Monday Deluge and The Miracle of Thought

Monday morning brought a cold, crushing deluge just as I reached the door of my daughter's school. We rushed inside but not before we were both sopping wet. Before I had a chance to lament my own poorly chosen footwear, my daughter announced that her shopkins slipons were soaked through to her socks. No matter that the rain came as unfortunately and as untimely as possible, I was still a lousy parent because I failed to have a spare pair of shoes or even socks in my car. Feeling miserable inside and out now, I walked her down to her classroom trailing thin ribbons of water from our dilapidated ladybug umbrella. Despite being soggy, Jaden's mood had improved now that her dentist appointment was behind her. She hurried off to her desk, but not before circling back for another hug and kiss. This kid always seems to know when I can use seconds on affection. I rushed back out to the car, hoping my seat warmers would at least partially dry out the back of my dress on the short ride to the office. This dark, horrible morning has been the rancid icing on my suck cake today.

"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 925 September 19, 2016
Prompt: “Miracles are thoughts. Thoughts can represent the lower or bodily level of experience or the higher or spiritual level of experience. One makes the physical, and the other creates the spiritual.” The Course of Miracles. What are your views on thoughts being miracles?

I almost want to skip this prompt and would have if I hadn't committed to get back into the swing of things this week. It seems entirely too ethereal for a wet and miserable morning. My brain feels fuzzy as I read and re-read the prompt, like I can't connect two coherent thoughts. This morning my thoughts definitely do not feel like miracles. They feels like lead weights being pushed around in my brain, sluggish and labored. "Miracles are thoughts"...maybe. Sometimes? It depends. I have never considered myself very philosophical. It is hard for me to connect my daily barrage of thoughts to a "higher, spiritual level of experience". I feel like my thoughts come in a continuous stream, even when I am writing. I "see" the thoughts more than feel them. I'm not sure I know how to think other than in a lower or bodily level.

"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1405 September 19, 2016
Prompt: Use the following words for inspiration: spirit, dust, paradise, phoenix, cage, fruiting, love

Callie checked her watch. She still had over an hour until her meeting. As she had feared, she had arrived to early and now she was forced to bear the anxiety as she passed time in the narrow, urine colored waiting room. She caught the eye of an elderly man, scoping her out over the top of his magazine. Callie tried not to wither under his assessing gaze. She tried not to let the scrutiny turn the well worn wheels of doubt in her mind. There was no reason to assume he didn't see her as what she now was, an attractive middle aged women waiting to see her dentist. physician.

Callie smiled at the man. He quickly dropped his gaze back to magazine. He was reading one of those glossy travel rags. There was a photo of some tropical destination on the cover, some remote paradise far from the dust and grime of the urban Midwest. She suddenly longed to be anywhere else than here, with this man and what he may or may not be seeing in her. She felt the familiar rush of panic, the cage of her insecurity rattling around her. Callie closed her eyes. She began to recite her mantra silently inside her head. She was a fire spirit, a phoenix, beautiful and strong. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. The man was staring again.

She had lived her entire life under the judgmental eyes of others. She had been abandoned, bullied, threatened and marginalized. After the surgeries, she had thought it would easier. She had spent hours in the mirror, looking for flaws but the truth was that she was lovely and feminine in every way. She had found immeasurable happiness in her reflection now that it matched what had been inside her since birth. As she learned about how to flatter and highlight her features, she felt the wonderful fruiting in her soul. Callie had expected that love would see her through the rest of the way, love and her mantra. She wondered, feeling herself shrink under the man's rude stare, if she had been foolish.