Friday, November 20, 2009


Today I threw away a pair of navy blue Reeboks I had bought back in 2002. The 1st pair of shoes I throw away in a good while.

I don't consider myself attached to my things (except maybe a few books, a couple of CDs and of course my mage props), and I certainly don't make a lot of trash compared to the common man with lifestyle, social class and eating habits similar to mine, but throwing shoes away always have an uncannily strong impact on my emotional welfare.

This has been a good week, professionally. I got the O.K. from the boss to buy the method books and CDs for the elders I teach on Wednesday, yesterday I was met with grins and title-embellished greetings when I arrived at the school, and the manager of the center I teach on Fridays told me this morning that the students (old, grumpy Spaniards, mind you!) are happy with me. And then she told me we should talk one of these days. I felt so relieved.

But now, at the Webdesign course, I'm realising I haven't put as much attention and effort as I probably should, and as a result I'm not learning. Nobody else really is, but I've been physically, emotionally and (most especially) intelectually tired. Exhausted. The teacher being an inept who can't teach anybody anything really, refused to help me today. And here I am, being weird and unfriendly with people (not really impolite), and feeling like I don't have friends or family in this world. It always happens when I toss shoes, and I'd definetely love to know why.

My husband is leaving for the weekend with his friends and without me for the billionth time, and for the first time I feel awful about it. My vegetarian gang has organised a night out tonight and haven't invited me. I invited them for the Yoga meeting tomorrow and they all have other plans.

It's shocking and it's novel, but I'm taking it all personally this time around.

I thought of putting an image of the old shoes on this blog entry, but then on a second thought I decided it'd be too depressing. So it is gone now, and I don't have a visual token of it. It's probably better this way.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

A Day

I might have missed something, but for some reason I don't completely get, over the past year I have shifted radically from a colourful brat, emanating Energy and loudness, to a very sober advocate of discreetness and lover of the Santosha life. Might have been Enlightenment.

Today is a day I cherished in every way and second, and two years ago, I'd want to commit suicide for pushing myself through it. I woke up much later than usual, and spent a long time cuddling in bed with my husband. By the time I got up, I wasted the little time I had left before lunch doing absolutely nothing interesting in the Internet. Then I ate, did a few things I wanted to do for a quite some days now (cleaned the glass-ceramic, placed an ad to give away a CD rack we don't want anymore, studied a little German) but wasn't able to, and went to teach an EFL class--yeah, but I'm not even mad that I have to "work" on Sundays. This student is a joy. Then I came back home, had a lovely warm shower and had dinner. All very slow, very low-key and very peaceful.

Then, at times during a day spent mostly on a high, pleasant vibration, I worried again about my teaching gig with the retired people. I'm going to ask my coordinator for a method on Wednesday, and there's the student who had offered to get the methods for me free of charge. I hate to go through that drama. My husband says it's a feeling of cowardice I have, but I disagree. I was feeling really good about this job until I realised I would need some planning, some structure to ground on and not feel so pressured to "be imaginative".

But I don't want that to ruin the following days, like it has made last week hell-like. I will watch one of my Pink Panther DVDs now, go to bed not too late and wake up cheerfully to a seemingly boring Monday.

Life can be very pretty after you begin manipulating Time.

Friday, November 13, 2009


In my current phase of restlessness, I've been reading Internet pages about Witchcraft like crazy. And I'm partially obsessed with the idea of finding a partner to study and practice Tantra with. Live.

Today I mentioned to some students at the Friday intermediate group I teach that I'll begin using a book for our weekly lessons. They were quick to show moderate support for the idea, and one of them offered to order with his book-dealer friend the books for all of us (my Teacher's copy and his colleagues' Student's version). I felt so good that in some way the Big U supported my decision to take the easy road and rely on a book instead of only my personal Creativity with Serendipity. Although I won't be fully relaxed until I have the book in my hands, and at least half of the students do, too (I've learned that managing groups and relying on their initiative can be VERY frustrating); but I feel much more confident for the following weeks. Basically, I feel I only need to survive and make-do until the book is around. So, I feel mentally free and emotionally serene enough to surf Witchvox's EXTENSIVE archives, scan past threads on Internet discussion boards, nibble on several covens' online Disk of Shadows and so on. Replenishing times.

I'm also finding chunks of time for practice, not just browsing and collecting theory. Last night I made a brisk session of devotional dance for my Triple Soul and worked some with Energy. Tonight I'll play some with the Gaiadon Heart techniques I learnt this Autumn.

And I'm still to find a tantric partner for live practice. Like the book, he'll come. Providential.

Image: "The Old Librarian", by Myrea Pettit (from

Thursday, November 12, 2009

First Crack

Overstimulation when I am far from my Kala state is certainly one of the feelings I dread the most, but I will credit overstimulation as the motivation for cracking the thick ice that had accumulated all over me for the past, unfortunate months of writing deprivation and regular detouring.

Japanese charms are usually powerful. When I was in Sampa almost one year ago, I bought myself a Daruma doll, wished that I had a career to tend to and a professional identity to ground on, and painted his left eye black. One year later, my Basic Self is feeling overwhelmed with the creative rush that teaching English to retired folks has brought into my life for the past two and a half months.

The feeling is not comfortable, though. I definetely feel awake and alive, but also overwhelmed, obsessed and about to crack under the pressure that being an authority figure for five considerably-sized groups of people fifty years older than you produces.

I feel I'm all by myself in this responsibility, but I'm keen on using tricks and searching for sources of help and support. This weekend, I'm buying a book to use with them in the classroom, so I can relax and let go of the never-ending responsibility of planning and creating class activities. Yesterday I fortunately wrote Diane, and she opened my eyes to the fact that I've expanded so much with this new job that I can't even contain myself. I've managed to finally relax after understanding this.

Some plans for the long-term: a scholarship to get my Master's degree (probably in the German language), go back to witchcrafting, cull and let go of duties and obligations that aren't really mine.

So there's no more elusive dreams with Music, short-lived creative fires of Cuisine, or expectations with Webdesign for me. Next Winter Solstice my Daruma doll is gaining his other eye.