it would seem.

Many people feel that birds represent freedom, as they can soar up into the sky where there are no obstacles and go wherever they wish, and then return to the Earth once more. Also because of this I suppose you could view them as almost having two aspects: one that departs and one that returns. What that means to you is up to you. Also, one could consider birds as messengers. Some view them as messengers to the gods. There is a phrase that begins, “a little bird told me…” (I thought that started with my seventh grade teacher Miss Law who was sneakily trying to get to the truth of a math quiz scandal)
To me, birds also represent awareness, since they can soar above almost anything on this planet and can witness everything–taking place outside, at least. They are like the wind. They start out one place and end up in another, carrying stories and memories with them.”

Okay…Kind of a stretch, but I get that everything is an omen, so I looked up dead bird and here’s the message there:

These beautiful animals are actually messengers from the Divine, Spirit, Universe, God, whatever name you choose. The message is not one of doom and gloom, you are not going to die in the next three days, it is not a “forerunner” of death and destruction. (Well, THAT’S a relief.)
Dead birds are actually very similar to the “Death” card in a tarot deck. It represents a death, but it is a death of something you have been focused on. It could be the death or “end” of a bad relationship, or a bad financial situation, or a behaviour pattern you have been wanting to break, etc. And with all things that end, the way is then clear for new opportunities to come into your life. (Yippee)
For instance, if you are in an unhealthy relationship, it is unlikely that a new healthy relationship is going to come into your life if you are still involved or healing from the unhealthy one. Once you have dealt with it and are ready to move on, the universe will send you a message to let you know that it is now time to move forward with your life.
That is what these dead birds are, a message that whatever you were dealing with is now “dead” and behind you and you are now ready to move forward with the new opportunity that has been presenting itself to you but that you have been ignoring for some reason. So, see the sign, and determine what message it is sending you and be grateful that you have now received the message and start looking for the new opportunity.
http://pathwayconnection.com/what-does-seeing-dead-birds-mean/

As I’ve written about lately, there are SO MANY endings and beginnings for me right now that this makes perfect sense — and I know that a bunch of you guys are going through the same thing, so take my bird omen and run (fly) with it.

What is mine is yours, as always — you’re welcome!

Do you believe in omens or animal totems? Got a story you’d like to share? Think this is all a big bag of bullshit?

Carry on,
xox

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
– T. S. Eliot

The End is where we start from…hmmmmmm…

Yesterday was about endings; and about calling my power back. I have to walk the talk, right?

For over two weeks I was so knotted up about it that I had knitted a virtual car cozy, a sweater the size of a car cover inside my gut.

You see, I had decided to put what was left of my dearly departed store into auction; all of it; lock, stock and vintage submarine lights.

Just like Daniele wrote about yesterday, (the timing for me was uncanny) it was time for me to call my power back to me; BUT the hang up was this: at the intersection of empowerment and the past; I kept meeting up with my old energy.

Like some goody-two-shoes a-hole who never forgets an uncomfortable incident; or an appointment; my energy would persistently meet me — right where I left it — back in Victim-Ville 2009.

But since I’ve changed so drastically since that time we were not a match anymore and it really started to feel like shit.

So I avoided going there.

I let the remaining items sit at different stores around the city on consignment, and I paid them NO MIND; because they brought back horrible memories that would instantly knock me out of whack, make me feel bad about myself, and force me to eat Fritos by the fistful.

Every fucking time. That sticky, stinky, shitty, loser energy met me there.

That is a law and the sooner we all realize that, the faster we can shift it.

Here’s how it works:
If you had a fight in a restaurant, the next time you go back there, the minute you give your car to the valet you’ll feel that gut-punch; because your energy is the guy that opens the door and greets you there “Welcome back, we’ve been waiting here for you .”

Shit.

How many times have you had a bad experience with the place that services your car, or the dry cleaners; only to have it repeat itself over and over?

I remember when I went to auditions back in the day; there was a big casting agent on Sunset who was nice as can be, but I NEVER booked a job there. After a while, my disappointment would meet me at the door with its Cheshire grin, making sure the casting session was doomed.

So if you meet your energy where you left it— how can you change that?

First, by being aware of it, recognizing that it’s your low expectations, your disappointment, or your painful past that is causing the gut-knot.

Also, time has passed and things have changed. You’ve changed. Right?

When you do that, you can rewrite the story, and while you’re at it you can make sure it’s a much better one. It’s the story of how you called your power back; how inanimate objects, buildings and even people have no power over you — and that you’ve moved on and left no forwarding address.

It’s easier said than done, it took weeks, but that’s what worked for me you guys.

I had a real Come to Jesus with myself (I’ve been doing that a lot lately) where I told myself that inertia was no longer acceptable. Neither was settling, acting like a victim, or being broke.

For Godsakes woman it’s been five years, the statute of limitations on powerless victimhood has expired! Round up all that stuff, take all your old juju off of it by remembering how good and exciting it was to purchase it in the first place, and SELL IT! Go call your power back to you and then be done with it!

Even though I seldom take my own advice, I woke up yesterday, the day everything was getting picked up, with no knot. For once…and for all.

The day could not have gone any better. It went faster, smoother and was more organized than I’d ever imagined. Obviously, my loser energy had flown to Vegas to cause some real trouble.

As I drove away feeling newly empowered, reborn, like a Phoenix from the ashes, it made me remember all the times that the energy that met me — was good. It does work both ways ya know.

So I’ve re-written that story, the story of the store and the flood, and in the new version the auction results five years later — are AMAZING!

So the end is where I’ll be starting from — a new beginning,  a fresh start.

Where does your shitty energy never fail to meet you? How can you re-write your story and regain your power? Do you believe you need an ending to have a beginning?

Lets talk.

Carry on,

xox

Thankfully for me personally, this year didn’t suck.
There have been some years in the recent past that could not end fast enough for my taste, (you know who you are 2009 – 2010).

I’m not sure I can say the same for the world at large, but I’ll let the journalists who are fond of charting those kinds of negative things, write about that, and you can choose which to read – humor or horror.

This is my blog, so naturally it’s funny and it’s all about me ;-).

This year was pivotal in a couple of ways.

First, it was the year that I finally came out of the closet – as a writer.
I owned it. Full time.
I went on a Mack Daddy writing retreat with other Mack Daddy writers and they didn’t vote me off the island. I’m writing a book based on this blog, co-writing a musical and helping a friend edit her book. Seems I bought the T- shirt and drank the kool-aid – and I couldn’t be happier. Who knew?!

Second, I gave up any and all hope I still held, that George Clooney would settle down and get married…to me. That was a hard one – we had something.

I used to sell him jewelry back in the day, and bake chocolate bundt cakes for him when he was just ER George Clooney, not GEORGE CLOONEY the movie star.

We used to tease each other.
I’d bring up “Facts of Life” storylines, tell him his credit card was declined – while threatening it with scissors, and make supermodel jokes because he was too thin (which he was, despite the cake) – and he’d put his arm around me or call me “his girl” and watch my face turn poinsettia red while I geeked out.

I helped him refine his taste in jewelry.

You’re welcome Amal.

I’m telling you, we had it.

Oh timing…you are a cruel opponent.

This was also the year we got our boxer-shark puppy which has been a blessing and curse.
I’ve written about maybe two percent of the shenanigans she’s pulled.

She’s a bitch, a trouble maker and a giver of NO fucks.
If she were human, she’d smoke cigarettes, have earphones permanently implanted, a bright blue mohawk and a pierced tongue. She would be the Girl with The Dragon Tattoo.

Currently she has mange. Or man-gee as my French husband calls it.
Yep, MY dog, who is bathed twice a month, and lives the life a Kardashian would envy – has mange. A friend I told recently, sympathized, “Oh yeah” she said, sipping a cocktail, “It’s like when your kid gets sent home from the expensive private school with head lice”

I can only imagine, but I felt a special bond, a kinship with her – she’s shared my mortification.

All kidding aside, it’s been a pretty great year.
I found my calling, expanded my furry family, and witnessed a Clooney miracle.

Gratitude. I’m filled with gratitude for the blessings that came my way, and hopeful that the ones that seemed to skip over my house will re-visit me in the coming year.

So y’all, how was your 2014? Are you happy to see it end?
What are some of the highs and lows you can share with the group? I’d love to hear about it!

Whoo Hoo! Come on 2015!
Xox

Never Can Say Goodbye
Never can say goodbye
No, no, no, no
I never can say goodbye
I keep thinkin’ that our problems soon are all gonna work out
But there’s that same unhappy feelin’ there’s that anguish, there’s that doubt
It’s that same old dizzy hang-up can’t do with you or without,
Tell me why is it so?
“Never Can Say Goodbye” by The Jackson 5

The other night in our Women’s Group, we did a simple exercise.
We closed our eyes and surveyed a line of people that had played various roles in the movie of our lives. They were our bosses, co-workers, lovers, friends and family. We acknowledged them and the part they played. We took responsibility for our role, in order not to have to repeat that shit again. We blessed them and honored them for the lessons they imparted. We offered an apology or forgave them as needed. We wrote down their names. 
There were no running tackles, no hands around their necks, or endless strings of curse words.
It felt solemn and sacred. It was an exercise in clearing our pasts, in order to be free.

But something unexpected happened.
As we perused our lists, several of the suspects kind of stepped forward, in that criminal line up kind of way. One of the women looked up, amazed. “Can I just say something?” she asked, “There’s five or six people here who ALL have the same thing in common.”
“I struggled with endings………I never can say goodbye.” 
She elaborated, “None of the endings were elegant. Nothing was easy. Either I’m afraid to end the association, or I’m the one that won’t let go.” 
“One man napalmed our life, just to get out.”

All our mouths were hanging open. Another woman shook her head, “Me too, I don’t know how to end a job OR a relationship.
I stay in them wayyyyyy past the expiration date.”

I could relate.
I remind you all how my therapist cautioned me back In the day: “Janet, you don’t love, you take hostages. Watch that.”
Obviously, I wasn’t alone.

There are some people that cut and run at the first sign of trouble. I’ve dated them.
The opposite is true here. Trouble comes, sets up camp, builds a house, and stays………with a very convincing argument as to why we can’t kick them to the curb.
We buy the seat next to them on the GUILT TRAIN, listening to them explain how their “will to live” shall evaporate when we leave. Soon we can’t imagine our lives without this long expired person. They have become a bad habit.

A spiritual teacher back in the day, “T”, gave me stink eye as I whined about canceling dinner plans with a friend.
I wasn’t feeling it. It was a “school night” and I was just too tired. I worried that that wasn’t a legitimate reason to cancel. My friend would be mad at me for leaving them high and dry without dinner plans.
T} “That’s all ego, your friend will be fine. They’ll probably thank you.”
J} “Hey, thanks pal.”
T} “Your ego tells you that you are so important to the other persons happiness, that their evening will be ruined, when quite the opposite is true.”
J} “Fuck you.”
T} “Call her”
So, I called and sheepishly canceld. I may have even coughed, hinting at an oncoming cold. She was relieved. She’d had a hell day at work and all she wanted was a bottle of wine and a bubble bath. We cheerfully rescheduled.
T} “Works for relationships too”
J} “Don’t be a smug know it all”
But he did know a lot about this subject. And I slowly learned.

That ego is a shifty character.
He can show up in the disguise of kindness and loyalty. He convinces you to ignore your feelings, to be the people pleaser. He tells you you’re not a quitter, that you’re in it for the long haul. Sorry, but if it feels like a long haul to you, it does to the other person too.
Even if they’re begging you to stay, you’re just THEIR bad habit.

If you stand in your truth, that truth being that the relationship or job or whatever has run its course. If you use loving vocabulary, and come from the heart, an ending doesn’t have to be a cut that never heals. They will be fine. They will find someone who’s a better fit. And so will you. It’s the more loving act than “going for the long haul.”

The same holds true for anyone that you have handcuffed to a chair. If they want to go, let them go. Don’t even take it personally. It’s about them, just like you wanting to leave was about you.
Say goodbye…..so you can both regain that forward momentum in your lives, and break that bad habit.
It’s a Win/Win. I swear.

Do you have trouble saying goodbye? Have you stayed too long in a job or relationship because you were afraid of hurting the other person? Do you believe that it’s the ego at work? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

Xox

Last week I wrote about revisiting past traumas for healing.
http://www.theobserversvoice.com/?p=2345
That’s been working out well. The puppy is her demon self again.

This week has been about revisiting chaos…and finding, or better yet, restoring order.
At least I’m trying. And to be fair I’ve succeeded in several endeavors.
One of them has NOT been this blog.
Holy shit on a cracker; the transfer of this blog to a different host, and the cosmetic changes were supposed to appear overnight, while most of us slept; like the Easter bunny. Sorry Thailand.
But they have not and for that I’m sorry. One email read: it was like my parents moved and forgot to tell me! Ouch. I am so sorry…….cupcake?
In hindsight, this was probably not the week to try this. Lesson learned.
Remember the post about just accepting “what is”?
Yeah…trying to practice what I preach.
Just bear with me, don’t jump ship and be a fair weather follower.

Nevertheless…
I am known for being pretty darn organized. Not like my sister organized, but close.
Martha Stewart kneels at my sister’s feet in deference.
There is a black file cabinet, in the back office that is in a perpetual state of organized chaos. You know, like that drawer in the kitchen.
There has been some denial disguised as paperwork, that has been screaming for my attention, and it finally received it this week. You know that sinking feeling as you walk by that shit? I’m determined to un-sink my life right now.
I blame this freaky energy.
Hot pink Post It’s are like 911, top priority, PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW, don’t keep walking; in my system.
One folder that has a big hot pink Post It on it, is labeled Domaine Names.
That folder is filthy dirty and all curled in on itself, like a dead spider, after being salvaged from the water of my store’s flood. On the outside of the folder, barely legible, are all the account passwords and the nuclear codes.
I have been receiving emails from Go Daddy about the domaine names expiring for weeks. Each one escalates its urgency. Large fees are mentioned, automatic renewal, blah, blah. I don’t want to renew. Go online, right? Trouble is; I can hardly read the passwords, and they don’t work.
Chaos.
This is going to require phone time. With an automated system. I’d rather have needles stuck in my eye, so I’ve just walked by it…for a looooong time. Today I called and after giving my social, my tax ID number, my SAT scores and my bra size, I was transferred directly to Tad. His condescension was only exceed by Jeffrey’s this morning at my Web hosting provider, so I’m used to it. It’s like breathing air to me now, just part of life. The painful experience was over in half a second, like eyebrow waxing; aided by the fact that the credit card on account had expired. Why didn’t they just say that in an email?
Another end to THAT story.
I’m going to make a ceremony out of shredding that file.
I do that in life with things that annoy me. When I no longer required birth control, I took my diaphram out in the backyard, poked tens of holes in it with a sparkler, and lit it on fire. We have pictures.

Literally half of the top drawer of that large file cabinet is devoted to stock accounts, or should I say PAST stock accounts. I was very active in the stock market in the 90’s and it helped me buy my house. Thankfully, I was out of the market before this latest crash. I get statements from ETrade every month, which I never open…but I file them, as I have since 1995.
What I did do in August of 2001 was to create a custodial account for my nephew, who was 5 at the time. I bought him a few shares of Disney and Krispy Kreme, kid’s stuff. A month later was 911 and I remember looking at a statement and the account had lost more than half it’s value.
The next time I opened a statement before yesterday was 2008 and it looked bleak.
So, I’d just file them away, unopened. Yesterday, walking back to the chaos of the abyss, it dawned on me that he’s about to turn 18 in two weeks. In California, at 18 he can legally take possession of that money. He’s also graduating high school, and off to college in the fall. I opened the statement and holy shit, there’s some real money in that account now. I got on the phone with Hank at ETrade (passwords were obsolete from lack of use) and they’re sending a check. I toyed with the idea of just transferring the account to him instead of a check, but….he’s 18. That’s the difference between getting a polite “Thank you” and a hug. I’m going for the hug. There was also a windfall of $15 left in one of the old stock accounts, so yipeeeee, I’m rich! Drinks all around!

The ending of both of those past experiences makes me SO freaking happy.
I can crumple up that hot pink Post It, shred that file and take great pleasure in putting another nail in the coffin of my dearly departed Atik.
And that little stock account that could? Hell, it actually produced some money and my brain cells fired to remind me, all at the perfect time.

It’s been a productive week so far.
How about you?
I’d love to hear some chaos restoring stories.
Is this energy pushing you to put things in order?
Tell me about it below.

Xox