Tag: reality

My Hat Disappeared on St. Patrick’s Day

Once upon a windy St. Patrick’s Day, my mom, sister and I ate dinner at a local Cracker Barrel restaurant. We did so in celebration of the holiday, or more likely, because the special was one of Mom’s favorite dishes.

She wanted corn beef and cabbage, a meal I personally disliked. Though I always looked forward to Cracker Barrel’s warm biscuits with butter. I was a glutton for gluten.

I recall it like it was a scene from a movie, hazy film flickering, building with suspenseful music, rolling out from the projector of my memory. The camera spans the wide panorama of the restaurant, sparsely populated with the early-bird dinner crowd, gleaming floors and place settings perfectly aligned at each table. The camera lens settles on the back of the head of the hostess as we follow her across the expansive dining room. She chooses a four-person table next to the window. It is far from other diners.

We take off our jackets, hanging them on the backs of the chairs. Mom and I sit facing each other in the aisle seats.  I take off my cherished navy blue newsboy cap that fit my head perfectly, placing it on the chair next to me. We drink coffee and look at the menus as we wait for my sister to arrive.

When I see her, I instinctively go to grab my hat. As she sits down on the chair next to my mom, I gasp and shake my head. The music crescendos as the camera reveals the empty chair.

My treasured hat is gone. The film flickers brightly one last time and transitions back to reality.

I looked everywhere for my hat, but it had completely disappeared, vanished into thin air, to some other place, time or dimension. This was nothing new to me. When I was 4 years old, the large rainbow aurora borealis stone disappeared from a bracelet my grandmother gave me. I would often hold my arm up to the sun, fascinated by the sparkling colors as I gently rotated my wrist. I loved that stone. I felt lost without it.

That incident would begin the list of many lost things: my high school ring, sets of keys, credit cards, sunglasses, even a dress that I held in my hands a moment before.

Mom remarked that since it was St. Patrick’s Day, a leprechaun might have taken my hat. I never knew if she was joking or if she knew something of the lore of her Irish ancestors that she never told me. Mom never spoke of herself, her family or the fact that she was adopted. I never knew she was Irish until I was in my 30s.

I researched leprechauns in preparation for this article. They are beings of Irish folklore, diminutive, red-bearded and clad in green. If you catch one, he must give you his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. This peculiar guy with horder disorder is a trickster who distracts others as he makes off with the gold. Does that sound like anyone you know?

I don’t know if a leprechaun took my hat. I don’t know why things seem to disappear around me.

I am hopeful that whatever happened will be revealed to me as we collectively rise in consciousness.

Maybe it’s the Twilight Zone. Maybe there is some subconscious reason for disappearing object phenomenon. Maybe it’s to show us something about the nature of reality. Maybe the outside world is just a projection that we create from within?

It makes me wonder . . .

What do you think?

Always,
Alice Always

A Jedi Awakens – Part 2

 Read A Jedi Awakens – Part 1 here

This is a true telling about multidimensionality. You might perceive it as a fictional story if your perception of reality encompasses only the 3D world. Those who have awoken to inner knowing may perceive something more. Each individual will see through one’s own personal filter of beliefs and level of remembering. What you take away from this depends on where you are at any given moment. Read this today, and you may think one way. Read it a year from now, and your perception may be quite different.

*  *  *  *  *

The Force named itself then remained silent. Essa asked it to speak again but received no reply.  She tried everything that she could think of to coax it, even acting silly and singing, “Yooooooo Hooooooo, Forcey-Force, where are yooooooo?”

No answer came from the Force.

After a while, she fell asleep and into a dream.

The dream contained the same reoccurring theme that she had been having of late. She wasn’t herself as she knew it; she was a woman struggling with her existence in 21st Century suburban America on Earth. The year is 2019. Today, she cried as she cleaned the house.

To be locked within one’s negative thoughts, Essa thought as she awoke. That’s not a life I’d like to have.

It IS your life, Essa. The dream is another reality that is expressing itself. The Force finally spoke as a voice within her mind.

I know, she admitted.

It wasn’t the woman’s life that Essa found so unappealing, it was the fact that the woman kept forgetting who she was.

Taking the guilt of what happened in other lifetimes into this current incarnation had brought her misery. She was poor, depressed, anxious, and in constant pain with an arthritic body that seemed to be deteriorating at an alarming rate. Essa sighed. I went deeper into the Darkness than I thought I would.

Why would I choose this?

You said that as part of your Earth mission, you needed to empathize with others who live in the Darkness. You said that by becoming one of them, you would understand more fully what they go through each day. So you took on the challenge of pain, lack, anxiety, and depression.

But she is so deep in the Darkness dream that her life is a hellish nightmare. Her consciousness has sunken so low, she is in much pain, with a mind filled with worry and scattered thoughts. She is trapped in her own mind. A victim of herself.

Essa tuned into the woman’s energy. A chaotic black storm of negative emotions clouded her aura. She saw how each thought affected corresponding places inside and outside her body. Inside, trapped negative thoughts caused pain and inflammation in her joints. Outside, the cloud energy spread feelings of despair and anxiety. Electrical sparks within her physical body sent flashes of lightning that extended beyond the cloud.

I see why she isolates herself, Essa thought. Her energy is too erratic; she doesn’t want to affect others. Most of it is self-contained, except when she touches awareness. Because she has experienced awareness so many times and is close to Ascension, whatever mood she is in causes deep ripples in the etheric. Does she know this?

The 3rd Dimensional mindset limits her. The Force spoke. Because she incarnated into trauma, she has to clear all of her trauma to ascend fully. To do that, she must help clear the trauma of all that she affected in other timelines and dimensions. That was her decision before incarnating in this lifetime.

She is living in a particularly stressful time on Planet Earth. In America, the nation stands divided between awakened states of consciousness and cognitive biases. Most are living out in distorted perceptions of reality. Few are aware that they are collectively creating this world. Many blame the problems on the wealthy and their greed. The wealthy desire power yet fear the awakening masses. Attacking each other has become the norm because their commander-in-chief does it. There is no compromise, no majority perception of reality as there have been in America’s past. Unending corridors of consciousness exist in a fractured fractal universe. 

But what happened to her? When I was able to reach her through poetry years ago, she was quite receptive. She seemed to be on the right track. She had reached an aspect of Christ Consciousness.

An aspect is not total, Essa. She understands the meaning of Christ Consciousness with her analytical mind, but her heart remains closed to herself. That is her Darkness: lack of self-worth. She keeps falling asleep and goes deeper into the nightmare that she created in her head and her life. She needs help. She needs to believe in herself. 

How can I help?

Teach her what you know, help her to understand herself more and the world that humanity on Earth is collectively creating. Write what you know.

“I will write.” A voice announced out loud.

It’s about time. The Force responded.

*  *  *  *  *

Are you a Jedi or know someone who is? Some of us are still asleep and haven’t realized the fact that Jedi are real and many have missions here on Earth in this lifetime. To follow Essa’s remembering and to learn more about Awakening, subscribe to this blog. Feel free to share it with others.

May the Force Be with You Always!

A Jedi Awakens – Part 1

This is a true telling about multidimensionality. You might perceive it as a fictional story if your perception of reality encompasses only the 3D world. Those who have awoken to inner knowing may perceive something more. Each individual will see through one’s own personal filter of beliefs and level of remembering. What you take away from this depends on where you are at any given moment. Read this today, and you may think one way. Read it a year from now, and your perception may be quite different.

* * * * *

Darkness surrounded the woman. Dark she was as she blended into the night. Frigid air stung her exposed hands. Trying to warm them, she moved her fingers deeper into her sleeves, clutching the fabric with her fists.

There. Better. Thank you, warm clothing.

Her mind shifted to the task at hand. Where was I?

That was such a loaded question to ask herself. Essa’s mind shifted to the awareness that parts of herself were in countless places at once. An infinite number of multiple dimensions, timelines, realities, worlds, all happening now.

No. She told herself. What was I thinking?

She knew it had to do with the sensation of energy that flowed inside her body. An occasional feeling that had not happened in a while.

A few moments were quite substantial as she felt a current of intense power rushing through her at unbelievable speeds. Mostly, it was subtle, moving in and out of her perception like a winding stream. Now she couldn’t feel it all. The only thing she felt was the chill on her skin.

How do I get it back? That aliveness, that feeling of being connected?

Mind chatter, she admonished herself. You’re doing it again. That is not the way.

She tried to quiet her mind without avail. The presence of past and future memories flooded her mind.

She sighed, surrendering to her own questioning. She felt still.

Then it happened.

Follow the breath, a voice said.

Oh, there you are, she told the voice, glad that she could hear it once again.

The voice had been with her for a long time. Before she noticed it, she experienced a high-pitched tone in her ears that would awaken her in the middle of the night, a ringing so strong that she could not fall back asleep. At times it sounded close up, other times far away. Sometimes there was a layering of tones in different frequencies. When she tried to describe it, all she could think of was that the cacophony sounded like stars shining.

The ringing lasted years. Then she heard the clicks and bells interspersed among the other sounds. After that came music, beautiful melodies that were new to her ears but not to her soul. Then the high-pitched tones returned all the time, always varying in intensity. After enduring it for months, a voice began speaking to her in her mind. It was both like and unlike her own voice at the same time. A deeper intonation of power, more tenacious and resolute.

Lately, that voice had grown dim, out of reach for her conscious mind. Over the past few months, her thoughts seemed even more scattered than normal, littered words strewn across the Universe.

Essa! Stop thinking! The voice insisted. Just breathe.

The woman focused on her breath, breathing deep into her diaphragm, filling her lungs completely. Intentionally, she slowed her breathing down with each inhalation. Every subsequent exhalation lasted longer than the previous one as she emptied her lungs of air.

Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in…

Essa’s abdomen expanded more on each consecutive inhalation. Her ribs protruded on the exhalations as she forced out all air. 

Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in…

After a while of deep breathing, a warmth grew within her body. She experienced it like a sunrise, first an energetic feeling glowing red, then it melted into orange, then yellow.

Ah, I feel warm now. Thank you.

Her mental chatter had ceased. Warm energy flowed from within and surrounded her. She lay there for an unperceivable amount of time: a second, a minute, an hour, she couldn’t enumerate. Time had evaporated.

A thought appeared in her mind: 

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

It built like a mantra from within her, growing stronger, louder, and more insistent. She felt each cell of her physical form vibrate with sound as they lit up with shining light. Her skin tingled as the incandescence trapped inside burst through her pores shooting rays of pure golden light outward.

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

The repetition of the phrase continued involuntarily. 

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

Her heart pounded in her chest like the beat of a drum. 

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

A green flame of pure energy ignited from the center of her heart and quickly expanded outward, roaring like a fire.

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

Breathing in the green energy made her mildly dizzy and light-headed.

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

Suddenly, the energetic green fire burst into bright blue sparks which disappeared momentarily and popped up again as brilliant cerulean orbs. The orbs floated around her; each with a unique luminance.

I Am the Light, the Light I Am.

She felt like a star shining. Her consciousness shifted as she realized that others like her could feel the shining. Glimmers of awareness erupted in her mind like bubbles, with energies similar to the cerulean orbs. She intuitively understood that she was communicating with others on the deepest level imaginable, far beneath conscious thought.

She exchanged telepathic communication with others who were waiting for her acknowledgment.

They had been trying to contact her for a long time. Waiting. As she was. Waiting.

A thought blasted through her senses: It is time. 

The cerulean bubbles erupted into lights, each reflecting the brightness of the others.

We are all One, Essa said.

Always, whispered the voice inside.

Who are you? she asked.

The Force, it replied.

*  *  *  *  *

Are you a Jedi or know someone who is? Some of us may still be asleep to the fact that Jedi are indeed real. Many have specific missions here on Earth in this lifetime. To follow Essa’s remembering and to learn more about Awakening, subscribe to this blog. Feel free to share it with others.

May the Force Be with You Always!

 Read A Jedi Awakens – Part 2 here

Why I Believe in Faeries (or Fairies, if You Prefer)

I do believe in faeries! I do! I do!

When I was a young child I saw small spirits among the plants. They resembled people with exaggerated facial features. I didn’t always see them clearly, but I felt them. Often in the summer, I spent time at the corner of my parents’ backyard where a patch of wild buttercups grew. I sat there alone and gazed at the tiny shiny yellow flowers. Sometimes I picked one, held it upside down, thinking that it would make a nice skirt for a little doll. Twirling it, I envisioned myself dancing in a yellow dress.

There was heightened happiness I experienced in the buttercup patch that I didn’t feel anywhere else. It was an inner joy, a bubbliness that I felt inside that made me laugh.

One day, I was outside with my mom as she trimmed hedges. I watched as little spirits that resembled butterflies flew around the tips of the branches. I called them butterflies because I didn’t know about faeries when I was young. I didn’t read any books or see movies about them. It was the pre-internet age and resources were scarce.

I mentioned seeing butterflies to my mom and she gave me a look of complete disbelief and motherly concern. “There are no butterflies,” she said. The faeries immediately disappeared. Vanished. I never saw them again at my childhood home. That very moment a part of my consciousness closed up and I took on the dense prevailing conviction of the society that I lived in: the belief that faeries did not exist.

Now I must say that I prefer the spelling of faerie to fairy. This a personal preference, nothing more. Faerie is the archaic spelling of the word. It contains the word fae, which is used to describe otherworldly magical beings and the world they inhabit. I’ll have to elaborate on them in another blog post.

In my late 20s, I began to question everything that I was taught to believe. Sometime in the early 90s, I attended a lecture at the Theosophical Society. The lecture itself was dull, a topic that really didn’t interest me but I went there to try to make friends. I was looking for like-minded people. But my introverted personality stopped me from talking to anyone.

After the lecture, I went into the woods beyond the parking lot. The headquarters of the Theosophical Society in America is located in a vast park-like setting in Wheaton, Illinois. I went walking on the grounds at dusk and felt contentment and inner peace. Then I saw the first faerie I had seen in years. She was hiding behind a tree, poking her head out and looking at me in the way that shy toddlers do among strangers.

What astonished me was that she was not like the small butterfly-like spirits that I had seen when I was younger. Her height was about knee level and she looked like a young girl with slanted eyes and pointed ears. The most curious thing about her was that she was pink! All pink, from head to toe! I didn’t know if it was a pink glow that she was emitting or something else. My interaction with her lasted a few minutes.

Over the years, I have had other experiences with the Fae. I will write about them more in future posts. But right now, I’m focusing on the one I encountered in 1992.

Let’s fast-forward in time.

About five years ago, my beloved boyfriend gave me two garden statues for my birthday. They came in cardboard boxes that had their names printed on them. One was a gargoyle named Trixie and the other was a faerie named Fern. Fern reminded me of the spirit I saw in the woods over 20 years earlier.

When the idea of writing a story about Alice in Wonderland came to me, Fern began to talk to me in my thoughts. I found out that she is my guide to the world of Faerie. She is much like the shy child I was but wise beyond belief. Trixie is more of a silent master who engages with me in conversations occasionally.

You may say that this is just my imagination. That’s OK. But I know that we exist in a multi-dimensional reality. Only when we let go of our learned limiting beliefs can we touch them.

Why do I believe in faeries? Because a part of me is fae, a magical being that is learning to remember who I am on all levels. I believe in faeries because to believe in them is to believe in myself.

Always,
Alice Always

Why I Will Always Believe in Santa

I believe in Santa Claus. I always have, I always will.

You can debate that he doesn’t exist until you are blue in the face as a Smurf, I won’t believe you.

I believe in endless vistas of imagination. I live there.

I believe in the magic that lives in hearts of children. It lives within me too.

I live in a world of wonder.

Santa is an inspiration to me. He opens up to our collective imagination, the one we are creating together.

Like the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland, I sometimes think of six impossible things before breakfast. Let’s apply that to Santa Claus.

Here’s six impossible things that Santa does:

  1. Knows if everyone has been naughty or nice.
  2. Flies through the air on a giant sleigh, heavily laden with toys and other gifts.
  3. His aforementioned sleigh is powered by eight reindeer, nine in inclement weather when a light is needed.
  4. Goes up and down chimneys, seemingly propelled by magic.
  5. He transports himself and any oversized gifts down all those chimneys without getting stuck.
  6. Delivers gifts all over the world on one night of the year.

Santa accomplishes things that no one else in the world can do. His joyful Ho-Ho-Hos create energy bubbles of laughter throughout the world. That jolly dude is the personification of magic and wonder.

He is the Spirit of Christmas.

I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!
I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!
I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!

Always,
Alice Always the Elf

R U Awake or in Living in The Matrix?

Today, I can’t seem to get the red pill/blue pill scene from The Matrix out of my head. When an idea “pops” in your head and keeps coming back, it might be trying to tell you something.

It’s time for me to look further into it, which is about reality.

In the scene, Morpheus offers Neo a choice between the Blue Pill and the Red Pill. If Neo takes the blue, he continues to live in a computer-generated world. If he takes the red, he will enter the real world so that he can escape from the Matrix.

There are many levels of meaning in just the colors of the pills alone.

Blue is a cool color, representing peace and serenity. It is the color of the sky, which reflects our perception of water, even though water itself is clear.

Red is a warm color, representing the heat of passion, both love and anger. It is the color of fire, which warms as well as burns.

Blue has always been my favorite color. If I was given the choice of pills without knowing what either did, I would have chosen the Blue Pill.

Out of favorite colors, blue is the most popular in the world. Here in the USA, red lags behind green and purple.

You have to consider that some things are just not appealing so maybe I wouldn’t take the blue pill because it’s plain odd. For me, blue Gatorade is just the most curious beverage and even if it is the best flavor in the world, I might not like it. So I never tried it.

Here in the United States, we have started coloring the states with two colors instead of using other colors in the crayon box.

I remember coloring a map of the USA back in 4th grade for a class contest. I was excited to beautify my mimeographed copy of America. I wanted to use as many colors as possible from my box of 64 Crayola crayons (with the sharpener on the box). A highlight of my school memories was getting a copy fresh from the mimeograph machine, with its fresh smell and crisp purple lines.

Red and blue mixed together make purple. In terms of color, we are a purple nation. I’II think I’ll skip the Pharmaceuticals of the Matrix and take the purple crayon.

I like coloring, No, I love it. I wish I had time to color but lately, the time has been speeding by. Maybe you noticed it also?

Today is 12/21, so I made the graphic with the time of 12:21.

Here is information about 1221 from Joanne Walmsley’s Sacred Scribes Angel Numbers blog:

Number 1221 is a combination of the influences of number 1 (appearing twice, amplifying its influences) and the vibrations of number 2 (also appearing twice, magnifying its attributes and resonating with the Master Number 22).  Number 1 brings its energies of creation and new beginnings, progress and motivation, striving forward, inspiration and initiative, achieving success, fulfilment and happiness.  Number 1 also reminds you that you create your own experiences and realities with your beliefs, thoughts and actions.  Number 2 brings its attributes of balance and harmony, partnerships and relationships, adaptability, diplomacy and co-operation, encouragement, duality, faith and trust and serving your Divine life purpose and soul mission.  Number 2 appears twice, relating it to the Master Number 22 (Master Builder) –  the number of philanthropy and service to humanity. Number 22 is the number of Archangel Raphael and resonates with vision, practicality and common sense.

The repeating Angel Number 1221 reminds you to be grateful for all the blessings in your life, and for those yet to come.  When you express an ‘attitude of gratitude’ you manifest even more blessings.  Your angels ask you to follow your Divine life path with passion and purpose.

Angel Number 1221 tells you that your reality is what you make it.

So which pill would you take? You don’t really have to take either.

Just keep reading my blog and you may eventually wake up in Wonderland.

Always,
Alice Always

 

All the World’s Indeed a Stage and We are Merely Players

All the world’s indeed a stage
And we are merely players
Performers and portrayers
Each another’s audience
Outside the gilded cage

Those are lyrics from the song “Limelight” by the Canadian rock band, Rush. This adaptation of Shakespeare was written by drummer Neil Peart and sung by bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Geddy Lee.

The origin of the song is a speech from William Shakespeare’s play, As You Like It. Act II, Scene VII, features one of Shakespeare’s most famous monologues which begins:

All the world’s a stage
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts …

Though I love many of Shakespeare’s monologues, this one is best depicted as a song running through my head throughout my life since I first heard it on the Rush Moving Pictures album in 1981 when I was a teenage fan.

Theater as a metaphor for life is a concept I entertained when I was still in the single digits of life. I was one of those philosophical, geeky, 4-eyed kids who just couldn’t get into sports because my hands, eyes, arms, and legs didn’t know how to work in conjunction. I couldn’t do cartwheels, skip rope with others holding the end of the jump rope, or run at the pace of others.  I barely scraped by in gym class.

I couldn’t sing on-key but that never stopped me from singing to myself. It still doesn’t.

I found myself on a stage in theatre class in college where we did a session on Improv acting. A student director approached me afterward and told me I had a stage presence. He asked me to be in his play but I was too nervous to say yes.

I was afraid of making a mistake in delivering scripted lines. Imagine what could  have happened if I had gone beyond my fear.

I had jobs at the local Renaissance Faire where I could create a character and play act but that ended a while back. The last dozen or so years I’ve portrayed other facets of myself: a pirate chic named Red-Handed Ginny and a faerie queen entitled Her Royal Highness Queen Goo, Queen of the Pigeons, the Sparrows, the Jedi Knights and the Knights who say Ni.

I’m a silly person who enjoys playing different roles with friends. I often play Mario to my best friend’s Luigi where-a I talk with-a lousy Italian accent. In real life, I have a distinctive Sout’side (the “h” is silent) Chicago dialect no one else in my family seems to have. It’s all part of the character I play in my imagination.

We all play various characters in the theatre of life: child, sibling, friend, parent, lover, student, teacher, employee, coworker, boss or fill-in-the-blank.

A lot of times we juggle roles.

In the 1965 animated Peanuts Christmas special, A Charlie Brown Christmas, Linus,  with his blue security blanket and profound philosophical nature, gives a narrative of the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke which ends with:

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men.

Linus is playing the narrator in that play.

In the theatre of life, there are times when we are in the spotlight of center stage, on the side, backstage or in the audience.

There are people who always want to be the center of attention and demand that we give our attention to them. In our society, we make celebrities out of them, obsessing to no end about what they did or what they said. Some of them can be so ego-driven that they upstage everyone in their lives and may attack those who have a different perspective.

We call them drama queens in everyday life and tyrants in positions of power. They care more about themselves and their own interests than everyone else. In their world, everyone is the audience praising them or antagonists who vilify them. Their reality is warped because their ego is out of control.

We get sucked into their world. When we give them our attention, it feeds their egos. When we give them our attention, it takes away from us doing something wonderful for ourselves.

Getting hooked on their little reality show often makes us forget that we have the right to be center stage as well.

All of us have the right to tell our version of the story, to think for ourselves. We don’t have to believe what another says just because they said it.

When Linus got onstage, he spoke words of love, to which I say:

The ability to shine in the light
is available to all.
Spreading a message of peace
and goodwill uplifts everyone.

Imagine the world if we all actually lived the lessons of kindergarten: sharing, caring, kindness and respect.

Imagine the world if we all gave attention to our joy instead of our misery. Imagine if we stopped attacking those who are different from us. Imagine if our choices were made from a warm loving heart instead of a reactive hot head. Imagine if we listened more than we talked.

Do you ever wonder how our world change if we changed the play?

Always,
Alice Always

I’m On My Way, I Don’t Know Where I’m Going

I wake up and it’s a new month: May! What happened to April? It raced by like a road runner! Where is that adorable cartoon coyote when you need him? I had so much to do last month but I slept through most of it. This blog was originally planned last year for March 20, the Vernal Equinox, the first day of Spring. You know, that’s a good time to start something new. Everything is so pretty with all the pastel Easter egg colors. Also, marshmallow Peeps are available in a store near you. Now, if you happen to be reading this in Australia, things are a bit different from here in the good ol’ USA. You know, because you have koala bears and kangaroos and we do not. Not to mention it’s Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere.

But I digress. Get use to that phrase as digressing is to me what digesting is to a finished meal – it’s part of an endless cycle or as I like to say, a loop da loop, or with my lousy French accent: loop ze loop. (You may need to imagine an old Pink Panther movie with Inspector Clouseau, if you get my drift.) But I digress. Yet again! I have to tell you. I take digressing to a whole new level! If speaking was a spectator sport, I would win the Olympic Gold Medal of Digression. I could even teach a college course on it. Yes, I digress that much.

I also have a tendency to use words in ways that other people do and sometimes in ways that no one does. In another world, I played the role of a nonconformist English major. I rebelled against the Establishment and used “me and…” instead of “… and I” on a term paper. In my defense, I insisted that if Paul Simon could say “Me and Julio down by the schoolyard”, then I could too. Well, my English professor was not convinced and gave me an extremely low grade. I wonder if e.e. cummings got an F- for not using capital letters.

They have such silly rules in the English language, I don’t know how a non-native English speaker trying to learn the language could possibly master it. I mean, the language itself is constantly evolving. When I was a kid, yeah, back when “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard” was a song played in rotation on radio stations across America, people wore thongs, not flip-flops, on their feet. Now, people wear flip-flops on their feet and thongs as underwears. Yep, I said underwears with a ‘s’ at the end. Get used to it. I like to play with words.

Maybe I should get around to telling you why I’m writing a blog. Well, I have this outrageous idea that through using our imagination, we can create a peaceful and loving world. I intend to explore various topics such as creativity and reality in a playful manner that expresses my personality. Hopefully, I’ll make some sense or a great deal of nonsense. I want to inspire people and show them how to use their imagination to transform themselves and in doing so, help to transform the world into a joyful place.

As Alice, I bring the sense wonder that is Wonderland to this reality. I may ask you to participate on projects or make up your own. Together we can make a difference while having a lot of fun.

Always,
Alice Always