**Re-posting** Do I Really Want to be This Alone With My Thoughts?

I am doing a re-post because I don't feel like blogging today and I don't have any of my stashed posts ready to schedule yet... Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one (from May 28, 2013) dealing with my special brand of crazy. 

Ever since I saw a post on G+ about relaxation tanks and deprivation chambers, I've been fascinated with the idea.

It seems therapeutic to take a little time to clear your head and just think without all the distractions of life. I started thinking how nice it would be to experience this kind of restful solitude and I wondered if there were any local places that offered the chance to try it out.

You know that anytime you start a search for one thing, you have to wade through twenty-million other things, right? I always start my searches way too general and never do get around to specifics.

A check for deprivation chambers brought up the expected tidal wave of results. I ended up checking out a link to how the chambers work.

Oh boy.

I got exactly 14 seconds in with this video and damn near had to call 9-1-1. Did you see her nose going under water? I couldn't stand to watch any longer. I almost drowned by proxy.

This video is not as exciting and artistic-looking, but at least I got the point without needed follow-up therapy.

Hmmm. Sounds nice, right? Except I didn't hear anything about cost or time limits. Pretty sure these aren't the kind of setups that you can have in an apartment as small as mine, even if you could afford one. Still, I did like the idea of getting enough relaxation and stress-relief to replace hours of sleep.

I sincerely liked the idea until I realized that I would be locked into a tank with nothing but some quiet relaxation. And my thoughts.

Speaking of therapy.

I have trouble with too much relaxation. Seriously.

The other day, I started using background sound videos on YouTube. I've been playing 4 to 8 hours of rainfall, ocean waves, wind-chimes... It was starting to sound like some sort of temple in my bedroom, but the soothing noises to help me stay focused on writing tasks. I liked the effect so much that I decided to use a video of sounds to help me sleep.

Okay. Once again I need to bring up my strange personality - phobia, weirdities and all.

Night One: I drifted off to sleep to the sound of crickets and wind and something that gently ticked. I woke up having a screaming nightmare about insects crawling over my body while I stood naked in a dark windy field looking at a scarecrow that was dressed like the priest in The Exorcist.

Night Two: I tried dozing off to some meditation chants and that seemed to work. I slept longer but still woke up at around 3 in the morning with memories of having performed strange sex acts with someone who (in my dreams) reminded me of my ex. I doused my room with holy water, said some prayers and told Satan to get thee behind me.

If I react like that in my sleep when I get too relaxed, I can't imagine the counseling I'd need after an hour or two in a deprivation chamber. I write to get thoughts out of my head; nothing sane can come of spending too much time with them.

Peace
--Free

GRIOT: Big Mama, Big Food, Big Love

Originally posted on Tuesday, April 05, 2016

I'm taking a couple days' break from reviews. I've received so many EOs for cleansing and moisturizing, I need to let my body (and skin, and hair) rest! I've washed my hair so much that I've rid myself of future dirt.
Today, I want to talk about memories. I've been in that mood. I was telling my niece the other night about the times I used to spend around Big Mama. My memory sucks so I probably tossed in memories that were handed down from my older brothers and sister.

We talked about how Big Mama would fix these huge and amazing breakfasts. When I say that breakfast at Big Mama's was an experience, I mean that even my mother (the Texan) was impressed. There were no simple, egg-and-bacon deals at Big Mama's. There's not a fast food chain around that could emulate these meals without adding a buffet line.

The first time I had a Big Mama breakfast, I thought I'd migrated in my sleep and woken up in the planet of No Freaking Way.

First, there was the food: slices of ham, fried pork chops, pan-fried potatoes, thick slabs of bacon, grits with salt and pepper, and biscuits that so huge and buttery-good that I think they are what the Israelites called manna. There were also eggs - scrambled eggs, sunny-side up, boiled and sliced - but who the heck could think about eggs with all that other food? One of my brothers used to joke that just two of those biscuits could feed half of a small continent.

When I say there was a lot of food, I mean, there wasn't just a dib of this and a dab of that. I mean, there was a lot of food. That was the first amazement.

Then there was the fact that there were so many people at the table. Family that lived two and three blocks away showed up for breakfast at Big Mama's. Talk about getting a start to the day, right? It was like a daily family reunion before folks went off to school or work or back to their own homes for the day.
The most impressive thing to me about those breakfasts - the thing that I never got over, even after I was used to all the food and family - was that they happened while dawn hadn't even thought about breaking. Seriously.

For a time, when my father moved our family there while he went overseas, we had to look for temporary housing. In the meantime, my mother, my siblings and I stayed in Big Mama's house. I'd feel like I'd just gone into REM sleep when I'd hear Big Mama walking around doing her morning wake-up calls.

"Rise and shine, everybody. The Lord has blessed us all to see another day!"

I'd just be wishing that the Lord would bless us to sleep another couple of hours. But, in Big Mama's house, no one was allowed to lay around in bed unless they were sick. Big Mama believed in that early-to-bed and early-to-rise thing. Super early. Crazy early. Early to bed like a narcoleptic wino, and early to rise like a rooster with anxiety issues.

Still, I loved being around my Big Mama - Miz Minnie Lee to a lot of people, but always Big Mama to me. She had her ways though...

Big Mama had a lot in common with most people of her generation when it came to how you raised and treated children. I always think of this image when I think of my Big Mama:

After she fed us all to stuffing before the crack of dawn, Big Mama made us face the day with prowess. During the school year, Big Mama could get 30 kids out of the house - on time, nourished, clean, looking good and feeling like there was nothing they couldn't do. She was like a fierce wind that pushed you out that door and into the world like all your dreams were just waiting for you to collect them. Even with all that freaking food in you.

Side note here about my aunties: I have the best aunties in this world. One of my aunties was a lunch lady at the elementary school. Who always got a fresh cinnamon roll for school breakfast? And who never had to worry that all the chocolate milk was gone? Me, that's who! (And I want to find that lost cinnamon roll recipe because I have never had one like those since childhood.)

One of my other aunties was our lioness. She'd run off bullies with a broom (true story), chaperon teen socials, carpool kids all over the neighborhood after the weekend get-togethers, and make sure that any stray kid was looked after.

Big Mama raised those aunties of mine. No surprise that they are all women to be reckoned with.
I guess I'm just glad that I have so many good memories of my Big Mama. I wish that many of the younger people I know could have experienced that kind of love.

Today, people like to call my Big Mama's kind of love "tough love". It wasn't tough love, it was just big love.

Peace
--Free


NOTE: I did make a couple of needed corrections that I only noticed when re-posting this. 

(Re-post) Children & Wisdom

(I was going through some old emails the other day and the one that prompted this post popped out at me. I've been too busy the last couple of days to play, so here's a copy/paste re-post. Enjoy)

I got this in an email & it gave me goosebumps. Maybe because I have been struggling lately over what love really is and what loving someone really means. I have been looking in the Bible for insight on the love between spouses and keep landing on 1 Corinthians 13:4 - Love is always patient; love is always kind; love is never envious or arrogant with pride. Nor is she conceited.

When I saw the answers these children gave, I realized they understand love a lot better than I do. The question "What is love?" was posed to children aged 4 to 8 by a group of professionals (according the the email) and these are the answers given:

• 'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.' Rebecca- age 8
• 'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'Billy - age 4 ('Safe in their mouth.' What a beautiful thought!)
• 'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.' Karl - age 5
• 'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.'Chrissie - age 6
• 'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.' Terri - age 4
• 'Love is when my mummy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.' Danny - age 7
• 'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more... My Mummy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss' Emily - age 8
• 'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.' Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
• 'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,' Nikka - age 6
• 'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.' Noelle - age 7
• 'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.'Tommy - age 6
• 'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.' Cindy - age 8
• 'My mummy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.' Clare - age 6 (ROFL!!!)
• 'Love is when Mummy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.' Elaine-age 5
• 'Love is when Mummy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.' Chris - age 7
• 'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day' Mary Ann - age 4
• 'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.' Lauren - age 4
• 'When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.' (what an image) Karen - age 7
• 'Love is when Mummy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross.' Mark - age 6
• 'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget..'Jessica - age 8

And the final one --

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry'

(I felt like crying myself when I read that last one. I once heard a minister preach about being a friend by sitting with someone during their suffering and grief. He illustrated his point with Job 2:13 Then they sat down on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights with no one speaking a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great. The minister said that sometimes when people go through suffering, the best thing to do is to say nothing but to "sit where they sit," in other words, to sit with them in their grief. That little kid could teach everybody something.)
Peace
--Free

P.S.: This is a good time to be busy. Outside looks like this:

HUGE flakes still coming down. No signs of stopping. Ugh, winter.