What is True Beauty?

What is true beauty? I always thought of it as an illusion. When I was a teenager I figured out the pretty thing. I learned what society deemed was attractive. I dieted, exercised, got thin. Then I learned the subtle magic of makeup. I learned to paint my face as an artist paints his canvas. I learned what glamour truly was. It was glimmer, sparkles, a flattering dress, a wink, a slight tilt of the head, just the right pose and smile. It was a magic. It wasn’t necessarily the magic of beauty but the magic of being able to manipulate something into seeming beautiful and use that illusion to one’s advantage. I always think back to that time as the time I blossomed, the time when the awkward nerd became pretty. But it wasn’t that at all. I just figured out the game of beauty and how it worked. I still wore sun glasses and pajamas too school when I felt like it, but if I wanted to look smoking hot, I could pull it off. Anyone can.

According to Celtic folklore, faeries are magical creatures that live in the woods. They have all kinds of magical abilities called faery glamour. But what they are best at is creating illusions, playing tricks on humans, and tempting them into a world of intoxication where time has no influence. When anyone mentions faery glamour, I think of human glamour. I think air brushing, photo shopping, plastic surgery, hair dressing, fashion and everything else that makes an ordinary person look extra ordinary.

Women work very hard trying to look like fashion models, until one day they realize that no one looks like a fashion model. Not even fashion models look like fashion models. That point is well made in this video:

And this one:

This need for beauty is puzzling to me. Marketing experts, advertising experts and even motivational experts espouse the power of glamour. Make something look pretty and people follow. It doesn't matter what you’re selling, but the down side is this horrible sense of insecurity that comes with being targeted with beauty. You start to want something that doesn’t exist and when you realize it was never real, it leaves you feeling empty. When the glimmer and lights fade away, you’re left with the drab and boring truth. It was all an illusion.

There’s a great car commercial where a smoking hot girl starts off a drag race and it takes you through the ride of your life. You want to be in that car. You think if you buy that car, you’ll get to win that race and get the girl. So you buy the car and you are so ecstatic. But after a while, you realize that you spent all that money on a vehicle that will take you from place to place. That’s it. Drag races are illegal. You’ll get a speeding ticket or risk the reality check of a car accident if you speed,  and just because you have that car, it’s not an automatic ticket to getting the girl. Now what? The faery dust has worn off. Time to move on to the next big thing. After a while all that beautiful stuff society told you to buy becomes like a prison in itself and you end up like that guy in the book and movie "Fight Club"

I always thought it was one big lie and even felt a bit cynical and bitter towards the masses for falling for it. Many years back, it inspired me to write this verse:

There’s a world of people

Who laugh in darkness,

In peeping walls

Of empty starkness,

Then beauty comes

And flashes its strength

Over the masses

And blinds them forever

To truth,

To decay,

And dies as fast

As it comes their way.

As I grow wiser in my years, I have learned to see past the smoke and mirrors. I ask myself, what is real beauty? I start to find myself a bit repulsed by the glamour, the lights, the pretty words, the pictures that are used to make me feel something, buy something or like something.

As I grow older, my children age, my friends and family go through poverty, illness, ups and downs and I’m starting to realize that if I can still see the beauty in all of these things, then maybe I won’t feel empty and disappointed by the glamour people try to escape into. True beauty, I think, is truth. It’s gratitude. It’s looking at something that hasn’t been photoshopped and loving it anyway. It’s feeling that sense of pride in what is imperfect. It’s compassion. It’s meaning. It’s realizing that nothing is permanent and appreciating all the little moments.

There is an old Native American story about a Chief who is dying. He summons his three greatest warriors and tells them that the one who can bring back the most beautiful object will become the new Chief.

The first warrior sees the brightest and most beautiful flower. He brings it back to the chief but once he arrives, the flower is withered.

The second warrior sees a shimmering rock at the bottom of a stream which catches his eye. He brings it back to the chief but once it arrives, the shimmer is gone because the stone is no longer in the water.

The third warrior sees a magnificent sunset over the mountains. He goes back to the chief shaking his head. He tells the chief that he did see the most beautiful thing in the world but he couldn’t bring it back. The sunset could not be moved, nor could it be frozen in time.

The chief tells the man that he learned the most important lesson of all. You can’t bottle true beauty and expect it to last forever. Because he understood this truth, the third warrior was chosen to be the Chief.

So love all the little things whether or not they are perfect, then everything will look beautiful.

Ode to Nature

I had the morning off, so instead of looking at a computer screen while eating breakfast, I put on some meditation music, gazed out my window and skimmed through a book of haikus.

I had an old nostalgic feeling of what it was like to be young and so amazed by the world, of walking over a bridge and getting lost in the sparkles of the water, of delighting in the way a grasshopper wrung its hands or the way a leaf gently floated to the grass. I miss the long nature walks I used to take, only to stop in my tracks to write a poem.

These days, I spend a lot of time in front of my computer, networking with people I used to see in person. I’m fascinated by a picture or link on the internet and I laugh at funny jokes people post. Have I traded some of my silent time for this? Have I stopped writing poetry and gazing at sunsets so I can boggle my mind with gifs and jpgs and other such things? Have I forsaken long talks, while sitting on the curb for short banters with people online who could leave at any time? It does change a lot. No more long goodbyes. Just stop typing.

I have to remind myself of the joy that stillness brings me. I have to remember what it’s like to be in the moment and just appreciate what’s right in front of me. A slant of light in my study space, the way dust floats in the air, the way my dog licks its paws. These are the little things that bring peace, joy and contentment. I have to remember that I don’t have to be moving and striving all the time. I can stop and rest and revel in what I have now.

If I get envious when I look at a child playing in the meadow or an old man just sitting there, smiling at the sun, I know it’s time to stop and smell the roses. Love, art, music, peace and reverie can only happen in the now. There is not time like the present. There’s nothing more beautiful than what’s right in front of you.

Why it Sucks to be Psychic

            Another T.V. show came about a psychic little girl. Why is the government always going after psychic people? Does the government really care about that? I’d like to know if there are really government agencies that specialize in capturing or genetically creating psychic individuals for the sake of national security. Seems to me there are more important things to worry about, like unemployment and the war on terror. Yet, in all these stories, the poor psychic people just want to be left alone. Damn you government. Just leave the poor psychics alone!

            

In my opinion, the government could give a crap about psychic people. If you’re psychic, that’s your problem. Lately, I was thinking that there are a lot of good reasons to not want to be psychic.

Reason 1: The government will be after you. Who wants to spend a lifetime running from the Feds?

Reason 2: You can hear people thinking. People spend all this energy blocking out the wrong kind of people and filtering out songs, commercials, or remarks that they don’t want to hear. But psychics can hear all the little thoughts that most people are supposed to keep to themselves. All the little snide remarks that were not meant for your ears are out in the open. I guess if you have been hearing that kind of unfiltered material all your life, you learn to accept it. Still, no one can pretend to be someone else around you and you learn quickly that everyone lies. Also, if someone has an annoying song in their head, you’re screwed.

Reason 3: You can see the future. This sucks more than it seems. Just think of all the Greek tragedies that involve man vs. destiny. “Oedipus Rex” is one of them. A man spends all his life doing everything he can to avoid a prophesy from taking place. In the end, he learns that everything he did to avoid his future, only caused it to happen after all. Knowing the future has all kind of weird implications. There was a Greek prophet named Cassandra whose curse was that no one would ever believe her. No matter what she did, she could not change the future. People don’t believe psychics and if they did, they rarely have the ability to stop bad things from happening. You either have to accept the future or become a basket case trying to change it. By the way, I can see the future and if you want to know what happens, read this past post:

http://laceyreah.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-can-see-future.html

Reason 4: Romance is dead. It’s very hard to fall in love the way they do in the movies when you can hear people thoughts and you can see the future. There is a vampire novel where a mortal girl falls in love with a vampire because he’s the only one whose thoughts she couldn’t read. But, in a world where no vampires exist, just psychic people, you’re stuck knowing every plan your lover has in store for you. It kind of ruins the surprise. I can see how a psychic person would turn off their power if they could, just so they could experience something they didn’t see coming. The feeling of exhilaration from something new or unexpected is impossible to get if you’re psychic.

Reason 5: You feel other people’s pain. Being a strong empath is the hardest thing. You feel other people’s pain. The good thing is you feel their joy too. But most people hide their pain behind smiling eyes and every empath knows that pain is more prevalent than we want to believe. An empath learns to live with pain like it’s some sort of congenital or chronic disease. They carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

In conclusion, psychic people have enough problems of their own. I hope the government will leave them alone. You can’t force people to be weapons of mass destruction. People are people and psychic people are people too. Of course there are a lot of benefits to being psychic like winning the lottery but that’s cheating. You can make other people do things by controlling their minds, but that is unethical because it interferes with their free will. Good guys aren’t allowed to use their psychic power. It’s only great if you’re an evil villain.  So, in the end, it sucks to be a psychic good guy.  ;)

My First Heartbreak

I found this old poetry book I wrote when I was in high school. I never published it, but I was amazed at how good some of the poems were and how bad the others were. I couldn't help noticing how hard I took my first heartbreak. It made for some great poetry. I must warn you that I was never an apple pie teenager. I saw some dark things at a young age. I'm probably more of a rosy cheeked, easy go lucky person now than I was as a kid.

Broken Heart

Now all my fears are clouded by the pain,
And day by day I wonder through the years,
Pondering wirling riddles all in vain.
Oh, could I ever ever love again!
When once my life was happiness and bliss,
Now nothing can undo this heavy strife.
His tender kiss and soothing words I miss
And long the warming comfort of his lips.
Through empty streets of doleful thoughts I roam
With heavy tears I drown my nightly sheets.
I fill the hollow streets with woeful moan
And wonder if I'll ever find a home.
I plod with grief and anguish through the rain,
as stormy winds blow through the winter leaves.
What happy thought could overtake the shame.
How could I ever ever love again?
--Lacey Reah

Solitude

Now wearied by distress my loved ones bring,
Yet knowing what distress I bring them too,
I'll ask them not for one more joyful thing,
And seek a world that's cold but plainly true.
I'll occupy myself in study's might
And substitute my friends with greedy goals,
without the pain of a true lover's fright,
who knows not when to rage or when to hold.
I'll turn from love of love to love of feat,
And lust for only what myself achieve,
To never know what strangers I may meet,
Lest they may touch my soul where it can bleed.
For if I ever look back on my youth,
On smiles, on tears, sweet friendships there will be.
In them was too much depth and too much truth,
And too much love, though not deserved by me.

So its becoming obvious that one of my main influences was Shakespeare, but its plainly obvious in the poem below, how often I read Poe.

I Fear No More The Coming of the Night

I fear no more the coming of the night,
Nor dread in shadows what may lie,
And all that once would fill me with affright,
Like mysteries that clung unknown,
Now draw me in with all their dark delight
Until to me their shown.

I fear no more the creatures that may peep,
From their bleak abodes of blackness,
That once would vex and ward me from my sleep,
With their lingering tales of yore.
I follow them into their caverns deep,
Until they be no more.

I fear no more what glaring eyes of hate,
May lurk behind a suave facade,
Or ghastly things that rage and curse my fate,
With their fiendish spell charms of old.
I quell their plagues before all is too late,
Their spells through darkness told.

Now, when I find a place that holds no light,
Surrounded by impending gloom,
I retreat not but seek out all its might,
To find when greeted by the sun,
The break of day is but the close of night,
When all the seeking's done.

Is World Peace Possible?

            When I was a little girl, my parents worked so I spent my summers with friends. I used to hang out with a family of three siblings. They often had their cousins and other friends come over. I was the quiet and watchful one. I often watched the dynamic of their bickering and disagreements. I remember coming over one day, only to find that the entire group had ganged up on one kid. They immediately asked me to join their side but I stood there and shrugged. They went on to belittle the little boy and ostracize him. I had seen this happen a lot on the playground. If the ostracized child was smart, he’d recruit his friends and start an all out battle. If not, he would just get bullied. I couldn't help noticing how easy it was to recruit kids to one side. Children, I found, wanted to belong to a group. It gave them something to be proud of and fight for. Yet, it seemed, I was always an outside observer. Even when coerced to join a side, I never felt like I was part of it. I always felt sorry for both sides and if it was just one kid being picked on, I always felt sorry for him and often defended him.

Already, I could see the writer being born in me. I had this uncanny aversion to be like everyone else and just be a part of a group. I chose to observe and I often I didn't like what I saw. Humanity, it seemed to me, had no hope. It was just the powerful or the manipulative choosing sides and doing what they could to put down the other. There were no anti bullying campaigns when I was growing up. We were taught that this was just the way of life. No one talked about it. It just was.

I saw that there was a difference between playground play, just fighting for fun or playing rugby or bull rush in the field and the true fight for power. It happened when one person insulted the other, often in an innocent way. But for some reason, the other person takes it bad and turns against that person. They get friends to back them up and form alliances. This is what malicious gossiping is all about. A fist need not be thrown. A person can be defeated by ruining their reputation; turning their friends against them and making them feel completely defenseless and alone.

The person who is ostracized may not have done anything intentional to receive this treatment. Maybe they simply had the wrong skin color, or had a different view point of religion. Either way, I see it happening everywhere. I see it happening on the internet. Groups are formed by people of like minds but if someone sees things a bit differently, they are ostracized and told to leave. They say the internet is supposed to bring the world together but I have only see more groups being formed, more communities of like minded people keeping those who have other beliefs out. And of course I see it happening in wars, in riots, in protests, in fights, gangs and all forms of violence. To this very day, I still see it happening and it still bothers me. As we speak, there are people getting blown up, prisoners of war being tortured, fights and riots breaking out, etc. The world has never known peace. There has always been war, and people like me who sadly observe these things have always existed. Writers, philosophers and peace activists have been around since the dawn of history. Many exist today, spreading the word through peaceful protest, religion, charity or social reform, yet there has been no end to war.

Some say religion is to blame. They say that when we form strong beliefs about God or right or wrong, it makes us feel morally obligated to fight those who don’t believe the same things. So we form sides and wars break out. I question this assertion but I must say that I have seen issues with beliefs. Almost all religions have a taboo, something that you are not supposed to touch or talk about. Often, what is sacred in one religion is taboo in another. You have one religion that sees pork as a delicacy and another who is against touching or eating it. They both see each other as gross, backwards or insane. While civil rights is seen as status quo in the laws that govern nations such as the United States, other countries are still mired in segregation. There are certain classes of people you aren’t even supposed to touch. How can the world get along when we all have such differing viewpoints?

Still, I don’t think religion is the problem. I have seen atheists also form sides for one reason or another. I’ve known people who don’t believe in God who have strong agendas to get believers to stop believing and they have also formed their own groups of people who feel the same way. China is an atheist government who does not believe in religion, yet they are suppressing the Tibetans. So the religious and anti religious will continue to bicker. It seems to me, that it is still something deeply rooted in human nature. Beliefs go beyond religion. Sometimes, it’s just how we were raised that form our beliefs and when we grow up and find out that other people were raised differently, we’re total shock. I remember my college roommates fighting over whether to plug up the sink or not. They just couldn't believe that the other person would think differently. Again, I just sat there wondering why people fight over things so petty.

In my observations, I have found that having an agenda makes people proud. It gives us meaning to push some kind of idea on to another person. People form identities around what they do and who they are. Pride makes them feel powerful. If they study yoga, they consider themselves yogis. If they study cross fit, they are hard core athletes. If they have an advanced education, they are intellectuals. If they are religious, they are people of God. If they are creative, they are artists. People love to be something and advertising campaigns feed on this psychological need by creating cult followings out of product names. Of course, those of us on the outside shrug our shoulders and just say, “They drank the coolaid.” Maybe pride is the real culprit.

In truth, cults are everywhere and they can be harmless or harmful. Most religions say that humans are special, that we are the greatest creation of God. Yet, many religions also preach humility. Buddhism even tells us to renounce all identity. Yet, if we do that, we could hardly call ourselves Buddhists. Of course this brings on more taboos. In some religions you are not even allowed to mention the name of God or even try to fathom what he/she wants. In others, you should pray to his/her very name. No wonder we bicker.

Some religious people are very peaceful. They say that god just wants love and peace. Yet, many religious texts such as The Bible, The Koran and the Bhagvad Gita show that war has always existed and that God often creates war for his own reasons. We are not to try to understand what those reasons are. It disturbs us, yes, but we have to trust that this is God’s way. There is a part in the Bhagvad Gita that says, “If the slayer thinks he slays or the slain thinks he is slain, he knows not the truth.” In this text and in many others, God goes on to say that war and destruction is part of the ongoing cycle of life and worlds, countries, communities and lives will be destroyed. But in a way, we are already dead because everyone dies. Some of the greatest ancient religious texts are epics of war. In many religions, one who fights and dies in the name of God is doing him the greatest service. The polytheistic Gods of old often fought wars among themselves for power. How could we expect humans to be any better?

This is what I’ve gleaned from reading so many religious texts, in my mission to understand my confusion about war and violence. The only thing I’ve learned from God is that we can only change what we can and accept what we can’t. In a passage in the Bible, Jesus was asked when the kingdom of heaven will come. He answered that we shouldn’t think of it as a time and place. He said that the kingdom of heaven is within us. The Buddha also said that the heaven we seek is in our own hearts.

Science itself shows us that worlds are created and destroyed in the span of millenniums. Even the sun will die and so will we. When we look at it all from this scope, does it matter that we are constantly loving each other yet destroying each other at the same time? Is this just the way of nature?

I won’t be the first to say that war, hatred, and violence disturbs me and makes me question the universe in the deepest of ways. I can’t say I have any answers for the questions I have for God, science or philosophy. All I can say is that as an artist, I can choose to accept life for what it is. I can choose to draw, write and record it. I can revel in its beauty and see depth in its ugliness. In a way, art is a type of religion where we can be sad, happy, angry and distraught but still have some kind of out. We are all just peons, surviving a life of impermanence. I may not see world peace in my lifetime but I can choose to find peace within myself.

She Talks To Ghosts

She talks to ghosts
And loses her fear...
of loneliness.
She finds comfort in the might...
of their pain.
Like a child torn mother who always needs...
The needy,
Or something to do...
To make her whole again.
--Lacey Reah

Getting Back to Lesbian Vampires (open letter and free gift to the fans of "Fireflies")

To the fans of Fireflies:

I hope you accept my sincerest apology for not coming out with the sequel yet. It was my intention to end with a cliff hanger and write a sequel if the book did well. Don’t worry, “Fireflies II” is in the works and it will be much more interesting and full of twists and turns than the first book was. I will leave a sneak preview of it at the end of this blog.

I had to first publish a novel I had been working on for years. In fact, I wrote “Fireflies” because I needed a break from writing, “Enlightened Ones,” which was released this year. To understand this better, you can read my blog on how writing about lesbian sex vampires is writing what you know:

http://laceyreah.blogspot.com/2011/01/when-writing-about-sex-vampires-is.html

Anyway, life doesn’t always go as planned and my day job and full time job of being a mother often gets in the way of being an edgy underground writer. To make it up to you, I will post a free excerpt of the yet to be released “Fireflies 2.” I haven’t thought of a name for it yet. Okay, here is a sneak peak of “Fireflies 2” which will be told through the eyes of Jessie, a character who is probably the exact opposite of Linda. Let me know what you think. I might post more if you like it. Btw, Happy Holidays… wishing everyone the most awesome season ever!!!!!

WARNING: The following excerpt contains sexually explicit material that may enhance the enjoyment of your consensual, romantic relationship, but will create a horribly awkward moment if your children get a hold of it...

It is my life that flashes through my mind as I watch Linda on the floor, cursing me for not letting her die. God, she looks so much like Ginger. I wanted to shove her face into reality and make her realize that her ideas about what we’re supposed to be are nothing but illusions. I didn’t ask her to make me into one of them and I don’t have to play by her rules. You’re probably thinking that I’m horrible. Why couldn’t I just play along and be the creature that Linda thought I would be? Let me ask you this: why should I have to kill and prey on the innocent like they do? You ask: why do I fight my destiny when it is so clearly set? Let me tell you the story from my point of view and then you can judge me as harshly as you like.

I was never one to care about what people thought and I always lived my life by my own rules. My parents enrolled me in a Baptist school and I lived under strict Christian rule until my parents divorced when I was twelve. The Baptists told me what I could and couldn’t watch on TV and schooled my parents on what I should and shouldn’t eat. My mother followed everything to the tee. Such a good obedient woman she was. I couldn’t have the toys my cousins had. I couldn’t watch the movies and shows they loved. Everything was evil and sinful and I felt a constant oppression for I loved everything about life and I didn’t understand what there was to fear. I suppose that putting the fear of God into a child would work if she is not curious about anything and needs to be told what to do, but it didn’t suit me at all.

            I got into mischief with my friend Sarah, Sarah Wilson. She was always scared at first but would play along in the end. I think she admired my ability to make her do things she wouldn’t do on her own. We never got caught putting mice in the nun’s desk drawer or writing Satanic verses on the girl’s bathroom mirror but when we got suspended for ditching school so we could spend an entire day at the park, Sarah was forbidden to see me ever again and my world crumbled. Perhaps I could have convinced her to come back to me but I could tell her parents beat her bad. She had bruises on her wrists and a welt on her leg when she returned to school. It was healing and barely perceptible but I was a keen child and I noticed everything.

            That was the fifth grade. I might have had to attend that prison well into High School had my parents not divorced that summer. I chose my dad for custody and saw my mom on the weekends. My parents had religious differences and my mom just couldn’t push her control on us any longer. I was free. I never thought I could ever have a friend like Sarah until I reached high school and met Ginger. Ginger reminded me a lot of Sarah but she was blond. Sarah was a brunette like me. Ginger was healthy and bright and when she smiled at me, she didn’t smile like that for anyone else. Ginger had the most intense intellect. She had a fascination for reading books that were ancient, forbidden or translated from another language. I could tell that daily life bored her just as much as it did me but she always had her books to escape into and they kept her sane. Because of her ravenous appetite for exotic knowledge, Ginger was sophisticated beyond her years. Most of the adults had no idea what the contents of her books were and she was introduced to the cultures and practices of exotic lands and times long gone. I remember her saying to me, “Jessie, they tell us about the way things used to be, that everyone got married before having sex and that everyone respected their elders but I’ve read books from hundreds of years back where people spoke up against the government. I’ve even read books about the sex lives of people back then and we can learn a lot from them.”

“Okay,” I responded. “Teach me,” there was a short pause and her blue eyes glinted as she laughed at me. Nothing was the same after that. I always looked at her differently and she at me and that was when all the experimenting started between us. But for me, it was more than sexual play. It wasn’t just an education in the lost arts. I was falling in love.

            All of us High School girls read Cosmo magazine and there were always articles on sex and how to do it right. It made us realize that for adults, sex is not a forbidden act. Rather, it is a form of play. I remember reading articles on the art of masturbation and we tried it together. We searched for our clitoris and g-spot. “Have you found it yet?” she asked me enthusiastically.

            “No… oh, wait a second.”

            Our mutual masturbation session was our first really intense sexual moment because we felt things in the presence of each other that we shouldn’t have been feeling. It didn’t matter, what was private to me could include her. She was a part of me then. I came before she did and she watched me gasp as I rubbed myself more vigorously. I was hot and sweating and spent while I watched her climax, her head falling back, her body heaving, her mouth moaning. She was so beautiful at that moment. We both looked at each other in silence for a long time when we were done, not knowing what to say. That was just the beginning.