Your Christmas Wake Up Call

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I slapped her hard across the face.

The sound echoed with a satisfying smack.

I wanted to see the fog lift from her, to see her sunlit eyes glisten with awareness once more.

Her eyes watered,

I don’t know exactly what I was hoping for— I did it out of desperation.

Maybe it was clarity?

I needed to see a realization that she understood without participation we are all doomed to die.

Not just one, but all— all the picture perfect babies with their soft sweet features, each shielded by their own skin of different shades of color.

Born into our arms of care.

Doomed to die,

All the children, our most beloved representation of affection and celebration of life.

All of our mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, grandmas and grandpas.

We, as supposed civilized beings sit busily clicking on our computers and phones consumed by consumerism, ignoring the Earths signs of distress.

Who can see that the complete and utter extinction of a species has begun?

Click, buy a second TV, click purchase another piece of clothing, click, click, click,

The sounds of humans eating up the Earth

People— complex organisms torn between love and hate, creation and destruction, greed and generosity, sickness and health, fear and security, war and peace, joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain,

An unwittingly apathetic mortal too self focused to see the unraveling.

I’m not sorry I slapped you,

Give your head a shake, wake up.

We cannot afford to pretend anymore.

Just because we had yesterday and today doesn’t mean we automatically get tomorrow,

Our lives are far from a Hallmark movie,

We need to think beyond the sparkle and shine of our lives, and really understand who we are supporting with our existence.

To whom does our money go?

And what are we supporting with that buying choice?

If we don’t change the way we purchase and consume, soon—

Click, click, click,

Sorry kids

We are close to our expiration date.

I’m usually such a jolly elf, but there comes a time for serious action, and that time is now. Please read, How Humans Are Driving The Sixth Mass Extinction.

Best Road Ever

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Right or Left?

Fasten your seatbelts and take a moment to tumble into this line from Robert Frost’s poem ‘The Road Not Taken’,

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—“

In the past I have finished this sentence by cavorting along the path of life tossing confetti into the air and watching it fall around me. I confess to chasing small forest creatures into the bush and losing my way. Today I realize I am at a fork in my road. And I really hope I don’t fork this up. This year I decided to forgo flitting down the trail and becoming distracted by things such as the light filtering through the trees. I decided I am picking my path with purpose. No more darting off into the trees to chase squirrels for me. I think I may have been a Canadian cur in a previous life.

How about you? Do you have insight as to why you choose the road you’re currently on? Do you stay focused on your route ahead? Do you believe the choices before you are vast and open? I hope you can recognize your potential and brilliance.

You are unlimited.

Continue moving forward, one foot in front of the other, pause to catch your breath, do a little cha cha cha, and keep going. A sure fire strategy to fulfilling your aspirations is to keep travelling. Maybe there will be more forks in your road? No worries take a break consider your options and go. Refuse to halt your progress, balk at becoming a stagnant pool of decomposing sludge. Sometimes fear will whisper in your ear, “Stop, you’re making a fool of yourself. The only thing ahead of you is ridicule and failure. Don’t listen, return your focus to your goals. Move! Dance along the road of existence with a smile on your face. You know where you are going. Simply wrap yourself in the clothing of possibility for the journey. As you continue forward, you will soon find the momentum of your decision will carry you into your future with ease.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—”

Consider Your Inner Monster

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We are each unwittingly our own rendition of Frankenstein. Maybe not physically, as the lumbering beast created with a multitude of mismatched body parts, but more so on the inside. Right from our tender beginnings, we are tailored into following, and adopting a mad scientists dogma and an Igor’s opinion as a guidebook for our lives. If we could only look in a mirror and see our inner selves we would acknowledge we are looking at scraps of philosophies and pieces of beliefs taken from this body and that body until we are nothing but a collection of others. We are without a doubt, a psychological representation of Frankenstein. The question I ask is, how do we redesign ourselves into a happier Frankenstein?

As Frankensteins, our personal patterns for functioning began from the first moment we were sparked to life. The bright light of the new world overwhelmed us, and we cried or howled aloud. Our first thoughts were tailored by our creators, parents, or caregivers. Then in a dreamlike state our friends, school, social media, co-workers, partners and news clips inserted little slivers and snippets of dogma into our internal structure. These soundbites either strengthened or loosened our stitching that bound our core beliefs. We were oblivious. While we were chained down upon our sleeping racks our subconscious wielded filaments of questionable knowledge like threadzilla. Sharp points ripped in and out of our patchwork of understanding inserting abstract information. Suddenly a thunderbolt cracked and our eyes jerked open. We were shocked to learn a positive change in ourselves could only happen when we were awake. Now we can view our  hodgepodge mess clearly chose the pieces we’d like to stitch into our Frankenstein self and those we’d like to tear out. This is our time. This is when we create our monstrously magnificent destiny— Mwah,ha,ha,ha.

The first giant step in a monster overhaul is to cut the crap and figure out what sort of beast we truly are and how it all transpired. We begin searching our past with microscopic detail. We ruminate on the origin of our fragmented parts and dissect the impact they had on our capabilities. The next step is to examine those parts of ourselves containing warning labels. Do not trundle close to other Frankensteins, they might smell your right elbow that’s starting to go off. Do not tryout for the Catch the Sheep team, you arise from a long line of lumbering creatures and your knees are an unmatched set. Or worse yet you may have been told by your parent, “Frankie, your teacher, Mrs. Lightning Bolt informed me that you’ve been playing with the werewolf pack. Is that true? You must stay with your own kind. They are freakin trouble, they are always ripping out other creatures stitches.” Or maybe you were instructed to shove everyone else out of your way on the trek to the voltage meter so you would be the first to arrive.  Or perhaps you were mistakenly told nobody was going to give you an eyeball, so you’d better damn well snatch one for yourself. Seriously monsters— To become the Frankenstein we want to be we must study the raising up we received.

So, who are we? Maybe we feel weighed down by an inappropriate choice of feet even though they came highly recommended. How about we simply use the instruments we have on hand to exchange them? Easy peasy, it’s called active-thinking my Frankenstein friends. And how are we progressing on a social level? Are we playing well with others, like vampires, werewolves and transfrankensteins? Recognizing that we are not responsible for capturing and fixing anyone else will go a long way in maintaining healthy relationships. Changing the way we operate in life won’t be an evening stroll in the moonlight, expect growing pains. The discomfort might even give new meaning to the phrase, it’s no skin off my back. Because in all truthfullness, transforming might require just that. It’s essential to recognize our built-in tendencies, and for us to triumph adjustments will have to be made. Be prepared to snip out a putrid patch of dogma in one place and sew a new plot in its place. Make no mistake, the whole process will be exhausting, possibly even backbreaking. But let’s face it, our backbones can be the most limiting factor in our ability to move through our current circumstances. Leave the fear to the villagers fellow Frankie— cut and sew baby— cut and sew.

After completing the final nips and tucks of our new design, we need to survey our stitching and check our extremities. Do we feel complete? Have we given Igor, and all the mad scientists in our lives their walking papers? Now allwe need is a few cosmic pointers to keep our heads held high in their proper place, well, besides the bolts of course. There are only a few rules to follow. Number one is — a seam ripper is a tool for our fingers only, don’t overindulge in spirits and loosely hand it off to somebody else for a try. We all know sharing is caring but not in this instance. We need to be our own best mad scientist. Rule number two is that our stitching is quality. We don’t need fancy pants sewing, ours does the same job as everyone else’s— stop comparing. And the third rule is, for the Mother of Pete we must attach a smile on our faces, pull our shoulders back and limber up our joints, nobody wants to meet a dark lumbering presence on the walk of life. Have some confidence, remember we are one of a kind. And if is is screaming like a banshee for confirmation on our successful transformation into a joyful Frankenstein all we need to do is observe how others respond to us. Are they moving towards us with a smile?— Or with a pitchfork?