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misty_rain Maelstrom - Subscribe
I remember the day the walls
first came down.

It was like the whole room fell into
a wormhole that was you.

My own maelstrom to stare in the eye,

AND peace like the
place between the worlds...

I hate you for capturing me.

~misty
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Mood: no mood

misty_rain I may never get there, but I keep working at it Feb 5th, 2006 5:48:39 pm - Subscribe
**** Agenda

I keep reworking my schedule and reworking my schedule. I used to say to myself that my lack of time was a blessing, because it forced me to make decisions. Lack of time makes me choose. How would I ever know who I am if I never had to choose anything, or had all my choices made for me.

If I choose reading a book over learning flamenco, I may regret my inability to dance, but at least I know what choice I made.

I finished the book "Divine Conspiracy." Some of the things it talked about, like solitude, and prayer, have influenced my opinion about the best way to spend time. Even though I hated the book "The Hawk and the Dove," some of the themes in it reinforced what "Divine Conspiracy" had to say.

When I reworked my schedule this week, I tried to make a significant time commitment to prayer and solitude.

It's tough to schedule a time when you have an appointment to walk into an empty room, and hope that God meets you there...

I also assigned more time to M.A.

**** Chatting with the folks

I told my family how much I love M.A. and how I believe in it, and how it helps kids with everything from self-confidence to communication disorders, and helps adults keep fit and stand up for the right way and right choices.

**** Other

The Midas Touch

in a spiritual sense
if everything I did turned to beauty and right
if I saw results beyond and past what could be accomplished by my own ability
if things came together the way I could have asked if I had ultimate wisdom
if I were a warrior and healer in one
if I and my people found comfort and safety in each other

and pain removed, and boredom banished, and despair incarcerated forever...

if only, if only
This is my prayer and deepest desire:
To be in your presence forever, O God.
if only, if only

**** Pain supplanted

I was happy about the way things turned out. So happy I could have painted the antithesis to "Preternatural"
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Mood: sensitive
Random Thought: Cumulous clouds are the white, puffy ones

misty_rain Valentines Day Gifts Feb 17th, 2006 12:34:04 am - Subscribe
On Valentine's Day, I got four gifts. Bob came back from his trip and brought T-shirts and baseball caps for both assistants, and a bottle of green tea scent for each of us, and then Doug called (he gets free tickets a lot) and told me he had two opera tickets and did I want them, he was busy that evening.

And I figured that four gifts was pretty cool for someone who doesn't have anybody - date-wise.

The opera was beautiful. If it weren't for Doug, I would still never have seen an opera.

As for the other thing, after I decided I wasn't going to be a masochist about it, it seemed to stop hurting.

There's so little that I'm masochistic about, but that situation was painted so blue, with such streaks, I indulged a little.

Like putting finger-paints in front of a little kid. The kid knows what the finger-paints are for. He goes right in.

And it was the same for me. I saw the situation and it was beautifully constructed for emotional pain, and there wasn't any way to skirt the pain, (or any way to skirt the pain that my former counselor Libby would approve of), so I just waded into it.

And I wallowed in it for a while.

And then at some point it was time to deal with it, so, like I said, I just decided not to be a masochist about it any more.

Of course, it isn't always that easy. It's just the timing of the thing.

I'm not making much sense today, but its okay, because I know what I'm saying.
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Mood: cautious

misty_rain Nothing much Feb 26th, 2006 11:26:54 pm - Subscribe
Phooey.

So, are these posts to grow more and more cryptic? I sort of wish for the day when these blogs were places you could tell strangers your soul, even if, like me, you aren't the type to get drunk in a dank bar and sing your sorrows over beer nuts and pilsner.

Not that I have sorrows today. There's just something about being honest with strangers. It's beautiful, sort of illuminating, and rewarding in the sense of being seen/heard.

Plus other folks would tell you things that they would not tell you in person, not if you paid them 10K.

Cut through the opaqueness and bare your soul.

I love reading folks I wouldn't otherwise get to talk to. From the nausea I felt at reading what crap barrista_frog's girlfriend put him through, to the feeling of satisfaction I get when the high schoolers report good grades or a sense of well-being.
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Mood: boring