Tag Archives: Ego

These Hands

I don’t remember this myself, but my mother used to tell me that when I was very young I would stand with my hands outstretched trying to touch the Moon. I was convinced that when I got just a little bit bigger I would be able to catch it in my tiny hands.
My favorite toys were marbles and crayons. Colors captivated me of course, it was what I could do with them in my hands that fascinated me. I would spend hours coloring, drawing in new lines. Taking my aggressions out on the page rather than acting them out more physically.

It’s been years … in fact I cannot remember the last time that I balled my hands into fists because of rage. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to do with them.

My hands have felt extreme cold and extreme heat, and have put those feelings onto paper with ink.

My hands have held my son, and my daughters. They birthed all four into this world: Two by catching and two by pulling and guiding. One of them actually wedged herself in by turning her head at the wrong time and jamming her ear. Just for a moment, and then  hands freed her and she came, gasping and angry.

My hands have purposefully ended two (non-human) lives. I took their lives out of Mercy, and I cried bitterly after each. My hands turned off the machine keeping my mother alive, and signed the papers that let her killer go free. My darkest self believes I have a murderer’s hands.

My hands have been broken, bloodied, chained, and cuffed.

They have worn wedding rings and scars. Nail polish tattoos of a broken and false loyalty.

My hands have been trained to fight. My hands have been trained to heal. My hands have done the devil’s work, and they have been thrown to the sky in praise of a God. I stretched them on the boards for self-righteous mock crucifixion. They have been clasped together until they went numb, begging for an end to the pain of heartbreak.

My hands remember the feeling of caressing the face of my lover. The gentle curve of her cheek, the gentle curve of her hip. They recall the silk-smooth skin of her back. They remind me of the pads of our fingers pressing gently together, and the careful moving of a wisp of her hair from her eyes.

My hands let me speak the words of my heart in magic. They wield the instruments of my craft and turn them into art.

My hands have earned everything that I own. They have saved my life, and they have saved the lives of others.
They have made life a little bit better for countless souls.

The gift I have been given is not my hands, rather the gift I have been given is in my hands. My life’s goal is to honor the giver of the gift by using it.
Until it’s gone.


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The Road of the Fool

The Fool is untested potential, neither positive nor negative yet containing the possibility of both. The Fool is the unconditioned soul about to come into manifestation for the first time to start learning the lessons of the world. Though mocked and derided, attention is not paid, and the Fool simply walks on. Perhaps what they say can be justified, since this ignorance of the world can lead the fool to do things that more experienced people would never imagine. But in these things can be found knowledge and enlightenment. The fool does not care what others think or say, because of a galvanized faith that the path followed is absolutely the correct one.

This approach to life is a strange, unconventional one, because the Fool does not always do what is comfortable. This is a viewpoint not often supported in our modern world, in which “do as I say” is the commandment most followed, and the easy path is the road most traveled. To those who have lived their life under this philosophy, the approach of the Fool may be extravagant, shocking, even frightening. But this approach is all that the Fool knows, and because the only approval they require is their own, they will continue to live this way, despite what all others think. There is simply faith in Self.

The Fool does not hide from the light, because the Fool is the light – the wonderful light that shines out of every child before they see the world and are forced to build so many walls and barriers to protect themselves. The innocence of a child, sadly, is something rarely found outside of children, even though a lot of people could use it these days. With this innocence comes perfect trust, fearlessness, and total self-reliance. It allows one to see the world with new eyes and learn new things every day of one’s life.  It’s a shame that only children, and the Fool, see this light.

New beginnings, new experiences and new choices; the first steps along a new road and the first words written onto a blank page.  Where the road and the story lead are not your concern, because when a journey begins no one can know (or should know) what will happen on the way to the destination. Never let another person control your life. Live in the present and trust in your own abilities – this is the road of the Fool.

(Featured image by Rhienna Renée Guedry)

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Remember Who I Am.

I’m in therapy. Twice a week. I worked hard to find the right person and honestly? It was difficult. It was hell, at times. The Dr. tells me that it’s healthy progress to occasionally declare one’s positive mental assets. To brag, as it were.

I feel the need to do so. Click elsewhere if listening to bragging isn’t your bag, or if lightly colored language upsets you. I promise to the rest of you: I have good intentions and this will end with a gift for you.

My name is Hannibal. I am not my pain, I am not my depression. I’m not the voice in my brain that tells me I’m worthless. (Let’s label him “Randy”. Get it?) I’m the best I am…. I am the BEST I am at what I do. What do I do? I use my unique personality, skills, and experiences to save people. I’m the only me there is.

I’m Hannibal, or Mr. h if it pleases you. I’m Huckleberry to my best friend. #cardmonkey, magicartist, #gypsyboots …

Lately, I’ve forgotten the man that I am. Part of that was illness and subsequent medication, some of it was the ending of my marriage and my emptying nest …. and a big part was just me panicing. I forgot how important my heart is to me and subsequently to the outside world. I forgot … I forgot the face of my father.

I’m a great friend, when I remember to get over myself. To my dear friends that I’ve let down lately: I see the problem and I’m working on me. The process is slow, but both myself and my therapist are seeing progress. I’m going to stumble. I’m going to flat out fail occasionally. Please … it won’t last long and I will keep getting up.

Here I am.

Magician. I am strong and strong willed. I champion and defend love. I’m human, but I’m experienced, practiced and aware. I will overcome the darkness. I will roar and I will crow. I remember my damn name, now.

You can, too. You can breathe and live and you can save lives and change the world. Decide. Put your feet down and stand the hell up. Do what needs to be done. Breathe.

I love You, and I pray there’s Love where you are.



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