To Doubts

Fri, Mar. 24th, 2017 22:41
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
~TigriSky, March 24, 2017

Back in your arms again, and all I can think is why?
Can't I make this happen?
Can't I?

The voice of doubt
The devil on the wing of my plane
Looking in as I sit in the cockpit
Wondering if anyone is really there
Or is it all really just this breath
Before I am lost in the motor cortex

Back in your arms again, and all I can think is why?
Can't I make this happen?
Can't I?

The voice of reason
Professes all of the treasonous ways
In which this plane won't even get off the ground
If I don't even try to see it through
To this mistake and then the next
So just take in this deep breath
Get lost in the motor cortex

Back in your arms again, and all I can think is why?
Can't I make this happen?
Can't I?

The voice of jealousy
Screams it's applause of the failures
Brought to a table of cards
Dealt by an established King and Queen
Since when do peasants step foot
In such monarchy

Back in your arms again, and all I can think is why?
Can't I make this happen?
Can't I?

The voice of beauty whispers
Sweet nothings of the transformation
From pupae to birth of a butterfly
Slipping from the sins of the truth
Slithering on the belly of nature
Until one day you spread your wings
You can fly

You can fly
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
This is one of the first Lucero songs I learned to strum.

Seeing this youthful vision makes me nostalgic for a time when life seemed more crowded in the dualities of love and loneliness. A time when there was always a friend to drink with and a shoulder to lean on. Not much of that time can be found anymore.

I don't rightly know all the reasons why, I know a few though. Change is inevitable and love can weary the heart. Oh but how I have loved.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)

In a past life I must have been cruel.

I do not mean a past life I can only dream. A dream in which might be recalled the love between Alexander and Hephaestion. No, not just a dream.

I mean a past life, that at times, feels like yesterday.

Days like these I find myself confronted by such a life; of my past. Seeing straight through the mask of self prepared so carefully within the depths of craved, perhaps depraved, acceptance. Leaving me to wonder what good, if any, I may or may not have provided.

In the eyes of wonder, the waves of cold doubt crash into me. Cold I use to possess. As if there was some form of self that deserved to be possessed by such cold.

A cold that forces you to crawl inside the womb of your anxieties, wrestle your demons, question your value, and die ... unto your own visions of self, repeatedly. Until the very moment there is nothing left to die unto.


Recognizing the very lack of definition with which you are born. In this life, and the next. In whatever moment you finally decide to live, that is.


The Seasons

Tue, Feb. 14th, 2017 08:20
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
Much of our theatrical entertainment celebrates the fantasy that the "bad" guys get their comeuppance and the "good" guys are left feeling vindicated. However much I wish to accept this portrait as some kind of truth, I cannot help but remember a key lesson, of which a major in mass communications provides; it is not the ordinary which serves to entertain but the extraordinary.

The extraordinary is also how stars explode and life forms from the dust.

Like a Phoenix from the ashes, life rises, regardless the outcome of right over wrong. You can't direct the wind, but you can adjust your sails. With love, unconditional.

You can only trust adjusting your sails as far out as the waves will take you without tossing you overboard. So it is discovered that success depends on the size of your confidence as it comes to such matters of the heart.

To deeply love is to truly see the presentation of self without condition. Conditions exist within the judgments and expectations that love just can't seem to forgive. Love, unconditional, forgives all.

Loving conditions keep the full experience of life locked, hidden, lost. The only choice left; to give up or push on.

Continue following the path which may allow you to achieve the ability to love, unconditional. Along this path confidence grows allowing the sails to carry ever farther out to sea.

Along the way we are convinced of the duality this thing called life shares with death. As if Apollo where not the sum of Dionysos, simply because one restricts while the other expands. Whom takes which role is portrayed as a seasonal affair. How quick it is forgot, the seasons are not simply determined by the the time of the year.

It is not always the dark which expands and the light which restricts. It is not always the light which expands and the dark which restricts. Growth and stagnation can be found in any direction; the wind through the sails, the fire of the heart, the crash of the waves against bare feet stepping upon the sandy shore.

So it is we are brought into this game of survival. Taught the difference between right and wrong. Given preference to life over death. Gifted the worry of legacy. Our success determined by a society running away from being. Driven by the obsession of doing. Believing that the bad guys get their comeuppance and the good guys their vindication.

Meanwhile, constant change washes over us. The good becomes bad. The bad becomes good. The forces of nature overwhelm the choice of which is current and which is dying.

Leaving us with only one truth, one choice, to stagnate or to grow.

Is this the answer? I do not know with any certainty that their even is an answer. Just choice.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)

2017 quickly approaches, allowing a moment to reflect on the numerologically defined "9" this year has definitely been. I can only nod my head, in a form of acceptance and, perhaps a bit of appreciation, for the way it all played out. As a sort of initiation into the questionable form our human civilization is divisively taking towards becoming ...

Speaking of becoming; now is also a time to reflect upon the person I became in 2016. As well as postulate hopeful scenarios of the person I wish to become in 2017. How resolutely I succeed in accomplishing my "becoming" is affected directly by my willingness to change the reflections of that which "became" me.

artemis and apollo barry windsor smith.jpg

I am taken back six months, to a reflection from my birthday, of which the following seems relevant to share in order to understand my resolve for 2017.

"I am the artist of my truth, my wisdom, my experience and I do not intend to forget the pictures I have created along the way. Some of them bolder and louder than others. All of them a reflection of my creation myth.

A myth that started 39 years ago in a different time, in a different place. The history of which has ridden a wave of historic change in which I have had zero affect in shaping.

I am simply human. Part of a species advancing phenomenally as a whole. If such advancement, of a single species, to the detriment of so much around it, is to be considered a phenomenon. Which, even within my cynicism, I am left feeling is phenomenal. Knowing, in the grand scheme of the Universe, the Earth is but a tiny speck of dust, and the human species barely of microscopic consequence.

Yet, at the same time, we are the Universe experiencing itself. We are made of the stars, born of the sun and moon, birthed by an Earth mother that has created the perfect environment in which such a species can thrive. An environment in which we can learn, manipulate, and create through nothing more complex than a simple quiet moment in observance of nature.

It is in those silent moments that I am most grateful. Grateful for the experience becoming absolutely nothing more than a momentary microscopic breathe, on a cosmic speck of floating dust, in the vastness of a Universe I cannot even comprehend a minuscule fraction of, has granted me.

If you are reading this, it most likely granted me you.

No matter how briefly or incompletely I have loved and I have been loved. Unabashedly. Luckily. Sometimes even miserably. Only the Gods them self are able to comprehend, in one brief vision, the overall importance in such love."

On top of the vanity of the 20 pounds I vow to lose, this knowledge is what I vow to build from and upon in 2017.

To remain grateful for whatever amount of love for me exists in this world; in the hearts of those who keep me in their life, in whatever way they may choose to keep me.

To remain silent and observant to the nature of the world around me and the self that is developing within.

To attempt to paint some masterpieces worth remembering, even if they are heartbreaking, and most especially if they are love making!

To remember I am simply stardust, experiencing the Universe, as a form of life sculpted of the Mother known as Earth, guided by an invisible Father called Time; and, in spite of this travesty, I will continue to try and become more anyway!

Happy New Year!

With much love,
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
The Wonder
by TigrisSky ©October 30, 2016

The wonder of smiles
Casting black clouds of doubt
Over ignorant hearts
Beating strong just the same

Nothing can stop you
From gaining the knowledge
The truth is in playing
Not winning the game

Which always ends
In nothing
But dreamers
Closing their eyes

To chance
That in this one
Moment in time
All life will start

To make sense
Out of fears
That come
With the territory

Of gypsy heart
Of native mind
A shaman expands
All visions beyond

Horizons to reach
Pasts to dispel
Myths to create
Fires to ignite

Passions to explore
Ecstasy at levels
Beyond this base
We sit upon

And wonder
How it all began
To end

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)

I contemplate becoming that woman who simply leaves it all behind. I don't mean the woman who packs up her things and uses her passport to disappear. No, not simply the woman who starts over somewhere else, hopeful in the new adventure she has stepped into.

No. Not that woman.

I contemplate becoming the woman who takes too many pills, letting go completely of everything she ever was or could become.

It isn't because I am not grateful. It is not because I cannot see the beauty of the world around me. I certainly am. I certainly can.

I understand, however, that the world doesn't need me in it. It will never matter that I was here. I will never do anything, be anything, accomplish anything.

If I reach old age I will be left to hope that I have enough monetary value for society to place me in a care home. I will be left to hope that this care home offers more than bed sores and a television that helps ignore.

In the interim of moving towards the hope of that reality, the darker and harder it all gets. Yet still, life blooms around me and I am nothing if not grateful for the experience, the beauty, and above all else, the love.

It is all so futile though, constantly in search of hope for a momentary experience of joy, fulfillment, satisfaction, accomplishment ... whatever it is we need to be fully present and savor what it is we are going through.

Addiction. Habit. Comfort. Ritual. Security. Conformity. All the things that bring some fleeting sense of worth in continuing on accepting the drive life has, to simply be alive.

It isn't so much that I am depressed, as it is I recognize the truth and just don't want to play the game anymore.

The battle of good and evil. In a world where everyone seems to think they are right, as if their existence has some sort of importance in regards to the overall outcome of things. This is what creates such a battle. Before empires, before conquests, before territory, there was no good versus evil, just life.

I cling to the simplistic beauty that is life, but society demands so much more and cares so little for life. I feel deeply the constant bombardment of hatred for life, extraneously displayed when one cannot fit any of the molds society requests.

I certainly cannot fit the molds. So it is the value of my life is obsolete here.

Just ask anyone you find yourself better than.

Just ask yourself in the moment any emotion associated to fear of another human sets itself inside you. For it is in that moment the molds of society you cling to shine brightest. It is in this moment life is no longer simply life, but instead a cancer. A cancer learning and growing en masse, clinging to life for no more than a means to feed itself and keep itself growing.

Life continues to move farther and farther away from nature, it's Creator. Spiraling deep inside the idea of individualism, separatism, self-importance, which in itself is the creator of the delusion of good and evil. In turn creating the molds which define such concepts. The molds which define the society in which we live.

The molds in which I will never fit.


p.s. This is not a cry for help. I am not in danger of hurting myself. Seriously. Sincerely.
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Dark Beauty)
This question could be asked in regards to my journal. Yet the hearts esoteric connection to self is what brings it into being.

I have spent the best years of my life being a part of it all; forgetting the importance of simply being me.

Since the beginning the way forward has always been lead by a continuous search for deep connection.

Waste of time.

Since the beginning the way forward has always been unwaveringly directed by a revisionist soul.

A soul obsessively devoted to love.

Such a contradictory predicament; life. Ushering you in with all the feminine strength this world can muster. Indoctrinating you with all the masculine ego this world can sell.

Every now and again a life preserver can be found keeping it all afloat. Yet if you never let go and swim; well, even salt water surrounded with sharks can feel safe if you get comfortable enough holding on.

Hold on long enough you will forget anything you ever dreamed of.

Hold on long enough you will forget how to dream.

Spend enough time drowning and eventually you won't need air to breath.

Some days I am ready to stop breathing.

Right now I try and remember how to dream ...


All My Wishes

Fri, Aug. 14th, 2015 08:19
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)

-1 is less than zero, but for some reason it still has more substance than nothing.

Although one may not give up on others that does not stop others from giving up on one.

I'm bad at math though. My calculations are quite often off. Especially this particular calculation in which I equated myself; stubbornly. A calculation of which I believed I was the mathematician needed for solving. A calculation that actually works better minus one; myself being the one needing subtracted.

It's strange to feel the struggle finally coming to an end. Especially when it has been a struggle of years spent deeply vested. Yet, in the end, it wasn't until the moment of being nudged out, that the struggle dissipated.

In short; what I had been busy figuring, like an obsessively devoted mathematician, has finally found it's solution and that solution seems to have needed me removed to come to fruition.


As people who believe in magick stress though, "Be specific."

The solution I was solving for is discovered. I never specified I wanted the solution to include me.

I imagine this is how those before me felt. I imagine others will eventually feel the same.

So is the ebb and flow of life. Mathematically beautiful; minus one.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
There is a whole cosmos in our eyes.

When we pass, the Universe leaves our body, and we can truly see the physical is just a shell of the being of eternity that we always are. We can witness this transformation distinctly through the eyes of the immediately deceased. As what once displayed to us the vastness of the Universe, of conscious, of the All at the core of us becomes void, an opaque globe that no longer holds attachment to eternity.

As I held Zen in my arms, in his final moments, I experienced this void of the Cosmos as the Universe left his eyes. I spent those moments looking intently into them and seeing the painful confusion of the last moments held inside his physical form. His body was shutting down; he was afeared and yet desperate for the end to come to him.

The beautiful Universe of his big blue eyes was held in a questioning pause. I pet his head, his paws, I held him close and whispered, "Everything is going to be alright. It is all going to be fine my fat cat, my prince. It's okay ... it's okay."

I wasn't certain if he was hearing me, feeling me, or if he was just scared and suffering. In a moment though, I knew he was with me. I stopped petting his paw and he immediately reached out to me with it. He pulled at my hand with his claws and then, like a kitten, he began kneading at it with whatever strength he had left.

I am not a big crier, yet the tears welled up from his acknowledging touch. I was looking down into his eyes still, and a small smile came to me at his touch. A touch that confirmed to me that, even though his gaze seemed so distant, he was there with me and I was a comforting presence.

Zen gasped twice within this exact same moment and then his eye suddenly became an opaque gloss, void of eternity, like the frosted window in a bathroom that protects you from others seeing in while you cannot see out.

He was gone and that well of tears escaped, falling upon his now lifeless form.

"He's dead." I mumbled at Floodplain. "We don't need to go any further. We can head home now."

During the final moments with him I should have just wrapped him up and sat outside holding him in the yard he loved so much. Instead I tried desperately to get to Dove Lewis, I just wanted to give him a shot so he wouldn't be in pain anymore. Yet all he really needed was to not be alone and I am so thankful to whatever forces lined up to allow for me to be there with him in the end. Even if our last moments together where in the passenger seat of a vehicle holding onto the false hope of a helpful destination we would never reach.

It isn't like in the movies, the body begins stiffening immediately and no matter how hard you try, you cannot get the eyes to shut.

Those eyes though ... the body was Zen as I remembered him looking, yet I knew he was no longer there. His eyes were simply empty of the Universe that held his experience of being.

In those eyes his disappearance was obvious, his death was not. Zen was simply no longer held inside the physical, he had simply left the home of body. How to explain the where of his being now, I don't have the right words, I do have the understanding of Universe though, of energy, of physics, of simply knowing that nothing truly ends it simply manifests into a new form; the primordial fire of life.

So it was I would return home and immediately begin preparing a fire pit to hold the memory of my prince, my Zen. He became the center of my hearth, the most important piece of home since antiquity. The most honored and noble of places, to gather, to love, to live, to experience and create ... the fire at the center of our hearts.

It has been four days since Zen passed, the only tears were in the moment described above. There is an emptiness that I don't want to refill. I showed his body to the other pets, so they wouldn't try looking for him. Strangely enough, as we dug the pit, everyone remained gathered around it, watching. I am not certain if they knew, or if they just knew I needed them, maybe both.

I sat into the dark, watching the flames, mostly in silence. Pants laying at my side, Floodplain sitting at the other. The Ladies even sat upon their outside perch and watched the fire, while Artemis lay upon stacked paver blocks observing from upon high. The crow that hangs out with me in my garden even joined in for a few moments.

It was peaceful ... and I miss him.


tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
As you age life teaches you to let go. Which may be the answer to the age old question, "Why are we here?"

To learn to let go.

I love playing the drums, it energizes me, it makes me feel good, I think about it a lot and do not get to do it often enough. Time; why do you torture me so?

At the past couple of events, where large groups are getting together to play music, there have been young teenage boys, whom also play the drums, and just one drum kit to play on.

When I wasn't at the helm of my cheap drum kit, I enjoyed every bit of the boys drumming. Yet, at the same time, I was flooded with all these feelings, all this desire, all this envy to be the one drumming and most especially to be able to drum as good as those boys. (My gods they drum good!)

So it is, while sitting on the sidelines waiting for a turn, the longing to drum would overwhelm me. I would find myself grumpy, feeling left out, not good enough, my heart feeling a very literal physical ache to play and to play at least one song as good as those damned boys!

These are the feelings, which in our youth, grant us motivation to try harder. To try harder so that we can be accomplished next time. Providing us the outlet, the drive, the desirous ability to push past and become.

Yet in our aging, those feelings lead us to also recognize that we can only get so much better before we can no longer do it at all. That we will never be as good as, or get better than, those coming after us. That our turns in the sunlight are no longer achieved by following the infinite trail leading from sunset to sunrise.

Eventually the sun just sets.

We have to learn to let go, or those feelings that come with this human desire to achieve and be will devour us. They will become our norm. They will cause us to become that grumpy old judgmentally embittered person who hates life and can't believe, let alone deal with, all the idiots in it.

~TigressSky © August 13, 2014~

We are always traveling
Into the sunset
In youth always ensured
The sunset will become sunrise
An ascending light of hope
As if by magic
From the dark
Of Pandora's box
Telling us how
In this new day
In some new way
We can achieve
We can be

We are always traveling
Into the sunset
In aging frames denied
The hopeful light
Of sunrise
Descending to stillness
There is no escape
From being locked
Deep inside
Of this moment
Right here
Right now
Is everything
We can ever be
We can ever achieve


The drumming example is a very simplistic one; yet it gets the point across. We all must learn to let go, at every stage, in order to move forward, until that ultimate moment when there is nowhere else to go, nowhere else to move. That place where nowhere is home and everywhere is exactly where you are meant to be.

All at once ... nothing.

We all work our way through to the ultimate goal of becoming nothing - no matter how hard we fight against it. It is so hard taking hold knowing the ultimate goal is to just let go. Yet at the same time it is the acceptance of this nothing, this letting go, that makes life so wonderfully beautiful.

It allows you to explore and experience every moment, every connection, every feeling, every visual, every touch, every smell, every thing visible, everything invisible, for exactly what it is and what it brings ... right now ... right here ... this moment.


I've been excited for the future often, for the possibility of some grand out come, some goal achieved.

As I travel through the desert of ideas this life presents, a desert filled with the infinitesimal sandy grains of hope. I grasp a handful and I walk, holding it close to my heart. Yet the sand continuously pours through my fingers, causing me to lose hope, and at the same time causing me to cling to it. Until eventually where I am going is made clear; and that goal, that grand outcome, well, it is all simply a mirage.

It is so beautiful though ... as I reach my hand toward the crystal clear water every mirage contains, it shatters. Shatters like glass, all the pieces that brought me here, falling away without care.

A deep breath as around me the emptiness fills in.

I open my hand to find the last grain of sand.

I must let go.

I have to let go.

I let go.

Sometimes it is harder than others. Most times I remain still, hand closed tightly around the last bastion of hope. I reflect on all the broken pieces shattered around me, all the grains of sand lost, all of hope that led me here.

How much of it was never real to begin with?

Was it all a waste of time?

Time I cannot get back.

Time ...

Is an illusion.

An illusion we stagnate in. Wondering. Hoping. Waiting. For something. Anything. To grant us the knowledge of all we are. All we must be. All we should be. All we can become. As all we are is already upon us, is all around us, if only we can learn to let go and simply be ...



If what you are following, however, is your own true adventure, if it is something appropriate to your deep spiritual need or readiness, then magical guides will appear to help you. If you say, 'Everyone’s going on this trip this year, and I’m going too,' then no guides will appear. Your adventure has to be coming right out of your own interior. If you are ready for it, then doors will open where there were no doors before, and where there would not be doors for anyone else. And you must have courage. It’s the call to adventure, which means there is no security, no rules. ~Joseph Campbell
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Bob Hoskin's death has prompted me to go back and remember my youth. Cher played two characters in life that were my mother, this is one of them. :) This is also why I know all the lyrics to this song by heart. It's also why I love Cher.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
moth skull

As you get older you start conversing with death more regularly. It is quite amazing how quiet death can be in your youth; where endless possibilities dominate the discussions. Death only whispering in your ear every now and again, grabbing your attention for small brief moments in your youth; becoming increasingly louder as you age. Until it reaches a fervor pitch, eventually drowning out possibilities and leaving you waiting for "it's" handshake with your heart.

Hospice workers are visiting my last remaining grandmother regularly now. It is almost time. She has been living in adult foster care for years now. Moving her there really began her decline. Taking people out of their homes, dumping them in a single room, then keeping them doped up and sat down in front of the television doesn't lend for much mental or physical stimulation. Especially when family and friends do not visit regularly. All of these factors lend to ensuring a form of Alzheimers will develop.

I do not know why, but I was always Grandma's favorite. She didn't get to see me that often growing up, as my parents divorced when I was three and my mom left the state with me.

Yet I did spend the first part of my life in her home. She has told me a few memories from that time. She also babysat my sisters, cousins, and seconds cousins regularly so all the parents could work. This meant she would babysit me from time to time while I was visiting my dad every other summer. Eventually the babysitting stopped, at least for my side of the family; as we got older and my dad and stepmom just left us at home alone instead.

I use to idolize her. She was single the entire time I knew her. Living on her own, going out and doing her own thing, gardening and taking care of her own home - a home that she had helped build!

I didn't know the truth of it all until I was in my twenties and living back in Oregon. I spent a lot of time with my Grandma then. Her house was comforting to me. The memories it held. Most especially I loved just visiting with my Grandma.

I learned during these visits how my Grandpa cheated on her. How he moved out from living with her and into his girlfriends home. How long it took for her to finally put her foot down and tell him he could no longer gallivant between the beds of the women in his life - he had to choose. He chose his girlfriend.

Yet they never divorced. His money and benefits from the Navy all came to her. She was always his wife and she never had another lover, dated, nor anything after that.

I wish I knew more about it, Dad never talks about it. I wonder if Grandpa left when the three boys where still young, or of they had all been older? I wonder how they handled Grandpa being an ass? What was it all like for them?

I have a brief idea of what it was like for Grandma, because she spoke to me about it and I caught the reflective pauses, inflection changes, and subtle looks she gave while thinking about it. It was always weird for me to recognize how vulnerable this woman, who lived on her own and took care of her damned self!, truly was.

People say she and I looked a lot a like when comparing pictures of her and I in our teen years. Here is a picture of her in her early twenties I believe:

Grandma Hazel

When they moved her to the foster care she started forgetting my visits to her. She couldn't hold much of a conversation anymore. She always knew who I was, but never really when it was. It got hard to visit and see her like that. Now I feel guilty as I have only really made one or two attempts a year over the past few to see her. Last time I went she couldn't even stay awake and had become bed ridden.

Now hospice is visiting regularly and making sure she is in the best comfort as she prepares to feel Death's final handshake upon her heart.

It makes me sad that I didn't spend more time learning about her. Knowing her life and how she grew up. She lived in the middle of what is now pretty much gangland when it was all just fields and farm.

Three of the four houses that encompassed her side of the street on the 86th block, just off of SE Division in Portland, were built by my Great-grandfather, Grandfather, Great-Grandmother, and her. Now they are all old and falling apart as no one in the neighborhood really cares about having a beautiful home anymore. In what that neighborhood has become they simply cannot afford to. They also shoved two row houses in right next to Grandma's old house, in what use to be a large side yard that was part of Grandma's property.

There are cars lining the streets and lawns of the neighborhood and the beauty of the area is completely gone. There is nothing there that displays anything of the beauty, farm, and people who made that area thrive for two full generations. It is so sad how quickly and strangely everything changes.

It started getting bad in Grandma's neighborhood when I was about 13. She got robbed a few times; waking up to flashlights in her face and men in her bedroom telling her not to scream or they would kill her. Yet she stayed there, and would have continued to stay there had she not been turned back into a child, decisions suddenly being made for her, then placed into a small room of things, and forgotten.

At least I will disappear quicker, (I am already forgotten a lot of the time as it is), as there is no one to remember me. There is no one to regret not getting the full account of my story and in turn no one to lose out on finding a piece of history that personally belongs to them. No one to understand my life's possible effects on the world around it. No one to find out how my life was affected by the rest of the world.

After Grandma passes, all of the family women who affected my life the most will be gone; except my little sister. Maybe I should get her story before it is too late.


It always seems to be too late though. I will never know my brothers because no one told me about them until the one person who could give me details died. No one tells me about a lot of things. Choosing to lie or keep things quiet so as not to hurt my heart. Do I come across so fragile? Because I am not. I want to know - as much as I can, before Death grips my heart and every ounce of me disappears from this planet.

A disappearance which could be at any given moment. Something I learned with more poignant reality as I happened to be exploring my friends list on Facebook. I was checking out people I heard little from since FB decided to change from displaying all my friends post to just those I had interacted with recently. I learned if I just went and said "hi" on their homepage and they responded I would start seeing them in my feed again.

Being nostalgic lately, I was looking at people I had gone to junior high and high school with, and the first name I clicked on was dead.

She would be my age and I met her during my freshman year in high school. Well technically during the last 4 weeks of my 8th grade year in junior high. I had just moved to the area and had to attend school for those last four weeks to be counted as eligible to graduate from 8th grade in the State of Colorado, even though I had already finished in Alaska.

Anyway ...

Amy was awesome and we corrupted each other. She was beautiful and sassy to, with a short hair-do I kind of envied at the time. She was sporty, attractive, and had the attention of a lot of boys at school. Unlike me.

This is Amy back around the time I knew her in High School.

I helped her be at ease with sex and her sexuality in general. No, we were not lesbians, she was just a virgin and I wasn't, so we had lots of talks.

I knew her for a little over a year because as soon as my freshman year was over, we moved, again.

I found her again in about 2008 through Facebook. We chatted a bit and caught up. She was living in Florida and soon moved to North Carolina. She was single, no kids, loved her dogs, and was a hair dresser. She was still beautiful and looked hot in a bikini! She was still sassy, independent, and strong; a beautiful specimen of feminine strength and beauty.

She died a horrible death in an accident in her car on January 24, 2011, with her dogs.

I was shocked to go to her page to say "hi" and find nothing but people posting how much they loved and missed her and still couldn't believe she was gone; even all this time later. She was loved.

In the past few years alone, people have been giving their hearts to Death fairly regularly. Some I have been closer to than others, yet all of them I was pretty shocked to see go.

As I continue to age this just becomes more and more the norm and people just don't seem to want to talk about or truly acknowledge it much. *sigh*

Maybe I am morbid for thinking often about what Death will say when Death comes for me. Will it be a soft whisper of forgetfulness until eventually I just dissipate? Or will it be a loud primal scream that hits me hard and shakes my core? Will it be a fearful boast or a gentle kiss? Will my memory live, in turn keeping me alive, after my physical is gone? Eh, I can answer that last question, no it will not - there is no one to remember.


In my youth, unlike most, Death spoke to me often. The fact I am here and alive is, in someways, unexpected. Top that off with the amount of times Death sat nearby and shook the hearts of those close, sometimes taking them directly, sometimes taking their loves. Well, it is no wonder I became a catalyst for change. It is also no wonder that I have developed a relationship with Death. Although come the fuck on, it is Death, how many relationships does Death really have? Maybe it is more of a fascination, appreciation, curiosity, and understanding that I have with Death; not a relationship.

I don't know, I'm not really trying to figure it all out; after all, there really is nothing to know. Death is just a little closer to me again right now, hugging me, pointing things out, like a father showing a child what work he has left to do, and what work he has done; proudly.


When I die
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
i am missing this world

don’t shed any tears
don’t lament or
feel sorry
i’m not falling
into a monster’s abyss

when you see
my corpse is being carried
don’t cry for my leaving
i’m not leaving
i’m arriving at eternal love

when you leave me
in the grave
don’t say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind

you’ll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down

it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed

have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human

have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well

when for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time.

~ Rumi
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)

The Awakening
by TigressSky © January 10, 2013

It's so different to sit across the table of someone who has actually had a glimpse into the life that made me. Someone who reminds me how happy I have always been.

Someone who doesn't always have mean things to say .... about my mother. Someone who has, at this point, never said a mean thing about her.

A deep comforting voice to make me feel a little less insane. Nothing can wipe the crazy full away. At times it was all I had to get by.

Most of the time it is still the only thing.

Someone who knows me; but doesn't.
Knows what it was like
Growing up for me
Knows how my mother was
Who my mother was; but doesn't.

Someone who doesn't hide my life from me like I wasn't there.

Someone who looks at me without sympathy in his eyes. Without a constant questioning of needed reassurance that he didn't screw me all up. Someone who doesn't place the blame of the screwed up moments in my life at the feet of a dead mother.

I'm pretty good at screwing myself up, thank you very much.

From that an awakening

To my life,

Oh dear.

There was bad, but that is not where I dwelt.

There were smiles,
Love, Laughter, Tears,
Trying, Fighting, Living,
And so much dying.

There were miles and miles of
Rebirth and scars - both mental and physical
Some so visible they screamed until those witnessing ran and hid
Some so hidden that to this day no one has ever spoken their name

So many eyes to look into
So many souls to hold onto
And then



They do not need to return to be love,
To prove love to you.

The rule was and always should remain
If you love it
Set it free


No forged pretense of expectations.
No ring wrapped preciously around any fingers.
No legal trappings in which to perform.

An alienation ritual that shouts out to the Alone
When there is and never will be
Anywhere else to go.


So I sat across from this deep voice, whose heart beat as my own. Whose words fell as if I had chewed them up and spit them out myself. Wondering how one persons soul, could wrap so tightly around my own, to just ...

Let go



A quarter century for my awakening. As I wrapped my arms around his neck and knew, there is someone who understands.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Recently Angelina Jolie had a full mastectomy to avoid potential breast cancer. She told the public about it without any shame. She has sparked a lot of discussion on the topic from supporters to those who think it was a really stupid move.

I'm not going to get into the debate over if her choice was bold and brave or rash and unnecessary; I am simply going to say, "I understand her reasoning completely and if I had the choice I would follow suit."

Watching several people, including my mother, be overwhelmed by cancer and then die ... I know I never want to experience that painful, humiliating, debilitative, and destructive death either. If I knew that I had a 80-90% chance of getting cancer and that removing some portion of my body could save me from that painful nightmare I would take it.

I'm not scared of dying, I am however terrified of living my last years in agonizing pain; where the icing on the cake is being made a mockery in public as well as being unable to enjoy, (or even be present for), the simplest moments in life.

On the same token I think it is completely unfair to assume that any of us non-Hollywood types, so poor as we are, would even be granted the same opportunity as Angelina. To be able to afford DNA testing, let alone a mastectomy and the follow-up breast implant surgeries, is just impossible to imagine.

The rest of us, who have long family histories of cancer, yet remain poor-white-trash, are once again left to just hope, with all the hope we have, that we won't succumb to such a painfully disheartening disease - and more than likely death.

Which continues to lead me down this morbid path of thinking ...

There was a time, just a few short years back, when I posted in my journal, (more than once), that there may be many things I would still love to do, but in the long run, if I die, at this very moment, I would have had a very fulfilled life and would not be left wanting.

Just a few days shy of my 36th birthday I recognize how different that feeling is for me now.

I'm loved. Generously. Openly. Completely.

All these years of just focusing on how to be the best me possible and living, (as strictly as one can), without any expectations of others, (except for them to just be the best them they can be - although that is not really an expectation is it? shoot that's a different rabbit hole to adventure down ... nevermind), really have panned out.

I use to wonder if, like society teaches, I needed to have expectations of others - particularly my friends. So I tried it and allowed myself expectations of friends and family. Let me tell you something right now - having expectations like that sucks! It leaves one unfulfilled and continually longing for these idealized pieces of our lives to be completed by others .... who are themselves busy completing their own life expectations.

It is a viciously malcontent circle and I am not okay running in it like a hamster.

Recently my sister posted this on Google Plus:


Too which I responded:

"Expectations really are a waste of the hearts time. Do and love and be and create expectations of yourself only. Do not create expectations of others. Simply allow them to do and be and love as they are, without expectation or conditions. This, in my opinion, is the only way to truly develop a vast understanding of what accepting others for who they are really means. In the end, if one can learn this, than one will know what it means to truly love another ... unconditionally at that. Or so I have come to teach myself."

Who knows if I am right?

At this point in my life I am pretty certain I am wrong about most everything.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Default)

"I knew that the purpose here now was to give as much love as I could to the people who mattered to me even though I was dying and my life became death ..." ~Phillip Gould~

The moment we are born our life becomes one big movement towards death. Our purpose is to give as much love as we can before we are gone. Or so I have always felt.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Second Angel)
Money. Oh how I loathe the noose you hang so tightly about my neck. The precarious tightrope upon which I balance, making any slip that much more of an assurance that you will strangle me and I will fail. No, I refuse to let you be my ruler, yet you still squeeze tightly into the cracks of every aspect of my life. As much as I refuse to let you dictate my life, I hear your screaming taunts loud and clear with every decision I make.

My life is a catch-22 circle. I'm hoping some day to open the circle and change it into an infinity loop. A loop were I can move away from all the catch-22's and continue, with a strength the Universe never expected. An ability to continually bend the world to me and not the latter, which most are willing to settle for.

No, I will not settle for photosynthesis!

This constant struggle with money leaves me in sketch situations. I make decisions to not attend events were gifts should be given. Even when it is stated that gifts are not expected. I make less plans to do and/or attend things with my friends. Even when it will only cost $10 to get in and I can drink water all night. No more simple coffee breaks with friends. No more quick dinners out. No more dancing all night or quick lunches.

Honestly, I cannot wait for the sunshine to come and welcome me out into a world of adventure without cost.

Oh Apollo, come hold me soon and bring back my smile.

Apollo from BSG - YuM!

A friend of mine passed away a couple days ago. His funeral reception is on the 10th. I go to celebrate a life I barely knew, yet I know I touched deeply; once.

Death is a constant theme in my life. I obsess with planning my "wake" in the same way a bride obsesses over her wedding day. Maybe I am Peresphone personified, (try saying that ten times fast!), waiting, somewhat impatiently, to return to a world that actually puts love first. I found another song that just describes, to a tee, the message I want my friends and family to hear and understand from me when I am gone.

Yes, after I am gone I hope you all dance and sing, "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!"

While I am here however, it would be nice to find less negativity and anger. I know it is a high expectation and maybe I need to change myself and not wait for a change in others. Yet it is hard, because a few people I am close to have become so angry and negative all the time. It makes it so hard to want to spend time with them like I use to. And making the change that keeps me away hurts them as well.

I don't know how to help either. It is hard to want to try, when everything I say in passing when we are together is met with a quick dismissal and need to prove that they know better than I. Or that I am just not as free and fluid as they are.

It hurts to sit in public and have things I say ridiculed, whispered about, and laughed at right beside me. Maybe I am naive in my hopes for love and connection between all, but I like that part of me and, quite simply, I am not willing to give it a backseat in my life. I realize it is probably a stupid ideal to hold hope for and that people are going to talk about it, but please, talk about it behind my back. Where that knife belongs.

Friends being negative to me is one thing. Yet when they have moved to a state of constant negativity and lack of support between each other. That is even harder to deal with. I hate sitting in situations where two people I love can't stop bickering to a point where one of them walks about constantly dejected and failed. It hurts too much. I want to hold them both and I want to hide at the same time. None of it is my place. There is nothing I can do.

Maybe that is the point I need to get, I can't affect change and I have to accept negativity in the love I am given, seeing and receiving. I recognize you can only change yourself and that you must find our way in situations. Yet it is so hard to not want to solve whatever the issue is when you care so much.

*sigh* What can I do to ensure I am being true and myself in these situations? That is all I can be responsible for. Nothing more.

I'll figure it out and things will get better.

Or they won't.

Don't get me wrong I love my friends. Dearly. They are my world regardless. I love my friends and would do anything for them!

Like change up some lyrics to a song all about friends, and sing it with them, drunk, around a bonfire in the woods, connected and in love with the life I have been granted; while dreaming about the party they will throw upon my death!

...because we are definitely going to hell, but we will have ALL the best stories to tell!



tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Default)

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