Gratitude

Thoughts.

Have known, but finally realized how much I need to raise my vibration levels on a daily basis, and embrace the joys more than the negatives. But I also need to embrace the negatives, not letting them take over, but using them as a measurement by which I understand how wonderful the positives really are.

This is hard, since I have, for most of my life, I think, tried to keep my energy levels low, thinking it would serve me better in the long run. It has and hasn’t, and it’s time for a change.

Today I started with an indoor walk. I’m going to listen to fun music when I get a chance. I’m going to find something else I can do that will fit into what is going to be a long workday, that will make me feel good.

I am smiling because I am a great aunt of a baby who is a total miracle.

I smiling because I don’t have to buy a new car for awhile, and my old one is working great.

I am smiling because I got in touch with a cousin I haven’t spoken to in a very long time, and I will, hopefully, see her at family reunion this year.

I am smiling because my book is coming together.

I am smiling because I have a job I love, friends who I love, family that I love, a home that I love, a cat that I love, a life that I love.

I am blessed.

I am grateful.

I smile.

Writing Prompt Challenge Day #7

WC: 200

genre: childrens

character: pilot

material: fire

sentence: this is delicious

bonus: great storm

Billy walked around his airplane, checking it just like his father had taught him.

Even though it didn’t really have wings, wheels, or a tail, he was still careful because he was going to be a pilot, just like his dad when he grew up.

Satisfied, he climbed into the cardboard cockpit.

“Everything is a-ok,” he said. “Let’s get some water in the tank and put out that forest fire.”

“Okay,” Sam replied. “Let’s go.”

Billy made noises like an engine starting up. They were just about to fly when his mom called out, “Lunch is ready!”

He climbed out of the box quickly. “Oh good! A great storm just started. The fire is out.”

“What about me?” Sam asked, sadly.

Billy pulled pieces of a cookie from out of his pocket.

“You can have this.” He laid them on top of the box.

“Who are you talking to? ” Sally asked from the doorway. “There’s nobody there.”

“Yes, there is, it’s my copilot,” Billy replied.

They went to the kitchen arguing about his imaginary friend.

Back at the airplane the cookie pieces lifted up and then disappeared. There were crunching noises that nobody heard.

“This is delicious,” Sam said.

Writing Prompt Challenge Day #6

With studied nonchalance, Jessie sauntered to the door, pretending to sip wine from the cut glass goblet. Pausing to make sure the other inhabitants remained preoccupied with each other, were watching the game, or browsing the buffet table, she slipped into the hall, closing the door behind her.

The sound of rabidly excited baseball fans rolled through the stadium hall as the player who’d slammed the ball into far right field while she was escaping made his way around the bases.

Despite the noise, she felt her tension level fall a notch. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly.

“Lord, what a day!” she muttered.

Being an up and coming athlete who need sponsorship sucked, because it meant she had to schmooze with snooty rich bitches, and dodge advances from creepy, predator-type bastards, who assumed they had the right to make slimy propositions.

Only her manager’s timely intervention had allowed her to get away for a brief respite before she did something regrettable.

She had been out less than a minute, but it was enough to restore her equilibrium. About to reopen the door, she noticed something glittering several feet away.

The curved display case, which separated the entrance of this private box from the next, was shattered. Apparently made of safety glass, even though it was heavily cracked, only a few pieces had landed on the floor.

Now that she was looking, she could see the handle of what appeared to be a snow shovel sticking out of the hole the perpetrator had made. Then something inside moved, and something large else fell with a crash.

Intrigued, she crept closer, peering through the hole.

Her mouth fell open as the biggest possum she’d ever seen crawled sedately along the shelf, knocking plaques and trophies off their perches.

Writing Prompt Challenge Day #5

WC: 550
Genre: Adventure
Character: Angel
 Material: a fridge
Line: It's your fault
Bonus: damsel in distress

"Where are you?" She whimpered.

Reaching down she shimmied the rope that was supposed to be binding her to the tree back up around her waist. She’d had to do it several times, and it was getting extremely annoying.

Chaz had been in a hurry, neglecting to fasten the line properly. Not that it mattered. She only needed to give the appearance of subjugation so that, after triumphantly defeating the villain, her hero, Roberto would feel even more heroic as he released her.

The problem was it had been hours. It was going to be dark soon, and there was no sign of either of them. If no one showed up soon she was going to be alone in the wilderness, in the dark. That was unacceptable, and definitely not the way this was supposed to play out.

She listened, hoping to hear the approach of someone, anyone; at this point she didn’t care who. But there was only the incessantly chirping birds, and the occasional rustle of a foraging squirrel to break the silence.

No one was coming. All was lost!

“Dear heaven,” she exclaimed. “Save me!”

A brassy trumpet fanfare echoed through the woods, and a pillar of light thumped onto the forest floor, causing the rope to give up even the suggestion of holding her captive, landing in a limp pile around her feet.

Screaming she tried to back up through the tree trunk. It resisted, though a few leaves came loose and floated down upon her head.

“Behold!” the light thundered. “You have called upon heaven, and heaven has answered!”

The world spun, taking her with it into darkness.

*

“Hey, come on! Wake up!”

The voice was exquisite, rich and musical. Nonetheless, it was annoying in its insistence on bringing her back to consciousness, forcing her to realize she was lying on the ground, and a stick was trying to gouge out one of her kidneys.

Shifting to one side to relieve the pain, she opened her eyes and found a being of radiant luminosity returning her gaze.

If pressed she would not have been able to describe what she was seeing, if it was male, female, clothed or naked. But the impression of great beauty was aided by soft, ethereal music emanating from nowhere and everywhere, filling the area with a sound that transcended the senses, wrapping around her like a sheet of finest silk.

It was so wondrous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so awe-inspiring… until it burped. No, not a burp, a belch of monumental proportions that actually made her hair whip around as if caught in a wind tunnel.

“Shorry ‘bout that,” the vision slurred.

“You’re drunk?” Krista’s awe turned to disbelief.

“No, no, not drunk.” The angel denied, then staggered to the left before it catching itself by spreading what she assumed were its wings. “Jush had a few drops of th’ old ambrosia. Good stuff!”

Disbelief became outrage. She scrambled to her feet, glaring into what she assumed was its face.

“I was kidnapped, tied to a tree and left to possibility be mauled by tigers in the night,” she yelled. “I was supposed to be rescued by a handsome prince!”

“Yeah, about tha'. Shorry, but it's your fault. We were having a l’il party, and the fridge landed on ‘im.”

Writing Prompt Challenge Day #4

Day #4 Writing Prompt Challenge

Word Count - 150

Genre - Magical Realism

Character - movie producer

Material - binoculars

Sentence - "Where did you get that wound?"

Bonus - involves a fight

Who are you?

Rose Chatham, your new producer.

You’re the sorceress.

Yes.

What happened to Stan?

There have been complaints. The studio sent me investigate. I did. He is gone.

Where?

Why are you here?

We need a bigger basilisk for the fight scene. The one we have will get eaten by the chimera in no time flat.

Why didn’t you get the proper size one to begin with?

Stan said it wasn’t in the budget. I was going to have it out with him, but now you’re in charge.

Yes I am, and I agree. I’ll have the trainer provide what you need.

Great. By the way, I have to ask, where did you get that wound?

Rose’s enigmatic smile made him pale and quickly leave the room.

Conjuring up binoculars, she checked to see if the griffon was done eating. Satisfied, she began going over the new budget.

Writing Prompt Challenge Day #3

Writing Prompt Challenge #3

WC: 250

Genre: Crime

Char: Child hater

Material: binoculars

Quote: Everyone keeps ignoring me

Extra: Character hated by everyone

Dangling the binoculars strap from her index finger, Sandra raised her left eyebrow quizzically.

"I like to look at birds," Bert snarled defensively. Snatching the glasses away, he set them on the windowsill pulling the grimy curtain back into place, returning the room to what was obviously its customary claustrophobic gloom.

Waddling to the dingy sofa, he plopped down onto the beaten-to-exhaustion cushions with a loud groan. The detective struggled not to gag as an all but visible odor, reminiscent of mothballs, and musty, unwashed hair, assaulted her nose. 

She kept her reaction ruthlessly under control, unwilling to appear weak in front of her partner, who remained standing at the entrance to the cluttered room.

"I understand you were served with a cease and desist notice from city council because you were calling daily to complain about the neighborhood kids."

Bert’s face reddened. “They do it just to make me mad, but when I told the police they ignored me. Everyone always keeps ignoring me. I didn’t do anything to that kid, even though you all think I did. Everyone hates me!” he whined.

She was about to ask why, when without warning a three foot long monitor lizard emerged from under the coffee table, moving quickly toward her. Her gun was trained on it without conscious thought. 

As if intimidated by her action the beast stopped several feet away, giving her a cold reptilian stare, before opening its mouth in a threatening hiss.

“There’s a good kitty,” Bert crooned.

Writing Prompt Challenge Day #2

Writing prompt challenge, Day 2 -
Word count: 250
Genre: adventure
Character: fascist
material: carrot
phrase: This means war
Optional: Civilization has come to an end

Fascists are icky people. Just sayin'…

__
I looked down upon the city which lay in ruins, collapsed buildings crushing the vehicles that had been fleeing the destruction. The end had come not with a whimper, but with a bang. Although there had been plenty of whimpering. Millions had died. And yet, there were still so many survivors.

I thought of some of those I’d come across in my travels, the ones that had threatened me, run me off, or even tried to kill me. They had tried and they failed.

The chaos of anarchy was a common denominator throughout the land. But now, things were about to change.

I looked across the lines of soldiers I'd recruited; the ones who believed in bringing order back to the world. I’d dangled the carrot, and they’d taken the bait, believing that under my leadership, we could and would restore civilization. But this time I was not going to let some weak, all-people-are-equal idiocy weaken the foundations of governance.

Everyone would do what I wanted, get what I allowed, and my generosity would keep them safe and fed, allow them utilities, and jobs. But only if they behaved.

A shot rang out. Behind me a scream and a thud as someone collapsed. There were calls for a medic, but I did not look back to see, my focus solely on those who stood against me and mine.

“Sir”! My top general approached. “They refused your offer. What now?

“It’s obvious,” I replied. “They didn’t listen. This means war!”

Writing Prompt Challenge Day 1

The challenge was 400 words.

The genre: romance

The character; communist

Material; a bottle of champagne

Sentence; "Do you enjoy hurting people?"

Bonus: Character is fearless to the point of stupidity.

I am amused. Heh

__

"No," she screamed as the ship began to rise.

Raising the bottle, she threw it as hard as she could at the dull, metallic surface.

Glass shattered. Cool liquid splashed back against her face.

For a moment, the ships movement paused, before it once again began to lift. Desperate and determined, she took several steps backward, then ran forward as fast as she could, flinging herself onto the wet surface. Immediately she slid backward, the wetness of the champagne, and the steep slope of the ships hull rejecting her attempt.

"Please!" She cried, as she tumbled to the ground. "Don’t go! Please!"

Her landing cushioned by broken wheat stalks, she watched his ship fly away, the devastating realization that she would never see him again leaving her feeling as if she’d been thrown from a fifth story window onto concrete.

"I love you", she whispered as the craft disappeared into the night sky.

Curling into a ball, she began to weep hysterically.

Eventually, however, her tears ran out, and that’s when she realized she was not alone.

“You said you love me.”

For a moment she thought she was hallucinating.

“I have indeed returned.” His mental voice was deep and sonorous, unmistakable.

Struggling into a sitting position, she used the tail of her shirt to wipe eyes before she could focus on the figure standing before her.

“You come back?” she croaked. “Why?”

"You said you love me," he repeated, his tone wondering. “Even though I kidnapped you, implanted a device within you, and removed your memory, you still love me?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I do. The moment I saw you I fell in love. Do you love me, or do you just enjoy hurting people?”

“I was just doing my job. But you were different. You are different,” he replied. He turned away slowly.

She bolted to her knees, reaching out. “No! Please!”

He looked back. “I cannot stay.”

“Then take me with you,” she pleaded.

“My people are not like yours. We believe in total equality.”

“That’s wonderful,” she exclaimed. “I’m a communist. I will fit fit right in.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” she interrupted.

“Then come.” He extended his hand toward her.

She took it, careful not to put too much weight on it and stood, towering over his slight, gray figure. Looking down into those large, dark pupiless eyes, she smiled tenderly.

“Let’s go, my love.”

Ever get the feeling that you are not alone? I don't mean alone on the planet; not alone within yourself? Your body? Your mind? (And I'm also not talking about demonic possession, or schizophrenia, either.)

No, what I'm talking about is your personality, separated into small bits, each of which has a separate task it takes on that gets you through your life.

I was introduced to this idea from the Light Body course I've been taking on and off for awhile. In it, they talk about the sub-personalities that have developed, and how, due to their perceptions, they can sabotage you, even if that is not their intent. Their purpose is to keep you safe, but what worked in the short run can do terrible damage in the long run, because they have developed habitual behaviors that are now running in the background (habits do that), and you don't even realize that that programming is keeping you from moving forward. You just... be the way you have been for so long because it doesn't take effort.

But, in the back of your mind, there's a little jail cell where the you who is supposed to be accomplishing things is rattling the bars, and screaming "LET ME OUT!"

As much as your habitual sub-personality program tries, it cannot not completely silence that voice, though it can come up with some diabolical ways to distract from it. Specifically, addiction to things as, apparently, benign as video games, and as viciously destructive as drugs, alcohol, or ingesting laundry detergent pods on a dare. (Really!? GAH!) 

I was listening to a guided meditation, and it was telling me to envision what my hearts desire was in that moment. As I did, I became aware of what I began to visualize as a block, right over and just above my heart. It felt familiar, as if I had experienced this before. And then I realized - I have experienced this before, many times. I've even previously identified it, but didn't do anything about it, just accepted.

This time, however, I'm taking a different tack. I'm renaming it. And every chance I get, I'm going to address it, comfort it, and show it that even though it used to be called 'anticipated disappointment', its new name is now 'anticipated gratitude'. We will put aside the history and fears that led to developing this mindset, and encourage me to keep the channel open to receiving the best, rather than expecting the worst, or, at the very least, the least.

This is my intention. I know it will be difficult at the beginning, because changing deepset programming is. But it's time now. I've got too much to do. Too much I want and need to do to fulfill my 'soul work' in the time I have left on this plane, however much that may be.

Onward!