I earned my appreciation for peeing in privacy.  Until I raised three children of my own, I did not understand what a luxury this is.

It is a rare privilege to nurture our fledgling offspring.  A mother willingly casts aside many of her personal priorities without hesitation, as the survival of her young prevails over any superfluous notions she may have entertained in the past.  Lofty dreams of an individual nature rarely exist in the present.  When they do, she will promptly place these personal aspirations on the ‘back-burner’ for future consideration.  (Or at least until later that night, when the kids are in slumber or safely away.)

The “Mom Instinct” reveals itself whether you bear your own, open your heart to adopt, or find an abandoned kitten along the side of the road.  Before you know it, you forget what it was like to remain in the bathroom undisturbed.

After Natalie started preschool, I had some vague appreciation for peaceful slices of time.  They were eerily pleasant.  Surely I had moments of privacy before all the Bean sprouts started school, but they were always due to some highly-orchestrated maneuver that required coerced compliance from the kids, or a desperate plea to Durwood for support.

“If you don’t keep the kids away from the bathroom door for one hour, I’m going to lose it.”

Durwood was a real trouper.  No spell-casting was necessary to convince him of the benefits to be reaped from a routine ‘time-out’ for mom.  Sunday nights were mine.  I was granted two glorious hours to soak in the tub, fuss with my nails, or just sit there with my head back and my eyes closed.  I was temporarily free from the responsibility of answering a question, or directing someone to the location of a missing item.  I would highly recommend a similar approach to anyone currently immersed in the full-time mother mindset.

Until I spent the last few years caring for Evie’s little ones while she worked, I had forgotten how magnificent it is to just pee alone in the middle of the day.  Now that Anson is successfully off to preschool with his sister, I find myself surprisingly reacquainted with the luxury of privacy in the privy.

Thank you, Evie, for the opportunity to revisit the infinite facets of Baby Land.  I hold a renewed appreciation for even the slightest aspect of my morning:)

Happy Mother’s Day to all my favorite witches!  May you enjoy many solitary moments of silence throughout the year, if only to relish a fleeting minute when you may find yourself alone in the bathroom.

Jillian Olive Bean, you have successfully ensured the healthy development of five young saplings who will contribute to the positive expansion of our planet…so, what will you do now?  “I’m going to Disney World!!”

After over three weeks of silence, a person might wonder if Jillian has run out of things to say…

Preposterous.

Armed with a fat brain that never seems to sleep, the musings are ever abundant.

Either she has adhered to the wisdom in the words, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,” or she is just plain tired.

How about both?

Surely, one excuse precedes the other.  Jillian has been doing all of the things that she has normally done, juggling six million balls with ease, skillfully incorporating the occasional new ball that is thrown into the playing field, and feeling satisfied with her consistent performance, as always.

And then she noticed that one of the balls she had been juggling joyously for years wasn’t really so much fun any more.  Come to think of it, neither were a few of the others.

“I don’t really want to do anything that isn’t fun,” Candace reminded her.

“But it used to be,” Jillian thought.  “Now it just feels… tiresome.”

Every human being is entitled to change her mind, and a practical witch would be wise to check the expiration date on her juggling duties.

Perhaps it was time to reassess the capacity of her current load to do a bit of ball sorting.

Bound by the natural laws of physical time and space, a witch can become weary from juggling her balls.  Never mind that she did it with ease until now.  Once a suspect ball has been determined to hover within the “no-fun” zone, the effects of gravity will kick in to transform this particular ball from one that started out “light and fun” into an enormous ten-ton concrete sphere.

Until she found a suitable place within the hands of another capable juggler, she continued to bear the responsibility of the gigantic boulder that she loves.

This has made Jillian quite bitchy.  She has not had anything nice to say in over three weeks, which is exactly why she has not said anything at all.

Meanwhile, a fresh and worthy juggler has been selected.  The replacement juggler is perfectly able, poised, and willing to accept one of the balls in Jillian’s playing field that has become too heavy for her to bear.  Only one more week until the transfer is complete, at which time any new and exciting prospective balls can be considered.

Or none at all:)

Until then, Jillian hopes that you will give a bitchy witch a break.

Writing posts for the blog is one of the large and glowing balls that will always remain within her fun-zone.  For Jillian, it is always a pleasure to share the restless thoughts that are forever winding among the endless avenues of her big fat head.

Picky, picky…

That’s it.

This is the only guideline a modern witch will ever need to fulfill her purpose.

And what is her purpose?

That’s easy.  Her only purpose is to be absolutely content with today and completely enthusiastic about tomorrow.

Somewhere, deep within us, we know that this basic element of overall satisfaction is all we need to continue producing more happiness.  And yet we spend so much time being unsatisfied that we guarantee our own failure to receive fulfillment and complete happiness with life as it unfolds before us.

(What?)

It’s simple, really.

It’s always okay to want more.  Wanting more, and creating more of that which would make you happy is why we are here.  The only reason that this doesn’t seem to “work that way” for many of us is because we forget to first be satisfied with what we have created for ourselves right now.

When we are not happy, we want to blame it on someone, or something else.  When and if we realize that our experience originates from within, we may view this as “bad news,” since we seem to have done such a horrible job!

“I created this mess?!”

Eventually we adjust to our creatorship,  connect the dots, and take responsibility for our own experience.  We allow ourselves to take note of a few of the good things that we created, mostly by default, and give ourselves about one minute’s worth of credit.

I can tell you from experience that feigned appreciation and sarcasm do not amount to much in the momentum department, but if you have spent the majority of your time on the planet feeling unsatisfied with your work, then this approach may be a good place to start.

Until we can remember to be completely (and genuinely) happy with EVERYTHING that we have created so far, we will never be able to receive more.

This is where the “picky, picky” guideline comes in handy.

If you have accepted 100% responsibility for every circumstance in your life, then you have reclaimed ownership of your birthright to create your best life experience.  You know the creative equation.  You remember that your thoughts, focused intentions, and emotional responses are continually creating your current reality.  Once you have grasped the essential elegance of this universal truth, you are going to want to be a little more selective about the crap you are entertaining.

Contrary to outdated (and yet still popular) belief systems, you really are the one in charge.  It becomes impossible to pretend that you have no control over any of the thoughts and subsequent emotions that enter your creative power source.  You do.

Be picky.  Meticulously inspect every thought, opinion, attitude, and perceived notion that you allow to enter your mind and heart.  Does it feel like the energy of love?  Or does it originate from the energy of fear?

Determining potential players on your creative energy team through this method will help to provide yet another practical venue for the conscientious creator that you have remembered yourself to be.  Your decisiveness and attention to content will eventually define your individual art form by which you practice complete satisfaction with everything that you have created so far, everything that you are creating at this moment, and everything you are creating for tomorrow.

Natalie, so timely and true, has inspired me to offer today’s “picky” reminder by providing this quote from Ayn Rand:

“It is a rare gift: to feel reverence for your own life and to want the best, greatest, the highest possible, here, now, for your very own.”

Was I really stuck?

…Stuck in a joyless commitment to certain family members and friends, stuck in a shitty and unrewarding job, stuck in an unbalanced relationship, stuck with too many bills and a dwindling bank account, stuck in the same old predictable conversations, stuck with endless requests for my time, and stuck in the same old mundane routine day after day, after day, after day,

after day,

after day.

Stuck with the same old crap time after time,

after time,

after time,

after time.

Days,

weeks,

and month after month bled together seamlessly to form year,

after year,

of aimless direction and meaningless purpose.

It was endless.

The truth is, I was never really stuck with any of it.

But it sure the hell felt as if I were.

I used to feel “stuck” with a lot of stuff.  For what seemed like lingering and perpetual slices of time throughout my life, I have experienced the depths of human doom and gloom.

Frustration.

Hopelessness.

Complete resignation.

Despair.

I am no stranger to the state of depression.

I know Prozac.

I know despondent weeping.

I know what it feels like to drench the bed pillow with desperate tears at night,

only to open overwrought eyes by morning,

where the numbest of functions merely plod forward just to face another dismal day.

I know the absolute absurdity of the words, “Everything is going to be okay.”

I know what summoning an ounce of will feels like,

to hang on to a singular reason to breathe,

to comb the mind and heart for a shred of honorable expectation.

Clawing any way out from under the heavy blanket of severe depression is a suck-ass journey.  It is fraught with overwhelming lists of suck-ass things to do just to be able to lift your head above the water long enough to grasp a fragment of recovery.

Well, then.

Maybe I should describe how I really feel.

From tragic loss and trauma, to brain dysfunction and heredity, there are volumes of circumstances known to trigger a depressed state.  For whatever reason a human being may suffer, one of the last notions a person can understand, let alone hear, is that they have a choice.

No one is stuck with any condition.  It is only the nature of a human coping mechanism, when experienced for any length of time, that provides a sense of familiarity.  Once we become intimately familiar with any state of being, depression included, it can feel as if we are stuck.

It feels as if nothing ever changes.  No matter how hard we try, we cannot see the fluidity of our circumstances.  Our familiarity with our response blinds our view.  Current perception does not allow us to acknowledge that all things are in constant motion.  We cannot see that things are always changing….

because they are always changing back to the same things.

Over,

and over,

and over.

Again,

and again,

and again.

The energy of life itself is in perpetual motion.  It is impossible for life to stand still.

Responding to life with habitual patterns of thought, emotion, and familiar states of being can only create the same patterns of circumstance, the same experience, and the same familiar outcomes.

Time,

after time,

after time.

I used to say that Prozac saved my life.  Durwood referred to it as my “don’t-kill-the-children-and-husband” medication, so Prozac may have ultimately saved the life of my family.

“Have you taken your Don’t Kill Us Pill today, honey?”

I used to say that my therapist saved my life.

My kids, and the love of my patient husband received credit for saving my life, too.

I did it.  It was me.

I saved my life the moment I took complete ownership for every single experience, circumstance, and condition of my life on this planet.  If I did not like the way things were, if I wanted things to be different, I had to reclaim my birthright to create my life experience.  The only way I could do this was to approach all unwanted and familiar circumstances in unfamiliar ways.  I had to loosen and remove the glue that held my thoughts, my beliefs, and my emotional responses to life in an aimless pattern that no longer served me.

I could write a book about it.

…or create a website dedicated to blogging about it:)

I remember the day when I discovered the source of my true magic.  Weeping uncontrollably, I raised a desperate cry to know “WHY, WHY, WHY does this stuff keep happening to me?!!”

I heard my answer in crystal clear resonance:

“It’s you, stupid.”

I wonder if I might pose the question, “What is love?” without prompting a slight gag reflex in either of us?

A smirk?  A roll of the eyes?

C’mon, Jill.

It is possible to address the subject of love seriously.

A practical witch will gladly remove a firmly-placed tongue from the cheek to explore all energy forms that are available for our human use.

After all, love is energy.

…And what is a blog maintained to ‘encourage the individual creation of the best life experience’ if it does not include the topic of love, itself?

This is my one-hundred-and-fiftieth post.  ‘Love’ seems fitting.

I love this site.  I love our visits.  I love the opportunity to continue sharing my words here.

It is easy and natural to love things. It is just as easy not to.

It is when we express our love for people that the energy of love is often transformed into a complex formula of highly emotional extremes.

In its purest form, love simply exists.  Divine nature does not complicate, much less care about that which we make such a fuss over in our physical realm.

It is only in our human existence that we use direct experience to assign our understanding and predictions toward love.  We have all sorts of ideas about it, too.

We love our kids, of course.  There are days we don’t like them so much, but our expression of unconditional love remains pure.

Every parent I know would not hesitate to “lay down their life for their children.”  This edict can sometimes be misinterpreted by parents who may experience a potentially harmful “forgetfulness” toward attending to their own life.  It happens.  A timely reclaiming of self-love allows for a healthy recovery when desired.

I should move on, but I want to note here that there is not one mother I know who appreciates the term “doting,” particularly when it is suggested by someone who is not a parent.  We’re not stupid.  We know that neglecting our own desires could naturally escalate throughout the temporary life-on-hold requirements of motherhood.

This side-effect, along with the six-million other potential aspects of parenting, are always best left for an individual to figure out for themselves, in their own time, when the necessary precautions may eventually be discovered for the sake of sanity.

So for those of you who don’t have kids…Just shut-up, already:)

Not exactly a lot of love in the above statement, but it does provide a smooth segue to the next subject regarding love as shared among our family and friends.

“I love you” is too often such a loaded statement.

Overuse between friends and family members have relegated these three powerful words to insubstantial status, as if it were a mere closing to every casual conversation.

Too bad, too.  There are some of us who really mean it.

Perhaps due in part to the “free love” movement, there are undertones of uncomfortable misinterpretations that are sometimes associated with the expression of love.  These underlying notions are often relieved by those who will substitute the written word “ya” for “you.”  We’re not sure why, but we know that a non-committal “love ya!” automatically eliminates any creepy factors that may be associated with a rather bold declaration of “I love you.”

To avoid potential blathering, I will refrain from any further discussion regarding the expression of love as it relates to a spouse or significant other.  Romantic love and the nature of our intimate relationships comprise an entire category of human experience with trust that may be best left to another post, another day.

I began writing this musing with the intention of sharing a perspective toward the energy of love that may (or may not) be of appeal to one who wishes to ‘play’ with the potential of natural forces among us.

It is a simple approach, really.

In silence and to yourself, whisper the words “I love you” to those whom you choose.

So what if it’s the guy behind the counter at the 7-11?  It doesn’t have to mean “I want to jump your bones” or anything.  Unless, of course, you do.  Get your mind out of the gutter, people!

I am merely offering a suggestion to play with, and enjoy, the potential energy of love.

Silently addressing a fellow human being of your choosing with the words “I love you” can be an amazing experience.  When spoken sincerely within, there is a gentle summoning of the purest vibration.  Weary and overladen misconceptions surrounding love are not present.  The natural rhythm of well-being is permitted to move freely, and most assuredly serves to open your heart, if not that of your unsuspecting subject.

We could always use a little more of that:)

Soul-searching, finding your path to spiritual enlightenment, techniques to achieve emotional healing, the process of vibrational alignment, blah, blah, blah…..

Is any one else as tired reading about this crap as I am of writing about it?!

Holy hell, already.

Perhaps someone needs her second cup of coffee this morning.

Whatever it is, the theme for today will be short and sweet.

Here we are.  Living, breathing, human beings.

There’s an infinite supply of information, inspiration, and shared discoveries available to those of us genuinely interested in the human experience enough to want to make the best of it.

Who we truly are, why we are here, and to what purpose we are to fulfill in this lifetime can be found everywhere throughout our written history, art form, fellowship, and current life experience.

Remembrance is in our fiction, our fairy tales, our music and poetry.  It is woven throughout our text books, our scientific discoveries, our technology, and our investigative reporting.  It exists in yesterday’s experience and tomorrow’s newspaper.

When not readily detected within any of these other resources, truth can be found most prominently within the eyes of a child.

All of the above are mere clues.

The real answers?

Round up your five human senses, one by one, and place them in the ‘pause’ mode.

Now take a deep breath, inhaling all the way down into your belly until it reaches what you perceive to be the innermost core of your being.

Feel the silence?

Ahh…

Right there.

Right there is everything you ever wanted to know.

There is no way to peace, prosperity, spiritual fulfillment, vibrant health, and everlasting happiness, my friend.

Happiness is the way.

After a second cup of coffee, any day is a good day to just remember that.

One drop of doubt can taint an entire ocean full of optimism.

Unchecked, a mere hint of it will grab a foothold in the infancy of one’s dreams, expand rapidly throughout the hallways of the mind, and wreak havoc within an entire network of carefully planned intentions.

Doubt is a master infiltrator.  Before you know it, that house of optimism you thought your mindset was operating under has been overridden.  The entire subconscious processing center has been transformed to reflect the house of doubt.

Was no one watching?!

If I did not believe that I harbored lingering traces of doubt within my current vibrational mindset, then I certainly wouldn’t still be writing about it.

Hello, Doubt.

You are a formidable presence.

A true champion of sensibility, you have expertly woven your way throughout my psyche and that of every human being I know.

Your resources are unlimited.

Proudly serving the aspirations of all mankind for centuries, your voice of reason remains steady and true.

You are clever.

You are the acclaimed author of cautionary tales.

You are the king of plausible doom.

You rule an enormous dynasty of subtle and relentless minions that are perfectly placed among our highest visions.  With utmost precision, you orchestrate a timely schedule of your potent wisdom throughout every turn in the human experience.

You are the chief dream-dasher,

the ultimate buzz-kill,

and the world’s most successful party-crasher.

I hate you.

You refuse to go away.

Even when I think I have rid myself of your annoying presence, you show up in the faces of those that I love.

This, my old adversary, may be your most powerful quality.

You gracefully concede to defeat, and then inconspicuously insert yourself within the energy fields surrounding my most trusted companions.

You peer at me through creased foreheads and raised eyebrows.

I see you.

Over the years, you have become quite proficient in presenting yourself as the cleverly disguised voice of concern.

“I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

-or-

“Good luck with that.”

Posturing yourself as a well-intentioned expression for my welfare is pure genius.

I’ll give you that.

But be aware that I have now sharpened my focus.  Where I may not have been willing, or yet able to recognize you in the eyes of those whom I love so dearly, I detect your presence now.

You resemble a cockroach.

As a formidable opponent, I am certain that you will devise a new plan to foil my future aspirations.  Until you do, I am letting you know, as a courtesy, that your recent appearance has been duly noted.

So now what?

We could continue to battle.  I could wait with guarded anticipation for you to challenge my next endeavor.  And yet I fear that our unlimited resources would define an eternal war.

I do not want to come back and do this with you again.

It’s tiresome.

Take pleasure in all of my goals that you have successfully conquered throughout many lifetimes, my constant and confident Commander of Doubt.  Our encounters are noteworthy, and your victories have been well-played.

Bravo, Sir Thomas.

I now willingly admit that without your presence throughout my life, I would not have summoned the strength to recognize the source of your true power.  It is only an illusion upheld through the choice I make to give you any power at all.

I respectfully disarm you, my long and trusted rival.  Your sparring and consulting services are no longer needed, but you are most welcome to relish a well-deserved and comfortable retirement within the House of Jill.

Relax.  Enjoy your quiet time.  You earned it.

I no longer hate you, but honor the service for which you have so gallantly provided.

Rest in peace, noble cockroach.

Had you not been so tenacious in your relentless pursuit to crush my dreams, I may have waited yet another lifetime to remember that I am the one who created you.

Sometimes you just need to drive around the block a few times before the perfect parking space opens up.

Impatience aside, circling the block provides an opportunity to observe things that may have gone unnoticed the first time around.  A practical witch might consider applying the same leisurely process to her current affairs.

After all, we love circles.

Following our initial fascination with chicken scratch, circles are the first shape that we learn how to draw.

Then we grow up to draw circles around certain items, or significant words that we have listed.  For emphasis, we circle dates that are important to us on a calendar.

The planet we reside upon is circular, rotates, and orbits around a blazing sphere along with zillions of other celestial bodies that are all basically circular.

We recite poems that symbolize the nature of revolving patterns, such as, “what ye sends out comes back to thee.”

We also use spherical terms to describe some of our most significant human experiences.

“I have come full circle.”

“I have done a complete 360.”

For anyone who has heightened their awareness concerning the Law of Attraction, focused attention toward negative behavior and circumstances is frowned upon.  So we try to ignore the “bad stuff.”  We pretend that we don’t remember things from our past that did not serve us well.

All of our effort is poured into positive affirmations, techniques to quiet the mind, and the search for any available tools that can assist us in altering our point of attraction.  It’s supposed to be easy.

And yet it can feel like so much damn work.

When you are not experiencing emotional relief toward any subject in your life that you have been seeking to improve, I offer you a gentle reminder to stop where you are.  The perfect parking space you are looking for is there.  It is waiting for you.  It will be available when you quit racing around the block, and summon the courage to face all of the residual items that you so desperately tried to ignore in your initial excitement to get there in the first place.

Unfortunate events, unpleasant outcomes, and disturbing behaviors of the past remain embedded in your experience as a human being.  These aspects are still there whether you acknowledge them consciously or not.  We don’t want to think about them because we know that we shouldn’t.

Meanwhile, these pesky items continue to wander around our subconscious filing system, effectively clogging our ability to attract improved circumstances.  Ignoring them does not make them go away, which is why all our efforts to “think positive” is not creating the desired outcome we seek.

Circle the block slowly, my friend.  The willingness to take a closer look toward the things that went wrong in the past does not necessarily produce their recurrence.  Acknowledging misfortunes removes their control.  You reclaim your power when you face pesky demons squarely.

May you fearlessly tour the particular block that you are currently circling.  Consciously call upon thy big, fat brain to meticulously comb through the residual traces of negative events loitering within the cracks of your street to improvement.  Give them a name, acknowledge their service, and sweep them to the curb with resolve.  Relinquish their duties, and allow them a peaceful resting place upon a quiet bench along the sidewalk.  Coming full circle is a whole lot easier when you consciously clear the route.

Happy cruising, my friend.

Human partnership is strange.  Unless one of you is willing to lay down and die, there has to be a mutual respect for differences.

Twenty-five years ago I recited this fatal marriage vow with fleeting panic whilst standing in front of a priest.  No one likes to be reminded of potential tragedy, particularly on what is supposed to be one of the happiest days in your life.

Hindsight and experience has now granted me a sense of appreciation for taking the vow of  “until death do us part.”  Recalling that I have the option to hit Durwood over the head with a shovel and bury him in our backyard has carried me through many of the rough patches in our marriage.

Suspicious disappearance may be less complicated than divorce.

Pending a murderous rampage, honoring the promises we make to each other is a choice.  For individuals who are confident in their operational procedure regarding life, it can be challenging to blend your ways with another human being.  Sparks only fly when one party consistently concedes to the blending process more than the other.  This is usually the same party that recognizes the need to resolve the unbalance before someone gets a crack over the head with a frying pan.

Martyrdom is unattractive.  The tendency to over-correct can often lead to heinous bitchiness, and brow beating is probably the least productive for the continued mental health of all vested parties.  Once the middle ground on potential behavior is located, effective communication can commence.

A good witch allows herself the time she needs to practice swimming comfortably in the assertive section of the pool.  Those who remain in the deep end of sainthood, or the shallow end with the bitch queens, are too soaked in misery or rage to be of any definitive support for a practical witch who chooses to keep her spouse among the living.

Take notes.  Choose words from your heart, and sort through the advice and actions that are suggested by others.  Relationship professionals (girlfriends included) may often strike a common chord on certain topics, but in the end there is not one other human being on this entire planet that knows you better than you.

Take a deep breath, Evie.  I will return all of your frying pans and shovels whenever you are ready:)

Sometimes a human just needs to be alone.

I sure do.

Until recently, I never really understood how to do this.  Although being alone seemed intriguing, it also sounded rather boring.  Now that I have spent fifty-one years on the planet, being content with my own thoughts is finally getting easier.  This is an improvement from the past when it used to seem impossible to hear my own voice.

I could not sit quietly with myself for longer than two seconds before a thought, or idea, entered my mental arena.  Most of these thoughts were usually directly or indirectly influenced by another human being.

My mom likes to say that “no thought is original.”  Meanwhile, I longed for my thoughts to be.

“Where in the hell are my original thoughts?!”

I would close my eyes to peer within, and immediately start to feel like a crazy person.  I could not identify one single thought that did not originate with something I once heard, read, or observed.  Not one goddamn thought could be traced back to me.  Even the technique I was using to ‘quiet my mind and listen to my inner voice’ could be attributed to a suggestion made by someone else.

Mom was right.

Apparently, there is not one single thought on earth that has not been entertained, imagined, or activated by one or more of the six billion people who live here, or any of the billions of people who have.

So what.  We live on the planet of over-stimulation.  Isn’t that the whole idea?

Perhaps the source of our thoughts and ideas are not without influence, but our innovative and individual versions of thought are generated through our access to each other.  We have the ability to look over a limitless menu of preconceived notions.  We pick and choose our personal preferences in order to formulate our own ideas.  In turn, we offer these personalized versions to the Universe for further expansion.  Our thoughts are creating and co-creating our human experience at every moment.

A sense of sovereignty is no longer some vague notion that can only be acquired through social isolation.  Now I understand that I do not have to spend seven years in Tibet to be at peace with my own thoughts.  It is only when I allow myself to become an active participant among the expanding thoughts of human existence that I am fully aware of my true originality.

How do you know when your thoughts are completely your own?  Well, god forbid that someone else has already thought of this, but… “You will just know.” You just know!  You know it so profoundly, so absolutely, that you cannot even explain it.  Or write about it.  Obviously.

Hey look, Mom!  I found my original thought!!