Remember, ultimately it will be the artists who save us. They are the alchemists of the modern world; they can turn anything into gold. This artist, Kelly Boesch, knows what AI is for:
Dec25
Monthly Archives: December 2025
Dec22
the path of least resistance
In my last writing, 17 days ago now, I said to myself “take the path of least resistance, Susan.” Suffice it to say that I am terrible at taking my own advice. In fact, I often feel as if I have done nothing but repeat myself here on this blog for over 13 years…I seem to be a very hard learner. This is not new. Dammit. It seems I have been this way all my life.
In the spirit of becoming, as I am trying to convince myself that I can actually live as a verb, ever embracing new habits in the effort to change, improve, evolve….I will once again return my daily routine to the basic practices of self care. I will get out of the shower and put a cotton ball soaked with castor oil in my belly button. I will slather my dry skin with Frankincense. I will write my morning pages, even if it takes me until 3 in the afternoon. Walk. It is cold and icy outdoors. True confessions: I bought myself a walking pad so I can walk indoors. I bought it on sale after Christmas last year. It has never been plugged in. The power cord is around here somewhere…have I ever mentioned that I talk a good game?
There will be no “New Year New You” resolutions declared here for my part. That would be hilarious! If I just stuck to what I know I’d be ahead of the game. When I would challenge my father in my teenage years to walk his talk, he would reply, “do as I say, not as I do…” I wish I didn’t understand that quite so well now as a Mother. I don’t want my child to follow in my footsteps; I hope he surpassed me years ago in every way. Run. Fly.
So. Back to basics. Self care – mentally and physically – is the order of the day. While I’m being honest let me also admit that I am still seriously depressed. I’ve been off antidepressants since my pancreatitis this past summer. I’m trying to stay off of all medications and cleanse my liver and pancreas. Losing Chewy in October has sent me into a tailspin. Grief and the inordinately dark days are kicking my butt. But the real honest-to-goodness truth is that I’m angry. I’m livid. And to explain this would take too long. Where would I start? JesusMaryJoseph, where would I start? I can legit justify my anger into the next millennium, and where does that get me? You got it – sick. It is making me sick.
In my old age I am acknowledging that I have always had an inner knowing that serves me well; that knows the way for me. You have this, too. And that inner knowing has never listened when told, “you need to grow a thicker skin.” No. I have become much too hardened already. I don’t like the world I live in. But I love the earth and the water and the trees, the sentient life; I only want to soften into it as I grow older.
Since I have been grieving I have had a strange companion out in my yard. A lone deer. It’s always by itself and it hangs around close to the house. It sleeps under the Hawthorne right outside my bedroom window. It is different than all the other deer that wander through the yard in large herds. It’s face is darker and it is of stockier build. So maybe the herd rejected it? Maybe it’s somehow disabled? I have no idea. I do put out carrots and veggies, especially now that I can assume the bear is hibernating. Most of the birds have gone with the harsh weather, but the crows remain close. The pair of bald eagles are back.
I’ve lost interest in almost anything I used to be interested in. I’m easily made anxious by any media. I avoid friends and any kind of activity. The poor grocery store clerk says the wrong thing and I’m in tears. I’m a pain in the ass. I don’t care. I’m done trying to be anything but honest, but I know most people will be uncomfortable in my presence. Let me spare them the ugly dissolution of my former self. Let me not pretend to codify their expectations. Something in me has died and I will not attempt to revive it. It’s free to go. I’m okay with not knowing who I am anymore. When I allow myself to sit with anger, it dissipates into grief. It loosens me and I can breathe again.
Awake in the middle of the night, I meditate. Last night I fell back to sleep and had one of those wild dreams where I am obviously visiting another time and place. I asked where I was, and was given a specific name. That isn’t unusual. Neither is getting up at 9am to Google it and finding out it exists, although as an ancient ruin. It was a vibrant community last night in my dream. I can only imagine that I was there for healing purposes. That is the prayer I fell asleep with.
These days I can read good writing. I can listen to good poetry. And I can look to Tiokasin Ghosthorse for inspiration, because he lives his life as a verb. As he wisely tells me, “do not try to heal the earth. Let the earth heal you.” Don’t try to understand your dreams; let your dreams understand you.
Dec5
you can’t steal the things that God has given me
C’mon…I’m an elderly white woman from the midwest. Descendent of founding fathers. Raised Presbyterian. Well educated. Born into an upper middle class family in a suburb of privilege, I never wanted for anything. I mean, other than a little respect when you get home…
This humble blog has chronicled over a decade of my simple little life. I have shared my story of abuse where no one would suspect it. It’s a universal story. It isn’t special. I have worked through years of accepted and limiting belief systems; I have felt like I’ve overcome lifetimes of fear. I have moved houses three times in this decade since I started this journal. I have been placed high on a hill buffeting against the gales of Lake Michigan. Missing my family of origin. My Mother has never seen this place. My father, my brother, have never been here. I have outlived them. I’ve become estranged from a sister. I’ve buried darling dogs here, and my beloved familiar. I have come a long, long way toward myself. Toward what cannot be dissolved.
Somehow you’ve remained constant when little else has. You’ve witnessed many ups and downs, deep depressions, glorious ah-has. The exchange seems lop-sided; I’ve gotten the better end of this deal. Here’s hoping I have something of value to offer moving forward. I’ll say this again for the record – other than my joints, I feel 24 most days. But now I know what I couldn’t know then.
The past few days here have been daunting. I’m going to try to get out today, but it will be an adventure. We’ve been waiting days for a snow plow. My son has done his best to shovel out enough of the icy boulders left across the bottom of the driveway so that my car might be able to get through. There is a momentary reprieve in the snow, so no time like the present. I haven’t been out of the house in about 12 days. How’s that for a small life?! Even today, I won’t go far. Just the basics – bank, grocery store, library, post office. They are all within a mile loop, but it isn’t always doable. It’s a 30-degree-downhill mile through a tunnel of snow and ice. As I said, daunting. Always with a shovel and kitty litter in the back in case you slide off into a snowbank. At least you can try to extricate yourself, but more likely you’ll hitch a ride home until the tow truck gets around to you.
I am one of a few houses this far out of town (1 mile) that is inhabited year round. This is a summer resort area. My neighbors are from all over the country, but they only come regularly 3 months of the year. Yes, I stay because financially I cannot afford to leave. I don’t have a second home or the means to fly out to warmer climes. But I also love this isolation. The quiet is priceless. They don’t know what they’re missing.
Sitting here now at my kitchen table, I can look south through treetops and see about 2 miles to a distant hill. I can look west down to the neighbor’s closed up house an acre away, and beyond the mature pines to a snowy valley. East I look down through a valley to a stand of pines a few acres away. That farm has a small rustic barn across a field. Deer feed there in the evening, and the occasional bear or bobcat wander through. A large rafter of turkeys are coming and going – no extra charge for the entertainment. A pair of bald eagles has returned to nest somewhere in that stand of trees. They fly overhead daily back and forth to the big lake. I say “big lake” meaning Michigan. There are several smaller lakes nearby.
The scenic 2 lane road I live on is called a highway, but there is almost no traffic this time of year. Before moving here I was taken on an out-of-body flight one night, and shown this highway was built where a native trail had already existed. This isn’t unusual here in Michigan, of course. The natives had found the natural openings in the trees, probably following the organic paths animals frequented. But what I was taught that night was that this natural pathway was also a highway for witches, and for spirits that simply followed their lead. The path of least resistance for centuries, it seems. Okay, I thought, and shrugged, not knowing what that information meant.
Now that I am learning to live in an expanded reality, I realize this is a hilarious metaphor. Take the path of least resistance, Susan. Stop being defensive, angry, or even knowledgeable. Can’t you see there’s more to me than my mistakes? Let the ancestors serve me. They won’t take me somewhere I’m not supposed to be.
Maybe life could be a bit easier. Maybe. Maybe I can begin to enjoy the magic of this. I need something, give me something wonderful.
Dec2
faith
Let me explain what faith is and how it works. Because your life depends on it. And you are not going to grow, have peace, or live any life worth living until you get honest with yourself about this.
Let’s start with what faith is not: it is not religion. It has little or nothing to do with religion. It is, however, a basic and essential element of your spiritual, emotional, and psychological makeup. It is your connection to God, the divine, life force, intuition – whatever you want to call your inner knowing. There is no inner knowing, or even ability to connect with your authentic self, without faith. It’s the connective tissue of spirit. Without it you’re screwed. You had best become comfortable with it sooner rather than later.
I’m addressing this today because I am in a pissy mood dealing with other people’s lack of faith. No less than four people reached out to me this morning for advice they won’t use. Specifically, half dozen family and friends who want to cry, whine, and vent about the narcissists who treat them poorly. Who undervalue them. But they don’t really want to change anything. They don’t want to let that relationship go, to be precise. They don’t want to quit the job or the marriage. They don’t want to face their fear. They want the other person to get it and change.
Now, lest you think I might be flip or impatient here, let me tell you that I have been listening to the same sob stories for years from these few loved ones. Many years. Maybe decades. Same story, different day. But when I offer some fairly mature, sound advice, they balk – and become immediately defensive. There we go with that defensive shit again. They explane ‘a me…for the umpteenth thousanth time, why they can’t leave. And my mind just tunes it right to the station it is – faithlessness.
I don’t care what you think is the perfectly justifiable reason you cannot leave the narcissist. There is only one reason: lack of faith. And it is costing you your life. Own that decision.
When I decided to leave my narcissistic husband, I had no money. We had less than 5K in equity in our home, which we would split. It wouldn’t cover moving costs. I had no job. No income. Nothing worth selling. No savings. I was 60 and not yet eligible for social security. Nothing. So, your excuse of not enough money doesn’t hold sway with me. I left with nothing. Myself and two dogs to support. NADA. But IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO. I jumped and the net appeared, not the other way around.
There are many, perhaps most, people who would never leave their hated job until securing a replacement. I’m talking to you. I have lost more friends over this issue. I do not want to hear about you hating your job. Quit. Now. STOP MAKING EXCUSES. Pick up your coat and walk out RIGHT THIS MINUTE. Or stop complaining. Do not tell me what your bills are. That is entirely irrelevant.
A (now estranged) old friend, who happens to be a PhD. psychotherapist, would tell me that this is black-and-white thinking, and that it is dangerous. But she remains married to a narcissist, so I will aver that she, in fact, has nothing of value to offer her codependent clientele. She doesn’t walk her talk. She makes excuses. Because…no faith. And then, I must tell you that black-and-white thinking IS THE ONLY APPROPRIATE WAY TO THINK in this culture. In a dualistic environment all energy is divided by good or bad, healthy or unhealthy, right or wrong, love or fear. In a dualistic environment black-and-white thinking is the only appropriate response. If you want to outgrow that limitation, you will have to exercise…guess what?
There is NO justifiable reason to put up with any kind of abuse. And let’s define abuse while we are at it. I adopted this definition from a therapist I met in my 20’s, because I have never been able to prove her wrong: ALL THOUGHT, WORD, AND DEED IS EITHER NURTURING OR ABUSIVE. Period. There is nothing else going on here. Are you being nurtured? No? You walk away. Next question.
If you are rationalizing and adapting to anything that does not serve you well, you are making excuses. You are 100% willing to compromise your health and well-being to accommodate someone else’s agenda. You cannot be free from there. You are enslaved. Whether you physically can’t leave (you are in a body cast) or you are feeling obligated to stay, or guilty, you are not free. And you are willingly participating in a dysfunction that is harmful to everyone concerned.
Faith is your spiritual muscle, and either you exercise it or it atrophies. And just like charity, or compassion, it starts at home. With you. Right now. So cut the crap. Stop waiting for the knight on a white steed, or your one dollar lottery ticket to make you a billionaire. Muster up some courage. Grow a pair. Take a chance on yourself. Show some faith. Don’t look backwards for guidance to chart new territory. Take a leap of faith and then ask God what’s next. “Lead me.” And know that you will get an intuitive hit, an idea, an inkling – and then you will act on it. Do not reason it away. Do it. No matter how insignificant it seems, or how crazy it sounds. Don’t tell anybody. Don’t run it by four people. Do it.
You don’t hear intuition like that? You aren’t just quite sure…? Well, duh. How do you expect to hear God if you won’t trust? The trust comes first. The faith comes first, by it’s very definition. You don’t find the right job until you leave the wrong one. What if you make a mistake? You’ll learn how to be discerning about what is and isn’t intuition. You’re exercising your faith muscle. You are hard-wired for faith. It won’t take long for you to see tangible evidence.
I’m gonna tell you something else that sounds radical: lack of faith is mental illness. Prove me wrong. And let me close with this thought: that this awareness requires my forgiveness, for I, too, lack faith at times. I, too, am just practicing here.
A Painterly Home 