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In the Dark of Night

28 Sep

In the safety of the night, masked in darkness, I reveal my innermost secrets.  I use no words.  In the arms of the night, masked in anonymity,  I am honest with myself.  Breathing the musky scent of the night, I am intoxicated and forget the day.  I am open.  I remember.  I know everything.  In the hold of the night, I explore the fragments of a frighten, exploited, coerced and ashamed girl.  Splintered moments become a vivid story in the blackness.  My eyes adjust to his void, I am a child and a woman in control.  Yet, I relinquish the need to be something I may not be. I will not conform to the identity that is me.  The deepest, most guilt ridden thoughts are free, in the night.  The night does not judge me.  The night accepts me, every layer, every version, as long as it is pure, as long as I am true, as long as it can lull me, watch me, unlock me.  I am. Vulnerable.  Awake.  Explorative.  Sensual.  Beautiful.  Now comes the Dawn.

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I intend…

29 Mar

I intend.  I intend.  I intend.  I believe in my intuitive abilities.  I alone create my reality.  I am creator.  My reason for living is to evolve creatively and spiritually, and to bring light and understanding to this world, my world, this layer of reality that I am presently existing within.  These are concepts I’ve been exploring in efforts to become effective and complete.  All of these ideas will come.  I understand that they must come effortlessly, fluidly, naturally.  I am opening, like petals of a flower, organic and true.  I am listening.  I am watching.  I am still.

My dreams whisper a story, my story.  Like a sweet child’s breath, my ear tingles and I know the words.  Where is this place?  What shall I do?  Please guide me.

Thank you.

I recently read “The Bringers of the Dawn” a book by Barbara Marciniak.  It was written in the early 1990s.  Many of the concepts are far out.  But I found the book to be a beacon.  A route to self-discovery.  A spark.  A support.  And a welcome tool full of encouragement to think freely.  To own your actions.  To take back power.  To break free of one’s accepted concepts and unchallenged, core fundamentals.  And to suspend thought long enough…  To fly.  To float.  To fall.  To awaken.  To rise.  To recreate.

There are many moments, images, memories or projections that I remember.  That I have carried with me on my journey.  Sometimes it’s a smell, a feel, a flicker of light or a sense.  Some have been with me since I was a child.  Others have accumulated with my experiences.  Until now, I have guessed at their meaning.  The sun beaming through me.  My feet in the cool wet sand.  I am young.  And I’m holding someone’s hand.  I’m enveloped and it’s gone.  Sometimes there’s no visual, just the sense of that moment.  A smell of the salt in the ocean air.  The warmth and protection.  The love.

I dream things that happen in my life before they happen.  I call that Deja Vu.  And when I get these feelings or Deja Vu, I have come to accept it as a sign that I’m taking the right path.  I’m going in the right direction.  This has been a comfort.  The only real way to check myself.  But then I read “Bringers” and at a crucial moment in the book, all of these seemingly random events collided and strung together like DNA connecting into a helix.  The gravity of a thought catapulted me through time, collapsing sheets of dimensions into one.  Could it be that this book was written for me?  Dawn?  Taking all of these multitudes of people, passing the book from person to person, until it finally reached me?  Until the moment in time when I might be receptive to the concept?  Using all of the words that I use, that speak directly to my sense of self?  Willing it.  Remembering that I am a renegade.  I am here to to break the system.  To bring the dawn.  To ground the message.  A tidal wave of light that will bring enlightenment, finally, and destruction of old ideologies.  We have all been working on this. I am not that ego-centric.  But my role is in the last chapter.  And now I am the main character.  And those memories and unplaceable experiences that have floated just out of reach of my comprehension have meaning.  Grave meaning.  Being born with all of the knowledge.  Only needing the understanding that I must trust myself.  My four year-old voice “No regrets.”  My six year-old voice, “Mom, the magic is gone.”  Born a healer.  A self-proclaimed old soul.  “This will be my last life, ” thinks the two year-old.  This is why Peter killed himself.  This is why Grandpa Jack died.  All soldiers.  Bringing.

My son was to be named Orion.  I was to be named Dawn.  This is our disguise.  Hurdles.  Thwarted.  Almost lost.  And one book.  Many voices channelled by one.  This is my journey.  This is why I am here.  I am a renegade.  I am Dawn.

—Real thoughts by Leigh Stimolo ©2012 and the beginning of my next creative work.  Novel or screenplay?  Still to be decided.

She talks to Angels

20 Sep

I’ve been on a path of self-discovery, a path that I’ve followed like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole.  It started last spring or maybe earlier.  It spawned from feeling of being trapped in daily life and out of the need to find peace, happiness, and abundance.  That said, I gave credence to this open-ended search by also following different story ideas for my next screenplay.  At first it was background for “Death: the study of Dying”, a feature fiction screenplay about a quirky, trust-fund baby who has it all but lives in fear.  Fear of dying.  So she sets out and joins every spiritual, yoga, mediation class she can.  In the end the character, after a near death experience, finds her answer.  Another screenplay idea I’m working on is “Fight the Bear” about a girl, Jenny, who has done the right thing all her life, yet still hasn’t reaped any karmic rewards for being good.  So she decides to make her own destiny and fight her way to success.  Then there is my baby, “Repent”.  This one is also a story of exploration.  It begins with the main character pleading with God to give her another chance, a chance to get her life right.  God concedes and Bethea is sent rushing down to earth. She is reborn. We catch up with her on the eve of her 40th birthday.  She’s made wrong choices, picked the wrong guys and still hasn’t fulfilled her promise of spiritual commitment to God.  Plagued by increasing incidents with Deja Vu, night visions, intuitive coincidences, Bethea goes to a psychic for answers.  The psychic tells her that she’s had a guardian angel by her side the entire time. This starts her on her journey toward uncovering her fragile beginning and to remembering that this is her last shot at getting life right or else.

Art, creation, time, life, these are themes looping through my mind. Depending on the day, I am in triumph, full of hope.  Only to waken to the reality of my daily existence.  One without awe.  Without inspiration.  But I must will it.  I must believe it.  I must tear my way forward.  To give and to receive.  Last week I was up.  I wrote, “All things needed to move forward are converging like tiny streams to a river. Rushing and pushing me toward the glorious pool that is my destiny”.  My buddy gave me a hard time with a comment on whether it was my idea of being in the “right dimension” or is this something different.  To which I retorted, “All things are pointing to go. Whether it’s described as living in the ultimate dimension, fulfillment of ‘pre-destined’ mission in life, realizing full potential, strength-based leadership, balancing your chakras, mindful living, meditation, visualization… it’s the same message and I am listening”.  And thus, this is where I am today.  Listening, keeping an eye open for a sign, yet moving forward toward my goal.  Writing.  Thinking. Writing about writing. Living. Loving…

looky-loo

18 Aug

okay, so this probably isn’t helping the cause of getting out of boston, but since i’m here…

i’ve been looking at condos. it’s as close to the bottom of the market as it’s likely to get so the pickings are better than they’ve been since i landed in this burg. not that i make an insane amount of cash – i can still quality for affordable housing loans for those with low incomes in boston- but i figure i have enough behind me to stave off a monthly mortgage if the price is right. the mitigating factors? i don’t have a car so i need to be close to public transportation. i am living in central square in cambridge right now paying a laughably low monthly rent (laughably, as in -all the way to the bank) in an almost perfect location as far as i’m concerned. unless i find the Exactly Right place, there’s not too much incentive to move. well, except for the whole building up equity thing.

and that’s the heart of this venture. i’m no slouch at the savings account but i’ve started from zero – not even zero, actually. much less than zero, from the moment i arrived on the east coast. student loans, not much in savings, absolutely no financial help from any quarter. not an enviably position, but it is a point of pride (i take what i can get, okay?) that i have gotten myself firmly up to zero and managed to save a pittance besides. but it’s taken me about six or seven years to do that. i wanna see what i can do in my last couple of boston years with my largest monthly expense – rent – going back into my own portfolio.

i’ve been out looking twice so far – once in cambridge, once in the south end. the cambridge place was gorgeous, move-in ready, and straining the limits of my budget. the south end places, if you could get past the psuedo-sketchiness of the neighborhoods, required a little imagination but could be viable options. today it is fenway. the places are in my price range (which is kind of pitiful, but a girl’s gotta start somewhere, child), close to the t or the #1 bus (the lifeline from cambridge to boston via mass ave). i’ll be interested to see what the spaces are like in person. on paper i got the impression that they would be modest little studios.

so when the location and price line up, the thing that interests me is how to know when the place i’m looking at is The Right Place. which is, i guess, a state informed by the purpose to which i want to put my last few boston years. i’ve got a book to write to earn my creative writing degree, so i want a place that is conducive to that kind of work. i’m also looking forward to the solitude, a space that is just mine (that in itself would make a space conducive to writing. it certainly is the missing element in my current living situation). i’m hoping for something open, too. something that could admit gatherings of friends, fellow writers, interesting and creative people in need of a meeting place. it’d be fun to be in the middle of a movement, or at least to have the space to start one. even a movement of one – i’m just imagining having an art room, a place to paint, sew, make and do. all the stupid little projects i’ve piled up in my head and haven’t yet found a compelling enough excuse to get to work on. hmm. i guess it’ll be like that old saw about pornography: when i see it, i’ll know.

so, fenway it is. we’ll see what can be seen. more to come…

Oh Sun

17 Aug

Oh Sun. Shine, shine all over me. Heal me. Refresh me. Awaken to this day and all of its splendor.  For I am the breath of life.  And you are in me.  Around me.  And forever my friend.  I bow to you.  I thank you.  And in turn, I thank myself. And you, Fernando.  Thank you for opening my eyes and telling me I am the breath of life.  I will hold this thought through out my day.