Queen of Swords

A few days ago, I had the doh! realization that one of the reasons why I didn't develop much self-discipline growing up, or any skills in conflict resolution or persistence, was that I really did live a Princess lifestyle. My family was middle-class affluent in a small town -- but I was a King's daughter, and I was smart enough that everything that I needed to do came easily to me, and I was sheltered from any real 'hard knocks.' There was simply no reason and no opportunity to learn persistence, or grit, or the ultimate rewards of repetitive learning.

( Late Night Thoughts )

For me, at this place and time in my life, to begin to truly develop Warrior energy, it starts with simply showing up for my workouts, for respecting myself enough to build the self-discipline, to choose the 'pain' over self-indulgent pleasures with less value, accepting the exertion and fatigue, and respecting the gift of repetitive efforts (which I have always hated). I also need to focus on the fact that it's supposed to be a labor of love. The archetypal Warrior is motivated by love, not hatred or fear or selfishness, or any external demand of what 'should be.'

Right now, I'm still more self-centered than anything -- but I think this is remedial work, work that I need to do on myself in order to make me a healthier person, someone who will be more effective in the world -- starting in my own home. I want my daughter to have a mother who can be a Warrior role model -- and Sovereign, Seer and Lover too, but this seems to be the easiest and most obvious choice of healing/growth activities. I can start here.

I was very tired last night, and frustrated because I'm in one of those times when I'm not doing a lot of thinking or reflecting. All my energy seems to be going into mundane survival. And I hate times like that.

My daughter, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, is the only grandchild on both sides of the family, and therefore the recipient of far too many gifts from doting grandparents, even after I beg them to stop showering her with "stuff." And a lot of it is just "stuff." She used to have a room upstairs that was literally just piled high with stuff. There wasn't even any room to play. It got cleaned out when the SO and her twins moved in and my Ex needed the room. She got rid of a lot of stuff: some that was broken was thrown away, other stuff was given to charity. But she still has a lot, and it all moved in downstairs with me. I've never quite recovered from it. We're still working on going through it, finding good ways to store what she wants to keep and releasing as much as possible.

( Grousing about Mundanity )

The novel is moving, which is good -- but it gets complicated when characters who used to be cut-outs suddenly have lives and minds of their own. They look at the scenes I have written for them, then turn to me with expressions of dismay and say, "What? You want me to do that? I don't think so!" And so scenes I thought finished are thrown up into the air.

( When Characters Talk Back )

Concentrating on the story questions makes me feel better. I just wish I had the time to go away alone with just my notebook and my laptop and write for a day or two.