Write is Might

The pen is mightier than the sword.  

May it ever be so.

Je suis Charlie.

- G.P.

Colour Me Clean in 2015

As fate would have it, or karma, or whatever's operating overtime in my life right now, I had a crappy Christmas, both eve and day, and an unfortunately similar New Year's Eve.  There was lots of unexpected conflict and barely-suppressed anger and resentment, and I wasn't even with my relatives enjoying the usual dysfunctional family Christmas. (I mean that in a good way - the way all families have no- holds-barred holiday get-togethers.) I thought since I'd be spending time with friends rather than relatives, certain protocols of behaviour would be in place.  Boy oh boy I sure got that wrong.
So here I am on New Year's Day writing on my little web in the hope that I can shift gears and reset the tone for 2015.  As this day goes, so does the whole year, and so far I guess I'm doing well enough to offset a wacko festive season and an awkward New Year's Eve.  Writing a blurb for my blog is a good start, because it denotes work in my field, but it was all the stuff I did before I sat down at my computer this morning that turned things around before it was too late.
To secure a fresh start, I had to wash away all the crap that's come down for the last week or so.  So I did.  I cleaned the bathroom, which included the toilet bowl and shower stall.  I scrubbed and rubbed and watched my anger get flushed down the toilet and flow down the drain.  Then I washed myself.  After that I threw out the garbage from my waste baskets and cleaned the front hallway entrance of the house.
The wyrd* thing about all this is that certain events in my life, which I've written about in the previous two blurbs, were eerily portentous of the cleaning and purging rituals I've undertaken on this first day of the year. After all, I never get interviewed to talk about my non-career, let alone in a bathtub, but that's what happened.  All the lavender-scented soap and incense I've been washing with, and in, has taken on more significance than I originally thought.  Yes, lavender is a lovely, soothing fragrance, but this morning's symbolic ablutions reminded me that the word lavender is derived from the Latin word lavare, "to wash."  The French laver and English launder are derived from the same root.  
Once again, the universe has been telling me for several weeks that I should literally wash away whatever crap's been collecting in the garbage bin of my unconscious.  Although it hasn't been the best of holiday seasons - far from it - I love the synchronicity of it all.  Sometimes all the signs that proliferate my life mitigate the unpleasant little stories they foretell, and so colourfully illustrate.  Life is about the stories we live, and finding a common thread that connects them all inspires me, and fills my world and web with magic.
So I'm grateful that despite a bumpy start to 2015, I'm okay.  By paying attention to the road signs on my journey through life, I've managed to make a significant and fresh start to the New Year.  I wish you the same.
- G.P.
* wyrd - Old Norse word for fate, from which English weird is derived

Soap Flakes, Part II

The year is fast drawing to a close, so I'm writing this because I want to jack up the number of blurbs I've written in 2014. The piffle you read now is blurb number 23, which means the previous one is - drum roll, please - number 22!  

I've written numerous times that 22 is my favourite number, and after writing my most recent blurb, I noticed that it was the twenty-second one this year. Post #22 included a link to my interview on BathTub Bran.  Being interviewed by my friend Bran is a smart career move if ever there was one, at least for my kitty Lulu, and holds the promise of building a foundation for future endeavours. (In numerology 22 is the Master Builder number.)
I didn't know the previous blurb was the twenty-second one this year while I was writing it.  Imagine my unmitigated glee when I made the discovery. And imagine the pleasure I feel right now as I have another reason to shout aloud (figuratively speaking) on this little web of mine, once more and with great gusto, It's a Sign!
Another reason for writing this sudsy bit of nothing was so that I could introduce my legion of followers to Bran's YouTube interview site a 2nd time, therefore widening his audience by at least 2 viewers.  One hand washes the other. 
But enough of the flaky observations.  I think I`ll have a bath, with lots and lots of lavender bubbles.
- G.P.

Soap Flakes

Bran is a charming and gifted young artist who's a colleague of mine at the store where I work.  One of his numerous creative pursuits is a YouTube interview show called BathTub Bran.  He interviews local artists of different disciplines - many of them are dancers, because that's his background - and he interviews them in a bathtub. Yes, you've read that correctly, he and the interviewee sit in a bathtub full of suds.

Well, wouldn't you know, Bran asked me if I'd care to be interviewed.  Since bathtubs are one of my favourite places to relax and unwind, I said "yes" right away.  I also crave the attention (so what else is new?), and figured it couldn't do my non-career any harm.
Bran arrived at my home for the interview bearing gifts from the sponsors.  He had beer - always welcome - and some lovely bath products, which included a bar of hand made soap, a luscious bath bomb, and a candle.  All of them were scented with lavender.
If you're wondering why I mention such seemingly banal details about the gifts Bran bore, you aren't a regular reader, otherwise you'd know that almost nothing in my universe happens randomly.  The lavender-scented products Bran gave me fit my little world and web perfectly, because the soap and candles I regularly use at home are lavender-scented as well.  And don't try to tell me that it's just a coincidence, or not really strange because lavender is one of the most popular fragrances, and that I'm taking off again on one of my flaky, new-age, magical-thinking flights of fancy. Because you'd be wrong, and not in-tune enough to know that it's a sign!  Oh yes it is.  And consider this a big fat lavender-scented raspberry to any nay-sayers who disagree.
Anyway, sharing the tub with Bran was oodles of fun and having it recently posted on the Winter Solstice, which also coincided with a new moon (and the signs just keep on coming!) was the best solstice present I could receive.  I now have my fifteen-minus-ten minutes of fame.  I'm also delighted to add that Lulu, my inept but cute-as-a-button feline familiar, also makes an appearance in the interview.  And if she steals the show, I forgive her, because she takes after me.
So if you're interested in watching and hearing me, rather than just reading about me, or would like to see Bran's terrific YouTube site, click here...  (By the way, this is the first time I've ever used a link on this little web of mine, because I didn't know how.  Now I do.  I'm grateful to Bran for giving me a reason to learn another techno-tidbit of know-how in the wired world of social media and people under 12,000 days old.)
And while I'm here, let me wish all my faithful, fervid followers the happiest and most hyperbolic Season's Greetings, whatever festive season that is for you.
Blessed be.
- G.P.

No News is Good News

This morning I changed my routine on the web. (I refer to the world-wide-web, not the one you read now.) Instead of checking the weather forecast, reading a poem or two for the day, finding out how the stars will be configured tonight and learning about any astronomical events I probably won't be able to see, and then checking out some metaphysical correspondences with the physical ones I've just mentioned, (I love my signs!) I perused some news and current affairs sites.  I don't feel any smarter or well-informed, just depressed.  
That's all I had to say.
I think you get the picture.
Have a good day anyway.
- G. P. 
p.s.  Happy Hanukkah to Cheryl, Gael and Shlomo

Yech

Today is a black day for the soul.  In the material world this day is called Black Friday, when a deadly virus infects millions of willing victims.  I will not be infected because I have purposely immunized myself against the pernicious virus that is wantonly spread by carriers known as "shoppers."  The virus is called greed, a.k.a. consumerism.
This horrible affliction, which is actually celebrated on this day, began in the land to the south, and about five years ago made its way north to these here parts.  Unfortunately, I don't think it can be stopped.  And worse than that, I must work in a business called retail (gotta pay the rent!) that forces me to encourage the spread of the virus.  I forgot to book the day off in advance, and now I must participate in a pastime that is against my religion.  (That's the reason I would use if I'd remembered to request the day off.  If anyone asked me what religion that was, I'd probably reply with something like minimalism.  And why not?  After all, infected people religiously beat down the doors of retail outlets every year on this darkest of all days.)
There is a reactionary movement to this day that asks people to buy nothing; hence its name - Buy Nothing Day.  I've been marking that day for my entire adult life on the equivalent of Black Friday in this part of the world.  It's the day after Christmas and it's called Boxing Day.  I have already requested the day off, as I have every year, citing reasons already mentioned.
I'm worried I will come down with something today, but it won't be the insatiable urge to shop 'til I drop.  It will most likely be a combination of shattered nerves and despair for humanity.  Fortunately, at the end of what will no doubt be an interminably long, loud, frantic day, I will self-medicate by consuming a little too much wine.  Okay.  So I'm not perfect.  I'm going to consume today, too.  But it's my way of making the end of a dark day just a little brighter, for just a little while.
- G. P.

Milestones

I am 23,000 days old today.  I started to measure my life in days rather than years when I turned 22,000 days old, because 22 is my favourite number.  

I had a good run during my 22s.  I'm hoping for the same in my 23s, even though number 23 has never really had any special significance for me, until today that is.  
I'm creating my true self and measuring my progress day by day, rather than yearly.  Doing it daily keeps me focussed on the present instead of the future.  It's good to have goals and dreams, but now I detach myself from the outcome, and concentrate on the journey.  So here I go... one day at a time.
As for today, I'm having a good one.  I wish you the same.
Namaste.
- G.P.