cosmicmisfitsmusings

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

There are no bad choices.

The story goes on regardless.

All choices lead to interesting stories.

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

What is Happiness?

BUBBLES!

Happiness is like bubbles to me.

It is an act of ceation.

Bubbles are a beautiful but brief in-the-moment phenomenon made with the perfect combination of the interaction of air, solution and momentum. They can’t come from no where but can be easily accessible if you have the right mindset and materials. With happiness, just like bubbles, you have a variety of ways to create them. Soap bubbles, Champagne/carbonated bubbles, air bubbles, only you know the combination. Once you do suddenly the air, or your glass is filled with bubbles, but it leave the glass alone for to long those bubbles dissipate and the drink becomes flat. Put no effort into it and you just have soupy water.

It’s not just the big sweeping gestures or mile stones that create lasting happiness, rather the build up of the small moments.. where you feel your partner scratching on your knee and you look up to find the silly face, it’s playing with your friends or animal companions, making your favorite meal, or performing a dream role. It is unique to the individual. Just as success is relative so is what makes someone happy.

Happiness can be as short two seconds. Or it can last hours, even days. Some times that takes training to recognize and acknowledge when your happy in the moment. It helps to announce to the room or just quietly to yourself, “I am happy!”

Accepting that that feeling may not last or go away just as suddenly as it arrived and knowing that’s okay. Just got to go make more bubbles!

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

Question: Isn’t a Fact Always True?

Only if you continue to look at it from a single perspective. Twist yours just a bit and the world becomes a kaleidoscope of truths that are quite separated from Facts.

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

Some times we say we’ve had enough, so we scream out our last harrowing hurrah to the universe. And the universe responds, “ahhh that’s the voice I was looking for. Speak again dearest, see how others have heard you.”

My comment on Hannah Gadsby’s photo of her walking off and out of the spotlight after performing Nanette for the final time. To say that special has had an effect on me is putting it lightly.

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

Question:

Does a clam know the value of its pearls?

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

fuck the idea that your stuff is “too weird to write”. your concept isn’t “too obscure”. your worldbuilding isn’t “too niche”. fuck this whole idea that writing success is measured in copies sold or kudos or mainstream appeal. sometimes writing success is just making whatever the heck you wanted to make. 

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

A comforting thought

Five thousand years ago, the Sumerians called the night ngi, the stars mul, and the moon Nanna.

Four thousand years ago, the Akkadians called the night mūšu, the stars kakkabū, and the moon Sîn.

Three thousand years ago, the Hittites called the night išpanza, the stars haštereš, and the moon Arma.

Two and a half thousand years ago, the Greeks called the night nux, the stars astra, and the moon Selênê.

Two thousand years ago, the Romans called the night nox, the stars stellae, and the moon Luna.

Kings and queens and heroes looked up at them. So did travelers coming home, and little children who sneaked out of bed. So did slaves, and mothers and soldiers and old shepherds, and Sappho and Muršili and Enheduanna and Socrates and Hatshepsut and Cyrus and Cicero. In this darkness it didn’t matter who they were, or where they stood. Only that they were human.

Think of that tonight, when you close your window. You are not alone. You share this night sky with centuries of dreamers and stargazers, and people who longed for quiet. Are you anxious? The Hittites were too: they called it pittuliyaš. Does your heart ache? The Greeks felt it too: they called it akhos. Those who look up to the stars for comfort are a family, and you belong to them. Your ancestors have stood under Nanna, Sîn, Arma, Selênê and Luna for five thousand years. Now its light is yours.

May it soothe you well.

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

I AM:

I write to figure out the I Am of me. Because this last year has been all about those two words, I am. “I am fine” “I am doing good! Really good. Really I am!” I am not.

I am alone. I am a mess. I am surviving. I am strength.

Writing is tied to me, providing the truth behind each I AM. I may try to ignore it, willingly and just as unwillingly.

The Why in “Why I write” has already been said by a million others, they don’t remain any less true. To understand, to clear my mind and cleanse my emotions, to hear the new or to understand the old. The Why is simple because like the air around me I need words, metaphors and stories in my world to keep me sustained, entertained, and whole.

So I write- because there I find me.

I am.

I am The Cosmic Misfit

I am a girl without a mother twice over.

I am an orphan twice over as well, once by the actions of man and now by the creations of a god and a universe I can’t understand.

I am surrounded by an overflowing excess of figures to provide the mother and father roles. I am not alone.

Just as chaos and order can coexist in the light and darkness so I am strength am I am vulnerability.

I am silliness, playfulness, a light and airy thing that sparkles with glee.

I am both the barren gardens and their gardener at the end of a traumatic season, shocked and numb and horrified at my lack of crop. I must remember the trauma, and only with time and wonderful self nurturing will I grow wild and full once again. Very few things in nature bloom fully all year round, and even the mightiest of oaks is still at the mercy of a tornado, I remind myself.

I am an anime magical pixie girl. Manic enough to make you truly believe I am changing your world view for the better. Oh the better person you will be when I am done with you, but in reality it just so happened my solitary path crossed with yours, so while you remain in your slump, I dance joyfully ever onward.

I am the cat-eared, leopard spotted, witchy girl who plucks lavender, watches the moon cycle, trusts in the universe, even as she still doesn’t understand its ways, but oh how she is still eager for its lessons!

I am a bored Disney princess, sick of captivity and the same thirty books and forty movies that are all the same storylines told over and over again and again. I am ready for new, adventure, sights, personalities, romance and the epic journey of introducing a fully realized me to a unknown population.

I am the mythical, ethereal Phoenix whose world and body has burned so many times that in the flames of the last blast, I chose to rise up again not just as a mere Phoenix, but instead morphing into the Dragon so the flames no longer hurt as they burn and I embody all the fires of the universe: creativity, love, passion, and I ache to share these soul enlightening fires with the world. Fully knowing my way has to be gentle, for all they will see is a Dragon and not question nor care how I came to be.

I am every young literary author just beginning their word journey, unsure and doubtful of the voice I possess, fearful of that wider rejection, and utterly terrified of what will happen if I were to remain selfish and not share my words with the world.

I am Renee, I am doing fantastically. I am my own parental voice, I am my own inner child. I am getting through this one way or another. I am the child who has survived. I am the girl who still laughs in pure defiance of the ordered. I am not logical. I am the young woman journeying her path alone. I am motherly, I am ancient. I am wise. I am ever learning, ever teaching. I am young. I am soft, I am kind. I am loving. I am grieving, I am suffering. I am confused. I am furious. I am hurt. I am lonely. I am scared. I am excited. I am ecstatic. I am wonder. I am okay. I am. I am. I am.

I.

Am.

First draft written on Oct 3rd, 2017 in a Writing to Heal group, modeled after Terry Tempest Williams “Why I Write.”

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

Elusive, evasive, I stumble after the peace I seek. When I pause and take a deep breath, there it lays just beyond the horizon, it's clear, bright and inviting; rising up like the emerald city. A goal to pursue. But then sometimes the peace finds me in my own storm. It settles over me like an umbrella, invites me to simply sit back and watch the raindrops and marvel at the thunderclap passing by. I can still feel the wind and chill but I am dry for now. Until another particular gust of wind comes tearing by, requiring my attention, my alertness, taking off with my sheltered companion. So beginning my chase again.

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

In My Mother's Footsteps I Shall Follow

In big gold letters my mother had written on the mantelpiece in her bedroom of our old house. "O, World I cannot hold thee close enough!" How I now long to creep into that old house, sneak expertly up those stairs and steal back every gold letter of that St. Vincent Millay quote and fold them neatly over the pieces of my heart. This sentiment made the world her friend. Her inner hearts calling card. I am safe. I am fun. I want to be your friend. A Demeter in her glory, growing, connecting, fueling. What a challenge for this introverted, trauma riddled Persephone comfortable in her land of misfit toys, where the dark was safe, and she felt that only the few could be trusted, now to be stranded in bright harsh world of the living and to continue to declare quietly; a friendly call to the world and an inner challenge to herself. "O, World I cannot hold thee close enough!"

[cosmicmisfitsmusings]

Ode to the Power of Dancing Nude

Prompt: Why yes, dancing nude to Taylor Swift's Shake it Off is about as cathartic as it sounds. It's funny how easily it happens. It starts with just the music. This playlist is selected for its brightness, the pop and sunny additive to this glum world we find ourselves in. Soon the music begins to take an effect. First the tune starts emitting from you in a low hum or a long held note, next comes the wiggle of your foot followed directly by a pop of your head. Like it's the permission some part of you is waiting for, lyrics begin to pour freely from you almost unbidden. You didn't think you knew or felt every word of this song with this much passion, but you don't stop. When your hips start making jumps and gyrations off the couch, forcing you from your lounging position on to your feet, the iPad is tossed aside as the infectious build up is all the entertainment you need. It isn't all that surprising once on your feet to feel you arms start to lose it, with your legs just bouncing you along. Your head is thrown back as you scream the main chorus again, and you realize how you needed this. Needed to hear this, needed to dance to this. Needed to indeed shake it off. Shake it all off. Shake off pain, heartache, shake off fear, disappointment and dread. As you dance wildly, you begin to finally shake off that dark unfamiliar and uncomfortable cloud that has enveloped you in the last few months. As you spin through mists you thought were so impermeable, you are hit with the realization that it's all just mist. That the cloud and cover isn't your reality, that it took the trigger of jovial music and the freedom and security to be in your element that the spark in you was reignited. That your personal glow is enough to turn the glum in your world into nothing more then mist. Pesky Logic and that dark companion who is always near by reminds you that this won't last. The music has to stop sometime. And when it does you know that dark cloud will descend thicker, heavier then before, almost shaming you for being happy for just a second. But with a little music, a little mischief in your heart you mustn't forget your own sunshine power, that glee that confuses the Glum, the smiles that silence the sour. You hold amazing power within you. And sometimes it takes a teen pop idol around your own age to remind you that to access it, all you have to do is simply: shake it off.