Category: Humanity

Big Minded Little Town

“…patience is generally not my virtue…”

Kjirsti S.NicolaysenLeave a comment

Dwelling along the river town with some like minded bohemians, dreamers and little fish with grand hopes I find human behavior curious

Regarding various out-of-town gadabout’s minor cruelty and indifference to the size of ponds they come to splash about in disredarding efforts of hospitality slightly shocking

Patience is generally not my virtue

but here among the kindly locals

standing in queue at the local market, shifting from leg to leg

doesn’t ever really hassle me in this land of revolving open doors

Calmly staying in the moment watching people and keeping my cool

when most submit tenaciously puffing themselves up

to the me, me, me, me-ness

of this crazy world now-ness

clamoring to claim the day their own huffing

Mine mine mine

Me me me

Gimme gimme gimme

Now, now, now

wielding steady breaths instead I surrender to the serenity that can be found in the

How it is

There it is

What it is

And just breathe

Relating to the cashier

Her mundane day after day after day

Along with the callous contact from others

Their confusion between service and servitude

As if she is but a shadow

Rendering her a cash cow, if you will

Dismissing her humanity for sake of their rush-rush-rushing

Her eyes hold a certain bored sadness now

Resigning to her condition once vibrant

Fathoms from her ballerina princess dreams

Complacent now talking of paper or plastic

Hindering her true calling of dancing on a stage

Musing of what life she may endure after closing

Perhaps a mother of three with one in her future

Wondering where the shoes will come from

Or maybe an ex-con just trying to

Make it out of the game……….barely

Waiting on you while during your search for exact change

She asks if you found everything alright as the manager

Hovers near by with keys and a quasi dead smile

Knowing not of her true calling during the night after the day-to-day

Wielding a clipboard with lunch breaks and sales ploys

Maybe her days off are spent as an aspiring artist

Reconstructing her life out of the boxes

From long lost loves’ letters

Rekindling her soul inspiring a fire

Moving the dust bunnies to the back burner for now

Until just yesterday it seemed

She wandered unfettered

Alive then fate thrust her into the first job she could find

And damn, she wishes it were different

Understanding that this her reality now

We stand en masse with whine and complaints

Tapping our heels and staring at our watches

Chattering on our cellphones without consideration

Declaring: This Is Long ENOUGH

Why don’t they open up another checkstand for us to stand???

Easily overlooking the humanity of this human before us

We cannot ever see her broken heart

When time is of our essence

And she is of no real concern save giving us change and the proper receipt

Each of us should really

Decidely

Slow

The

Fuck

Down

Let us for a moment with benefit of no doubt

Imagine it were you in her uncomfortable shoes

Clamoring for a life just this side of existing

Beyond basically surviving, yearning to connect

Longing for a life beyond making change and small talk

Possibly, to truly have a happy day, reach out a bit

Stand calmly in line gratefully knowing you’re closer to out the door than she

Take time out of your way and look in her eyes

Empathize with her involuntary human bondage

Ask that clerk, “So, how is your day? Really?” waiting for her answer

You may even not only really brighten her day, but yours

Really.

Good Friday Bad Day

Kjirsti S.NicolaysenLeave a comment

With waxing gibbious full moon nearing, I realized the influence it actually has on all of us. In spades. Today drove me crazy. Being the type that yearns to figure things out and somewhat of an introspective spiritual sort (perhaps some might say a lunatic at times) I found myself in a tailspin by the end of this day feeling dizzy as a Dirvish. All of the day’s challenges, although somewhat benign compared to many others out there, I was brought to my knees in frustration with a sprinkle of sorrow. Everything I attempted backfired with hiccup after hiccup. Nothing (and I mean no thing at all) went smoothly. It became overwhelming and at times darkly humorous. Had to laugh when I couldn’t even eat a piece of toast because the knife slipped from my hand, fell to the floor splattering an apricot jam butter blend everywhere then slid under the heel of my slipper shoving goop onto the underside of my foot. Wtf. Srsly. What. The. F&$k. Finally, I had a private meltdown of sorts. This finale to the whole succession of failures over 14 hours during the course of the day from 5am until 7pm, this last obstacle to just having a decent day buried me. I sat down with a thud on the sticky floor and just started bawling. So stupid, I thought. Everyone has a tough day sometimes. Pull up your big girl panties and snap out of it. It’s just a piece of toasted sourdough bread. Sigh. Get the f%$k up. So, brushing off the sticky crumbs from the sole of my foot, I realized it was ultimately worthy of some serious soul searching, so to speak. It was either that or blow a gasket and we all know that’s neither fun nor pretty.

I had to dig deep in my mental toolbox this time to tend to some seriously smoldering-to-the-surface old wounds. The kind you ruminate on, that wake you up on the middle of the night. The oh no, missy, you’re not going back to sleep. Sorrrrry. So what, it’s 3am, you might as well brew some coffee and brew your boggled brain a bit more, kind. The pop-into-your-head-any-
moment wounds; the memory of them anyway. The kind that cut. Deeply. The get-out-of-my-head thoughts that if you’re not careful will consume you. So…..let’s flip the switch, I said. Find a healthy cathartic distraction. In doing so, I indeed found a few that helped: solitary meditation, prayer, music, cutting flowers for Easter, crying and the turning to the oracles. Oh, and deep box breathing. Lots of deeeeeeeeep breathing while looking at the moon rising in the darkening canyon.

I love the moon. It proves even in darkness we can have faith that light will prevail. That life has its cycles. Call me a lunatic. A few of you may already. Whatever. At times we all are. We are all human. That’s okay. Some people may make fun of or avoid others they believe to be lunatics. That’s okay, too. Personally, I believe many who have been considered lunatics throughout the ages ended up having a deeper understanding of and/or creative perspective on life. Actually referring to the etymology of the word, lunatic is Middle English: from Old French lunatique, from late Latin lunaticus, from Latin luna ‘moon’ (from the belief that changes of the moon caused intermittent insanity). So, maybe being a lunatic occasionally isn’t all that bad. Some may mind if others go a little bonkers from time to time. However, to keep my sanity I had to, just HAD to, think: some good may come out of all of it. My addage is: those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind (nod to Dr. Seuss). I’m simply sharing and stating the facts about how I got through this particularly rough day with tools at hand. Maybe it will help someone else someday. So, go ahead and call me a lunatic. Anyway, I digress. The moon and getting through the madness.

This evening’s twilight on verge of impending full moon proved obvious impetus for a drawing from my moon oracle deck. Interesting draw. [see pic]. The two drawn -‘reveal what needs to be seen’ and ‘find a balance’- loosely said: speak your mind but watch your tongue and tone. Find the right space and time. Fitting. Also drew from my Angel deck-Trust. There’s a suprise. Ha! Anyway, bottom line what was revealed to me is: be more patient with and trust in yourself, your process, your life and speak your mind with truth, decorum and faith.
As for the dice, I use them as numerology to bump up feedback via signals and signs trusting the luck of the draw, so to speak. I threw twice. First, a seven then a three.
Seven is a number of completion; initial flip of the bones indicated closure to something was on the horizon. Then, tossing a three is representative of the birth-life-death cycle, the mind-body-soul connection, the three acts of a typical story-beginning/middle/end. Wherever the number three shows up in your life, it’s also generally an omen of creativity, communication, optimism, and curiosity. The combo essentially meant: stay the course despite obstacles; there will be a transformative period but in the end the experience will likely prove impetus for knowledge and growth. The reading gave me solace and calmed me down. With that,
I crawled into bed, pulled the quilt up close and my kitties closer and tried to let go of the shitshow that was this day. Putting it behind me and looking forward to tomorrow and surrending to the process of life’s cycle, I was able to finally settle down and exhale. Afterall, like the moon, even in the darkness I can have faith I will rise again and see the light. Blessed be.

Sense and Sensitivity

“…I knew inside was likely a zoo…”

Kjirsti S.Nicolaysen1 Comment

Through all that’s been going on, all things considered, I have been handling everything pretty well. Most days are filled with pleasant activities like baking, cooking, reading, writing and/or editing old poems I’ve written, lounging with the babies (of the fur variety), speaking with loved ones and enjoying my space. However, the other day, well, not so much. Rut-roh. Marketing time.

Having to venture out and go into “the world”, I prepared myself. Mask? Check. Long hair up and wrapped? Check. Gloves? Check. Hand sanitizer and spray bottle with rubbing alcohol to wipe down grocery bag before it goes into the truck? Check. Nerves settled with Rescue Remedy? Check. Ready to venture past the security of home? Check.

Arriving at the full parking lot I knew inside was likely a zoo. Afterall, it was Good Friday and many needed stuff for Easter dinner. Or the weekend. Or whatever. There was a general air of Orwellian confusion in an semi-orderly fashion. One way aisles were designated, bare shelves, people in a daze and looking scared. Families were dawdling in front of the Easter candy display. Most blocking the way for others to get by. Donning my gloves I had an itch on my cheek where the N95 mask sat (I have one from the fires here last year). Don’t touch your face. Don’t do it!!!!

It was obvious to me that some people were being complacent and not complying with the PPE orders here. Lots of bare faces and hands. Pushing her cart aside just before the in-store Starbucks and gathering her groceries up from the metal basket, I saw one woman take off her gloves and just throw them letting them land like a retired condom with a unceremonious splat. I spoke up saying she might think to just take them with her and dispose of them later. She responded with: I don’t want to touch them again. They may be contaminated. Um, okay.

In addition to all that, there were just waaaaaaay too many people inside rendering it nearly impossible for proper social distancing. Living in a tourist area where there are a lot of vacation homes, it appeared many folks were out here for a “visit”. We locals can tell out-of-towners in a heartbeat. Well, there are quite a few still venturing here to, um, get away. I won’t go into how wrong that is because I may blow up and I am trying to maintain an even keel.

With all that said, I remained fairly calm and was able to keep my shit together for the most part. After gathering necessities, the next step was to proceed to the check out lanes. The lines spilled down the aisles like limp tentacles reaching towards the back of the store. Following the social distancing guidelines, markers on the floor were spaced out so that each customer was supposed to be separated by the length of two shopping carts.

This was all fine and good but with so many people in the store trying to get down aisles to finish their shopping or for the lost tourists to find whatever and wander aimlessly, we all had to maneuver in order to adhere to the guidelines. It was like an odd game of opposite bumper cars. Don’t touch me, jimbo, I won’t dance. I stood in line for 45 minutes feeling nervous shifting from leg to leg and practicing a mantra of “just breathe, this will soon pass”. One man yelled at me for standing in front of the ice cream he wanted. Another huffed when I asked politely if he could stand back a little. Jeezus, it’s not a big deal, he mumbled under his breath. Uh, yeah it is, asshole. This is all a big deal.

My turn was coming up. After the cashier wiped down the conveyor belt, I finally put down my small order of groceries. I started to feel like the room was closing in on me and could feel my heart beat gaining speed. I wished I could just grab everything and leave. I wished I could have hugged the friends I happened to see in the store moments prior. I wished this would all go away. I wished I had taken a larger dose of Rescue Remedy. My glasses began to steam up and I could feel tears begin to well. Choke those things down, woman. Big girl panties time. Don’t lose it in HERE! Stay calm. Breathe. All I could think was: get me out of here. Finally the order was tallied up. I took out the plastic and tried to pay but the card wouldn’t take. I tried it again several times. Slide…..beepbeep…..slide……..beepbeep. Again, try it again I know there is money in there. Still my effort to pay was to no avail. My glasses were fogging up like an outdoor sauna window during a snowstorm and it was hard to see the POS. Sliiiide….beepbeep. Finally, the cashier asked what kind of card I was using. I looked at it and realized it was my insurance card. I was trying to charge my groceries to Kaiser. Something snapped. As tears welled in my eyes and I felt ridiculous, it took everything I had to not burst into tears. I fumbled in my wallet for the right card. Apologizing to the cashier and those behind me, the cashier gently said, “It’s okay hon. We are all a bit dazed these days.” The woman behind me putting her groceries on the belt BEFORE the cashier said to (they are wiping down the belts and payment terminals between orders), a tourist, said: “oh, for crissake…hurry up.” I just gave her a WTF look over my mask then said, “Welcome to river time.”

Finally reaching the truck in the parking lot with my supplies bundled compactly in one brown bag, I let go and began to just cry. Softly quietly cry. It was a release and a relief to finally let go of all the tension that had been building for days. On the ride back home I finally felt the anxiety lift and had to chuckle about using the wrong card. It is kind of funny….in a omg-I’m-a-little-out-of-sorts-when-will-
this-end sort of way. Moral is: laughter heals.