Second Nature
There’s a side to me not many people see, and not one I show to just anyone. It’s a side that runs deep in my veins ever since I was a child. What it is my deep compassion for animals, particularly of the canine kind. Most strongly is that of the wolf.
The unfortunate part is that, living in upstate New York, there aren’t any wolves around. The closest getting to these anazing creatures is a relative, the coyote.
WE have many packs that run throughout our fields during a chase in the folds of night and the one best way to connect to them and my, if you would, wild side, is to call to them. Not everyone, like those who just can’t sing to save their lives, can howl. It’s something that takes practice if one plans on calling a coyote. It’s even better, I believe, to know some of the basic rules of communication when it comes to calling to a coyote or its pack. Like people, these intelligent animals have their own language and meaning to certain vocalizations. The main call I use to begin with is the greeting howl, a very high pitched cry that’s used in a way of saying, “hello to you, too,” in response to my first call.
Getting such a response from a distant or sometimes nearby lone coyote is an exhilarating feeling that makes my heart drum harder. AS if encouraged, I call back again, switching over to a more traditional prolonged, high wolf’s howl that echoes over the mountains beyond.
Sometimes I’ll pick up the calls from distant packs miles off and during the summer months when a mother has made a den for her pups, a raucous chorus of yips, barks, warbling howls from pups and mother rise up from the darkness. It is at this time when I feel truly part of the universe, taking in gentle moonlight and the perfumed air of the night saturated in sweet cut hay and other unknown wild things. Trees join in between the silent gaps when the voices of the canids have fallen to await my voice in return. Crickets and insects fill the moments of silence with their unbroken humming and chirps and it is then I feel the power of Earth. Power of nature. My place on the wild side in which I don’t quite belong and yet do. A place I relish to blend and meld into for those sweet minutes that slip away as water over vertical glass. In that time I’m like one of them, I’m all the pieces I’ve never explored before during daylight. I’m half animal, half human. Then, it’s over. I’m whole human again. Yes, it’s true that’s what I am. Deep down, somewhere in the shadowed places of my spirit, though, I am of the wild side. IN a way, we all are. We just have to discover it. Take time to tune out our hectic human lives just for a few moments. Breathe in God in nature, take in his incredible artwork, his gift to us.

Costumes: Reflections and Effectations on Personalities.

My favorite part of Halloween is the fact that it gives everyone license to dress up and be someone else for the whole day. We can shed our inhibitions and free ourselves of the preconceived notions others might have about us. The costume a person picks has two main implications. One: it reflects their innate personality. People choose what to be based on what they like and characters with which they strongly relate. On the other side of the coin however, what costume a person wear can also impact how they feel and behave while disguised by it.

Although it’s extremely unlikely that clothing alone can literally alter an individual’s inherant personality, it’s commonly accepted that what a person wears and how it makes them feel has a direct effect on how they might behave.

For instance, it’s not uncommon, for a shy person to choose a bold costume like that of a super hero and while wearing that costume become more outgoing and assertive. The psychology behind this phenomenon is complex and beyond the scope of this simple article. However, what we wish to impress upon people is that Halloween and the act of wearing costumes offers everyone a chance to explore hidden facets of their personality. Perhaps even a way to fascilitate long term positive changes.

So next time you’re trying to decide what costume to pick, think about who you are and also about who you want to be. Not just for Halloween, but every day.

http://www.halloweencostumes4u.com

Check it out. Can you hear the dots moving? See the music?

Well, just got back from the college dorm’s infamous Halloween party downstairs. Actually, Allie and I were pretty excited about it since I found out about it on Monday. Anyway, I was really psyched up and dressed up in my werewolf costume. I had that beautiful tail of mine—which went through some minor alterations after it got torn and all, but it was pretty good—the nose, and these latex eartips. OH, and of course my cool furry paws andwith claws and the big clawed feet! I was great. And I wore my dog chain from the pet store as a necklace like last year.

So, everyone thought I was great. Tim called my tail a skunk tail—to my slight disgust for my wolf’s sake—and warned me not to raise it.I hoped my alterations I made to it wasn’t too vermin-like. All I’d done is taken out some stuffing and tapered it a little more for a more natural look. But maybe it was too much? Oh, well. Tim also liked my feet. “Look at those big feet!” he said with amusement. Another kid commented on my “outfit” and then I put up my clawed hand to grab something off the table and I surprised him. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know your hand looked like that.” I’d had them resting on my lap under the table so that’s why he didn’t see them. It was crazy funny.

The girls I sat with were really boring and complained how they wanted to leave because they were bored. I thought they were boring. I was shaking with energy, so I got up and danced to some of the rap music. Surprisingly, everyone watching thought I was great, though I didn’t think so. I don’t think I have much rhythm. But nobody else was dancing so whatever. I mean, its hard dancing with those foot-long feet and having a tail that keeps swinging wildly with every move. I even went down on all fours and sprang up. Everyone cheered at that. It was totally neat. A little too unreal, like a silly fantasy I sometimes have of me as an anthropoamorphic wolf, or from my childhood dreams as Wolf Girl, the heroine. Heck, I guess I was, messy ponytail and jeans and all.

We had a doughnut-eating contest—powdered doughnubts to boot—and I barely got two bites of mine on the string but had fun anyway.
Then I danced again until the music skipped and I felt overheated, kind of dizzy, so I sat down.
The neatest part was the costume contest. Now, there weren’t many of us dressed up. So there was me, Allie, a cute, cool pirate, Ben as a cheerleader with boobs (another crazy), two guys with cardboard vending machine signs on their chests saying something about paying with coins and another girl dressed as an eighties something or other. So Ashley called out each of our names as we stood in a line, and the most cheers someone got was the winner. WE did it about three times, and I didn’t really care about winning but was surprised when I got a big cheer on the third time.I guess I was cute enough. I got a twenty dollar gift certificate for—yep—Didabos pizza. Kind of gross but we could use it for this Friday maybe, if anyone is up for it.
The other cool part for me was how being a werewolf gave me an excuse to tap into that long-neglected animal side of myself, my inner wolf. I haven’t had many shifts and I kind of did, letting out little howls here and there, licking my lips kind of canine-like, and even catching myself panting a little, rapidly moving my chest up and down. I wasn’t wholly aware of it for for a few seconds but nobody seemed too alarmed. I guess it made me all the more interesting. In short, I enjoyed myself.
We sang happy birthday t to Buzz and then some idiot—maybe it was Ben?—ran outside and next we know he’s throwing wet snow in the room at us. IT sprinkled my tail and I had a moment of disgusted paranoia all wrapped in one as I freaked out in thinking it was cake all over me. I didn’t want anything to happen to my tail. It’s hard to clean, being faux fur. Anyway, the bored girl sitting next to me, ironically enough, got snow down her shirt and everyone pretty much left all disgusted after that. It was about nine o’clock and we’d been going for about two hours. We’d had it’
Then I had the tedious, painful taskof removing my latex pieces. Not so much the removal but the scrubbing of the spirit gum, and I’d agitated my left ear badly while trying to put on the stupid eartip that wouldn’t go on straight for the tenth time till Allie had to come to my rescue and carefully place it on. The skin burned with the spirit gum remover so I ended up scrubbing it gently with a wash cloth and warm water, then I had to take a shower and get it out of my crazy hair! Never get spirit gum in your hair. It’s a mess! IT comes out, I found to my erlief, with water but jeez.
IT was a painful transformation before the party, with my wads of hair sticking to everything! I actually was groaning with frustration and whining and wincing in pain kind of like David Kessler from Werewolves of London when he’s first transforming. I felt like him.

Well, going to celebrate Halloween again Friday and dress up and have friends over. Not sure what we’ll do. Wish we could go out somewhere but we don’t know where. There’s only stupid bars around here and they’re not safe.
I’m beat. I had enough running around on all fours, jumping and all that.

What if I told you parallel worlds really do exist? What if scientists are actually discovering that maybe our universe is only one bubble within many “bubbles”? Yep. Who says God didn’t create another dimention–universe–all its own?

Over the Columbus Day weekend, I went down to New Jersey and Pennsylvania to visit family and friends. What I didn’t expect out of the trip was to see that old Delorean back on my father’s friend’s property. The old farmer who owns it thinks he’s going to sell it for $15000.00! I”m not kidding! IT doesn’t run anymore, the passenger side window is taped up and the apolstry is torn a bit but all can be restored…though no one probably would do that.

I ran my hands over the whole outside of the car, front and back. IT was pretty solid, feeling somewhat like an ordinary car but of course, it was steel, which is sturdier. I even opened the gas tank lid on the hood of the car, and could sniff out the faint smell of gasoline. It was pretty amazing. I traced the logo on the front bumper as well.

IF I had the car–and I would if the farmer wasn’t so greedy–I’d design the whole thing like the movie version.

It’d always been a dream of mine to get into a real Delorean,(which is probably a lot of BTTF fans’ dream as well no doubt!), the silver sports car from the 1985scifi/adventure movie, “Back to the Future” my total all-time fave. The car was parked outside in the sunlight, cleaned up from bird droppings (see the old entry “Farmer Abuses BTTF Time Machine”), but I have to say it was also parked beside a very old clump of cow dung. The driver’s side door’s hydrollic was broken so Dad propped it open with his walking cane. This was it–I was really going in! Now, the car is settled very low to the ground so getting in meant stooping way down and lowering myself onto the seat, which took some practice. Dad closed the dor and there I sat, hands on the steering wheel, my feet on the gas pedel and brakes. to anyone taller than 5-4–which is my average height–I could feel the claustrophobia moving in on them. But I was feeling alright, though the cieling was only about two inches over my head. I moved alittle in my seat and couldn’t help smiling at the familiar creaking of the apolstry. Just like in the movie!

In those breif seconds that formed into just a few minutes, I connected with Marty Mc’Fly (see post “Soulbonding: A Million Different People ”), and was that character, someone I hadn’t soulbonded with in several months, and it felt good.

 Getting out of the car was another challenge, though.

“How do you get out?” I asked with a puzzled look, feet nearly level with the ground.

Smiling, Dad replied, “that’s probably what Michael (Michael J. Fox), was thinking.”

I took a lot of pictures and even my youngest sister got into the car, but she wasn’t that excited about it as I was, of course. She’s not a fan so to her, the car was just another, well, dusty, musty old car.

Dad actually found twelve cents, a dime and two pennies, all tarnished from the car.

 
“I know this is going to sound corny,” he said, placing the coins into my palm, “but these are a kind of souvenir. You keep these in a special place.”  Nah,

 it wasn’t that corny to have coins from when someone actually drove the car at all. We joked about stealing the key but knew his friend would totally notice.

I was reluctant to walk away from the car and leave the farm, wondering if I’d ever see the star machine ever again. IT dawned on me that night that my memory and those pictures may be the only last thing I’ll have to go by for the rest of my life. It meant that much to me to see the car.

I thanked my father’s old friend, gently hugging his strong, bent back and replayign my moment in the Delorian over and over again in my head for the rest of the day. IT was even better to know that my dad was happy to know that I was happy, and that meant something deeper to me, too.

“I know it was one of your dreams (to see the car),” he’d said shortly after we left to say goodbye to his friend.

yesterday my roomate and me went to this new age shop of friends she knew. IT’d just reopened after shutting down to rlocate in town. The stones in the room made my energy soar and my wolf spirit emerge curiously. The one lady there looked at me and seemed to know I was sensative to the stones without me even telling her. IT surprised me that she knew as she handed me a chunk of rose quartz to ground my energy. Right away I calmed down, growing spacy and drowsy at one point as I held the quartz. My sciatic nerve in my left leg was killing me, though. IT had for all this week. I complained to my roommate about the pain and stood up, hoping it’d lessen. IT only struck down my thigh muscle so my leg gave out. My roomate was talked into performing Reiki on me. She’d taken classes in it. So we went into this small room–the treatment room–where it smelled of sage and had pictures of willows and birch in various seasons on the walls. I laid down on my back on this hospital-like bdbed and got comfy. My roommate had me envision I was a tre sucking energy from the erth into me and then sending it back down. I was a very tall tree in my mind, and I saw my energy as light moving from thtethe earth up into my trunk and branches. Then my whole body grew relaxed as my roomate searchd for the pain in my left leg. My third eye opened wide, and my wolf spirit came forth. I underwent a mental shift (se post “Humanimals: the animal connection and “Full Moon Fever)), and felt I had the hed of my wolf. My mouth changed into a snout, my teeth into fangs and my face lupan. IN my mind I saw I was a wolf lyingon my back on the ground in the woods, my left hind leg gently being touched by this healing human being. I willed th the pain in my thigh to subside, to leav. Slowly, slowly it was all over… When I returned to my human state of mind, still spacy though, I stood up and realized there was no pain where it was. IT’d shifted. I still had pain mor in the back of my leg but not shooting down to hurt my muscle like it was. IT was incredible how it’d happend. All last night I feared the pain would return to that spot but it didn’t and it hasn’t. My roomate said in order for Reiki to actually work I have to think positively, that the pain will go away for good. I’m still a bit skeptical, however. IT’s hard to do that when your religion’s against that kind of stuff–I’m Roman Catholic. So, it’s the question that sticks in my hed: is Reiki really real? Guess the answer is that it all depends on what you believe in. I must believe somewhat in it, because that pain’s gone now.