Voodoo, Energy, Positive Thinking--Magic or Fact

I'm sure someone has told you somewhere along the line to "always look on the bright side of life..."

When Monty Python tells me to keep my head up I smile and laugh, when the average person tells me I want to smack them.  Maybe not really smack them, but I certainly develop one of those dark ink-scratch clouds over my head like Charles Schulz drew over Linus's head when Lucy tried to steal his blanket.

But I am pondering whether our states of mind can actually affect our quality of life.  And I also question if a practice like voodoo is merely a self-induced hypnosis where we can harm ourselves by over-thinking something to the point of creating a self-fulfilling prophesy.

There are endless books on positive thinking where we are told how to remove anything bad from our minds and to only focus on the good, happy, and helpful.  The queen of affirmations is probably Louise Hay who has helped endless people with her books, workshops, and recordings. 

http://www.amazon.com/Heal-Your-Life-Gift-Edition/dp/1561706280/ref=pd_sim_b_1

Are affirmations just a form of reverse-voodoo? 

Do we actually have the ability to make things happen with out thoughts?  Some people think we do.  Dr. Keith Scott-Mumbly believes we can help ourselves or harm ourselves by how we think.  He even believes we sometimes accidentally sabotage ourselves with unconscious thought patterns.  Supposedly we develop patterns when we are very young as defense mechanisms and methods of survival.  As we grow and leave the situations that caused us to develop these necessary patterns, we continue to use them though we no longer need them.  Now instead of helping us these patterns hinder us.  Read how we can help ourselves with reprogramming according to Dr. Mumbly:

http://www.alternative-doctor.com/mind_stuff/tools10.html

My personal opinion on the topic stems from a famous quote by Eleanor Roosevelt.  The quote says "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  Everyone loves this quote.  It is supposed to be empowering--I feel it is dangerous.  I believe it could hurt someone who is truly depressed and needs help they cannot muster from within.  It could make someone feel worse who is stuck in a terrible situation and cannot figure a way out.

While I do believe we should always do our best and assume everything will be OK, I also think we should seek help when needed and NOT feel bad if we can't pull it off ourselves.

Now back to the magic.

If we eat purely healthy food, supposedly our bodies improve.  New skin in 30 days, our liver can regenerate in 6 weeks, and our skeleton is replaced in 3 years by new cells.  So why can't we do the same with our minds.  Could we actually think ourselves into a better situation?  If our thoughts are as pure as organic food can we do magic?

Mystics believe that we can.  A tulpa is "the concept of a being or object which is created through sheer discipline alone. It is a materialized thought that has taken physical form and is usually regarded as synonymous to a thoughtform." 

I have never had the ability to completely change a thought pattern if my emotions are pushing me in the other direction.  I love the idea of true magic, but I am not convinced in one direction or another.  If anyone has a magical story to share--I would LOVE to hear it :)

Please read about tulpas on Day 46 of 100 Unfortunate Days:

Day 46

Anything can be a tulpa. If you think of something long enough, you will make it real. You can make almost anything come true. Stacks of books are written about all the methods of imagery, manifestation and self-fulfilling prophecies—but in reality, all you have to do is think. Nothing tricky or fancy—just think. You’ll do this and you won’t even know it. You will worry about your kid…she’ll be sad at school, she’ll do badly with her new friends. Just keep it up—it will surely happen. Whatever you think about for your kids, whatever you worry about—that is what they will become. Pity them and they will become the kid that should be pitied. You gave them a tulpa. They are their own tulpa because of you. People take things away from us all the time. They call names, they give us wrong directions and they hurt our feelings. We take it from there. No one can ever talk to us as much as we talk to ourselves. “I’m such a witch, I’m such a witch…” One day your husband made you mad and you add something to his food that may upset his stomach just a little bit. “I’m such a witch…” The mole on your face has a hair you never noticed before. “…such a witch…” You no longer feel a communion with God. Somewhere along the line you become the witch. A tulpa is a thought come to life. Mystics in India believe if you can imagine something to the point of knowing it down to its finest detail—eventually you will have a hard time knowing if it is your imagination or not. Then this spirit/idea takes on shape and energy and it becomes real. So real that you can no longer get rid of it. So real that it can become a part of you and have the ability to change your life.

The Dark

I just read Charity Parkerson's twitter post that said:

"Evil lives in the dark--we instinctively know this as children." 

And it struck a chord with me.

I remember being terrified to go into the basement because it was dark. And later because my sister would bribe me like Lucy would Charlie Brown. She would ask me to get her a toy from the basement because she was too "little" and look at me with the biggest brown puppy-dog eyes you have EVER seen--and I fell for it every time.  So I would get to the bottom step, and she would shut off the light, slam the door, and run.

I was afraid to sleep without the hall light on--I still leave the lights and television on when my husband is away.

Everything is much scarier in the dark.  I cannot remember a horror movie where the really terrifying stuff happens during the day.

30 Days of Night is a movie about the town of Barrow, Alaska, that is plunged into a vampire filled 30 days where the sun never rises.  We all know they can only get you after the sun goes down...

Werewolves only 'turn' during the full moon--at night. 

My grandmother would say "there is nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light."  Oh, but Grandma--we can't see what waits for us when the lights are down.

We are told we will see a golden light when we die, leading us to the promise land.

This Little Light of Mine is shining and surely showing our good side.

Saying someone is all 'goodness and light' is self-explanatory.

A book I read about Feng Shui and "clearings" said that spirits live in the dark and the clutter.  The dim areas in our home that collect piles of stuff also harbor ghosts and evil.  We feel uncomfortable there not only because of the mess, but because darker and more base entities have come to roost. There is no motion--and no light.
Read about it here:

http://www.amazon.com/Creating-Sacred-Space-With-Feng/dp/0553069160/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332779809&sr=1-2

I can't say if these things are true--but I think Charity Parkerson is right.  We DO feel things when we are children and running up the cellar stairs for dear life because we know something growling and dark is nipping at our heels.  But we grow out of these things--we are rational now and we learn to fight these feelings.

Maybe we should listen to our instincts a bit more.  Maybe our inner voice is right--the dark is scary.

Day 57 of 100 Unfortunate Days

Every single basement has a dark corner or room no one likes. Maybe the whole basement is dark and scary. Spirits collect in dark and cluttered spaces. They hide and wait for you because they are stuck. Some people can see them. Some people see the long, thin, black, wispy figures with arms ten feet long that unfold as they slowly reach for you in the dark because you have to go down there to get something or fix a light bulb or retrieve a screwdriver.

Part of you revs up and moves really quickly to get out of there because you know if you wait long enough and the arms fully unfold, they can touch you and then part of you belongs in the black corner in the basement. Then it will be very hard to be normal again. You will wake up in the middle of the night, and you won’t be able to get back to sleep because you will worry about all the things you have done wrong and how you are hurting people.

You can’t get this out of your mind now and you think that maybe if you count and envision each number in your head as you say it in your mind; you can block some of the bad thoughts. Or maybe you can pray—say the Lord’s Prayer over and over and over and God will surely be there to help you because you are saying his prayer. But it doesn’t help.

God doesn’t give a fuck when you are miserable—he doesn’t care if you pray. You can pray until there is blood dripping out of your mouth and nothing will change. God is an asshole that way. Even a relatively rotten person will assist you if you are begging for help, but your thoughts will just revolve through your mind over and over until you want to take a gun like the lead in Fight Club and shoot them out of your head. Maybe someday you will, but for now, you are trying to figure why God is such a jerk-off and you have to live like this.

You wonder why you feel forsaken—well it’s probably because you have been forsaken and you don’t know how to live in that state. Because when you are a kid somebody probably told you everything would be all right, and now you realize they lied. So you keep lying to yourself, telling yourself it’s not such a big deal, but actually it is, because now the dark corners in your basement have started to get darker. And bigger. The arms get longer and longer and pretty soon there won’t be anywhere you can go where they can’t touch you. So you start to drink or take pills or do some other kind of drug so you can’t tell when you get touched. Now the problem is you get touched all the time, but you don’t know it. At least now you don’t care.

Expose Yourself

Writing a book that had elements of me and my personality was nerve-wracking.

I had no problem doing the writing--but when it came to pushing the actual publish button I felt like I was standing on Madison Avenue naked.  I had second thoughts and regrets, felt exposed yet exhiliarted, and the book was not even available to anyone yet.

But there was a stronger need to get the book out than to let the fear win.  It was not an autobiography and I had to remind myself it was NOT a diary--but a study of a dark personality. 

The writing was cathartic and unnerving.  It dug up corpses I thought would surely remain buried.  I had to deal with emotions I almost forgot I had--and then live with them.

Weeks and weeks passed and I realized I could no longer pretend the emotions and situations the book revealed were just a side effect of writing a novella.  So I faced them.  Friends had to deal with my sudden changes in mood.  My blog had become a dumping ground for every angry thought and question I ever had. I am not even going to mention what my poor family had to go through.  (But thanks if any of you are reading this--friends too.)  I also realized who my real friends are--are who are not.  And I made some great new ones while meandering this unexpected path.  :)

Yikes.

After three days of shock, depression, and a dawning of what I was doing wrong and silly in my life--I faced my demons.  Holy #$%.  This was better than psychological rehab.  I'm not saying I am normal and perfect now and I will never do anything wrong again as long as I live--but I am saying that writing that book (100 Unfortunate Days) allowed me to clear the bats from my belfry.

Oh, there are so many cliches, quotes, and sayings running through my head now:

It's always darkest before the dawn.

You must do the thing you fear the most.

Honest is the best policy.

Just do it.

They all apply--and there are more but I will stop here.

So I guess what I am trying to say is expose yourself.  Let the real you out.  Let it scare the hell out of you and tear everything up in its path.  And when you come out on the other end get ready--you will feel like Rip Van Winkle waking up after his 100 year sleep :)

(The image at the top right is the potential new cover for 100 Unfortunate Days--what do you think?)

When Is a Relationship Really Over?

I am writing about a failing relationship in a new book. 

There is no doubt that the relationship in the book is doomed.  Of course both characters are flawed and have emotional baggage and issues, but don't we all.  Yet the fate of their situation is easy for me to see.  Nothing mysterious is going on, they are not struggling with tough decisions--it is just OVER.

It is rarely like this is real life.

We stay and fight and try and work on situations that may be salvageable, but how do we know when to actually end it?

Certain people say short of physical abuse, you should stay.  You are married after all, and that is supposed to be forever.  And of course if children are involved that is a whole different story.  Here is a paragraph from an article by Jayna Solinger: 

Generally, it is better for children to suffer a bad marriage than to cope with divorce. According to University of Michigan psychologist and divorce expert Neil Kalter, the misery of an unhappy marriage is less significant than the changes after a divorce. The children would rather their parents keep fighting and not get divorced (Marriage 64). Although this does not seem logical, it shows that children want their parents together at all costs. Also, contrary to popular belief, the alternative to most divorces is not life in a war zone (Zinmeister 30). In the vast number of divorces there is no strife or violence that could ruin a person’s childhood; the divorce is usually driven by a quest for "greener grass." These divorces almost always make the child worse off and create a number of unnecessary problems for the child. If parents would concentrate harder on working conflicts out rather than their own personal happiness, the children would be much better off.

While I do agree that parents should try and be their best for their kids, this paragraph makes me feel the child would learn that he is stuck once he is in a terrible situation.  That is not a message I would want to send my children.

On the other side of the coin, leaving might NOT be the worst thing:

Divorce, however, is not always a terrible thing. In a few given situations it proves to be for the best. The two situations that may prove beneficial for a person to get a divorce are abusive relationships and infidelity. When one parent is abusive, whether verbal, physical, or sexual, to the children, it is more beneficial to the child if the parent leaves (Huffman 4). Also, if one spouse is beating the other, the marriage should be ended. If a child watches his/her parent get beaten his entire life, he/she could think that it is fine to act this way or severely resent the parent for staying.

And so, the quandary.

How is one supposed to know what path is the better?  Hindsight here, as always, is 20/20, and we will never know the results of our decisions until years in the future.

I remember reading a little book called Life Advice from 4 to 104.  Little kids gave advice about how to hide bad tasting vegetables in your milk, teens advised how to sneak in after curfew.  A man of 92 said the biggest decision with the most consequences you will ever make in your life is the person you choose as a mate.  When I read it I was younger and did not understand the implications.

I get it now.

Day 64 of 100 Unfortunate Days

Day 64

How can you tell when you should leave someone? Is emotional neglect enough? How about being called a c**t, or having your grammar corrected in front of friends and family, or having your antique furniture you were saving from your family be put on the curb for trash pick-up? Or being told you were being ‘trained’ after your newlywed husband refused to talk to you for a month? Maybe being told you were not really sick but looking for attention when you had pneumonia? But on the other side of the coin, what if you have not worked in 15 years and this same man supported you and gave you everything you could ever need. Vacations and diamonds. A perfect house in one of the best neighborhoods and school systems in the United States. So am I a hooker? Does that actually make me a prostitute? Should I have left my honeymoon when he told me wasn’t speaking to me because he “realized what he had gotten himself into” by marrying me—and he did not like the way I packed? Can you really stay married to someone and feel that they are an asshole half the time? He thinks I am a waste of space and wonders if my father is disappointed with me because I am such an underachiever. How I am wasting my God-given talents? Can a person like you—or love you—and not talk to you? How many times can you try to talk to someone, or go to therapy, or read books to help salvage an emotionally ridiculous relationship? Can you stay in the relationship and retain your dignity and not have people think that you are a doormat?

Isaac Asimov, C.S. Lewis, and the Reagan Doctrine

I was feeling inadequate and incomplete because of my skepticism about religion and God, so I requested a clear indication.

And it did seem that the answer to my request for a signal of whether God was indeed there was all signs point to yes.

And then, of course, I had to start thinking.

My average education was not serving me well here, so I looked up two scholars, Isaac Asimov, and C.S. Lewis. 

Both frighteningly over educated, and born within 25 years of one-another, they had strikingly different views of God and religion.

Lewis, from Ireland, was an atheist, then theist, and eventually a devout Christian.

Asimov, originally from Russia but smuggled into the United States by his parents, probably could be called a reluctant atheist.

Lewis writes in blossoming, flowing and rich descriptions in contrast with Asimov's sharp, clean and direct sentences.  Asimov won Nebula and Hugo awards for his writings, and his short story "Nightfall" is considered by many the best science fiction story ever written.  Read "Nightfall" here:

http://doctord.dyndns.org:8000/stories/nightfall.htm

Lewis has written the Narnia series, The Screwtape Letters, and many additional Christian-themed books, several made into well-known and popular movies.  He was moved to re-devotion to Christianity partially by his good friend J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Hobbit.

Asimov called himself an atheist, but with reservations.  He believed the term stated what he did not believe in, but neglected what he did.  He considered himself a humanist.  Although he wrote in simple and straightforward sentences, his mind was anything but simple.  He was a long-standing member of Mensa, and served as VP of the High IQ Society.

And now to the theological arguments.

Lewis's books argue that most evidence is based in favor of Christianity, and reasonable people should therefore be Christian.  (This is the most simplified version of his idea.)  He did not feel one should believe in Christianity if, in their opinion, the signs pointed otherwise  He did not believe "leaps of faith" served a skeptic any purpose.  But, for those who considered themselves devout Christians, he believed it better "to believe based on faith rather than evidence.  For a complete view of Lewis's ideals please read here:

http://atheism.about.com/od/cslewisnarnia/a/apologist.htm

Asimov pointed out that Ronald Reagan stated that anyone who does not believe in God cannot be trusted because they have nothing to motivate them to behave properly.  Asimov felt this was sad, inferring that people needed to be bribed and scared into behaving a certain way according to the "Reagan Doctrine," and we do not have the ability to keep our word or behave properly simply based on a sense of honor.  If we help someone, keep a promise, or just act basically decent, we are merely buying a "ticket to heaven."

I found the Reagan Doctrine fascinating, and hope you take the time to read this interesting treatise on a touchy subject.  :)

http://www.skeptictank.org/isaac.htm

Day 12 of 100 Unfortunate Days

Everyone thinks the anti-Christ is the devil, but it’s not. It’s a person just like you or me. Then the anti-Christ could tell you that if you do not go to church and follow him, you will go to hell. Or maybe he is right and IF you go to church you are following not the teachings of God, but of Satan. Satan is the father of lies, right? How the hell are we supposed to know who is lying

Now I'm Self-Conscious...

Christians have always made me feel uncomfortable.  Or anyone who follows a religion with unwavering belief.

How can you believe in something you cannot see, feel, or touch? 

And maybe uncomfortable is the wrong word. 

Although I don't think the way I feel is inadequate--it is close.  Maybe I feel less-than-good.  And I'm not exactly sure why.

It could be because they have that unwavering belief in God--and if you read my last post (below)--that is something I do not have.

Speaking about my last post...

I re-read it.

And then I re-read the comments.

I think a few Christians commented.  And a few non-Christians too.  I have to say these comments, along with conversations that I had with friends and family concerning God and this post, came closer to making me feel there is a God than anything I have ever read, studied or experienced in church.

Someone reached out a hand in friendship, another privately emailed me and said they understood.  Others reinforced friendships I was already proud to have.

I asked for a sign in my last post--an undeniable signal from the Big Guy himself.  This is the first time I can say their was not only a sign--but a shiny banner repeatedly putting itself in my field of vision.

Yikes.

Does this make me a Christian?  Or a person with an unwavering belief?

Not yet.  Which is good because I feel a bit self-conscious even writing this post because Christians and people of unwavering belief make me feel uncomfortable.  But I have to be honest...

It kinda feels neat thinking that for a change I could be headed in that direction...

Day 23 of 100 Unfortunate Days below.  One part of a journey...

Day 23

Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother’s special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard…all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed. As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground. A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. “Go home.” it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.

  





I

Do I Believe in God?

I want to believe in God--I swear I do.

But wanting and actually believing are two completely different animals. 

I believe in fits and starts.  I go through phases where I pray and promise everything from the perfect prayer life to never using the Lord's name in vain if the turbulence in the plane would cease and we would land safely.  On the other side of the altar (coin), I condemn the entire notion of a god to worship, feeling it is a way to keep people submissive and genuflecting.

Then there is a third mindset that does not allow me to feel anything but contempt for a god that would allow his only son's death, even if it was for the salvation of an eternity of souls.  He's the ruler of everything!  For #$% sake's he could have thought of another way.

Many times I don't like him very much--or the idea of him...or her.  Maybe it was a lack of proper Sunday schooling, but I was always taught that prayer could help just about anything.  I have never found that to be the case.  (Although my plane rides HAVE all ended safely...)

God allows or disallows all things.  Why, why, why would he allow hunger, war, disease, murder, or any number of other pains and tribulations?

I am supposed to swear my love and faith to an entity that responds with resounding silences to my conversations and beseechings.

My questions are nothing new--but they never leave me.

I read the Screwtape Letters--sometimes a few times in a year--hoping to glean a shining new grain of faith from Christian scholar C. S. Lewis.  I feel energized and renewed--for a day or two.

http://www.amazon.com/Screwtape-Letters-C-S-Lewis/dp/0060652934

I want a sign.  A glowing and shining light with a voice in my head--or out loud--telling me that indeed this is truly GOD.

I will probably keep doubting and waiting.  And hoping.

Day 57 from 100 Unfortunate Days

Every single basement has a dark corner or room no one likes. Maybe the whole basement is dark and scary. Spirits collect in dark and cluttered spaces. They hide and wait for you because they are stuck. Some people can see them. Some people see the long thin black wispy figures with arms ten feet long that unfold as they slowly reach for you in the dark because you have to go down there to get something or fix a light bulb or retrieve a screwdriver. Part of you revs up and moves really quickly to get out of there because you know if you wait long enough and the arms fully unfold, they can touch you and then part of you belongs in the black corner in the basement. Then it will be very hard to be normal again. You will wake up in the middle of the night, and you won’t be able to get back to sleep because you will worry about all the things you have done wrong and how you are hurting people. You can’t get this out of your mind now and you think that maybe if you count and envision each number in your head as you say it in your mind; you can block some of the bad thoughts. Or maybe you can pray—say the Lord’s Prayer over and over and over and God will surely be there to help you because you are saying his prayer. But it doesn’t help. God doesn’t give a fuck when you are miserable—he doesn’t care if you pray. You can pray until there is blood dripping out of your mouth and nothing will change. God is an asshole that way. Even a relatively rotten person will assist you if you are begging for help. But your thoughts will just revolve through your mind over and over until you want to take a gun like the lead in Fight Club and shoot them out of your head. Maybe someday you will, but for now, you are trying to figure why God is such a jerk-off and you have to live like this. You wonder why you feel forsaken—well it’s probably because you have been forsaken and you don’t know how to live in that state. Because when you are a kid somebody probably told you everything would be all right, and now you realize they lied. So you keep lying to yourself, telling yourself it’s not such a big deal, but actually it is. Because now the dark corners in your basement have started to get darker. And bigger. The arms get longer and longer and pretty soon there won’t be anywhere you can go where they can’t touch you. So you start to drink or take pills or do some other kind of drug so you can’t tell when you get touched. But now the problem is you get touched all the time, but you don’t know it. At least now you don’t care.

Do You Believe in Possession? A True Story

Do You Believe in Possession? A True Story

When I was in tenth grade my best friend went to Portugal for a month during the summer.  Her health had been slightly off, so I was surprised her family was taking her on such a long trip. 

When she came home she had on a new gold necklace with a locket and a bracelet with some charms on it.  When I asked her what was in the locket, she told me she would rather not talk about it.  Eventually she talked. 

She told me a priest in Portugal gave them to her after her exorcism to keep away the devils.  He told her she had been possessed by several demons, and she should wear the charms at all times, and never open the locket. 

She told me her relatives kept her in her room for several days and nights, and she could hear chanting in a language she could not understand through the walls.  She said the night before the exorcism she could understand.

The next day her family brought her to a cave, and the priest began a prayer and that is the last thing she remembers.  They told her she fell backwards like she had fainted, and her head was bent so far back they thought she would break her neck.  Her stomach began to rise and fall, and when her eyes fluttered like she might be waking,  all four people there could not lift her.

They told her the priest said one of the spirits haunting her was someone her own father had harmed in a business transaction, and this was its way of doing him harm.

On a rainy, boring Saturday as we sat in her room she decided to open the locket.

Inside was a tiny ladder, a lightning bolt, some white cloth, dust or dirt, a cross, and several other items I cannot remember.  She poured them out in her palm, and as she was examining them she shook her hand and remarked they had burned her.  She told me they left red marks on her hand but would not show me.  I was scared and went home. 

I remember her thinking the devil was after her, and her boyfriend and I would tease her and try and scare her. 

She got sicker and sicker from an ailment that was never quite figured out, and eventually passed away from what the doctors said was Wilson's disease.

A few years after that her boyfriend fell off of a second story balcony and broke his neck.  He has been in a wheelchair ever since.

I called her in the hospital in NYC a few days before she died and her mother would not let me speak to her on the phone, but I heard her voice in the background.  Her once friendly, happy voice sounded like knives being dragged down a chalkboard, and I will never forget it.

Did she die from a disease?  Was she possessed?  Did the items in her charm actually burn her hand?  The timing of all the events was amazing, and I am still scared of the devil probably more than I should be.  There is a part of me that feels I should not be writing this, that I should leave it alone.  Do you think I should be scared?

Someone who read my book 100 Unfortunate Days said talent is usually called a gift from God, she said my book might be the one case it is not true.  One reviewer wrote she could not sleep for nights after reading it and had to stop.  Here is that review:

"I began reading 100 Unfortunate Days over a month ago. I read more than half, late at night, in one sitting. I felt an immediate kinship with the protagonist. I asked myself, had Crowe inexplicably been inside my head extracting images? Or had the worms squished their way inside, muddying up my brain? I had an uneasy feeling that the worms were already there, dormant, and 100 Unfortunate Days disturbed them. That night I had a dream or a vision of an old ghost-man smiling at me, on the verge of a laugh, at the foot of my bed. I didn't read any more for 7 days. Then i read a bit past day 75. This time i was visited by a demon troll who tried to take away my breath as i slept. I didn't read again for 14 days. I finished it today and I agree with Crowe, there should be a disclaimer before Day 1 because I am fairly certain that parts of this book may have been infected by the devil and in turn may contaminate you. That's balderdash, right? Maybe. If you are a skeptic and take this work as pure fiction from a very talented, highly imaginative authoress, go ahead and turn the page...and wish me luck tonight while i sleep..."

Maybe I will add that disclaimer...
  
I don't want to believe in the devil, but I may have to say that I do...

Protection from St. Michael--you may need it after this post:

http://www.traditioninaction.org/religious/b009rpMichael.htm

Do You Believe in Possession? A True Story

When I was in tenth grade my best friend went to Portugal for a month during the summer.  Her health had been slightly off, so I was surprised her family was taking her on such a long trip. 

When she came home she had on a new gold necklace with a locket and a bracelet with some charms on it.  When I asked her what was in the locket, she told me she would rather not talk about it.  Eventually she talked. 

She told me a priest in Portugal gave them to her after her exorcism to keep away the devils.  He told her she had been possessed by several demons, and she should wear the charms at all times, and never open the locket. 

She told me her relatives kept her in her room for several days and nights, and she could hear chanting in a language she could not understand through the walls.  She said the night before the exorcism she could understand.

The next day her family brought her to a cave, and the priest began a prayer and that is the last thing she remembers.  They told her she fell backwards like she had fainted, and her head was bent so far back they thought she would break her neck.  Her stomach began to rise and fall, and when her eyes fluttered like she might be waking,  all four people there could not lift her.

They told her the priest said one of the spirits haunting her was someone her own father had harmed in a business transaction, and this was its way of doing him harm.

On a rainy, boring Saturday as we sat in her room she decided to open the locket.

Inside was a tiny ladder, a lightning bolt, some white cloth, dust or dirt, a cross, and several other items I cannot remember.  She poured them out in her palm, and as she was examining them she shook her hand and remarked they had burned her.  She told me they left red marks on her hand but would not show me.  I was scared and went home. 

I remember her thinking the devil was after her, and her boyfriend and I would tease her and try and scare her. 

She got sicker and sicker from an ailment that was never quite figured out, and eventually passed away from what the doctors said was Wilson's disease.

A few years after that her boyfriend fell off of a second story balcony and broke his neck.  He has been in a wheelchair ever since.

I called her in the hospital in NYC a few days before she died and her mother would not let me speak to her on the phone, but I heard her voice in the background.  Her once friendly, happy voice sounded like knives being dragged down a chalkboard, and I will never forget it.

Did she die from a disease?  Was she possessed?  Did the items in her charm actually burn her hand?  The timing of all the events was amazing, and I am still scared of the devil probably more than I should be.  There is a part of me that feels I should not be writing this, that I should leave it alone.  Do you think I should be scared?

Someone who read my book 100 Unfortunate Days said talent is usually called a gift from God, she said my book might be the one case it is not true.  One reviewer wrote she could not sleep for nights after reading it and had to stop.  Here is that review:

"I began reading 100 Unfortunate Days over a month ago. I read more than half, late at night, in one sitting. I felt an immediate kinship with the protagonist. I asked myself, had Crowe inexplicably been inside my head extracting images? Or had the worms squished their way inside, muddying up my brain? I had an uneasy feeling that the worms were already there, dormant, and 100 Unfortunate Days disturbed them. That night I had a dream or a vision of an old ghost-man smiling at me, on the verge of a laugh, at the foot of my bed. I didn't read any more for 7 days. Then i read a bit past day 75. This time i was visited by a demon troll who tried to take away my breath as i slept. I didn't read again for 14 days. I finished it today and I agree with Crowe, there should be a disclaimer before Day 1 because I am fairly certain that parts of this book may have been infected by the devil and in turn may contaminate you. That's balderdash, right? Maybe. If you are a skeptic and take this work as pure fiction from a very talented, highly imaginative authoress, go ahead and turn the page...and wish me luck tonight while i sleep..."

Maybe I will add that disclaimer...
  
I don't want to believe in the devil, but I may have to say that I do...

Protection from St. Michael--you may need it after this post:

http://www.traditioninaction.org/religious/b009rpMichael.htm

Day 10 of 100 Unfortunate Days

The narrator of 100 Unfortunate Days is on the verge of a breakthrough--or breakdown.  She is opinionated, overwhelmed, and angry.  She also has some very bright ideas.  You can be the judge about her ideas on Day 10...

Day 10

You can tell what kind of person someone is by the kind of pet they have. It is almost as accurate as a horoscope.

Dogs—Anyone who likes dogs is a nice person. Anyone who likes owning a dog is an idiot. They also like things like cooking and having people over for Thanksgiving. They don’t mind cleaning up and have a stronger stomach than others. They are afraid of the dark and of being alone. They believe in God and the Devil. They do not think much. They are matter-of-fact. They are dull.

Cat—Cat people are selfish. They are either interesting or crazy. The more cats you have, the crazier you are. Unless you have outside mousers. They can also see different colors than your average person. They are either interested in fashion or witchcraft. They have a hidden affinity for the occult. Anyone who owns a cat is slightly influenced by the devil because cats are familiars of evil. If you wake up a cat-lover unexpectedly their eyes will glow.

Fish—Fish owners are technical and possibly engineers or scientists. Or kids. Adults do not have fish unless they have a poor sex life. They can also be hard to figure out and slippery characters. Doctor’s and dentist’s offices do not apply here.

Lizards—People who like lizards like guns—and maybe knives. They may have or want to get tattoos. They think they’re special and do not care much about getting sick. They are loners and have good hearing. They may have more facial hair than average. They may drive a truck.

Birds—Bird owners either have no feelings or feel too much. Men who like birds that talk have the same type of issues as men who like ventriloquist dummies. Women who like birds like flowers and fancy themselves as better than everyone else. Sometimes they are right. Bird owners have a higher IQ than the general public.

Hamsters, gerbils and mice—These pets are usually for kids. No comment on the kids that own them. Adults that own them are weird.

Rats—People who own rats think they are very interesting. They think people look at them in awe and wonder how they can make their rat act so nice—even if the rat is not nice. They usually have some piercings or tattoos, like lizard people, and like heavy metal music and dress in black.

Ferrets—Owning a ferret usually means you are devious and a bit snippy. Sometimes very snippy. You are a bit of an oddball. You don’t like to read very much. You like TV. And you get the TV Guide delivered to your house—that kind of counts as a book.

Horses—People that own horses think they are free spirits and in touch with the earth. They may be rich, or are trying to act rich. They like to be the center of attention and may have big teeth and big smiles. They own too many cars and don’t mind traveling a far distance to get a good cup of coffee.

Snakes—There is just something wrong with people who have snakes for pets. Especially poisonous ones. And now you are going to read this and get mad that I said there is something wrong with you. If there wasn’t anything wrong with you, you would just ignore that statement.

Bugs, spiders, cockroaches and the like—Just like snakes. Something wrong with you.

There are people with no pets at all. They are probably the smartest people.

(Please know these are not my true opinions.  I actually love animals, and usually, their owners...)

Orangeberry Book Tour for 100 Unfortunate Days

Starting December 8th my book 100 Unfortunate Days will be on tour with Orangeberry Book Tours, and I will be in great company.  Fellow Indie Writers Unite authors Terry Simpson and Mary Pat Hyland will be touring their books Etchings of Power and Terminal Diner, along with many other great authors.

I am lucky enough to be hosting Ashley Fontainne, Yvonne Hertzberger and Mary Pat Hyland on my blog this month, and hopefully several others.

We will be featured on blogs and hopefully generate interest about our books.

Please visit the Orangeberry site and check out 100 Unfortunate Days, along with all the other great authors on the tour.  See you there!

 http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/2011/09/book-launch-festival-2011.html

Perfect Timing and a Surprise Review

As I was looking through older listings of 100 Unfortunate Days on Google to find if I had written an interesting blurb about the book somewhere, I noticed that it had been reviewed in Pandora's Pen as Pandora's Pick of the Week. 

I was looking for a blurb because 100 Unfortunate Days will be available in paperback in a few weeks on Amazon, and it will be a tangible book with a back cover.  And back covers need blurbs.

I was a having a devil of a time trying to write a blurb--and the paperback version is on hold until I can come up with something interesting and back-cover worthy.

I was thrilled to see my book chosen for Pandora's Pick--she really liked the book!  She said it was different and dark and scary.  She said "it grips you through the sheer mania of the writing,' but she was not thrilled with the last 'day'.  But maybe everything really does happen for a reason.  Because of the surprise review, I can make the last page of my premier book more vibrant before it is published, and now, for whatever reason, more easily write a proper blurb for the back cover.  (Thanks for the review!)

Please see the review of 100 Unfortunate Days at Pandora's Pen below and tell me if you think the last page needs a bit more oomph if you have read it.  Thanks!  :)

http://joannapary.wordpress.com/2011/11/18/pandoras-pick-of-the-week-100-unfortunate-days/

Day 93 from 100 Unfortunate Days for Sample Sunday

Day 93

I was born in Venice on the 4^th of July—which means nothing to anyone in Venice.  I was born with jet-black hair and very light blue eyes.  Then all my hair fell out and grew in very light blonde.  My eyes have remained light blue.  I was left on a ferry boat when I was 3 months old—I don’t know if it was on purpose or not—but I was raised covertly by the Queen of England until I was 5, then she could not keep me under wraps anymore because I moved around too much and she felt I should be going to school.  I was sent to stay with the Queen’s illegitimate sister who lived in France.  She taught me how to play the guitar and wear makeup.  I stayed there until I was 8 and then I worked in a coffee shop and slept there at night next to the picture window that had a toile cushion beneath it because no one minded.  I ate small sugary biscuits with tea or coffee every day for breakfast and wrote sad love songs until I kissed a boy.   I got a tattoo of his initial on the underside of my middle finger and never told him.  I left the lyrics to a song on a table outside the coffee shop one afternoon and could not find them later that afternoon.  I heard a song on the radio a year later that used my lyrics.  I never told anyone.  I took a train to Germany and died my hair jet-black again.  I had 5 children in 5 years and gave them all away to charity.  I worked in a guitar shop and met Jimmy Page and we spent the night together.  I got a tattoo of his initials on the underside of my middle finger of my other hand and swore my love to him eternally.  He said he would love me forever too.  I stayed awake once for 3 days because I was sad.  I moved to Spain because I needed to be warm and painted my front door a different color every day.  My skin loved the sun and the black faded from my hair.   I wore jewelry with diamonds and flowers in my hair.  When I looked at the sky at night I could see the face of my true love who I knew I would never meet.  Sometimes I see children with light blue eyes and jet-black or light blonde hair and I know they are mine.  I never say anything.

100 Unfortunate Days-------------> 

Are We What We Write?

I have written several books in the last year, a few of them very dark.  One of the books, 100 Unfortunate Days, was called by a dear friend "a sure sign that you are a lunatic". 

I laughed this off at first because the book is certainly not about me, but the voice kept returning, and I wondered if my writing did indeed prove that I was at least partly nuts. 

After looking up articles from authors including J.K.Rowling, I not only felt better about my mental health, but about my writing in general.  It made me think we all have a story to tell, and we writers choose to tell ours in words.  There are endless ways to be ourselves, and if we have a dark side that needs to be talked about, incorporating it in a story can be a wonderful thing. 

I suddenly have more respect for people who have different passions:  mountain climbing, sky-diving, singing, cooking, or any one of the millions of ways we experience our own lives.  We're going through our #%@ in our own ways.  Good for us.  Find your thing and do it...as soon as you can.  :)

Article on J.K.Rowling and how she began writing.

http://theinnerwriter.com/39/jk-rowling-on-writing-and-depression/

100 Unfortunate Days  -------------->

Everyone I Write About is at Least Partially Me

I published my first book, 100 Unfortunate Days, one month ago. 

The book was written from a dark place, the darkest corner we all find ourselves in sometimes and feel we can't get out of.  It is about a bad marriage, the sometimes awful experience of having children, and other areas that women sometimes don't discuss or admit.   It was written at a feverish pace, and though not about me exactly, much of the book contains my own experiences and feelings. Stephen King said that all of the characters he writes about are at least partially him.  We can't help it--everything we do and think and feel is from our personal perspective. 

Although the narrator of my book is unstable and more than a little crazy, I found writing in her voice to be better than years of therapy.  It made me think of the advice we so often hear in magazines or from friends when something or someone bothers us--write a letter you never plan to send.

Maybe we should write letters we DO plan on sending--not only to the person who has upset us--but to everyone else, too.  Write in your blog, or in a magazine.  We can get validation, or support, or maybe even a scolding if we deserve it--but at least the problem will no longer be only our own.  Write anonymously, or under a pen name.

Maybe if we stop trying to change ourselves we will be able to write more of the truth.

  

 

Last Day of The Coffin Hop!!

The wonderfully creepy Coffin Hop is upon us!!  Come one, come all!!  Authors and artists for scares...OH MY!

Recipe for Love

I don't believe there is a tried-and-true path to true love, I do not believe all loves last, but I do believe we can have more than one true love in our lives.  Although I am not a magician or witch, I wish there were some type of magic we could do to make that special someone love us forever.  And there have been times when I wished a love would just end. 
Here is a Recipe for Love taken from 100 Unfortunate Days, and don't forget...be careful what you wish for...

Recipe for Love.

3 ounce of rum (can be spiced, coconut—anything—) that has been left in the moonlight for 3 nights.  If you leave it in the waxing moon, the person will notice you, if you leave it in the waning moon, the person will leave, if you leave it in a full moon the connection will last forever—whether you like it or not.

3 leaves of fresh mint

3 grains of salt

3 grains of sugar

3 ounces of club soda or seltzer

3 ice cubes

3 tiny pieces of a fresh basil leaf

Put all ingredients in a metal or glass shaker (no plastic because it will steal the energy) and shake very quickly to a slow count of 3 with your eyes closed.  Serve immediately.  Do not serve this drink to more than one person—you would pay for that mistake for the rest of your life.

I think we all believe in some form of magic...

A well-composed book is a magic carpet on which we are wafted to a world that we cannot enter in any other way. Caroline Gordon

Absorbed

Today is the release of my short story, Absorbed.  Although it is not a Halloween story, it is creepy, dark and shivery.  You can find it on Amazon and Nook.  Have fun!

http://www.amazon.com/Absorbed-ebook/dp/B005SUBYYI/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1317926781&sr=8-3

Here We Go!

It's late and I am tired, but I had a flash of insight.  There are no perfect moments.  So take the great moments you get and make the best of them.  Life is WAY too short to do it any other way.  :)