fairy lights and pixie dust 2

Bright Optimism

Bright Optimism (Photo credit: Theen ...)

Now that I’ve given you the sense of what a bad day feels like – black holes are no fun – I thought I should write about what a positive day should/could be like.

When I wake up, I keep my mind open to whatever positive thought first arises. Sometimes the word(s) become my mantra for the day. Since I have trouble concentrating, I keep things simple; one or two positive goals a day. Maybe it’s finally doing battle with those dust bunnies (who bred overnight). Finally answering an email, blog comments, or a letter; getting out of the house to go to ritzyville for groceries.

I imagine a world where pixie dust sparkles and fairy lights dance over wildflower meadows. I take pleasure in the small things: the persistent snow drops (even though, so far, there is no snow to poke their delicate white blossoms through ); I watch the birds in our yard, writing down the different kinds as well as keeping tracking the weather. To keep the squirrels happy, there is always a feeder full of fruit that they seem to enjoy more than the seeds. The antics of them trying to get at the chunks of pears and apples (bought from the discount cart) are amusing.

I try very hard to remain positive in my thoughts, my actions, my accomplishments. Some days this remaining positive for the entire day is harder, some days easier. I repeat my mantra, shut out the darkness and let in the light. It’s on days like these I can give out awards like the candle lighter (have a new one coming soon – an entertaining and inspiring pair of compadres), and not melt into tears.

I can write future blog posts, pose questions, look for direction and purpose. Imagine being in my favo(u)rite creative visualization place; leaning against a strong tree with deep roots. I transfer my pain to the tree, knowing that like sap, the pain will flow to the branches to be scattered in the wind, or deep into the roots to be dispersed into the soil. The sunshine is dabbled by the leaves; I watch the wildflowers dance with the soft breeze; smell the sweetness of fresh, outdoor air. Imagine fairies and think of pixie dust. These are the good days of sunshine, not shadow. These are the days I wish would last forever.


Making a list and checking it twice – wonder if i’ve been naughty or nice.

English: Magic wand icon

Image via Wikipedia

Dear Santa:

I know you’ve really, really, really busy this time of the year (and the elves aren’t slacking off either), but I wonder if you have room in your sack of goods for one more present; just some wishes to be fulfilled? Can you travel through the cyberverse with your “sleigh of eight (now nine) tiny reindeer?

You see I’ve met all these incredible people in various communities in the cyberverse. My attempts to nominate them for a current award/recognition program for folks dealing with chronic health issues (who blog/participate in different online communities) doesn’t seem to have worked (sorry folks – I really wanted you to get some recognition for all the good work, support, delightful, insightful, inspiring, thought-provoking, evocative prose and poetry posts produced. Sigh.) Nonetheless, I still would have the same wishes.

I wish these folks would feel less physical and emotional pain. Would get the support (in whatever form) they need and deserve. Experience days with butterflies and sunshine; take small steps without pain; see rainbows among the storm clouds. Have opportunities and dreams; feel hope rather than despair. Be able to embrace peace rather than chaos. Find a safe space (home, room, inside or outside the “real” body). Have people who believe them, and believe in them. I wish they each could have a real magic wand and pixie dust/stuff that could ease their aching, tired minds, and bodies.

And for me: I just wish that I find stability; the middle ground where I can think slowly without agitation; the ability to let go of the past, live in the present, and not worry about the future. And, secretly, just between you and me Santa: I wish I could feel and believe that I fit in somewhere. The lost, lonely little girl inside me wants this present very much; she’s waited a long time for you Santa. Maybe this will be the year.

“Ere he drove out of sight/. . . and to all a good night.”


{ The Monday, December 12, 2011 edition of the Chronic Babe Blog Carnival poses the question: “What are you asking Santa for? What do you wish for the people who care for you? What wishes have already been fulfilled this holiday season?”}