Starseed Song

This poem was inspired by the painting (featured image and below) Starseed, by the incredibly, divinely talented Ms. Rachel Walters (link to her insta, where you can see more of her art) Video with art and spoken recording to come out soon!

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In the perfection of you, hides the perfection of me

Our ties that unwind to infinite creativity

Set me ablaze with your kisses of creation

Inspire me with the bond transcending illusory limitation

Take me in your arms and bare the truth of your soul

Ignite me with flames, our truth makes us whole

Step by step, we create life

Side by side, we soar above strife

Word by word, we build or destroy

Day by night, our lives are for joy

Who needs this struggle?

Who wants this pain?

How many times can we repeat this refrain?

Let passion consume us, my dear

Let our flames burn away this old fear

The dawn of tomorrow is in our hearts’ quickening beat

The night of the past does not need to repeat

Swim in the oceans behind my eyes

How long will you drown in this matrix reprise?

Hear me whisper inside your heart

We were never intended to be torn apart

Our power as one

We can bring this whole mess undone

Take me, I’m yours, today and all tomorrows

I’ll show you eternity beyond your make-believe sorrows

Together, we will weave this

Strand by strand, we will be bliss

Spiders’ webs grow line by line

Manifesting dreams with silken divine

Don’t slow, my love, don’t delay

Hear my song, and undo your soul’s decay

Can’t you see we were made for divinity?

Can’t you hear our heartbeats’ infinity?

With a kiss on my lips, forever and a second eclipse

Our lives are beyond dreaming

But you can’t hear the chorus repeating…

Step by step, we create life

Side by side, we soar above strife

Word by word, we build or destroy

Day by night, our lives are for joy

Who needs this struggle?

Who wants this pain?

How many times can we repeat this refrain?

There is only one song to know

The truth that only love can show

Our hearts will always beat as one

I am the moon

To your fire-y sun

But my love, please awaken

Allow the life you lie to be shaken

Come to me, my one true love

Together, we create below as above

We live in the space where stars do not die

Blinded from truth, you see a dark painted sky

We love in the space where our hearts stop beating

Transcending this place of empty words repeating

The birth of our rhythm, is where you find heaven

Come into my ocean, become one with this flow

Come into my skies, there’s no place you can’t go

Can you hear the music of us?

Beyond time, we can let this world rust.

Our harmonious perfection

We sing with Gods’ inflection

Everything is possible when I look in your eyes

My fears and worries are all that can die

In your arms, I am stardust

The beginnings of dawn

The breath of creation

Far beyond harm

We need none of this outside

It all begins inside

The space between inhale

The gap of our exhale

Take me I’m yours

But only if you see

Together we weave our soul’s divinity

Enjoying what you see? Here’s all social media links, let’s connect!

Daina (OurBeautifulLies)- WordPress, My personal FB, OBL Blog Page on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, OBL YouTube Channel

Rachel – Instagram

Awakening the Goddess Within

I am pleased to share my newest poem, Awakening the Goddess Within.  The YouTube link takes you to the video with images and my voice recording. Please check it out and subscribe to my YouTube Channel for more original content.

I’ve hated my poor body for as long as I can think

I stared into this mirror wishing my fat would shrink

Diets upon diets, but they just called me fat

Until I started starving, feeling strong though I was weak

I’d jam my fingers down my aching throat

Retch burns as it burst forth

Sobbing in the toilet

Too sick to see my worth

Retching until bleeding and losing clumps of hair

But still it begged the question:

Is this life worth more than death?

I couldn’t stand to see me naked

Slivered silver stretch marked flesh

All I saw were rolls and numbers, shadowing the love

I tortured this poor body

With cuts, with men, with hate

Smiling when I’m starving

Puking when I ate

They insisted I must lose it

But all I heard was hate

I sacrificed my mind

My smiles

And my time

When they said to lose it, I sacrificed myself

When they said to lose it, there was no thought for health

Slivered silver knife wounds slice

Torturing the pounds and sense of self

For the sweetness of changing scales

Irrelevant extras vs larges

Even though I am no fool

If they want you to feel sexy, I could be a 12

But just two racks over, 18 and purging hell

The hatred coursed inside of me

A black beast upon my soul

I found those who could feed me

The pain I craved to know

If you were fool enough to love me,

I’d be sure to make you change

I love you could never fulfill me

When I hate you is what I crave

It wasn’t until I started seeing

The goddess here inside

Standing naked and resplendent

A Venus in her shell

Aphrodite’s tears are blood red

As so many of us know

They tell you you’re unworthy

They tell you to lose those pounds

They tell you that some makeup

Is the cure to all your frowns

They tell you to win the guy now

They tell you to keep him close

They tell you all the ways to hate you

Because they want you on your toes

You need to consume their fixes

Unworthy little hoes

It wasn’t until I saw the sacred

Silver slivers of a tiger

Who’s been to war in me

The scarred skin of a soldier

When the treaty begged for peace

This body has created life now

My body nurtured four

They just sat in judgement

Some called me a fucking whore

Because I just can’t win here

And I no longer care

I’m not here to please them

And I won’t make my heaven hell

I came play and love here

Because I am the goddess inside

I am naked in the moonlight

Silver slivers of my soul

Transcendence of Selene,

Transforming silver into gold

I am one with love and nurture

I am nature’s warrior soul

I’m in love with crown to root here

I cannot please them worth a damn

They say to hide away here

So I flay my soul more bare

I shine brightest in my darkness

Because I won the war in me here

And I no longer have a care

Enjoying my work? Is it resonating? Check out my other poem, Synchronicity. Please share, and connect with me across Social media via the below links:

Daina (OurBeautifulLies)- WordPress, My personal FB, OBL Blog Page on Facebook, Twitter, InstagramYouTube Channel

From Fear to Love: How my muses saved my writing

Inspiration comes to me like a flash. If I’m not prepared with something to write, I typically end up dropping everything and typing it on my phone. I’ve lost too many good epiphanies otherwise. The tough ones are when I am getting inspired out the wazoo as I’m trying to go to sleep. My muses don’t seem to have a circadian rhythm.

There are three muses in my life who similarly aren’t big on the concept of letting me sleep: my kids. Their inability to give me quiet time or an extra hour to sleep in notwithstanding, they are my everything. They are the reason I write and have been since I started. It was the mantra “My children will never cry my tears.” that started this journey.

I knew deeply if I did not stop my shit, I would pass it on to them. I remember thinking how they couldn’t know what I was doing when I was purging or starving, but the look of relief on my daughter’s face when I suggested we stop and get some food proved me dead wrong. I know how I speak to them will become their inner monologue. I’m human, I screw up, I get angry, I say dumb shit. I’ve always feared I was ruining their lives, I was screwing them up, etc. etc. Hurt people hurt people, and I was so terrified of hurting them. My pain radiated to my marriage until it imploded, it’s a natural assumption to fear what it could do to them.

All of that fear was the impetus to write, because I knew I could figure it out if I just wrote about it. I could have never expected the journey my writing has taken me on, but the more important reality is how much healing my writing has brought. I am world’s apart from the woman who started writing 2 years ago, and thank God for it.

Now, though, fear has no place in my life. Anything brought from a place of fear can only bring forth more fear, which is what happened when my mind shattered under the weight of my own pressure. This obsession with being well took me far, far down a rabbit hole of my psyche and shadows. It was a wonderful blessing wrapped in a curse. Carl Jung said, “Nothing more profoundly affects the mind of a child than the unlived life of the parent.” What he’s saying is we all project our fears on each other, most especially our kids. I didn’t want to project me not following my dreams on them. But, on my road to recovery, I connected with the reality: my writing will never be what it must be if it’s not born from a place of love. It’s only within the past month I’ve been able to write like I used to. Raw, honest, Me. I feel as though the words fall out of my fingertips and it’s meditation in action.

The shift was so simple, I don’t know why it did not occur to me sooner. Before, I wrote to save the children from my biggest fear: myself. Now, I write to save the children from their biggest challenges: themselves, society, and all the well meaning fools that will tell them now to follow their dreams. Then, as my kids get older, the instructions to chase dreams will be recanted and they’ll be told to get a real job. How many of us had our dreams shattered by a well meaning loved one? How many of us have an artist inside begging to come out while we sit behind a keyboard at a job we wish was anything else and make someone else rich, or make someone else’s dream come true?

My kids don’t listen to me worth a damn. I used to think talking about how they can do anything, etc. was enough, but the simple evidence of asking them to clean their rooms shows how well they listen. The same reality spurring my fear is the reality spurring my love: Kids watch and learn by example. If I am secretly starving myself, my kids are learning to hate their bodies. If I am sitting and writing, promoting, and actively pursuing my dream, my kids are learning to believe in themselves, their gifts, and their dreams.

This, to me, is my sacred duty as a mother. There are too many children trapped inside adults who were told they couldn’t cut it. There are too many of us full of doubt, remorse, regret, and confusion. This is probably going to sound weird, but it’s like killing Santa Claus over and over again. We tell our children there is magic in the world, we tell them Santa can do all of these incredible things. Then, when they’re old enough or when a kid on the playground decides to, we tell them it was a lie. We kill magic. Likewise, we tell the kid who wants to be an astronaut, firefighter, or artist they can do anything they set their minds to. When the chips are down, and it’s time to graduate high school, we encourage practicality and mortgage sized student loan debt.

If we starve our inner artist, or our inner child, look at the suffering we bring into ourselves. Depression and anxiety: how much of this is repressed dreams and gifts? I get so much anxiety if I am not writing, especially if I am having lots of ideas and I’m “too busy” to do anything with them. I write as much as I do just to stay on top of myself. Otherwise, I get overloaded, and I start panicking, and I’ll slump in depression. I mean, Christ, depression and repression sound pretty damn similar no?

Why are so many artists diagnosed ADHD, Bipolar, anxious, or depressed? This is our gift manifesting the wrong way. The sensitivity we have to life is our gift wrapped in a curse. We cannot express the mysteries, beauty, and perfection of art without feeling it immensely. We all know words are a pittance to reality, when we express pain or love, it’s nothing compared to truth. Yet our words come close, because of our gifts. If showing my kids the paths to their dreams, self worth, and self love is my sacred duty as a mother, writing about the beauty of reality is my sacred duty to life. Being completely authentic and truthful me, free of the bonds of people’s opinions, free of the bonds of fear, and free of repressed expression is my sacred duty to myself – my true self.

I can’t and won’t put my kids through a journey of trying to reconnect with something that was once crystal clear. When I was in 8th grade, I promised my teacher I’d dedicate my first book to her. There was not a shred of doubt I’d be a writer then. 21 years later, I’m finally “hey I should do something about that writing thing I liked to do…” I had so many dreams when I was younger. I was going to be POTUS, too. Dreams beget more dreams. I’m living my first dream now: I’m (technically) a stay at home mom raising 3 kids. I always saw that, I just didn’t understand the timing. They didn’t need me as a SAHM when they were babies, they need me now. Divine timing works that way, and it’s necessary to trust that. If you make your dreams known, worlds move to make that dream come true.

The people strong enough to step into their dream are the ones who make their dreams come true. The people who repress their dreams are the ones who have the shadows of regret and remorse. The only way I can be an example to my kids is to step into my dream and be a writer. It doesn’t matter the scale, I trust the universe on that one. They just need to see and hear me being a writer. Today. Not tomorrow, not one day. If I want to be a writer, I am a writer. Every time I press publish anywhere, I am a writer. That’s what they see. When my brain starts telling me I cannot, I picture the three of them, and I say of course I can. I have the best inspiration in the world. I have the best fan base in the world. My children.

How many of us are starving artists inside? I’m not talking financially. I am talking we have a muse, we  have a vision, we have a gift, and we are starved for expression. We take that gift, and shove it in the back of our psyche because it’s not practical.  Thank God for my children, otherwise I never would have started trying. I would have lied to myself to my deathbed and wondered where my life went. I have only truly experienced life to its fullest when I saw my dreams were already coming true, and all I had to do was step into them.  I hope, if you are struggling with your dream or believing in yourself, this inspires you to take the first steps. That’s how every journey begins.

What about you? Are you living your dreams? Who inspires you to live your dreams? If the answer is no, are you going to change it? 

Let’s connect! Follow me all around the web

Daina (OurBeautifulLies):

 

 

A Tale of Synchronicity (Part 1)

If synchronicity is an unfamiliar term, I’ll summarize it like this: seemingly unconnected events that work together to put you in the best (or worst) place possible. Carl Jung said, “Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see” For me, it has always been: everything happens for a reason. Synchronicity taught me to come away from the illusion of instant gratification and trust everything serves to bring me where I’m supposed to be, even if it makes absolutely no sense at the time. It makes it easier for me to relax and be present in the moment. Synchronicity is often talked about it relation to repeating numbers, probably the most popular one is 11:11

There is no end to possibility when you trust that all is well. I could not say that until I finally stopped doubting myself – I was seeing repeating numbers constantly and literally asking out loud “What the hell could possibly be okay, I’m a mess!!!!” and it wasn’t until I accepted I do not know better than the universe, and if She’s telling me everything’s okay, I should say thank you. Once that click happened, every piece of the puzzle I will attempt to tell fell into place within months. This story is a series of dominoes, with even more connections I am leaving out for the sake of clarity and brevity.

Leah Painting

Did you ever meet someone and have a feeling they are meant to be in your life? I have always held a belief that everyone I meet is for a purpose because I believe everything in life happens for a reason. I learned this when 19 and placed my first daughter with her adoptive parents. I understood the pain was worth it, because if I had not dated her biological father, I would never have met my husband and had my three children. I have always been able to find the bright side of life, so to speak, and I have always found when I sought it, I would find it rather quickly.

That was until I met a man named Jake. I cannot explain why I felt the way I did about him, or why I allowed the relationship to become what it was. He somehow a catalyst to me going on a journey of looking harshly at myself in the mirror, healing my traumas, battling my demons, whatever term you’d like to use. I finally started writing again after giving up on myself, I stopped killing myself with alcohol and eating disorders, allowing myself to be used by men, and on and on. I started, instead, practicing yoga, meditation, journaling, and on and on. The pain of unrequited love is exquisite. It pushes you to darkness you did not know existed. There are so many songs and works of art distilled from the place of a broken heart. Sometimes I would joke my emotional poetry about him alone was worth the price of admission.

I’ve spent two and a half years becoming myself. After my life shattered and I went to the mental hospital again, I tried to rebuild the pieces. I scrapped that and decided to just be who I wanted to be, instead of what everyone had told me I should be. I think that is a journey we all must go on. Maybe not to the extremes I had to go to, but I’m stubborn. I really liked being miserable, clearly. I’ve always been grateful to him for that.

The pain of Jake helped me become who I am, but I struggled with accepting that as closure. I could not get over this dude, it was like MRSA. It would get a little better, then come back with more crap. I spent 2 years pining for a man who literally told me over and over he did not love me. I spent 2 years begging, messaging, stalking?, a dude that blocked me, rejected me, etc. But this taught me how pain and beauty are an inseparable process. Pain teaches you to appreciate the beauty, and beauty heals the pain.

This week, the pain taught me to appreciate the beauty when this journey and chapter came to a close. I had met a woman named Rachel through Jake. I kept in touch with her since  because the second I met her, I knew she was special. Have you ever had that? Where you just know this person is meaningful? We barely saw each other – 2 times since! But, she stayed in my heart and mind thanks to Facebook. She posted an incredible mural earlier this year. My friend Claudine, who owns Shanteel Yoga Studio, mentioned she wanted a mural, so I did not hesitate to recommend Rachel.

This is Rachel’s first mural. If you don’t see why I recommended her immediately and why Claudine hired her immediately, please get your eyes checked. It’s almost impossible to believe she and Leah could outdo this!

A few months later, Rachel and her friend Leah began work on one of the most beautiful and inspiring pieces of art I have ever seen. When I think of synchronicity, I think of stars aligning. It’s a series of events that put you in a place you are meant to be. In this instance, Jake put me in a place to meet two women who created a masterpiece, and changed my life for the better. The three of us – Rachel, Leah, and I – spent the week of the mural creation bonding,  inspiring, and changing each other’s lives. I am not exaggerating when I say, I’d go through this all over again for this project, and to meet these women. The pain I have overcome makes the appreciation of the sweetness, beauty, and magic that much more pleasant.

I keep thinking this is only the beginning. This mural came from a place of healing, opening our hearts, and expressing our souls. The only way this is possible is from synchronicity. I went from doubting myself, doubting my belief in how the world works, to seeing I was being impatient. Everything happens in the time it must. There were so many pieces of this puzzle that had to fall in place. Shanteel opening, Rachel painting, Leah and Rachel meeting, and me recommending them. The synchronicity of these events alone is a magnificent work of art, and my words don’t do it justice. The mural they created, the poetry it is inspiring, the healing, and the loving connections and community this is building is transcendent. A chance meeting while I was on a bad date began a  journey towards immortality. Leah, Rachel and I put our souls in the mural. In art and love, we are eternal.

This story taught me the greatest lessons: patience, trust, but most importantly: to appreciate the ever present reality of synchronicity – this week gave us all eyes to see it.

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Please follow along as I develop this story further. This is one tiny piece of the mural, a silly selfie of me (glasses) and my two new sisters.  We will all be unveiling more pictures across our social media in the coming days. They say a picture says a thousand words, but I say this one has only one word: Joy! Please follow us on this amazing journey by following these links and experiencing beautiful art:

Daina (OurBeautifulLies)- WordPress, My personal FBOBL Blog Page on FacebookTwitterInstagram

Rachel – Instagram

Leah – Instagram, Facebook

If you are nearby, please experience: Shanteel Yoga Sanctuary – Website, Facebook

Marketing Art

The reason why you are struggling in your dream is not because of external forces. It’s because of a simple, logical one word answer: you. You lack marketing. You’re not marketing yourself – to yourself. How you speak and how you interact with the world is your brand, and your number one customer is you. Everyone else will follow your lead.

Coke does not tell you that they can clean a toilet bowl with their product. It’s true, but they don’t advertise that. They make you lick your lips when they talk about how badly you want that Coke and how much better you feel. They do not tell you how much sugar or calories it contains.

Are you following me? If you are advertising this shit to yourself, you will not hire yourself, you will not purchase from yourself, you will not read your poem, blog, article, buy a painting, get a tarot reading. Why would you? Why would they.

Marketing is strategic and logical. It is the left side of the brain and usually the weaker side of the brain in artists especially because they are right brained. Without marketing: internally and externally, you will not find a consumer. Research the law of 7s in marketing. Email lists, social media, everything is crucial, but finding your niche and finding your message is marketing. And you must market your art. You must network. You must be the CEO of your art. It’s balance. It’s analytical and strategic.

But it’s worthless if you don’t do it on yourself first.

Contact me if you’d like to discuss ways to better market your art, if this is of interest.

Feel free to follow me on Facebook, Blog page, I’m @mahbuttitches on Instagram and @ourbeautifullie on twitter. Let’s connect!!

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Dream a Little Dream For Me

From my Facebook: Add me as a friend if you’d like! Or Follow my Blog page

If you want to make your dream come true, focus yourself on the dream and not the obstacles. Don’t allow them to become your inner monologue. We all self sabotage and everything we tell ourselves is a self fulfilling prophecy. This is part of the ego, which is like an autopilot program containing recordings of People telling you what not to do.

If you focus on obstacles, obstacles are what you will have. If you focus on solutions, possibilities, hell long shots, these are what you will have. Where you set your voice and your eyes is where you will go. Use this power wisely. It is the greatest power we have and the well meaning concerned parties in our lives like to create an annoying out of office reply to our dreams.

Can’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t, don’t, won’t, couldn’t and wouldn’t do not belong in the vocabulary of the dreamer. Dreams are not made of limitations. The dreamers me admire do not play these tracks. They don’t exist on their inner monologue.

To be a dreamer is to be a child. Do you hear kids talk about bills, competing market share, ROI, and limitation? Jesus himself said “become as a child to enter heaven” what can be more childlike than pursuing your dream, and what can be more heavenly than living your dream.

We carrot our happiness. Placing it always at the next milestone. The second we place intention and focus behind a dream, the dream has already come true. Ego/concerned party pooper playlist will tell you all the negative, but what child is negative? A bad dream is called a nightmare. What universe, God, higher self, inner self or even a just and harmonious auto pilot world will reward anyone who doesn’t eat the food right in front of them? Would a parent give a new toy to a child that won’t play with what they have? Would a parent serve more food to a child who is not eating?

If you answered no, then why would any forces outside of you give you anything more than you can handle? “God does not give you more than you can handle” replace God however you’d like and truth is still true. If you appreciate everything in your life now, in this moment: you cannot see obstacles. You’re already living your dream. You don’t need to be Stephen King to be a writer. I am a writer. Bam! Dream come true. Are you a musician? Bam! Dream come true. The obstacles can’t exist if it’s already reality. And your universal parents will always give more to a child engaged who appreciates their gifts now.

If you have a dream: congratulations . You are aware of your inner child, and you’ve connected with something so many of us are dead too. If you are on the path to that dream, congratulations !

Your dream has already come true, you’re just in a game of hide and seek to find it. And you hid it on yourself. Tell yourself how thankful you are now, tell yourself how you can’t believe how easy it is to make your dream come true. Turn off that auto responder, because the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Everyone means well when they want to save us from failure. What we don’t realize that sacrificing a dream is living death. Would you rather a few bump me and scrapes from rough landings in the school of hard knocks or do you want to murder your inner child or soul and become the walking dead?

Every step you take is a step in your dream, living your dream. Every obstacle you tell yourself. The story of your dream is what you experience. If you say it’s hard, it’s hard. But really: the hardest part of life is thinking about it.

Would you move heaven and earth to make the person you love most dreams come true?

Why on earth wouldn’t a loving universe/god/higher power move heaven and earth for you? Who told you you’re so unworthy?

It’s time to shut them up and live your dream. Now.

Take Time To Listen To You

Lions Gate Eclipse – Aluna Ash Clairvoyant

This is a fantastic listen. If you’re feeling wonky, astrology may just be influencing you. I’m definitely getting so much of this. So many old yucky feels are coming up and out.

Even if you’re not into astrology, but you are feeling wonky: what are you not doing that you want to? Have you been feeling pulled to write? Color? Paint? How do you express yourself and how are you not expressing yourself?

Quality is not a factor in this question. You could be the worst writer or painter in the world. If you feel the urge to do something – do it. The best way to connect with your intuition and your true self – the person you are when no one is looking. The person you are when you lay your head on the pillow – that person needs to get shit off their chest. And the only way that happens is creative expression.

Think you’re not creative? What worst case scenarios do you create for yourself? What negative stories about how others think about you or things you want to do but can’t – what stories are you inventing. What excuses do you create to not take care of yourself? All of that is misdirected creativity. Listen to yourself and let yourself come out of your mind somehow; some way. Whatever works!

Not sure where to start? Lay down and meditate for awhile. Don’t worry about postures, mudras, straight spines, just lay down and listen to yourself breathe. Then listen to your heartbeat. And just breathe. Don’t worry about what you are or aren’t doing. Give up trying for as long as you can and just be still. Think of it as a do not disturb for life so you can hear yourself breathe.

If you’re interested in more guidance, I am an excellent

tarot reader and would be happy to read you! Email me (roseroared at yahoo.com)

Shades of Truth

Words are weapons

Words are tools

Like chains of infinity

Like sun to the moon

Black and white runs us blind

Up vs down controls the mind

We’re baby birds flying

No wings, we’ve crashed

The power within disposed like trash

Our eyes see blindly

Wont reflect on the mirror

We think up obstacles

In place of what’s clear

Words now weapons

Praise the new God of Fear

Have you ever felt deeply

This must not be me?

Have you ever questioned reality?

Do darkness and demons sneak ’round every corner?

Temptation, addiction crush your own willpower?

Why are tears so easy, but smiles hard won?

Is it truly so crazy to look at the son?

Did you ever look at the sky and see

the beautiful painting God made for me?

The me is you and you is we

Connected together in gravity

The blue, those clouds,

They’re yours, they’re mine

Breathe in and out, love is divine

Everything, everything is won with us

Yet we only see what mind thinks is best

We’re tied in shoelaces

We’re chained by a feather

There’s nothing to fear,

Our guards aren’t that clever

Just look at the sky and remember you’re soul

Embrace your own heart

Express your soul

Just look at the sky and remember this well

The best days here are the worst days in hell

God painted the sky just for you

God sparkles the grass with tears of dew

Every color you see is how you perceive it

We’ve outgrown this nest

When will you leave it?


I actually wrote this with a song playing, check it out and see if it adds to the poetry. Escape Route

Check out my other poem, also produced by 33 pyramids China white

Creativity and Anxiety

I’ve loved writing poetry since I was a teenager. I remember my parents sent me to a poetry workshop in elementary school and I was so excited to read my poems out loud. They told me I had a gift, and I didn’t really believe them. I only recently started writing poems again, and even then I struggle with telling myself I’m not good or whatever. It’s resistance from me to me. I get random inspiration constantly, and I can usually write a poem in less than 20 minutes. But I fight myself.

I am finally coming to understand how art works. If my focus is on me and my problems, I’m wasting my creative expression with creative oppression. The creativity is the same: i am either inventing a story about my life or I’m writing a story or a poem or whatever. I read somewhere anxiety is repressed creativity. Art lying inside of you that cannot come out so it creates anxiety.

This is what I do know: the more I have accepted myself, my life, my problems, and my successes, the more often I get random bits of poems that need to come together. This poem here is clearly about an ex and it was built around the line “your love is like rainbow sprinkles and I’m starving for a feast.”

The only way I know to connect with my heart and intuition is to take these bits and paint them into poetry and let whatever happen happen. The only way that happens is when I stop focusing on my bullshit stories and stare at the sky, or a tree, or meditate. Then I stop squandering creativity by inventing worst case scenarios and projection.

When you were a little kid, there was something you loved. Maybe it was singing, maybe it was writing, maybe it was coloring. It doesn’t matter. Find it again and give yourself time and space to do it. The changes that come from connecting with your creativity and inner child… it’s nothing short of magic.

Beautiful Lies – Fine White

Pajamas and Anxiety

In my old blog, I talked about pajamas a lot. The thing is, I live in pajamas. It has nothing to do with depression, I just love pajamas. I started wearing pajamas out and about because I realized anxiety doesn’t get as bad if I feel comfortable in my clothes. I mean, anxiety makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, so why not surround that uncomfortable skin with softness and loose clothings?

It started with wearing pajamas to Wawa when I’d get my daily coke and smokes. Admittedly, it was laziness that started the trend, but a wisdom emerged. No one noticed me. No one gave me funny looks or started discussing me covertly. I would just get my coke and smokes. I began seeing how far away I’d be willing to go in my pajamas, because I used to not really like leaving my house. I used to work from home, so I never actually needed to get dressed.

Anxiety always tells me how everyone is looking at me. I project my own self criticism and judgement on random strangers. I think the biggest lie of anxiety is if you worry about it, you’ll be better prepared when the worst happens. The truth is: when you inevitably prove yourself right, you still feel like crap. Pajamas helped me realize no one looks at me. Everyone else is busy buying hoagies, cigarettes, or sodas. I’m literally another random face in a crowd of faces.

Recently, I went kayaking in my pajamas. I was weirdly anxious about kayaking because I guess anything new is imminent danger as visions of me falling in the lake danced through my head. Legitimately, I just forgot to get out of my pajamas and put on suitable clothes for kayaking. But kayaking in my pajamas showed me again it doesn’t matter. Everything that buzzes around my noisy brain is just noise. I didn’t fall in the lake, and lightweight PJs are delightful on a hot day on the lake.

I don’t know that Jesus was necessarily directing people to wear pajamas when he said to give no thought to your raiments, but it’s great advice. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing, nobody cares. Anxiety cares, but I am more than my raiments and I am more than anxiety too. Every time I challenge the thoughts in my head with reality, I see how meaningless thoughts are.

Anxiety is hyper self focus projected on to others. It feels like all eyes are on you even when no one sees you. One of my biggest fears used to be driving, and part of it was I thought everyone was criticizing my driving and watching me. It wasn’t until I forced myself to drive 5 hours north to Long Island and sit in New York traffic that I realized I am driving like everyone else. I’m just another person contributing to traffic.

The cool thing about anxiety is, if you can shift your focus, you can be one of the most compassionate people in the world. Anxiety boils down to stories we tell ourselves about ourself and others. I tell myself someone thinks I’m an idiot or whatever. What I can also do is step outside of myself and tell stories about other people. Maybe the person honked at me not because I suck but because they’re late for work and could get in trouble. Maybe the person passing me in Wawa is having a bad day and I can say hello and smile instead of looking at the ground and shuffling.

Anyone can apply all the creative thinking anxiety creates to actual creativity. I wouldn’t have done this pajama experiment otherwise and it helped me. I wouldn’t have had the idea to road trip to my best friend if I wasn’t terrified of driving. When anxiety is all self directed, it feels like a weight on your mind and chest. It’s like wearing a cement dress in a sprint. But, if that intense self focus can be redirected, it’s kind of a super power in understanding other people. You’re more sensitive because you know how hard it is to feel comfortable in your own skin.

The creativity we use to lie to ourselves can be applied to challenging our thoughts and perceptions. It can also be used to be a better person. Our minds don’t know the difference between expressive creativity and oppressive creativity. We can always change the track in our brains, and we can find the good in every challenge and situation. I’m not trying to say just think positive, that’s another oppressive creativity. I am saying: find the ways to be yourself and express yourself. So much of our anxiety is actually repressed emotion and expression. All the things we could have or should have pile up in our minds and manifest with sweaty palms, racing thoughts, and crazy heart pounding.

It takes a bit of effort and practice to start questioning your thoughts. Some struggle to even recognize the thoughts are present. I’ve found, though, the more I hold my head up, look into peoples’ eyes, smile, and say hello: I’ve seen a lot of people smiling back and not laughing at me. Our brains lie to us. Our brains do not connect us with reality, because reality isn’t words. It’s experience. Reality is walking around in pajamas because I’m teaching myself to always be comfortable in my own skin and sometimes I need Santa Claus jammies to do it. One milestone at a time.

(And of course, if pajamas are inappropriate for the occasion, there’s always yoga pants…)