It was Sara’s 40th birthday party. I had barely walked through the door when she pounced on me, screaming. Right in my face.
Ideas! I love ideas!
Behind her, the casual low-level murmur of party-din dissolved into a ragged silence. Every head swiveled toward us, mouths agape with surprise.
I was so taken aback I almost turned around and left.
But I did want to be there.
I did want to wish her a happy birthday, meet people, have a good time. Now I was stopped in my tracks, unsure.
From a Dream, Narrated by The Voice of Dreaming: Word play.
Philosophy in Silli-ness. The Doctrine of Jest. Farcicality of Foolery…
Starting here and ending where?
Unity Continue reading
(Published in Small Craft Advisor Magazine)
Almost Home
I had been so proud! I’d been invited to be one of two kids to represent our local sailing club as skippers in a multi-club regatta held by another sailing club down on Long Island’s Great South Bay. In a Beetle Cat, a class of boats I had sailed in, but never skippered before.
And now, out of 14 boats, we were last. Not just last, but dead-seemingly-miles-and-miles-behind, last.
All I wanted was to be at home, buried under blankets in the deepest, darkest, corner of my closet, so I could cry my brains out.
Blind to All But Love
500! Never in my wildest dreams a year ago would I have imagined I’d be writing over 100 stories in ten short months, and be honored by 500 followers! 515, today — just blows me away.
When I first started posting on medium.com in January ’23, I had no clue what I was doing.
From formatting to links to tags, to how to get followers — no clue. Although I’m probably only a wee bit more clued-in, I think I’ve learned a bit about writing here since then.
One thing stands out —the conventions for following!
At first, I ascribed to the follow-for-follow advice I’d read about by supposedly successful writers on medium.
Yesterday, I was graced by the help of a young man who had no clue how much his assistance meant to me.
Raven Speaks
Due to a funky situation with my back, I don’t walk — I hobble. And it hurts. All day, every day.
So when I had to actually get a ride and go to the store for groceries yesterday, instead of my usual ordering online/store-delivery, it was a very big deal.
What used to take me twenty minutes whizzing around the store on my two strong, agile legs, now took me two and a half hours.
A little more than two hours in, I was this far away from breaking into rivers of tears. I was in so much pain! Continue reading
(Published in Small Craft Advisor Magazine)
Spinnaker
Since my parents took me sailing almost before I could walk, being able to sail is like being able to breathe. It’s more than second nature — maybe more like a second set of senses.
I can tell right away if someone is a sailor — there’s just something about them — the way they walk, the look in their eyes, the trace of wind on their skin, the strength in their backs. And how they watch the water, if we’re near a harbor or ocean.
You can shrug and say, “Eh! No big deal — it’s just a skill!”
A week camping near a lake, lava tubes, a mountain of chunks of beautiful black obsidian and volcanic tufa resulted in this carving…
Tule Mama
I never liked walking, so any time friends asked me to go hiking, I’d say no. But when my friend Bee, who lived all the way across the world from me, said she was coming to visit and would I go hiking up in Tule Lake, it sounded so fascinating I had to go.
And we walked. And walked and walked — and I even liked it! Turned out walking with her turned what I normally thought of as physical pain and duress into a fun and interesting adventure. At the end of our week there, I was sad to go home.
Tule Lake (pronounced TOO-lee) and Glass Mountain are up at the north eastern border of California and Oregon. It’s the ancestral home of the Modoc Indian Nation. Continue reading
I kind of felt bashful, and laughed as I opened my eyes. I realized right away that I was expecting some kind of white-robed, human-shaped being to come into my view. Pretty silly of me – I know that angels take many shapes.
Rainbow Birdy
It was slightly overcast that morning, the light mellow, muted. As I gazed at my beautiful garden right outside my window, a light mist swirled around the base of the palms and banana trees.
An issue I had been struggling with pulled my attention away. I went over to my desk and got online to see if I could find a solution. I clicked on inspiremetoday.com, because I always feel lifted and expanded by the articles there.
I was intrigued by the interview with Sophy Burnham, who reminded me of my past encounters with angels. Continue reading
Tonight, when I was reading about fears, I saw this word: Kakorrhaphiophobia, so I decided to play google search.
The face of fear
I love googling weird things. I’ll type two unrelated words in the search bar and hit go, just to see what comes up.
Much to my surprise and delight, not only did the definition of Kakorrhaphiophobia come up, but a whole long list of the weirdest fears I’ve ever heard of continued down the page!
So here are a few of the ones I saw on that page.
Wait until you read what Gynophobia is!
Suddenly, the plastic sheet in my hands quivered a little, and there! There it was! The Door!
Made of Day
In a dream, I was with a man who was kind of Tibetan looking, but not. He was showing me a piece of sheet plastic — about a foot square, clear, shiny. He was shifting it around in his hands a bit, playing with reflecting light off it onto the wall beside us.
Suddenly, he stops, looks closely, and says, “Got it! See?” I look, and all I see is a shiny piece of clear plastic.
He hands me the sheet, and says to shift it around until I “see the Door.” Huh? OK. So I shift it around, trying to see into it, trying to see color, trying to see anything! But no, nothing appeared.
So frustrated today!
Yeah. Well, not so much today. I’m the one in the puddle today, and it seems nine miles deep. And yes, I know it’s an illusion – an ill-used one – sure seems/feels real to me.
Sometimes I do things that drain my energy. I forget to stop, and end up an emotional mess. Have you ever done that?
Silly Birdies
A video I watched a couple of days ago that a friend sent me was one of those really well-done, 2-hour videos outlining how ‘they’ do this bad thing and ‘they’ do that bad thing, and how ‘we the people’ are suffering, and are powerless and helpless….
As I watched, I began to feel like I’d been kicked in the guts.
I could quite literally feel my energy field grow darker and darker, and my body feel weaker and weaker. Continue reading
Yes! In a video I watched a few days ago, Jordan Peterson was saying that unless you face and accept your dark side, you will just be a weak person.
I agree. It’s not that once you find your dark side you have to express it – it’s that you find it, accept it’s there, and choose NOT to express it. That makes you a strong person. And dangerous, because you know you will use that dark side if needed. I really like that.
Continue reading
Because love is a verb. And it acts a million times more powerfully than our puny little minds can imagine.
My Thoughts of Peace Fly Out Far Beyond Me
At 13, my dentist decided that deflowering me right in the open, right on the dentist chair, would be a cool thing to do.
I was so shocked, so surprised, so absolutely flummoxed that I felt empty, void, deflated, suspended from anything I’d ever known before. I was the embodiment of the thousand-yard stare.
I felt so helpless and so betrayed that I ended up wanting to hurt everyone, even people who were not involved in any way, and even people who would have helped if they’d known how I felt, and if they’d known how. Continue reading
I once knew a fantastically popular, immensely powerful man. Once his swooning fans had left for the night, he would retreat to his den.
Song of Solace
He’d try to bend his skeletal frame around the huge, impossibly soft pillows on his couch, and he’d sit there, scowling and frowning, gazing blindly out into the night.
He’d hear me talk about a project or an event, hoping it would turn out well, or hoping I could get it to work, and he’d cry out, scolding me, “Quit saying I hope this, I hope that! Because it won’t happen! It won’t happen, do you hear me? Hope is an empty beggar!””
He’d glare at me, pinning me to the wall with the daggers of his eyes, trying to punish me for outright refuting his truths. Continue reading
In a dream, I ushered men out of a light-filled chute and onto the ground at the bottom.
Creation of Beings
I could hear them flopping and bouncing and clattering down the chute, some cussing loudly, some weeping and wailing, terrified; others silent.
All came out with a shout of pleased and excited surprise that they were still alive and unharmed.
My role was to show them how to see that thoughts are things, and that they could create their own reality from now on. Continue reading
I had a dream where I was being hunted by dozens of enormous ravenous beings.
Gnarly Monsters try to grab me…
They stomped and crashed the very earth under their feet, making me stumble and fall.
Each one reached gnarly fingers out to grab and rend me, but somehow could never latch on.
I was terrified.
What do the different file type names mean and how do they affect your images?
These explanations of file types will help you understand what kinds of files to use for your documents, print books, ebooks or websites.
This is an enhanced excerpt from my book, The Etsy Image Guide.*
I’m asked about image file types so often that I decided to publish this part of the book independently. Since I wrote the book in 2018, this post includes more recent information.
In this post, I go over file types: jpg, png and tif files; and compression types: lossless and lossy files.
Hang with me as I point out the basic differences of each file type, because the quality of your post, publication, book, or website depends on your knowing what file type to use, when, and where.
If you consider yourself ‘not tech savvy,’ please just pause a second, take a breath, relax a little, and pretend to enjoy reading these little definitions — I guarantee you that once you know the differences in file types, your experience using images both online and off will improve dramatically. Continue reading
How many times have you looked at my tile drawings and they didn’t make sense to you? Or maybe felt so busy you didn’t look at them for long?
Here’s how to ‘read’ them.
1. Direct your eyeballs to the exact center of the square.
2. Drop your eyes vertically to the center of the bottom line.
3. Now look over to the right bottom corner,
4. And then back up to the center.
You have now traced a triangle with your eyes.
Keeping your vision within the triangle, look again, this time focusing on the elements that are there. Continue reading
A radical twist in my self-perception happened recently….
I’m Happy to Be Me
My mother died early, at only 69. She was one of those always-takes-care-of-others-first people, so you never heard about her, as a person. I have felt cheated for almost 40 years, not having a better picture of who she really was. I didn’t want that to happen to my sons.
So I’ve been writing stories about my life. I want them to know about the person I am, the things I’ve done — the folks I’ve met all across the world, the places I’ve visited, the amazing things I’ve accomplished, even though I never thought I could.
I was surprised out of my sox when memories started to emerge about how I was raped by my trusted family dentist at the age of 13 … as well as other not-so-fun events as a teen, young adult, and older. Continue reading
What can be done about it? How do we deal with it on a daily basis?
My Prismatic Heritage
I can hardly believe the things men oh-so-casually do to women. The things they have the nerve to say. Even after decades of observing and experiencing their stupidity, I’m still astounded. I’m in my late 70s, and men still grope me, FFS. For real!
Recently I read a post by fellow medium writer Susan Wheelock, in which she talks about a man in a higher position in her company saying this to her in the elevator: “You know, Red, I’ve been meaning to ask you — does the carpet match the drapes?” Continue reading
A long time ago when I lived in Santa Cruz, I had an all-black cat we named Oedipuss. I know, corny . . .
Freedom
He loved being outside at night, prowling the neighborhood. In the morning, he’d hang upside down off the top of our bedroom window’s protruding casing, and reach down to scratch on the window glass to get in. Continue reading
Grab your power and dance and sing and cry and laugh and have a loud, colorful, delicious full-on life – why the hell not?
You Are My Dream
My friend commented on my post about how what I had thought would be a romantic first-time love tryst turned into a complete horrible abusive farce.
She said, “…you sure don’t do anything by halves!…”
I’ve thought about that a lot today. And I realized that I hated that idea! Because I can’t think of one good, solid reason why we should live our lives any less than full-on!
Who set up the rules that say you can’t express fully – yell and scream and cry and burst your guts with raucous witchy laughter? Continue reading
And I know you know what first time I’m talking about…
It was freezing cold on December 6th, 1963, the night before my 18th birthday. I was on my way with my date, flying as fast as we could through the west side of NYC to his apartment. Hands tightly clasped together, our palms crackled with unspent energy. I’d bet about anything we gave off sparks to anyone who could see. Continue reading
Grinding My Teeth at the Nerve of Some People
Every once in a while, some douchebag who thinks I’m as naive as new snow makes a smarmy comment on one of my articles, and joins my newsletter. Continue reading
I miss my sweet doggie so much.
Doggie Hugs
It’s been more than 20 years since I last saw her, but I think of her every day. She was the sweetest Being I ever met.
She was English sheepdog size and appearance, except she had the sweet button nose face and curly tail of a Husky.
She would raise her head and rest it on my leg until I got up from my chair, then she’d push me towards the door. We’d go outside, where she’d literally run circles around me as fast as she could.
After maybe four or five circles, she’d suddenly stop, and turning to make sure I was looking at her, race to hide under a bush.
Then I was supposed to call out to her – where arrrrre youuu?’ – pretending she’d disappeared.
She’d wait a few seconds before bursting out with a big grin on her face, HERE I AM! and run more circles.
How could anyone not love a character like that? I adored her.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
DOGGIE HUGS
© Angela Treat Lyon 2021
No. Not Ever.
The Goddess of Life
I could feel my body start to contract into itself, shrinking, freezing. My head fell, my chin pressing against my chest. I vaguely noticed my feet press down and anchor themselves to the floor. I wondered if it would be a punch or a slap this time. Even if I had thought of moving out of the way, I wasn’t capable of it.
I slowly raised my eyes. I watched crimson rage creep up T’s mottled skin — up his neck, over his face, seeping up to his hairline. I was riveted, fascinated/terrified/paralyzed. Continue reading
I had to slowly slowly convince myself to open to receive any thoughts at all that I might be worthy, and even lovable.
My precious new babe.
In a reel I watched tonight by a gal whose name I never caught, she explains how parents used to be advised to ‘let the baby cry itself out.’ That the baby will self-soothe, and eventually go to sleep on her own.
As she spoke, I vividly remembered reading one of those baby-advice books that told you to do that** 50+ years ago, when my boys were yet babies. Because my sons now have kids of their own, I have seen that parents are still advised to do that same thing.
“Let the baby cry itself to sleep! It will self-soothe.’
The problem, this wise young woman stated, is that babies that young cannot self-soothe. Continue reading
There have been several times in my life when Angels boldly stepped in and picked my sorry arse up and sent me packing to other, better places. This was one of them. Her name was Cynthia, and there is no one else like her anywhere.
Going Home
My dear friend Cynthia and I met at a week-long dowsing convention in Arkansas, in May of 1996.
I was perched on the edge of my bed in a shared room with 2 other gals. We were gabbing and going over the day’s schedule, when into the room this tall whirlwind Valkyrie strides, wavy red hair tousled from stormy winds outside. Her aura of intensity was larger than life, her joy almost volcanic.
Standing by the doorway grinning wide, hands on hips, she announced full volume, “We’re going for lunch! Who’s coming?” As one, we all jumped up and shouted, “Me!” “Me!” “Me!”
She swept us up in her enormous zeal, and we, little peeping human chicks, followed her down the hall, magnetized right out the door and over to the restaurant to a table for ten. Perfect. Continue reading
They were jumping in and out of the water so smoothly, so fast, that it looked like a fountain of silvery sea flesh.
Mantas! Splishing and splashing all around us!
When my boys were young, we lived in Hawaii on the island of Kaua’i, in Kekaha, a tiny little sugar town. The main residents were mostly Filipinos and Puerto Ricans who worked at the big sugar mill.
They were the ones who went out in the monstrous heat — unrecognizable in their head-to-toe long sleeves, long pants, face masks and floppy hats — and cut the cane by hand using wicked sharp machetes. Continue reading
