Wake Up!

Thanks, Anna, for sharing this. I had to post because I love Dennis, too!

I remember the last time the Democrats were in power - I was able to afford my rent in NYC and still had time to hang out in cafes and talk to other artists and musicians, and to work, and to go to school, and have band rehearsal and play gigs, and have time for my boyfriend - without going into debt!

What the freak happened? I feel like all I ever do is work now. I've had a rude awakening these last few weeks - I realize my 40 hour a week job has turned into almost 60 hours a week and I am still unable to get all of my work done. What makes matters worse, what I do for money is not my passion.

I love writing and singing and hiking and biking and having meaningful realtionships with people, I love doing and teaching yoga, and painting, and gardening, and learning about nutrition and herbs. I love practical magic. I make a few extra dollars with yoga and herbs, and sometimes even with my writing and art - but I have got to make that leap. Work eats up most of my day, and lately, my evenings, too. I get up at 5 am to write before my energy gets sucked up at the job.

I know if I keep moving on, it will all turn out. Right now I am impatient and fed up with the amount of work I have to do. I am also fed up with this general malaise that seems to have blanketed our nation.

What next? I guess this is a 5th chakra question now (you'll be getting the 5th chakra info either today or tomorrow). WHAT NEXT?

love energy = pure power

What keeps you in the present moment?

What keeps me in the present moment is the basket of a hot air balloon called the N.O.W. which is an acrynum for “no Other Way”.

Describe a time when you went against conventional wisdom, against society's idea of what is "right", to follow your heart.

Yesturday I wore one black sock and one white sock all day long….One on each hand !!Oh!!!

What do I like?
I like them chocolate bon bons they sell at Trader joes.

What do I love? I love Trader Joes. Every one there is so friendly! And it’s always a very pleasant shopping experience. Big supermarkets like Path Mark Shp Rite and Kings are so impersonal, they don’t care about you at all. But at T.J.’s the world is a place woth shopping at! excellent wines and breads and canned meats for my kitty kat!

What makes me happy?

Shopping, basically, and attention. getting lot’s of it. And more shopping.

What do I need for balance?
Equal Librium and plenty of it!

What are my strengths?
I can lift a car over my head and throw it about 50 feet. One of them little match box cars that is! Oh!
Can I rely upon myself?
No, I am interdependent on other members of my own species and some members of other species as well.

What are my weaknesses? Kryptonite!!!! defiantly!Especially cherry flavored kryptonite!

Why do I do the things I do? Because I’m a maniac!!!! A real , whacko! And I love it! Why else would I even bother trying to land a beach ball on a basket ball hoop with a whiffle ball bat while riding a bicycle and while wearing two different colored socks …..On my hands?

Each of life's challenges is a lesson in some aspect of love. C.M.
I agree with the quote above. This C.M. chick knows what's goin on.


What does it feel like to completely accept yourself?
I feels really realizational to completely accept that idea , that concept, that elusive greased pig we know as the self. Or my self, a case of mistaken identity, as Alan Watts stated in the book title .

Thank You for all them qestions, It is great to write and think about them,
now I have a question for all of you! send it to your friends!:

Let's Play Scuples!

Ten Sentence Minimum, Twenty Sentence maxium.

Forgive not forget.

Forgiveness. Not the same as Forgetness. There is "Forgive and Forget" for some, but I may forgive and NOT forget.
There's this guy I know. He decided to knock me down and shove me around the school grounds when I was about 15.
Later in life, although he is older than me, we started hanging out in the same party circles. I had actually forgoten the whole inncident, I actually liked the guy later on, but he never treated me like I was his peer. I did'nt care that much.
But I wondered why and then I began to remember what had happened, you see, the good ol boy I was hangin with that day gave this dude the finger and called him a ginny or something like that, It was'nt me, I was innocent, but the guy decided to attack me and shove me around, not even letting me stand up. The reason, because the good ol boy who I was hangin with that day had a brother who had all the good pot in town and so , instead of going to the sorce of the insult, he took it out on me.
Stupid huh? Well, I had forgoten it and did'nt care anymore when we turned out to have many mutual friends years later, but he himself never forgot it and so he could'nt fully bond with me. To this day I don't care, all was forgiven and almost forgotten, but he did'nt let me forget I would have forgotten but He never forgave himself, no big deal. It was stupid young teenage crap.
I being a non pot smoker, have quite a mememory, People who've done me wrong have their own bad karma they put on themselves, I know who they are and It frees me to forgive, but i never forget.

I celebrate myself

I walk down a forest path. It is beautiful and lush, and a total pleasure. The road is wide and welcoming. Down to the left is a stream with bubbling water. I am one with nature. I feel welcome here.

Up ahead, I see a golden being. He is glowing, peaceful and bright. I get closer, but there are no distinctive features, except his eyes, and a sense of friendliness and love. It is me. It is my golden self, my highest self, and it feel really good to be around him. It is healing. I know myself to be this golden being. I am remembering myself as this being. I embrace him and he once again becomes part of me.

I should remember to do this often.

Another being is coming towards me. He’s presence on the road is intimidating. It’s almost as if he’s playing chicken with me. He is a black being. And even with out getting too close, I recognize him as me as well. I speak to him, greet him, and he is suspicious.

“It’s me” I say. He spits on the ground. I’m not sure what to do with him. We do eventually get closer. He is so angry. There are tears in his eyes. I say, “this is hard, but I need you. I know I do.”

He reaches out his hand. I go to shake his hand, but he grabs my arm with both hands. Screams in my face and throws himself into my body. I’m a little shocked and thrilled.

Damn. What is that about?

The box

The box is a little exercise that is taught at corporate workshops by motivational speakers.

Here’s how it works. You draw a box with 9 dots, like so:



* * *

* * * Oops graphics a funky here, spread these dots out

* * * into a box


Now, you need to draw 4 straight lines that go through all 9 dots, with out lifting the pen.

DON’T READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU WISH TO FIGURE THIS GAME OUT ON YOUR OWN…THE ANSWER WILL BE REVEILED!

I learned the box in a workshop called Lifespring, which is like EST or the Forum, basically workshops designed to suck you dry of all finances, and brain wash you into getting as many of your friends and family involved as possible, under the guise of self improvement.

The leader of the workshop drew out the dots and asked us to try and draw the 4 straight lines with out lifting the pen that went through all the dots.

Eventually I got up and did this….
. :

2 . :

* * *
. 4 :
* * . *
. . : 1 Sorry folks I tired to add graphics
. . * . * . *
3

(draw a line up the right side and out of the box, then a diagnal line hitting the top second dot and first dot of the second line and extended out of the box as well, then a line across the bottom, and finally a diganal line hitting the ramaining dots.)

You have to go beyond the box of 9 dots to be able hit them all…thus “think outside the box.” It’s about creative problem solving.

Well, the leader was pissed off. She grilled me and insisted that I had done the exercise before. I didn’t, I just figured it out, cause I’m a fucking genius!

What is the box and why are people trying to think outside of it?

Example one;



Example two;



Example three;



Example four;

Belly Laugh

I’m trying to remember. It is usually with Jen that I have a deep laugh. And it’s usually about a pussy that we're laughing about. Was that the deep belly laugh.?

The last time I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to die was with Jen. We were at Dany's standing by her living room window. I was telling her about my brothers and sister saying what things belong to them when Mom dies. My sister said something about the dishes. My brother wants the silver rimmed crystal that were my grandmothers.

Jen must have said something like, did they really say that shit at a holiday dinner, and we went off on a deep laugh. I couldn’t breath and I thought that I was going to die for sure. The thought passed my mind, “I can’t breathe. Oh my god, I am really going to die right now, I’m going to die laughing!!”

I know that I’ve had some good laughs with her since, and they are usually about our pussy joke. We do this totally stupid thing that makes us laugh. We call each other up singing songs to each other, but replace a key word with "pussy", or sometimes "cock". For example, "OH PUSSY, YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU'RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY COCK, HEY PUSSY!" It makes us laugh hysterically. Others? Not so much. Guess pussy/cock humor is an acquired taste.

But this other time, we had just come out of the movie "No Country for Old Men". We were talking about how they had absolutely no music in the film.

Jen insisted that there was something. I said, “maybe a strum of a guitar and a poohweeoohweeooh” and at the exact moment we passed a dog poohing! Forget it, we just totally lost it. Now, we sometimes just say poohieeoooohieeeooooooo! Like an old cowboy movie, or…a dog shitting. This still makes me laugh, even as I write it.

Warning: Serious Bitterness, read at your own risk

Guidance requires action, but it does not guarantee safety. --Carolyn Myss ANATOMY OF THE SPIRIT

Oh, this is something that scares me. I feel offended, almost defensive when I read this quote. First I think, you said this wrong, it should be ACTION RQUIRES GUIDANCE. But it’s inverted, guidance requires action. What the fuck does that mean Ms. Myss?

Why does this quote piss me off so much? Maybe because of, what seems to me, a purposeful conundrum. I hate new age spiritual babble…In To Me U See. Fuck you Carolyn Myss!

This is weird, because I usually like her. I usually like what she has to say. But I HATE this quote.

Why? Well, Guidance requires action. Does it really? This seems almost imbecilic! It’s like saying eating requires digestion. Of course, guidance requires one asking for help, and someone else helping or teaching or supporting. I would rather this said, “Guidance requires care, but does not guarantee safety” I prefer that, but one day if I have my own “spiritul” book with clever sayings that make people like DeepPockets Chopra rich, then I can say what ever I want.

The "does not Guarantee safety" is actually the best part of this quote. Safety is never guaranteed. That is true. Life happens, anything can happen at anytime. Safety is not guaranteed.

But I can’t help but think this is a statement in a contract avoiding some liability for some kind of physical activity. The roller skating rink, ski resort, bunji jumping company can not be held accountable if you get injured.

Apparently neither can Carolyn Myss.

I had no idea how bitter my 3rd chakra can be.

Another Quote

Funny, I was going to put this up yesterday, but I thought, it's not mine...but since quotes are appearing, here's a good one:

"If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you aught to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and thy open the doors to you. I say follow your bliss and don't be afraid and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."

Joseph Campbell THE POWER OF MYTH

If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure.

Anonymous, often attributed to Dan Quayle
- More quotations on: [Failure]
Most people would rather be certain they're miserable than risk being happy.

-Robert Anthony

Our lives improve only when we take chances - and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.
-Walter Anderson

It seems to me that people have vast potential. Most people can do extraordinary things if they have the confidence or take the risks. Yet most people don't. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever.

-Philip Adams

- More quotations on: [Confidence] [Risk]
To win without risk is to triumph without glory.
_ I forget

Follow your bliss, It's hit or miss, catch a wave, may be your lucky day.
Follow your heart, it's time to start,
roll the dice pick a card throw a dart.
-wooden thomas

Through the eyes of the world

I see an energetic and enthusiastic being. I see his boldness and courage. I see his humor, wit, and sarcasm. I see where he stops and is blocked. I see his resistance. He doesn’t like to be told what to do. He arches his back, and his face moves back in disgust. Don’t try to push him too hard, or he won’t budge.

He is at the center. He is different with different people. He is morpholicious. He actually becomes the energetic response to whoever is with him. He is a dancer. He often has no self . Who is that man, just himself, with no influence?

Oh, I see him, a shining golden being of compassion. He is a bodhisatva, though he hasn’t fully realized it yet. He is an eternal clown, heyoki spirit for change. He is compassion and love and joy and good humor. He is fierceness and truth, and boldness. He’s a fucking superhero!

He is a man, like any other. Human being, with given circumstances and such. His gifts are musical, rhythmical, oracle, hysterical. He has a lot to offer, in a little time. He sometime fritters away.

He can be lazy and stubborn. He can be closed and argumentative. He can be an instigator and enabler, he can be a rebel and iconiclaster.

But he is always Chris. He is always the same. He is that giggling, curious, investigating, philosophical, magical man.

Friday Night Nosh

I got together last night with my friend Wendy and her friend Marjorie for nibbles and libations. Wendy's house is gorgeous, southwestern earth tones and a lime-olive green bathroom. Wendy is a quilting queen, so lots of quilts hanging on the walls and a table of handmade goddesses (which I must look at more closely next time). She showed me some double zero (tiny!!!!) knitting needles and thread which she used to make amulet bags for her pals last xmas (solstice). I was amazed and impressed and excited and inspired.

Toward the end of the evening we got to talking about celibacy and religion. It began when I was talking about my training as a yoga teacher. One of the swami's told us that tantra didn't exist and then in the same sentence said it was a left-hand path. (does it exist or doesn't it?) The bottom line was they advocated bramacharya (in the simplest sense, celibacy).

So the question we left the night with was: Why are religions so hung up on sexuality? Why is celibacy necessary in order to reach spiritual enlightenment? It's across the board with most Western religions and at least what I learned of eastern (Hindu) religion that I studied at the ashram.

My first thought was that when societies were matrilineal and women had ownership of land, they had the power. At some point in western history, male priests married women (landowners), got their land, then declared that women had no rights and witch hunts ensued, etc., etc.

Sexuality is fluid, feminine. Subjugate women, subjugate sexuality.

Fertility/sexuality was also where women held power. Women are the givers of life, they also knew what to do/what herbs to take in order to prevent pregnancy. Furthermore, women have the capacity to have sex ongoing whereas men can ejaculate a few times a day and that's it. From a purely biological, propagate-the-species-point-of-view, maybe women are built this way to a) have the capacity to receive a lot of pleasure to make the pain and danger of childbirth worth it and/or b) have the capacity to have sex with many different partners so that the sperm of the healthiest partner gets through, hence, hopefully guaranteeing stronger, more fit offspring. (Of course, if you don't believe in evolution . . . what can I say?)

That leaves another problem for men. It means that they can never be sure if they are the baby-daddy. (Well, now that there's DNA testing and Maury Povitch . . . )

Getting away from the "power over women" point of view, having a healthy sexual relationship with a person (whether it's male/female or same sex), requires the ability to be loving and trusting and vulnerable. It takes time and energy. It requires us to be open with our feelings and accepting of our partner. We must resist the urge to control or be controlled. How many of us actually have the willingness to go deep, to surrender? How many of us have had the experience of letting our egos go so utterly completely with another person that we realize we are "One with the Universe" and that the love we are experiencing is expanding in that universe? (It's the grooviest experience ever!)

Some religions teach that the only way to really experience total surrender is to actually physically die. So, perhaps a reason to fear sex? Some people even fear meditation for that very reason!

From a yogic standpoint, when you have sex with someone, you pick up your partner's energy and they pick up yours. You exchange karma, essentially. Not just from this lifetime, but from all the millions of past lifetimes. So, if you're focus is on releasing your karma and ceasing to be reincarnated, then it would make sense to just avoid sex altogether.

Or how about this -- if we are enjoying life and our partners, maybe we won't be so compelled to acquire more "things". Maybe we'd realize we don't have to consume so much, make more money, submit to slavery. That leaves less tithing money for the church (temple, synagogue, you fill in the blank).

Or maybe we'd we feel so good enjoying our sexuality, we wouldn't have to go to church at all? We might start beginning to have our own ideas about spirituality and enlightenment. We might even decide to make up our own rituals.

Every person has sexuality. Make people feel ashamed about sexuality, and you have power over them. When our view of nature is distorted, we can't be sure of anything. Instead of looking within and listening to our own answers (because now we are stupid and afraid and "sinful"), we look outside of ourselves for what is "right". So the preacher in the pulpit who makes us feel shame and guilt must be right, or the talking head shouting at us from CNN or FOX must be right, or our neighbor with the SUV and the Prada handbag must be right. Whatever makes us feel inadequate must be right, no?

Since we're looking outside of ourselves for validation, we must also look outside of ourselves for what is "invalid". If we are harsh judges of ourselves, how harsh are we going to be on others? The more we look outside ourselves for what is wrong with everyone else, the less we know ourselves, and, the more "evil" we see in the world. As we further lose sight of ourselves, we lose personal power. It's a cycle, because the more powerless we feel, the more we need validation. The less we know what really makes us happy, the more we need someone (or a talking box) to tell us what is "good for us".

So, sex isn't "bad". What's bad are the power trips surrounding it that are bad. And because sex is so powerful, there are a lot of them.

OK, my 2nd chakra rant of the day is done for now. I think I opened a huge can of worms, and I could keep going. These are just general ideas, perhaps I will go back and work on more comprehensive drafts. Right now I need a shower and to stretch my periformas and psoas muscles.

First Lie

I’m sure I lied before this, but it’s the first lie that comes to mind….Santa Claus!

In first grade, I was walking home from school with my friend Eric Berkowitz. He told me that Santa Claus wasn’t real. He was Jewish and didn’t celebrate Christmas, so I thought he was just jealous. To my shock and 6 year old horror, my mother confirmed what Eric had told me.

I really didn’t understand why I had been duped. I mean, why tell a kid that something is real when it’s not. Was it some kind of sick and cruel joke? Couldn’t I have handled the truth? Wouldn’t I have enjoyed Christmas just as much if I knew the gifts were coming from my parents and not a fabricated story of a man in the red suit?

I wanted to bust out and tell everyone, but my mom insisted that the story is for little kids and that I shouldn’t ruin it for them.

So, at my uncle and aunts’ Christmas party, there I was, in the living room with a few of the younger kids, lying about Santa with the adults. I was telling them that Santa was as real as anything, while winking at Aunt Barbara, making sure that she knew I knew the deal. I was now one of the holiday grown ups. And I was both proud and disgusted with myself.

Years later, an Atheist friend told me there was no God. After years of researching that one, I figure it’s true. There is no old man with a beard sitting on a cloud watching your genitals. Never was, and never will be. No lie.

Who created you? Well, I don’t want to ruin it for you, but remember your mom and dad? Yup, they did it again.

Follow your Dream!

The first thing I think about is the Tarot conference in Florida in 1998.

I remember seeing the flyer for the Tarot conference and just knowing that I was going to go. This was a strange revelation, because, I barely had any money and no way to get there. But I was deeply into my studies of Tarot at the time, and felt I had to go.

So I got myself a map of the east coast, and I wrote the date of the Tarot conference (February 1998) with arrows pointing form NYC to Florida, to the small beach town about an hour or so south of Orlando. Then I hung the map up on the wall across from my bed, so that every morning it was the first thing I looked at. I would wake up and say, “I’m not sure how, but I am going to the Tarot conference in Florida.”

I was working in a witch shop doing Tarot readings, and I kept talking about the conference because I knew I was going to go. I just kept saying “I don’t know how, but I’m going to Florida.”

I began to write a booklet on understanding the court cards, called “Order in the Court”. I made as many copies of it as I could afford and planed to sell it at the conference to $10 a pop.

When I made money, I would save a little aside, and finally had enough for the train ride down. The Train was about $70 to ride the Silver Star, all day and night to Orlando. I visited a college friend in Orlando, then went to visit a high school friend in Melbourne. I still had no idea how I was going to get to the conference, until my friend graciously let me borrow her car! It was this hot red sports car, and I felt really cool and magical arriving at the conference in it.

At the conference I sold all of my books, but I still didn’t have enough money to get home. I was going to just return to my friend in Melbourne and see if I could somehow work there, when friends of mine from New York who were at the conference just lent me $50.

I got a bus from Orlando to NY. The ride was torture, even though I was grateful to be going home, and I was surround by these hunky marines, who had just finished training. I don’t recommend a 24 hour bus trip! It was the only hellish part of the journey. I would take a train any day instead of a bus for a long trip.

I never asked for help from anyone, I never expected anything form anyone, I just went with the thought that I was supposed to be there, and that I everything would work out. It’s one of the best little adventures of my life.

oiuoi;ew7ly;o8

The fisrt kiss was wet. I did'nt feel much of anything so I whent home and watch Flinstones cartoons.
Then I practiced kissing on my own hand.
And then I felt something soulful in my brain .
Then I kissed another girl and I did'nt feel anything, so I went home and listened to Black Sabbath records.
Then I fell in love , in lust, and now I feel every bit of kiss when I do.
If I do.
The first one was nothing.

Death and Life

On Saturday May 31, a friend of more than 20 years died. We saw each other sporadically over the years, but always the same fun, joking friendship. He lived in a different world than I. He always said he appreciated that I never judged him. He'd say there was "a place in heaven" for me. I'd tell him there was a place for him too. He'd ask me to put in a good word for him.
Here's the good word, Rich!
He's at peace now, no drama in heaven, that's for sure. He was a man of soul, heart, love and great humor. That fully SHINES now - no more tarnish of the material world. FREE.
Saturday, June 7 - Funeral - Open casket. Certainly not the man there.
Due to bodily or embalming fluids, there appeared to be a dry tear under his right eye. I heard that when his 2 ex-wives, 2 daughters & son viewed the body, the tear came down & the boy said, "Look, Daddy is crying." Never really knew the wives or the kids. But many of his friends remembered me, some looked like Bart Simpson "grown-up" with square heads and thick necks and all were wider than their athletic past selves.

Sunday, June 8 - Baby Christening in NJ
My niece's 2nd child - James Patrick, 3 mos. old. It's also his Dad's name, but he's no Junior!
Dad is Jim and he's a James.
I purposely slept late and missed the church.
James was in the living room on the couch being held by my mother, his great-granny.
I came in kissed Mom, Sis#1 (the granny) & sat on the table in front of him and I had him in my gaze. Holding his hands, saying in a sing-song voice, "Is this your special day?" " Did the priest put water & oil on your head?" I'm touching his little cheeks and forehead too and he just lights up like Times Square. He responds with a giant smile and little coos and moans. His little old man wrinkled forehead, no hair & giant blue eyes.
Amazing that the eyes remain the same - the only part of you that doesn't grow!
Sweet Baby James, as my mother will say about 20 times an hour, because of Alzheimer's.
A perfect little match to his big sister, Hollie, 22 mos, cherub faced pixie.

Sis #2 drove me home with Mom in the car. Sis#2, "Miss Worrywort of the Century", says, "I hope there's no traffic", more than 10x (shades of Mom?). All signs lead otherwise, but she keeps talking about it. Finally Mom, even in this kind of limbo she's in says - "Why worry? You can't control it. I've always been that way!"
And she has - Thank God, because that saying is why I am a sane and happy person today.
Accepting, having enjoyment in life with enthusiasm for what's to come using the baby steps and conscious participation. Hallelujah!

What pulls me?

Restlessness is pulling me out of bed at 4am. Don’t know if it’s spirits or something with in me, but I can’t get sleep right now and I’m getting angry.

The moon is making my brain crash up against my skull. It’s high tide in there. I am completely at the mercy of the moon. It’s like a band playing in my room, one that I can not ignore. Or a song that I can not get out of my head. Or the construction that will start pounding the pavements and shaking the foundation of this block, by 8am, for sure.

Maybe it’s someone else’s anxiety seeping through the walls. A constant vibration of my room mate or neighbor, or perhaps a god, who’s torturous head is now disturbing my sleep.

Resentment is pulling at me. For a life I thought I would have, for a government that I know is rotten, and I’m not sure I have the tools to weed that garden. For hatred and prejudice and suspicion that lives and breathes in the streets of New York. I am an empathic sponge on the riotous silent subway.

Thank Gods that creativity is pulling at me. The computer longs for me to write. The page calls me equally with dreams and thoughts and tarot card readings. Music is pulling at me too. The sound of my voice brings a vibration of healing and sanity to the restless and torpid.

Dance pulls me. The rhythm of my toes and heels and whole foot stomping, flapping, shuffling, hopping, jumping, ball changing and stepping. I can not stop my feet. The drum pulls me too. A joyous and free African sound, Dum dat dat Dum …pa dat. The pulse of life, a heart beat.

Luckily my heart keeps pulling in the tides of my blood. There is something constant I appreciate. The electronic shock that continues to jump start the muscle in the center of my chest. My heart is a vampire for air and joy and love.

Still Here

I've change my name. I want to list my kids t-shirts on etsy.com & would rather not have these scribblings come up when googling my previous name.

The name comes from Granpda Patrick Mc. He babysat me & sis #4. I'm sis #3. We were about 3 & 6. She was Magoo, for the giant blue eyes & I was hairpin.
He watched us in his apartment a couple blocks away from ours. Every so often he'd go over to his kitchen cabinet, take a shot glass, fill it and drink it. Sis #4 would say, What's that Grandpa?
Oh, it's just my medicine! I think I'm hairpin because I knew there was no medicine in that bottle. I never said it, but I kinda got under his skin.
Nowadays Magoo has her own Patrick - who is in fact a bonafide Hairpin!
Takes one to know one.

Derscibe waht hpapnes wehn you are adandnoed.

Describe what happens when you are abandoned.

I was aenabndod the sencod the umilicbal chrod was cut Mokterfucher!
Jsut kidndig, I was tnryig to snoud toguh!

Soeetmims anandonbmet deos not maen “Unelovd” but we mgiht feel taht way.
Ppeole can be slef cernteed to the ponit of aanidonbng otrhes.

For exalmpe I dno’t bveliee Hloly has aanndobed us, I bevleie she silmpy did not go on lnie for a few dyas due to incnonenievce or seh’s jsut hanvig too mcuh fun otershwie.

I flet anandobed by my fridens in Long Isnlad 21 yeras ago, tehy wree all on dgrus and
not contneced to the orb of copaosmsin.

Tehy wree slef ceenertd twtety yaer odls on dgrus.

I sitll kokw and astsociae with thsoe gyus taody, and the mian difcferene now is taht if sonethimg geos arwy wtih a cerw meembr on the smae baot tehy will try to rceah out and see if eneryove is ahlgrit, as lnog as it deos not intuerrpt tehir weed smnokig!

I hvae flet aanenbdod by weomn. I was ocne twteny yreas old and did not hvae a flul undenrstandig taht pepole dno’t crae all taht mcuh, they sommeties act or seem lkie tehy do but tehy wlil look out for theeselmvs fisrt.

Smoe pleole lrean taht to tkae crae of otrhes IS TO TKAE crae of ones slef.
We are all in the smae baot tegethor, if one cerw memebr gtes scik dno’t tsos tehm oevr borad, no mtater how contouagis ……. uenlss tehy are scik wtih a dsseaie cellad “Lcak of Compassion” Then I say toss ‘em.
Hwo’s taht for snonduig tguoh?