* A Spell to Re-Genius Ourselves ...

	I am getting such a kick out of this author, Rob Brezney.  I have purchased the book from Amazon.  As I am learning, when my thoughts are aligned and I am in sinc with the Universe or God (whichever way you want to word it, it is still The Great Creator in any land on this planet), life can be pretty easy and run very smooth.    We do take life and ourselves way too seriously most of the time.  I can easily get caught up in the "how" of making things happen.  I get caught up in the "who do I think I am to be doing that".  "I'm not good enough", etc. etc.   I totally agree we get the message that we are a 'genius' knocked out of us at a very early age.  At least my generation did.  I think the current generation is much better in this department, at least my children seem to be.  Personally, when young I was told I could not say anything good about myself because that was bragging and bragging was bad. It was next to boasting, again same thing ... don't dare say that you can do something well.  Soon I believed there was nothing good about myself to say.  So, the thought of 're-geniusing' myself really appeals to me.  I've been working on it for awhile now, but re framing it with this wording sounds like a lot of fun to me.  It implies magic, and I adore magic! For me, I think it's all about learning to love and accept myself for who I am and to quiet what has been in the past a very vocal and very harsh internal critic.  I do notice a big difference.  This 'spell' may just be the tipping point, the 100th monkey I need to cross the line into what I am born to be.  A unique and wonderful creative genius, as each of us is born to be. "A Spell to Re-Genius Yourself I'm releasing songs and audio work from the soundtrack for the revised and expanded edition of my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia.  (How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings) by Rob Brenzey This piece is called "A Spell to Re-Genius Yourself." You can find it on page 80 of the book. If you have any trouble downloading this mp3, go HERE and right-click the downward-facing arrow. On a Mac, click the mouse on the arrow as you press "Control." Here are the lyrics: Although we are all born geniuses, the grind of day-to-day living tends to de-genius us. That's the bad news. The good news is that you have the power to re-genius yourself. I'm going to give you a ritual you can use to jump-start the process. The Greek philosopher Plato long ago recognized that in addition to eating, drinking, sleeping, breathing, and loving, every creature has an instinctual need to periodically leap up into the air for no other reason than because it feels so good.       Please face south, leap up in the air, and say these words: "From the south, I purify, electrify, beautify, and fructify this sacred space." + When I was a kid I used to love to go out in the middle of a meadow and whirl around in spirals until I got so dizzy I fell down. As I lay on the ground, the earth and sky and sun kept reeling madly, and I was no longer just a pinpoint of awareness lodged inside my body, but rather I was an ecstatically undulating swirl in the kaleidoscopic web of life. I invite you to feel that way right now.       Spin yourself around until you topple over. And while lying on the ground, face west and say these words: "From the west, I sanctify, unify, clarify, and intensify this sacred space." + The people I trust the most are those who are always tenderly wrestling and negotiating with their own shadows, making preemptive strikes on their personal share of the world's evil, fighting the good fight to keep from spewing their darkness on those around them. I aspire to be like that, which is why I regularly kick my own ass. Will you try that right now wherever you are?       Jump off the ground and snap your heels up against your butt. Then face north and say these words: "From the north, I immunize, psychoanalyze, satirize, and exorcise this sacred space." + In one sense each of us is an intriguing, intricately unique individual, justifiably proud of and in love with our own personal story. In another sense, we are all one body, descended from the same primordial mother and made of identical stuff -- the calcium in all of our bones and the iron in all of our blood originally forged in a red giant star that died billions of years ago.       Rotating slowly in a clockwise direction, look down at your belly as you imagine that at this moment, everyone in the world is breathing along with you. Then face east and say this: "From the east, I lubricate, pollinate, consecrate, and emancipate this sacred space." Now it's time to confess the truth about who you really are.       Gaze upward and stretch your arms out high. Say the following: "I am a genius."       And say this: "I am a lucky, plucky genius."       And say this: "I am a lucky, plucky, good-sucking genius." Thank you for finally confessing the truth. It's about time you admitted that you are a miraculous work of art. You came into this world as a radiant bundle of exuberant riddles. You slipped into this dimension as a shimmering burst of spiral hallelujahs. You blasted into this realm as a lush explosion of ecstatic gratitude. And it is your birthright to fulfill those promises. I'm not pandering to your egotism by telling you these things. When I say, "Be yourself," I don't mean you should be the self that wants to win every game and use up every resource and stand alone at the end of time on top of a Mt. Everest-sized pile of pretty garbage. When I say, "Be yourself," I mean the self that says "Thank you!" to the wild irises and the windy rain and the people who grow your food. When I say, "Be yourself," I mean the rebel creator who's longing to make the whole universe your home and sanctuary. When I say, "Be yourself," I mean the dissident bodhisattva who's joyfully struggling to germinate the seeds of divine love that are packed inside every moment. When I say, "Be yourself," I mean the spiritual freedom fighter who's scrambling and finagling and conspiring to relieve your fellow messiahs from their suffering and shower them with rowdy blessings. Now let's move on to the next stage of your confession.       Squat. While patting and massaging the ground or floor in front of you, say this: "I am insane."       And say this: "I am an insane hurricane."       And say this: "I am a highly trained, entertainingly insane hurricane." Thank you for finally confessing the truth, which is that you are constitutionally incapable of adapting nicely to the sour and crippled mass hallucination that is mistakenly called "reality." You are too amazingly, blazingly insane for that. You are too crazy smart to lust after the stupidest secrets of the game of life. You're too seriously delirious to wander sobbing through the sterile, perfumed labyrinth looking in vain for the most ultra-perfect mirror. Thank the Goddess that you are a fiercely tender throb of sublimely berserk abracadabra. You will never get crammed in a neat little niche in the middle of the road at the end of a nightmare. You refuse to allow your soul's bones to get ground down into dust and used to fertilize the killing fields that proudly dot the ice cream empire of monumentally demeaning luxuries. You're too brilliantly cracked for that. You're too ingeniously whacked. You're too ineffably godsmacked.       Now stand up and make a series of small jumps, rotating a quarter turn in a clockwise direction with each jump. And as you do, say this: "I am a lucky, plucky, good-sucking genius and a highly trained, entertainingly insane hurricane." "What you can do or think you can do, begin it. For boldness has magic, power, and genius in it.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe +

* Here's an interesting question

What experience have you been denying yourself even though it would be fun, it would be 'soul food', and it would assist you in your 'growth'.  Why have you been denying yourself that experience?  What if you allowed yourself to do it?  I'd love to hear your responses.

"Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it."

* Choosing Happiness

I have come to the conclusion Happiness does not just happen.  Especially these days when we seem to be surrounded with so many 'heavy and dense' issues in the world.  It's a decision to be happy.  "I am going to be happy."  "I am determined to be happy."  "I choose to be happy."  "When confronted with life's situations where there is more than one choice and the obvious one may have been for me at one time that of sadness or grief, I choose happiness."  I've thought a lot about this over the past few years.  I used to ponder over the heavy question, "How do people move on from grief and despair so quickly."  The answer was beyond me.  Unimaginable, due to my childhood conditioning and societies expectations. Sometimes it takes a few days for the shift to occur.  In years gone by it may have taken months or even years in some cases.  I find I recover from life's mishaps more rapidly now.  I regain my equilibrium more quickly.   I've changed my thinking.  I have allowed my thought process to open to new and innovative thoughts.   I've let the old belief system melt away and a  new one take it's place.  It's not about burying my emotions.  Heaven knows I did that for years and it made me ill.  It's not about stuffing it down and believing everything is fine.  Please don't confuse this decision to be happy with 'not processing' what is happening in my life.  It's just that now, while I am processing and letting go, I can still choose to be happy.  Does that make sense?  Sadness does not hold the same extreme power over me at this stage in my life.   It's a new way of processing.  It's a more objective view.  It's pure.  It's detached.  It's a deep knowing and recognition of what is really good and healthy for my soul.  It's 'higher self' direction.  It's recognition of and listening to that inner voice.  "I choose to be happy." Today, I ran across an except from THIS SITE which supported this way of thinking.  The entire post is great.  Enjoy.

'It's possible to define a more supple variety of happiness that does not paralyze the will or sap ambition. For the first clue about how to proceed, we turn to Buddhist researchers Rick Foster and Greg Hicks.

In their book HOW WE CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY- the nine choices of extremely happy people , they reveal that the number one trait of happy people is a serious determination to be happy. Bliss is a habit you can cultivate, in other words, not an accident that you stumble upon by chance, in a lucky hour, at the world's end somewhere.

For another clue about how to conjure up a kind of happiness that does not anesthetize the soul, we call on Kenneth Koch. Here's what he wrote about Nobel Prize-winning poet Saint-John Perse: "So many poets have the courage to look into the abyss. But Perse had the courage to look into happiness."

"Happy birds, ah, may they extend towards us, from one short to the other of heaven's ocean, that huge

arc of painted wings that will assist and encircle us!  May they bear the full honour of it among us by strength of the soul!"  ~ Saint-John Perse

* Creatively speaking

... there is not too much happening at de Luz.   As I remember hearing when I was young, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.   Was absent from my art class on Saturday because of bronchitis.  I'm supposed to come up with something intuitive to paint for next class .. . not having much luck.  I drew a huge page of scribbles  ... and .... nothing!  Couldn't see one thing.  I'm a little discouraged.  Will have to try again.  Also missed a dinner party last night.  I did so want to go out and play!  RATTS.

I'm switching back for oils for the next painting.  The air is so dry here is sucks the moisture out of your brush almost before you get it to the canvas.  I find it frustrating not to be able to get the paint to move easily and when I go back to the pallet for more paint, sometimes it's dry already.  I'm hoping oils will be better.  I have quite a supply although there were many 'injured' tubes after the journey down here.  It's almost like there was an explosion in the box and each tube of paint was covered in some sort of covering which was totally permanent.  I had to patch up a few of the 'injured' tubes with duck tape.  It will be fun to try working in oils again.  It's been a long time.

I've got a Frida Kahlo nicho on the go.  Not sure where this one will lead.  I'm currently looking for velvet ribbon.

I'm also beginning an art journal again.  I haven't done that for a long time.  I love it.  So expressive.  This is the first page I am working on.  Not at all finished.  Day of the Dead theme.







So ... I guess there is some creativity at de Luz  ... just not a painting.  This week sometime should reveal what will come next.

"It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive."  Oriah Mountain Dreamer

* I really enjoyed this ...

Getting closer to waking up.

Just before I begin today's much more enlightened offering, know that I am fine.  I have done whining and pouting and raving.  On with life I say, on with joy, on with surrendering to those circumstances which are out of my league, on with acceptance of what is.  Here's to life!  How blessed we are to be here.

I found the following excerpt at THIS SITE.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

(Excerpted from the revised and expanded edition of Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia. To hear a podcast version of this text, go here.)

DEFINITION: Pronoia is the antidote for paranoia. It's the understanding that the universe is fundamentally friendly. It's a mode of training your senses and intellect so you're able to perceive the fact that life always gives you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it.

OBJECTIVE OF PRONOIA: To explore the secrets of becoming a wildly disciplined, fiercely tender, ironically sincere, scrupulously curious, aggressively sensitive, blasphemously reverent, lyrically logical, lustfully compassionate Master of Rowdy Bliss.

HYPOTHESES: Evil is boring. Cynicism is idiotic. Fear is a bad habit. Despair is lazy. Joy is fascinating. Love is an act of heroic genius. Pleasure is your birthright. Receptivity is a superpower.

PROCEDURE: Act as if the universe is a prodigious miracle created for your amusement and illumination. Assume that secret helpers are working behind the scenes to assist you in turning into the gorgeous masterpiece you were born to be. Join the conspiracy to shower all of creation with blessings.

GUIDING QUESTION: "The secret of life," said sculptor Henry Moore to poet Donald Hall, "is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for your whole life. And the most important thing is -- it must be something you cannot possibly do." What is that task for you?

UNDIGNIFIED MEDITATIONS TO KEEP YOU HONEST: Brag about what you can't do and don't have. Confess profound secrets to people who aren't particularly interested. Pray for the success of your enemies while you're making love. Change your name every day for a thousand days.
OK, before I begin today's much more enlightened offering, please know I'm fine.  I'm over my whining and raving and feeling much better, thank you very much!  So ... on with life, on with living, on with surrendering to and accepting ... 

 
MYTHIC ROLE MODELS: Prometheus and Pronoia. In Greek mythology, Pronoia was the consort of Prometheus, the divine rebel who pilfered a glowing coal from his fellow gods so that he could slip the gift of fire to humans.

TOP-SECRET ALLIES: Sacred janitors, benevolent pranksters, apathy debunkers, lyrical logicians, ethical outlaws, aspiring masters of curiosity, homeless millionaires, humble megalomaniacs, hedonistic midwives, lunatic saints, sly optimists, mystical scientists, dissident bodhisattvas, macho feminists, and socialist libertarians who possess inside information about the big bang.

DAILY PRACTICE: Push hard to get better, become smarter, grow your devotion to the truth, fuel your commitment to beauty, refine your emotional intelligence, hone your dreams, negotiate with your shadow, cure your ignorance, shed your pettiness, heighten your drive to look for the best in people, and soften your heart -- even as you always accept yourself for exactly who you are with all of your so-called imperfections.

POSSIBLE REWARDS: You will be able to claim the rewards promised you at the beginning of time -- not just any old beauty, wisdom, goodness, love, freedom, and justice, but rather: exhilarating beauty that incites you to be true to yourself; crazy wisdom that immunizes you against the temptation to believe your ideals are ultimate truths; outrageous goodness that inspires you to experiment with irrepressible empathy; generous freedom that keeps you alert for opportunities to share your wealth; insurrectionary love that endlessly transforms you; and a lust for justice that's leavened with a knack for comedy, keeping you honest as you work humbly to liberate everyone in the world from ignorance and suffering.

USAGE NOTE: We employ the adjectival form "pronoiac" rather than "pronoid." That way, it rhymes with "aphrodisiac" and resonates with "paradisiacal" instead of being conditioned by "paranoid."

DISCLAIMER: Material in this book may be too intense and controversial for some readers. It contains graphic scenes of peace, love, joy, passion, reverence, splendor, and understanding. You will not find any references to harsh, buzzing fluorescent lights in a cheap hotel room where a heroin dealer plots to get revenge against the authorities at his old high school by releasing sarin gas into the teachers' lounge. There are no reports of Nazi skinheads obsessed with re-creating the 14th-century Tartars' war strategy of catapulting plague-ridden corpses into an enemy's citadel.

Completely absent from these pages are any stories about a psychotic CEO of a Fortune 500 company who has intentionally disfigured his face to help him elude the CIA, which wants to arrest him for the treasonous sale of his company's nanotech weapons technology to the Chinese. You should therefore proceed with caution if you are a jaded hipster who is suspicious of feeling healthy and happy. Ask yourself: "Am I ready to stop equating cynicism with insight? Do I dare take the risk that exposing myself to uplifting entertainment might dull my intelligence?" If you doubt your ability to handle relaxing breakthroughs, you should stop reading now.

* Loss and a not so great diagnosis

Loss.  What's it all about.  As Patty was saying at Nomadic Journal a couple of days ago ... things like this presented to us are an opportunity for growth.  Well, frankly I'm sick of opportunities.  I don't want any more.  I feel like I can't take any more.  I don't want to grieve again.  I don't want to feel empty again.  I'm sick of loss.  I'm sick of abandonment.  I'm not sure I can find the strength to handle any more.  I might crumble into an empty heap of skin.  Everything inside me dissolved and decayed and eaten away, from loss.  How do I grieve yet again.  How do I recover.  How do I pick up the pieces and carry on.  I don't have any of the answers.  Tonight I feel very alone and vulnerable.  Tonight I'm not sure I can or want to carry on.  I lost one of the best friends I've ever had today. A friend of fifty-eight years.  A friend who is aware of everything that ever went on in my life. All the history.  All the good bits and all the bad bits.  All the fun and frolic.  All the great times together.  A friend that was an integral part of our family.  A friend I don't know if I can live without. Oh, by the way, my friend is not dead.  Just lost to me in particular. 

An appointment with the Dr. today revealed I have gonartrosis arthritis in my knee.  I actually think it's in both knees.  It's not osteoarthiritis, however it is degenerative.  I have been referred to a specialist in Querteraro.  Tomorrow I will make the appointment.  I've always thought walking is a good thing.  This past month or so, I haven't been doing too much of that.  Today the Dr. gave me some pain control which should allow me to walk in a couple of days.  Why now?  How did it come on so suddenly?  So many questions.  Surrender and acceptance yet again is needed.  I'm so sick of being aware and awake.  I'm so sick of being detached.  I'm so sick of being objective.  I'm so sick of surrendering and accepting.  I don't want any more 'tests' on this journey.  Any more bumps in the road.  I've had enough.  I'm don't want to deal with anymore.  So there!  End of story.  End of my whine for today.

 "When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."
Kahlil Gibran

* Caught between the Moon and New York City

Have any of you wondered "Why is she doing this?".  "What's this all about?"  "What kind of subject matter is this for a painting?"  "She's really gone off this time!".  "Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that woman's head."  Oh, come on, I know some of you have.  And that's OK.  We all have our own opinions on subject matter for a piece of art.  

"Caught between the Moon and New York City" is about much more that it would appear.  It's about a young woman, twenty-one to be exact, leaving her home and her community.  It's about getting on a train, crossing Canada to New York and sailing away to Europe.  It's about a dream she had ever since she entered this world.  It's about the rebel in her.  It's about leaving on this journey against her parents wishes.  It's about her parents refusing to be there to see her off.  It's about wanting something so badly, she defied everything and did it anyway. It's about going away for three months and falling so deeply in love with the continent, she stayed for three years.  If it had not been for the 'global fishing rod' her parents possessed, she probably would have stayed there somewhere. It's about me.

It's about New York City in the 60's when the tallest and most spectacular building in existence was the Empire State Building.  Broadway, central park, Harlem and 5th avenue.  It's about rude taxi drivers I had no idea existed.  It's about empty lots and tenement buildings crumbling and decaying.  It's about having my eyes opened wide.  It's about growing up and falling in love with the world.  It's about the beginning of a journey which brought me to where I am today.  Oh, I didn't know it.  It was the beginning of my earthly lessons, the good, the bad, the sublime, the ridiculous.

It's about sailing from New York on my first ocean liner, the Christophoro Columbo, then the Italian Line (in later years bought out by Princess Lines).   The crowd of people on the docks, the crowd of people on the ship all wanting a place at the rails to hold a streamer with their loved ones.  When the ship sailed the streamers slipped away or broke. People clung to each other.  Bands played.  There were tears.  It was emotional.  Some of those people would never see each other again.

It's about a handsome young Italian who wanted to carry my suitcase on to the ship.  It's about me being afraid and embarrassed, putting my nose in the air and with great outward confidence snatching my suitcase back.  It's about the very handsome Italian man still on shore who locked eyes with me and would not remove them until we could no longer see each other.  No matter what I did, or where I looked, because I was very uncomfortable, when I looked back, this handsome Italians' big black eyes burrowed into my soul.  He made love to me from the shore.

It's about sailing past the Statue of Liberty having shivers run up my spine, a lump in my throat, and a tear down my cheek. It was knowing what the plaque of dedication said and believing every word of it.  It was the thought of every person who ever came through Ellis Island carrying with them Hope and Courage.  It is about my own naivety.

"Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

It is about opening the brown bag, a gift from an old male friend, and finding my first bottle of Dom Perignon.  I had assumed it was wine.  It's the people on the ship, mostly Italians and Greeks.  Some Portugese and Spanish.  AM, the Aussie who is still a huge part of my life.  The Greek and Roman gods, Michaele and Nicos, who cared for me like brothers, and made love to me every day with their eyes.  It was my introduction to Mediterranean gods, who, unlike polite Canadian men, undressed me unabashedly with their eyes, threw me on the ground and made love to me in their minds, while I stood there uncomfortable and shy wanting to run away to the nearest olive grove.  It was the dancing, the singing, the playing of music, the concerts, the art, the architecture, the food, the culture, the languages, the newness beside the ancientness, the tears I shed as I sat in the old marble stadium in Athens feeling the  ethereal energy of two thousand years.It's about the awakening of my senses, the opening up of my spirit, the increase in my tolerance for just about everything. It's about the wonderful women I lived with, and what they taught me with such love and patience.  It was my introduction to the world.  It was my inner debutant's journey, having so many opportunities for growth presented to me. It's about falling in love with things I didn't know existed.  It's about opening up and expanding in ways I never could have had I stayed in Canada. It is about the education of my soul.  It's about learning to make love to a whole new world and being embraced by it.  It's about the beginning of a journey which is still leading me to exciting unexpected places.Now do you understand a little bit more?   I've finished the painting.  It will hang in my home.

"Caught between the Moon and New York City"  acrylic on canvas 2010

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."  ~ Aristotle

"The Invitation" ... a powerful message for us all

* A little bit more completed

The bedspread I ordered arrived.  Since I had added blue to the room, I had pretty much decided I would send it back and get a blue one.  I was surprised when I put it on the bed and liked it.  It works because the blue and the green are the same intensity.  So ... I'm keeping it.  One less hassle.  My little place is coming together.

Habibi says "Do I look good sitting on green, Mummy?"

* The Roof is ON!

By the Light has a roof.  It was poured and completed today  I was called up to view it about 4:00 pm.  My men wanted me to climb the narrow steep hand made gang plank they had used all day to carry up the five gallon buckets of cement.  I looked at my leg, waved my cane in the air, laughed, and declined.  In sign language and Spanish, they sent me down stairs to get my camera so they could go up to the roof and take pictures for me.   Here they are.

There is a roof there alright!

The view is more expansive.

They wanted photo's of us together.  First Cesar went up the gang plank and took this one.  This is Sr. Emilio, Jose, me and Maestro Jose.

This is Sr. Emilio, Cesar (I told Jose to be sure and get the huge diamond earring), me and maestro Jose.

Tomorrow my men have a holiday.  It is Mexico's By-Centennial Celebrations.  200 years since the first revolution, their fight to gain independence from Spain.  It all began right here in SMA with a secret meeting between Allende and Hidalgo.

For an interesting short history of the first revolution go HERE.

"The secret of happiness is freedom.  The secret of freedom is courage."