Ready to Live IV – I

DSC_4046This was bliss to paint … but then who doesn’t like painting the sky? I must admit I’m going for breathtaking Sweet Pea here. Wish me luck. ?

It’s January! Fresh New Year and everything! Whoa — how did that happen?


I couldn’t sleep, listened to The Black Keys and Florence and the Machine whilst finishing off the third bag o’ Halls Assorted Citrus Cough Drops, which Rock. I must say. Hence the third bag, not to mention the cough, but if you must, go there into the Assorted Citrus. Next, lo I only have the one in my mouth and three on the computer desk, sigh, and then two bags of Strawberry, ’cause they were OUT at the store.


My back is effed up in a big way. And my neck. I wore my back brace yesterday for the books moving but alas. And Thus and So. Lots of heating pad on it last night up until midnight.

And then I started my first meditation for the year, grappling with what peace would be looking like, vision-wise. See, it include yin AND yang. There will always be the need for conflict resolution. So not the ethereal clean swipey glowy thing. Mind you. But Peace. What should it be, feel like? Grapple, lo, I did. But I determined my own iteration of a popular phrase, be the change you want to see … be the peace you want to see …

No likes on the FB but what the hey … we averted the fiscal cliff … πŸ™‚

I’m so hopeful. I’m bursting with hope. I’m like some sort of peaceful Teflon Terminator. I’ll be back, and back and continue to go forward. For now anyway. I feel that buoyant at the moment.

I keep having so many alters and flashbacks while I’m going through the day. I’m learning how to let them stay with me. One of them is a passenger in the car on Main Street in Winter looking at the gray sky looking for any way out. Please, she says, will I ever get out of this town? I mean, I love this town, but I feel like a prisoner here. She was. I spoke to her and tried to tell her just to keep daydreaming, so she did.

I remembered getting dumped by my boyfriend because I was scared to kiss him. For this girl who would put out. How confusing was that? When I was being abused? I was afraid of losing control if I kissed him. How could I explain the vortex of sex to him? That a kiss wasn’t just a kiss? I wasn’t innocent in fourth grade but I didn’t know how to explain anything to anyone.

Cue to riding in car and feeling like a prisoner and unable to explain or communicate anything.

I wouldn’t give anything for the knowledge I have now, and the ability to pull her from that car into the future, into the current time and have her sit within me and enjoy painting somehow. A blue sky. Violets, she asked? No, Sweet Peas. She doesn’t know Sweet Peas.

This is all such a strange process of recognizing myself and integration. I really don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but my counselor does. I just do what synchronizes and feels right. Welcome myself and feel bits and pieces home for the first time into a new place. We’re not altogether at home in a foreign place but we’re making it work. We love being creative, music, Nature, loving, Spirit. It will all work out, but it’s one big mystery if you ask ME.


Yoga twice or more a day, meditation while resting. Part of the antidote. I recommend. πŸ™‚

Happy New Year!


About amyjacksoncc

I am a professional artist, writer and musician creating from my home studio. To view my artwork, visit
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