To Doubts

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

Awakening.

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.

~TigrisSky
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

Budding

Sat, Dec. 31st, 2016 13:00
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
These many years spent, inventing, investing, invigorating, all to the benefit of a thief. She who could not comprehend what made the treasure she now possessed of such value. In broad daylight, in front of everyone, aided by some; looking straight into your eyes, shaking your hand with a smile, as if receiving rather than taking.

What was never yours to begin with.

None of it ever is.

Often, children are not given the credit in knowing the world for what it really is - chaos. We become stronger, more independent beings, because of this chaos, not in spite of it. While those sheltered are the first and most easily deceived by it. Consumed by the desire to reach a perfection chaos simply can never allow. Creating nothing more than a life of missed moments, that could have been spent, reveling in disorder and imperfection.

Out of darkness comes life.

Of course it hurts.

~TigrisSky ©December 31, 2016

The Unknowns

Sat, Nov. 12th, 2016 17:55
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)


I like it here, in the past. Where just the right song unleashes an energetic flood within. Where the ignorance of youth struts through the world carrying an invisible guarantee of future ownership. Where death is just an imagined scenario of attendance and guessing how many hearts will be broken. On good days that is. On bad days it is simply a struggle to discover reasons to bother staying. Trying to believe it is their jealousy and not your inadequacy that entices such behavior. If you were not about to be King you might just give up.

Perhaps Alzheimers will not be all that bad. Living here, if I can just keep remembering here, I can stay here. Right? Believing I am a little girl, out in the woods alone, the big bad wolf by my side and a Mighty Mouse at my beckon call. It will be beautiful. Except in the awake moments. Offered a reality of an unknown old woman staring at me in wonder. Not knowing how I got into this body, this room, surrounded by all these unknowns.

When did I end up so alien? Sitting upon this spec of dust brought to life by the eye of Apollo. I know I was born this way, not yesterday, yet I wasn't bought or sold this way. All those half baked ideas on the cover of magazines teaching me exactly what I never could be. Those were the always and never of everything I was promised I would be. If I just, if I just, if I just ... turn to dust.

All that can be afforded in a time none bare witness until some bare ignorance. Laying claim that she is in the river when we all know she is of the land. A Virgo to be precise; if you ever wonder why it is that I analyze. Everything and nothing in the lies.

To make sense of it all is, at times, the most tiring thing. Forced to predict the facts of the outcome desired. Preparing for the redemption of the choice before it is ever made. A ladies prerogative presented to enhance the darkness. Sometimes it is hit, sometimes it is miss. It all depends. Just how long can you hold your own against the antagonists hatred of self. Before reaching the moment of awaited failure certain to see your rage.

Yet maybe if I just turn the page. Or the volume up on this song and the next. I can remember riding the bus next to him. What it felt like to be Queen of the backseat with clothes on. His eyes speaking the truth of a broken heart. His lips professing such strength on his part. Letting me go.

Nowhere but here, in this moment, does it matter where I came from. You can stick tape on the ends of the cassette tape and record over it all. Playing the radio, collecting the songs you can't afford to buy. Pausing to skip the advertisements of a life never to be recorded in the history where anyone looks.

by TigrisSky
©November 12, 2016
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
the return
by TigrisSky ©October 20, 2015

running through the red
empty veins become
chasms of canyon land

where the water use to flow
before it all got so heated
during that winter parade

of passionate answers
to cries never spoken
a demon

stration of how
easy it is to be
replaced

pass
her
bye

close my eyes
wonder why
anything and everything

has come
and gone

and gone
and come

again
impossible

a canyon gutted heart
lay tranquilly exposed
to the flood

of polar ice caps
melting under the sun
of this climate change

an empty sky
holds tight
the circling bird of prey

whose wings hold aloft
the dreams of someday
that comes

today
and leaves
tomorrow

flying south for the summer
flying north for the winter

stuck east or west
of forever

is a dream
only humanity
could hold on to


I'm On Fire

Wed, Aug. 31st, 2016 21:26
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)


Life.

Changing faster than an eye blinks.

Death.

Coming sooner than a virgin after first thrust.

Birth.

A constant no mathematician can equate.

The holy trinity or the aftermath of the big bang; the essence of All and all.

It is only when the collective consciousness reaches the pinnacle of this understanding that progress will become the record and history will no longer be a doomed pattern of repeat.

Until then ...

I have let go of being a doormat. Let go of the allowance given others to treat my kindness and understanding as an invitation to hold advantage over me. I have recognized that when there is not a common bond, there is no bond. While assumption of such bond makes realization of its falsity a much more painful lesson.

My greatness comes in viewing the world through the romantic eyes of poetry. Finding beautiful mystery everywhere, in everything, if only I simply look close, thorough, and, I suppose, somewhat detached enough at it all.

The only expectations are great expectations that become dictation of non-existent rules in which others fail to meet in every way. Excluding the always faithfully met expectation that everybody leaves, someday.

~TigrisSky

Happy Birthday

Wed, Jun. 1st, 2016 21:58
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)

"There's an end and a beginning to this quiet chaos driving me mad." ~Snow Patrol, New York

The countdown has begun. Soon I will step out of the public sector back into the private. The golden handcuffs are being removed. In a sense it brings a rush of fear, but mostly it provides a rush of euphoric excitement encompassed by an image of me diving into a sea of possibility.

At the same time I find myself invited back inside in a way I did not think would exist for me again. It is new and it is exciting and it would not have happened, in my work or personal life, without my stepping away and letting go first.

Still ... sometimes unfavorable things resurface in subtle ways. I remind myself that there is reason to be enlightened of such treason and the walls it creates.

We tend to forget that not all walls are limiting. Some, in fact, hold the greatest works of art our life will ever know. Reminders that are not there to block. Reminders which display the truth of experience and the ingenious tact with which wisdom is designed.

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 phenomenally historic change in which I 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 it is. 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. The Gods themself only know how I have loved and been loved ... and maybe you.



~TigrisSky

Eternity

Fri, May. 20th, 2016 06:54
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)


It's not going to be the end of the world.

In this moment that is the truth I must hold tight.

Life,
it goes on
in need of nothing
in search of everything
on a path to nowhere
all to become

Nothing,
but this moment
right here
right now

I am nothing more than a wayfaring stranger to this experience known to humanity as life. Where every step is one step closer to the nothing we are born to become. Where every choice redeems or condemns, where every story is told or forgotten, where every acceptance of self is acceptance of the nothingness we come from and return to. Holding vigil over our significance. As if significance will allow eternity.

~TigrisSky
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 ...

~TigrisSky

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Can't sleep.

Tom Petty is keeping me awake.




Yeah I am wrestling with my overcoat
Yeah I'm fighting with my thoughts
I'm gonna trust my intuition
I'm gonna hope I don't get lost

For some time I've been lonely
Now I'm to weak to fight

I've been waiting for tonight




Yeah, I've been waiting for tonight.

No longer anything
Not even a hope
To not get lost
Inside Pandora's box

Stepping out
Head held on high
This may take me nowhere
Or everywhere I ever meant to go

Yeah, I've been waiting for tonight

~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Default)
Letting go is harder than simply opening a door and watching the breeze blow past you.

Some days, when I think I have finally let go, attachment slips in a grin and I can feel my body tremble with the anticipation of whichever emotion is choosing to hold me in that moment of confrontation with self. For if it becomes a confrontation outside of self, attachment has already won and I might as well finish my appearance as an ass to the tale this incident will become.

Or so my logic forsoothes me.

I use to be great at never showing emotion and in turn appeared as a robot to those who I did try and build relationships with. Logic always overshadowed emotion, emotion was too much my mother, and I was never going to be her.

Until it was I learned what it meant to be Her. When I finally recognized the gifts of life She granted me that are so necessary in the fucked up world I have been imparted.

Yet that is a whole other story about letting go ... in the one I tell now, people are still alive and I have no youthful excuse for my life's mistakes. Still, I keep making them.



I am getting better at embracing my emotions without letting them have control over the situation. I feel partial to mention that my previous state of being was to tell my emotions to "FUCK OFF!" Thus ensuring nothing but logical action in any situation. I do not truly know which is worse, allowing emotion or logic complete control? I certainly do know what I grew up believing was worse, hence my propensity toward the latter.

I have learned it takes a great deal of strength to embrace an emotion that flares, without letting it take control, while in the process of letting go. Especially when the letting go is believed complete and then something small awakens you that it is not. It is in that moment a trigger, like a shot of good tequilla to an alcoholic, snaps it's fingers and emotion rears at the gate.

In that moment, emotion can make you feel like a cowboy, turn you into a clown, and have you hiding in a barrel if you let it convince you to ride.

Letting go is full of all these fears, mainly in regards to change or loss.

Change has always held great space in my life. Therefore it is not fear of change that drives my emotions in this process of letting go. Though at first, I selfishly though it was.

I can finally admit to myself that it was fear of loss that truly had me clinging to this attachment so dramatically. Looking desperately for acceptance from anyone who was looked up to within the circle of my life. Anyone who could guarantee to me that my space here in the Universe we had created was a cemented throne I could always sit upon. A place I had come to believe and rely in. A place in which I had taken to storing my fear, my strength, my honor, and my dignity. A place in which I simply could not comprehend without me in it.

What would I be without it?

Nothing. I would be nothing without it is what I had convinced myself of.



Yet, as it is with all things, the throne had been crumbling since the moment it was presented to me.

Eventually I was going to have to journey on my own again.

Such are the cards the Fates have dealt me.

I can see clearly now that my throne is gone and never really was, except in times of rest, when I could offer of myself in return for the respite.

Such was the role of my crown.

As the Queen grew, the crown no longer fit.

She no longer fit.

The parties went on without her.

The address was changed.

The houselights removed.



What she had feared to lose she must let go. Sinking in the rotting compost of loss, which guarantees change, which fosters new growth, that which was now all around her. Accepting the death of an attachment of her soul. Welcoming the moment of rebirth into the nothing that comes with being everything she will never come to mean to this world; only to her heart.

To herself.

To this momentary experience called LIFE.



~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (3 of Swords)
Tigress & Grandma
Grandma Hazel and I. I was about 21 or 22 here.



The memories are not organized, they just come, here and there, moments in time remembering being with her or just how she made me feel. A montage of how she looks, her eyes always seemed wide with wonder as she paid attention to exactly what you were saying, doing, needing. Her smile was so constant, she found happiness in so many moments, I don't know how she ever handled my angst ridden youth filled with depression - sitting on her couch, bummed at the world, she would just smile and listen. I never felt judged, because Grandma did not judge. She just loved.

Sesame Street, Mister Rogers, Bob Ross - whom cheated at painting, according to Grandma. I would take the crayons, spread out on the carpet in front of the TV and follow Bob's instructions. Grandma was a painter, and even though Bob was a cheater, she wasn't going to deter a budding artist on her living room floor. She did however tell me, "real painting is not that easy."

I remember all the other kids could sleep a lot longer and a lot more soundly than I could. Which meant nap time was extra time were it was just me and Grandma. I'd be quiet and watch whatever was on PBS while Grandma would sit in her recliner, quietly observing, while working on crosswords or chatting on the phone with friends.


Grandma and all her Girls!

Grandma's house always felt like a sanctuary; like a safe haven where you could shed all the cares and worries of the world at the door, come right in and just be yourself. I remember the green davenport, loving to sit and rock in it, "not so fast, not so hard." Her bathroom was so giant! I loved standing in front of the mirror, putting on fancy things, and pretending to be a movie star.

Grandma would never fill the tub full with water, "you are just in here to get clean hunny, you don't need so much water to get clean." The first memory I have of Grandma bathing me, a wash cloth in hand, scrubbing my arms, back, legs - it was heavenly, safe, and relaxing. Even in just a few small inches of water. I wonder if Grandma thought I was strange for always wanting her to give me a bath when I visited?

I am sure it wasn't such a strange thing though. I mean, she did help raise me and she understood me better than I think my own parents may have. Being born as sick as I was, the doctors prescribed a liquid medicine I had to take every day. The disgusting taste it came with is indescribably horrid, so much so that just my memory of it makes my taste buds cringe and my brain begin to prepare my body for the coming onslaught. My Father use to hold me down, while I screamed and struggled, as my mother tried to put a spoonful of medicine in my mouth.

"It was so horrendous to watch," Grandma said, "I always felt so sorry for you."

Then one day my parents went out on a date and Grandma had to give me the medicine. She knew she couldn't hold me down and force it into me. She also knew I had to have it or I would get sick again. So Grandma did, what every good grandmother of an overly analytic child does, she put me on the kitchen counter and reasoned with me.

Now that we were eye to eye, equal, Grandma began, "now Tigress, you have to take your medicine and I can't force you to ..." and by the time she was finished, I was ready. I took my medicine, made the most horrible face, and Grandma never had to struggle with me. Grandma knew exactly how to handle me, when so many others could never seem to get it.

She held a buttercup under my chin one day, in her backyard, and then told me, "you love butter!"

"I do?"

"Yep, see," she held the buttercup under Trisha's chin and the yellow glowed off of her skin. "A buttercup knows when someone loves butter. If you love butter your skin will glow yellow."

I proceeded to run inside, open the yellow margarine tub, and eat some directly from it with a spoon. I had to know if I really loved butter or not. I had to know if Grandma's buttercup science was correct. It was, I did love eating that butter!

"What are you doing!" Grandma laughed with a loud voice as she took the butter from me.

"You are right Grandma, I do love butter!"

She just laughed, I don't think I remember Grandma ever being mad at me. Just smiling and reasoning with me.

The Rose Room
Grandma (far right) with Grandpa and friends at Portland's Rose Room - 1943ish.

Grandma loved bowling so much! Every time we went to her house I was always hopeful we would get to go bowling. I sucked at it, I still do. Yet Grandma was a bowling magician! She could get a strike almost every time. She knew how to bowl and she always tried to teach us the moves. Sometimes I would get it right, most of the time I just spent laughing with my sisters, my cousins, my Grandma.

If I didn't have my Grandma in my life, I don't think I would really understand the meaning of unconditional love. After college, when I moved back to Oregon, I spent a lot of time at Grandma's house. She was therapy to me. She was a place of happiness. I needed her love so much.

I told her about my life, things I don't like to talk about, and for the first time, this woman who just never showed any unhappiness, told me about hers. Just the bits that she could share to let me know she understood. It made me realize that in life, you can choose to be bitter over what harshness you are handed -or- you can choose to just love being alive! That is the greatest lesson Grandma taught me - to just love everything and everyone that comes in and out of your life. Regardless of what hardship our happiness it brings.

I can only hope to live in honor of my Grandma's legacy by bringing and being this kind of love in the world, in the life I have been given. If we are reincarnations, we are simply reincarnations of those we came from. I feel overwhelmingly blessed to have come from Hazel, my Grandma, who is the one female in my life who showed me exactly what it means to love unconditionally and to love everyone; regardless.

~Tigress

Grandma & Leola
Grandma and her little sister Leola.

To Dream,

Mon, Jan. 20th, 2014 09:29
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Today I hope all people look to find and give more than just a nod toward the greatness and success of one man. I hope all people spend a majority of their time truly, and with deeply heartfelt intent, listening and understanding the words of such a great man as Doctor Martin Luther King Junior.

I hope for us all to truly embrace the tides of change that just one man, fighting for an oppressed people, suffering the atrocities created by living within a systematically denied caste system, can create. To know that one person can create such massive waves as to wash over the senses and force open fresh eyes to the atrocities we have committed, we continue to commit, upon our fellow man.

To recognize the past we have crawled out of. A past where so many got so much while beating others until those beatings no longer mattered. To see that there comes a point when hands held together, as tears fall in pain, leads to the opening of so many otherwise unheard voices. Voice that do not shout, do not protest, voices that instead sing songs of the free, songs of love, because love is the answer.

Martin Luther King Junior spoke of hopes for all humanity, with words so beautiful we cannot help but cling to them as the greatest desires remaining to be accomplished for all humanity. It was with these words he did accomplish his dream, and it is with these words his dream became the dream of all humanity.

A dream that our voices shall open up fresh eyes to the hope that all can see, but more importantly understand, that violence is not the answer. War is not the answer. There is no one person better than another. There is no one who is not my brother, your brother, our brothers.

Whether fallen or forced into hard times so many are suffering right now. Let us not entertain ideals of anybody deserving such suffering. For what do we gain by continuing to beat those whom are already beaten?

"Cowardice asks the question, 'Is it safe?' Expediency asks the question, 'Is it politics?' Vanity asks the question, 'Is it popular?' BUT conscience asks the question: 'IS IT RIGHT?''

'And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politics, nor popular; where he must do it because conscience tells him it is right."

What a gift Mr King has given us to recognize. A gift that in every interaction you can become aware of these questions and in doing so choose to listen to your conscience. For it is from this choice we can truly begin.

"Let us begin. Let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter - but beautiful - struggle for a new world.'

'The choice is ours. If we will but make the right choice, we will be able to speed up the day, all over America and all over the world, where justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."

This speech opposes the war in Vietnam, don't watch the video, just listen to it. Listen to it outside the context of Vietnam. Listen to it as if it were being given right now, in this moment. In this moment you must listen to it for the poor and struggling in our nation, for the poor and struggling abroad. For those stuck in the throes of war; especially for those stuck with it as a constant in their lives - especially the children who grow up knowing nothing else. For the women and young girls, all over this world, whom are raped and tortured starting at such young ages, even in the United States of America. For those whom have no time for dreams of their future because they are simply struggling to live in this moment right now.

Do not stop dreaming for them all. Do not stop speaking for them all. Most importantly do not stop loving them all ...



~TigressSky~

Catch Up

Tue, Jan. 14th, 2014 17:57
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Life is ... change.

afraid-of-change

Pants is still on antibiotics and steroids. This makes 4 straight months. That cannot be healthy and is most likely fucking up her immune system in some way. Yet the alternative could be worse so, I go with this for now.

I met the Godfather. It was a strange moment and at the same time it wasn't. I mean, my whole life has been one strange moment after another. I don't say that with any jest. The things I have done, seen, and been exposed to are, to put it lightly, quite enigmatic.

So, deciding to call on a man I had not seen in approximately 27 years. A man whom I knew for all of about 6 months of my youthful life. Well, it's not the strangest thing I have decided to do in my life and I quickly learned I needed to do it -- for many reasons.

One of those reasons is very selfish: Thomas.

There is a piece of me that hopes he will want to have contact with me again. That he will know I did not abandon him. Heck, truth is, I hope I remain important to him and that he wants to know me still. A few months back he popped up on Facebook, he is in 9th grade now so I knew it wouldn't be long before I could find him there.

While writing this I got brave enough to send him a friend request. Blah! Maybe that is stupid, but it can't be any stupidier than the rest of the things I have done in my life.

Anyway ...

The Godfather also opened my eyes up to the fact my "miserable past" people like to help me focus on was not really that miserable for me. Yes, I went through shit storm, after shit storm, after shit storm, yet through it all I smiled. I found the good in people whom were pretty bad. I loved. I laughed. I challenged myself and learned so much about the world. Experiencing more adventure in my youth than most adults experience in their 20's. I have stories people wouldn't believe, been places many dream of, and met so many different kinds of people from all over the world. All before I was 16!

As well, someone finally reminded me how much my mother loved me. How much I meant to her. Her world was insane and she did the best she could within that insanity to show me love, to raise me, and to find her way as well. Yeah, she fucked up a lot along the way, I mean A FUCKING LOT, but she did the best she could.

It's strange how much my heart cracked and I felt love just pouring into and out of myself in that moment. A moment in which I felt allowed to love my mother again. Which was the same moment I felt allowed to love my past as well.

I've been exploring a lot of what makes me me. Discovering pieces of my past that equate to the present action and reaction I have to things. Some of it I want to recognize and work on changing as it comes from fear. Some of it I want to embrace and run with because it comes from a place of hope, love, and laughter.

It's so different when you can sit with someone who doesn't make you feel shame about your past. It feels like I have spent years being told how "bad" my childhood was, and how I should have never gone through all I did. "It's horrible! HORRIBLE I TELL YOU!"

All of that horrendousness being repeated makes it that much easier to judge the person I had become as bad, because bad begets bad right? I mean I grew up with a lot of "bad" people. We did a lot of "bad" things. Nothing was normal. No wonder I can't be anything but bad and weird.

Except that is all wrong.

It is good to be bad and weird. It is good to grow young and not cold.

Hence the song I am working on the hardest lately, because you may think you know how it feels to be me, but I guarantee you definitely don't.



~TigressSky~
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
I talked to him, heard his voice again and for the first time ever had a fetish of mine I always wondered about answered. His voice is amazingly deep, almost hypnotic. He has a Brooklyn-New York'ish kind of bad boy accent. I always thought my infatuation with this male voice bloomed out of nowhere. Well, okay not necessarily nowhere, I mean all my life I have been surrounded by "bad boys" but most did not have this voice. So it always seemed like something I must have heard in a movie and been attracted to. That isn't the case though.

It was his voice. Just like the certain scent, found in a variety of male colognes, has always made me feel comforted and held. This voice does the same.

No I am not talking about romance and sex, in this voice and this scent. I am instead talking about a feeling of security, strength, and protection. Things that my mind grasped onto as safe in my youth. Things that are just a part of my psyche now.

Unlike others I do not have many constants in my life. Everything was always changing and so it makes sense that I would have found these types of small comforts to hold on to.

It is interesting the dots I have been able to connect lately. My quirks are there for a reason and those reasons are not negative. Being able to start appreciating the intricacies of the person I am is really helping me handle a lot of my recent grief at the loss of acceptance I have been going through.

We meet in person on Monday evening, without expectation, and I hope it isn't too ridiculously awkward. HA!

~TigressSky~
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Growing up my Mom was fond of starting over. Which is to say that we moved; a lot. Typically I spent no more than a year at any one location. This left me with a lifetime of people coming into and out of my life.

This isn't the norm for most people I meet. Most have moved maybe once or twice in their child hood. Typically not even moving out of the same school district and therefore making life long friends. Whom, become adults and may have changed from deep friends to fondly remembered acquaintances.

For me there are no life long friends ... just a long list of fondly remembered acquaintances. Acquaintances whom knew me only during one school season or short summer together. Acquaintances whom sometimes end up with a mythical status in my mind of the closeness I had been able to achieve with them in such a short while together. Acquaintances whom, all these years later, I have no expectation will even remember me -- as they grew up with lifelong friends whom certainly have had more profound an impact in their life than I ever had.

Yet once found, they all remember me and they all have always wondered about me. Remembering me with a fondness that is equal to our greater than my own for them. I am always amazed at the stories they have to share with me. The memories even my elephant brain has forgotten. Sometimes with tiny details I am so surprised they still carry in their hearts. Details so small I would have never remembered on my own -- even for the longest of life long friends; had I any.

How do they remember? Seriously, only knowing me for a few months out of a year or just for a year itself, How do I remain memorable to so many?

"Tried to be, a good man. But I've done so wrong for so long, I don't know if I can, ever be that man." These song lyrics run through my head so often. Was it all the wrong done in my life that brought about the ability to remember me? Or should I be recognizing I am already a "good man" and good men are remembered?

I've always had a loud mouth though, maybe that's it!

Regardless of the how, I am remembered.

Somewhere, that piece of me that was so scared of always being forgotten is smiling a bit at the knowledge of how remembered I am. Remembered while I am still here even. I'll be gone soon, and I hope I am remembered for a little while afterwords. Yet right now, I am sitting up from the table of my wake knowing there is a piece of me in many hearts and many memories ... and I feel blessed for all the souls I have known and touched in my life.

Brydge - New Day

Especially his. I will call him tonight and try and set-up a time to meet and maybe get to know each other again. Or at least just get a moment to say, "thank you" to him.

It's been many years, but every year for the past 13 I have been moved back to Oregon I have thought about trying to connect with him again. He was the first man I had been exposed to whom never beat my mother, whom never belittled her, whom knows what happened to me ... in so many ways.

He came into my life like some sort of breath of fresh air. Soon enough we were mingling with his very Portland friends whom happened to be in a band. I watched them record in the studio, but, even more fun, I got to hang out with backstage passes and watch them tear down and set-up for performances all over Portland and Western Oregon in the summer.

He was a chef and taught me how to cut mushrooms properly. I remember falling in love with making salads because of him. He and his friends entertained me as if I was not a nuisance and, although none of them had kids of their own, I never felt left out of anything.

Then again that was the norm of my life. Always hanging out with adults. Sharing in adult conversation. These adults where so different though. They didn't seem as crazy as the rest of them had in my life. None of them were bikers, none of them were alcoholics, none of them hit their women ...

When I reflect on community and the connections I have made there, these adults remind me of community. Closely connected, loving, respectful of each other, truly friends, and well, it was my first true knowledge of "wife swapping" people. hahaha!

Which, discovery of this last part is when my mom and he split. At least from what I understood of their fight anyway. Maybe I am off base, but I think many of the group had been swingers or love filled hippies, whom at least danced naked around bonfires together. My mom couldn't even handle a man she was dating watching a bra commercial on TV, "what the hell is this smut you are watching!" she would exclaim bitterly. By the time any response could be given the commercial would most likely be over and the accused would be left confused.

Anyway ... he was the first man I hated my mother for letting go of. Perhaps he stands as the first example of what I wanted a man to be. When I think about it, maybe he was my first grown-up crush. Hmmm....?

So it was last Friday I finally sent the email and this morning it was answered; happily. It was even followed up excitedly, making sure I received the response.

I'm nervous. I feel a bit silly. I don't know what this may all mean. I hope good things. We shall see.

~TigressSky~

Alone #5

Tue, Dec. 3rd, 2013 15:34
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Quick Update before I go into my rambling; Pants went in for surgery last Tuesday only to find out she can't really have surgery. Apparently she is just suffering from a severe infection of her salivary glands which means another 3 full weeks of strong as hell antibiotics and anti-inflammatories. Surgery on a salivary gland is a lot of work and can be dangerous. The doc did aspirate her and do some minor exploratory surgery checking everything carefully and there is definitely nothing lodged in her throat just infection. So I guess we lucked out there. In the week that has passed her neck seems perfectly normal again. I am hopeful when the medication stops, her neck stays the same. We shall see.

more me

Alone. I want to add the word again to that statement but, in truth, the correct addition is always.

It's how we start, it's how we end, it is the void in between. The void in which we are born and all our time is spent trying to fill the emptiness - people, places, things; the nouns we surround ourselves with. Often fooling ourselves into believing we have succeeded, always painfully aware there is no succeeding, no escaping; just lies that fill our inbetween.

Something strange is happening for me. Being ejected from the spotlight and told it is all my fault has torn me open in a much unexpected way.

For one, I have truly forgiven my mother ... there should be a long pause here, I wish I could put into words what all that means, but I myself still struggle to understand fully.

As well I struggle to forgive myself ... but that is another topic altogether. I am sure I may write about it, but who knows if I will share. I've stopped sharing much, it just gets used against me, makes me feel bad about who I am. Settling me deeper, ever deeper, into the void. Were I am lost wasting time trying to escape the alone again. The void, where so many sit grasping, practically begging, for connection to all the nouns one can surround them self with. The void where I find I am doing nothing more than lying to myself that if I can just be more, do more, prove more ... but ... there is no more.

So I just stop sharing and instead embrace.

Sitting closer to alone, holding it knowingly. Eventually Alone will be the dark cold arms in which we all lay our souls. Spending so much time running from it ... HA! what a joke.

In the end, if you cannot be happy with Alone, you will never be happy nor truly appreciate the nouns of which you naturally become surrounded. Don't spend your time in need of someone or something - instead spend it appreciating someone or something.

That is love.

That is a true connection with all you are and can become.

In intoxication I decorated my Christmas tree last night. Out of the literal hundreds of ornaments my mother and I had packed around our entire lives only three remain with me. The loss to me, of which is unexplainable, stings venomously every year and has done so for the past 15 years. One would expect it to get better, but there are some fantasies a child without a childhood cling to more desperately than others. I still believe in Santa.

A comedy dealing with loss knowingly provided the soundtrack for the evening. I pulled out the ornaments coated beautifully in the loss they have come to represent and yet, in the same coin toss, shining magnificently bright with all the happiness they held. Three of them come attached to a dead mother, all the rest come attached to a lost son, the yin-yang of yule. The return of the king. The death of a another. The end. The beginning ... of tears crawling out of the abyss I had lost them in. My lover embracing me.

Alone. Always.

I know those whom whisper darkly about me, the ways I fail - fail you, fail life, fail myself. Judgment ... just another way in which we can try to free ourselves from the Alone. The Alone is always, all ways, and All. It is that which we try and separate from life; grasping at nouns, shouting out abusive verbs, hiding behind the adjectives of a smile.

I love even as those dark words sneak their way to me and try and make me hate.

I love because I know. The darkness has always been and it cannot be used against me. 70% of the known Universe is darkness and from it springs the light and to it the light returns.

Stop trying to escape the alone and start embracing it -- recognize we are all saying, yelling, screaming at the top of our lungs the exact same thing, "Love me!"

Love me before the darkness calls me home.

~TigressSky~

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
I played this FB game and the number I was given is 13. As with everything I have over analyzed this and am answering wordily and, with a personal spin I don't normally share.

As well, I am breaking the rules of this game, taking it out of the FB arena and placing it here; I will give you a number if you ask me to within this post and you can play too! Thank you, drive thru!

1. I am a pretty kick ass drummer, even though I belittle my efforts with jokes about my inability all the time.

2. I'm an atheist and ritualist who is in love with the study of humanities mythological history -- believing wholeheartedly that a thorough understanding of the history of our mythos and it's profound impact and importance throughout time is key to our future ... if only every group could let go the past and move forward with an understanding that incorporates into modern life and allows for questioning and extreme change.

3. I have, at some point in my life, hung out with all 504 listed on my FB friends list and a majority of them continue to be a big part of my life. That being said ...

4. I truly find everyone on my friends list to be a friend I could count on if ever needed and every time I see the number associated to that finding I feel overwhelmed with sincere gratitude for all of you being a part of my life. That being said ...

5. My mother died on Valentine's Day in 1999. She had gotten lung cancer from smoking, which spread to her bones. Seeing my mother -- who had kicked this world's ass in the ways only a poor woman struggling to make it on her own can -- laying in bed absolutely defeated was one of the hardest things I have ever went through in my life. Due to her struggles to live her life and the choices she was forced to make she was seen as not a very nice person. Therefore her death bed was empty of anyone besides me. That was a real eye opener for a 22 year old girl and a catalyst for changes in my life that have lead me here, to have all of you in my life. Some of whom will ensure I am not alone in the end, sitting at my deathbed comforting me ... I am sure.

6. I moved constantly in my youth. Never attending the same school for more than a year, typically only 6 months. That being said ...

7. I can tetris pack everything, from moving boxes, to a small car, to a huge moving van. I can also tetris pack my home to create optimal living and display space throughout.

8. With minimal exception I witnessed every man in my mother's life beat the shit out of her. I also witnessed my mom push every man to the brink of being unable to control their anger and having every right to at least smack her.

9. I am diagnosed crazy -- bi-poler, manic, with severe depression. I have been proud of my ability to control and get past this without medicine. This "control" is a large part of what makes me overly analytical, and at times appear unemotional.

10. I have been in just a few physical fights in my life. I have won all of them. They have all been been with drunk men, strangers to me, while out with my friends in PDX. They have all been in defense of these friends. Several of the fights have emasculated a few male friends as I pushed them out of the way and took over the fight. They have all been while I am in high heeled combat boots, super short mini-skirts, and a teensy-tiny "just enough to cover the breasts" top. I am hear to affirm that women can in fact kick ass in little to nothing, wearing high heels, and mini-skirts ... for all of you who find that so unbelievable when it happens in movies. That being said ...

11. I hate fighting yet I have a fierce adherence to people behaving just and fairly.

12. I love to entertain. Making people happy be that with food, music, or just being a self-effacing jester is very important to me. The most fulfilling moments in life for me are knowing I have made someone smile with true joy.

13. When I was young I tried crawling through a barbed-wire fence to get into a small pet cemetary and pick the beautiful plastic flowers to gift to my step-grandma. It was Colorado in the middle of winter. I had no idea the flowers were not real or that the small fenced off area I had found, covered in snow, deep in the woods was a pet cemetary. I truly believed the 'verse had led me there to find these beautifully protected wild flowers growing in the snow like no others could and get them to my grandma. I would have gotten them to if it hadn't been for the curse'ed hand knitted mittens, coat, scarf, and hat that ended up pinning me to the barbed-wire! I was stuck there for well over an hour before my step-grandpa came and found me. He loosened me from the wire, swatted my but hard, then picked me up in his arms to squeeze me tight and say, "don't ever do this again!" To which I said, "don't worry Grandpa, Mighty Mouse would have saved me!!!" Yes, I had been standing there for an hour calling out to Mighty Mouse for help ... not scared at all.

~TigressSky~
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