helgaleena healing line http://helgaleena.mylivepage.com
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thank you my friends at Myspace and the net....

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I kinda like being divorced, hey.

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Helga the Hutt by me.jpg

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helgaleena healing line http://helgaleena.mylivepage.com
arse-agram.jpg
symbol of the Finnish punk-metal band Veljekset Perse.
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I truly enjoyed going with the sprog to get blasted by super-surround IMAX Indiana Jones movie. It was in all ways spectacular, and my brain was suitably saturated with it. BUT NOW, home and didn't hit
anything on the way by divine intervention, I am getting increasingly freaked by it. Not just the moldy heartwarming stuff either. < >

There are too many coincidences with my life atm for me not to be freaked. One child, missing husband, modest and reluctant hero obliged to save the very same damsel, discovering who is who, everything shifting positions and dimensions and in the end they get blown out a waterspout to the outer rim of danger...

We never discover exactly why the university suddenly reinstates Jones' tenure, they just do, in time for the geezer wedding and the potential hat-passing to the next gen. It slides right by until after, when the brain restarts and you say ah-- what just happened???

Nowhere in the credits do they mention that the real star of the show is EDDIE from Iron Maiden!!! Yet it is unmistakably his fizz in live-er than life 3d. He sends all the Soviets to heaven except for one whom he incinerates, the one who actually likes him. All good guys live on our earth still. It's just too pat for anyone with a mental age over twelve.

Right before the saucer digs out of the plain and takes off, the pyramid on top of it crumbles EXACTLY like the one on the Maiden summer tour promo art. Slogan: can I play with MADNESS? and here am I thinking I am absolutely bonkers...for reasons previously noted here. Even though it is very happy-making insanity indeed. I am literally buzzing with joy at the prospect of no longer being married.

So of course the old flame shows up with the son Indy left at the altar, and they tie the knot in shafts of churchy sunlight and white suit jackets. Just when I am hallucinating similar things in pathetic wish fulfillment.

But the absolutely creepiest thing is what happens to the woman who put the crystal skull of Edward the Great back where it's supposed to be. She says, I want to know--- and then the whole freakshow starts, the rooms spins and crumbles, anybody with sense runs for it, the glowing bones (which are a prominent feature of some of my own mystical experiences) collapse out of the circle and back into one being, the super Ed, and he puts glow into her eyes until her brain is so full of light that she spontaneously combusts like some legendary Himalayan sadhu. But we are supposed to believe that he's not enlightening her, he's destroying her! He's grimacing in glee, but it is cruel glee. Moral? consequence of wanting to KNOW is Crispy death!

For this I renounce Lucas as theologian for ever after. This message is wrong and devolutionary and soporific for the good sheep masses to take home to their lazyboys and hdtvs of conspicuous consumption.

I NEED to know. I am still in the dark, and without knowing I have no conviction for the very input of my senses. All I see is potentially ghosts, and all I hear is not speech but high blood pressure booming, and all I taste at every meal is dead corrosion. The pleasures I feel and think are happening are snares. They cannot be held and must fade into mere amusing speculations that expire within a few paltry hours, even when they pound me into the mattress and twist my spine out of its usual course.

They also make me smile. My face has spasms in odd corners from the way smiling pulls it. It's out of the habit. They also loosen adhesions and fill me with fond enthusiasm for every little thing. I am not neglecting good little habits like personal hygiene and diet.

Am I to believe that I am wrong to enjoy this uncanny onslaught of the illusion of love? Is the being I imagine is showering me with help and care just wishful thinking? Am I really deceiving myself just as the family I thought was my greatest mission is cracking into rubble? Will we be able to reach the rim of the chaos zone without major injury or not? Is it wrong for me to want answers from the world? Is it wrong of me to find the gleaming bones grand?

Am I heading for the cliff and over three damn waterfalls in a row? Am I going to get beamed up or burnt?

Truly I can find the darndest things to fear. Coincidences have me jumping now. It's only a froth of a movie. Repeat until you believe it, helga.

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I can now read a newspaper through my husband.

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helgaleena healing line http://helgaleena.mylivepage.com
paaskehexen.jpg
a northern tradition for Eostre.
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it_s.jpg

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The Muncher denies all. And there is a Heidi.

That leaves helgaleena alone on her hallucinatory pity pot. I hope it was entertaining for the lurkers.

Yes, I am quite mad, barking mad, fuck-yourself mad.

This requires some digesting, this.

Let's see if I drop dead shall we? Bye bye Muncher. Another relationship screwed by my own weird.

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Thank you for making me glad of my ass. Details in my own head and possibly yours. You are magic. Good magic.

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http://www.askuncleralph.com

A husband and wife came for counseling after 20 years of marriage. When asked what the problem was, the wife went into a passionate, painful tirade listing every problem they had ever had in the 20 years they had been married.

She went on and on and on: neglect, lack of intimacy, emptiness, loneliness, feeling unloved and unlovable, an entire laundry list of unmet needs she had endured over the course of their marriage.

Finally, after allowing this to go on for a sufficient length of time, the therapist got up, walked around the desk and, after asking the wife to stand, embraced and kissed her passionately as her husband watched with a raised eyebrow. The woman shut up and quietly sat down as though in a daze.

The therapist turned to the husband and said, 'This is what your wife needs at least three times a week. Can you do this?'

The husband thought for a moment and replied, 'Well, I can drop her off here on Mondays and Wednesdays, but on Fridays, I fish.'

My hubby has had sixteen bleedin' years to learn how to visit me like this. Happy muvvers day helga, you are cheatin'. In your own mind at the very least.

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< >

It finally occurred to me to connect the dots. This sensory enhancement started after I did a distance Reiki session with an author of erotica. The Reiki is in on this. I need to trust it.

The Reiki thinks I can survive this or it would not have come through. The same Reiki is in charge of my shields.

I was in the habit of using my big brown beaver like a security blanket. This morning of the new brave era I am wearing it. Owning the beaver. Accepting my capacity for hysteria. Ready to take the consequences of expressing the entirety of what I feel with out flinching from possible reactions to it.

I have uncovered a big and ancient fear. It is the fear that if the huge and scary world does not like what I emote, it will take away what little I have. It is a fear of dying, when all this time I had thought it a fear of living. Ont eh surface it is. What it is underneath is fear of BEING. But I AM. I fucking am and I keep on being here now.

This is what addicts are medicating against. They are not dead. This is what happy pills are alleviating. More and more of us get them from doctors not pushers.

Oh shit, I have said this before. The only difference is now I am saying it with a possibly imaginary dick pulsing between my legs and imaginary arms wrapped around the entire considerable circumference of my butt and virtual hypothetical fingers creeping into my crack.
Maybe other Reiki-ers do this shit all the time. But gawd it makjes iot hard to hit the right key

And Who is it? I am not slut enough yet to not want to know. Is it me, like in dreams Jungian theory? Is it who I wish it was? Hush. Whatever it is, Reiki allows it. Hush.

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