Elegant Existentialist: Thoughts from a Therapist

  This is a slightly different post on my blog, but something I've been wanting to do for some time. I'm a huge fan of film analysis and since I have my own little space to process about shows or films I enjoy, so here we go!  My Russian Doll Analysis...  The shows premise is about the main character Nadia dying on her birthday in the first episode, she gets stuck in a perpetual Birthday party scene. Instead of Sunny and Cher playing on the alarm clock, after each death she comes back to the mirror in the bathroom at her Birthday Party. The season finale ends with her dancing and walking through a tunnel, leaving the viewer wondering, what just happened and what does it all mean?  Season 2 just came out, I still haven't started it, but it inspired my hubby and I to rewatch the first and last episode of Season 1 to see if we catch any hints we may have missed when we started the show. I was shocked at the amount of information I didn't catch the first time. In Season ...

 

 

 Une Larme Dans L'Ocean Une larme dans l’ocean My Grandfather  Taught me to speak French. Translates to, A teardrop in the Ocean Another Grandparent lost to 2020. My Grandpa took me to museums The Exploratorium  Modern Museum of Art Taught me how imagination Can spark an idea That can change the world. We went to the first  Cirque du Soleil In a fantastical tent  in San Jose Magic before  my Five year old eyes. He made sure this child Of teenage parents  Saw beauty in the world That couldn’t be seen from outside Her window looking out to the fields Where migrants picked strawberries And smells from a tallow plant Permeated the air. My Grandpa taught me  to be proud of who I am. Embrace my truth, Speak truth to power, In the darkest hour. We fall like shooting stars Disintegrating  from great heights. Raindrops in a bucket Held and collected Water molecules connected Rippling from the energy Of every new drop.  The sound of rain Tapping b...

 Raindrops Raindrops fall to the Earth Mirroring my tears. So many Grandparents and Elders Lost in one year.  Collective grief  in isolation. With loved ones dying. In overflowing ICUs. I. See. You.  Even though I can’t. We are forced to grieve alone. In bed and in our fuzzy pajamas To bring us comfort In the collapse. The rain reminds us  That God cries too. At least that’s what we were told When we were children Walking home in waist high water or playing in puddles either way we were left seeking  the warmth of home. My tears fall for my grandfather. Grateful I got to say my Goodbyes. Held his soft fragile hand in mine Locked all the details In my mind  Gave him one last hug Blanketing him with love To take on his journey above. Raindrops fall to the Earth.  written on January 2, 2021

 Five Years  H ow have Five years flown by?  Five years since I've seen your face outside of my dreams and in reality. Reality bites these days. I like to think Neil deGrasse Tyson, is right and there are other Dimensions where we're free from COVID and you're still alive. Singing songs of Freedom i n our fight for Social Justice. Baking up ideas, pies, and cake as you bring people together to dance the night away on a cold, dark Winter Solstice. Which was always your favorite night of the year.  You always loved hosting a good party. Mulled wine and chocolate  ganache, live bands and lots of laughter as we all get trashed together for the longest night lost in twilight.  Among existential conversation in the corner. Debating Neitzsche and Kant, what happens when we die.  I marveled at your magic you sparkled like the light in the December trees. A magnifecent mama to your son, Milam.  His name means Tibetan dream. You're missed by so many,  ...

A River Redemption In this time of hate and aggression I am protected revered,  will be resurrected. Blessed by the river that flows to redemption.  Our spirits are renewed as we look to the sky Our sins float away carried into a state of sweet surrender. Holding our hands up in the air as our oppressors point their guns to steal what little we have left so they can fatten  their bloated bodies which are cursed for killing  God’s creations.  Fated to drown their bloated bodies  will be sinking down.  My soul soars  as my body floats down the river  of redemption. 

Reflections of, the Shining Sun Sparkling diamonds Glisten over the sea Speaking to all, “Come back to me.” It pulls, it carries It rises and falls, Swelling  Like our hearts It always calls. Holding our secrets, Our memories made, Teen dream summers Along the ocean cascade. Beating with our hearts It always calls. Lifting the soul From the Earthly ground Surrounds us  we’re found. It holds our history Inhabits great mystery As it mirrors  the infinite quality of the cosmos. Written by Raquel Morris July 20, 2016

Jellyfish  What will life be when we cease to exist? Will jellyfish still swim through deep blue seas?  Will crickets still chirp their sweet songs in the night? Will there be anyone to marvel at the wonder of a star-filled sky pondering our part in the cosmos it’s more minuscule than we imagine men have such grandiose egos a self righteous view they’ve been possessive  since they were little boys smashing everything beautiful they could find in their tight, salty palm for others to marvel at their game of, Who Has the Most until there’s nothing left. What will life be as we cease to exist? 

Saint Junipero Serra Sometimes the darkness looms tall and too dark to see what’s in front of you is unknown the night is enveloped  with dread and anticipation about what you feel coming yet you must hold faith that you will not fall, instead you will be held you must keep looking up  to float above it all like the clouds lifted and in motion in constant dance with the cosmos just take a deep breath inhaling the fresh air of dusk in a time of Pandemic. 

My son turned Eight years old on the 23rd of February. We were going to go to the Boardwalk, but we turned around halfway there. He wanted to go home to make sure he closed his bedroom door, so our dog couldn't get to his new hamster, Snowball. It worked out though, we went to the beach as a family and had a beautiful day. I saw my son, just   shining under the sun. I just kept thinking, "My darling son, shine!" He has this big bright smile that I see so much of myself in, except he's more confident than I was at that age. He has a bravado mixed with humble silliness. It's in that confident silliness that I see much of my husband and his mom. They both have this wittiness and silly authenticity that I really admire. When I look in my son's eyes, I see the cosmic bonds of my family. The familiar tear-drop shape that all the Water-sign women have (my mom and my sister). Their eyes reveal the strong emotionality that lies within their spirit. I see that my...

Ascension Celebrate life,  not suffering. Live fully, full of tears and laughter fear not for life is for daring to do what you dream like a child with no limits or cares. Care for each other each moment, each word, for words carry on, weaving the conscious together as one. The One that’s forgotten torn to fragments by our ego, by our fear, but fear not, life is for living, every second, everyday, we’re here to experience before we ascend away. 

A Prayer (Mother Goddess) Dear Mother Goddess, Creator of the infinite  Universe. Please forgive us for destroying your divine life force in form killing for our man-made  design. Destined for disaster when our souls know they are destined for greatness. Building the dissonance between who we are and who we are destined to be. We ask that you bring acceptance to banish the shame of ourselves, our brother, our sister, our neighbor. Relinquish the shame for which we do not know, but judge. For it is those deepest parts  of ourselves that we disown. Please shine down  your love and grace to fill my cells with your power allowing me to shine and heal others with your divine love. Activate my creative mind so I can bring forth messages to awaken mankind to the truth of who we are. I ask that you bring peace  where there is war especially in the minds and hearts of those in ...

Thirty-Five You would be Thirty-five I’m wishing  you were still alive Celebrating  that we have arrived A seat at the table and we survived Generations of Oppression and Genocide Taught it’s safest to stay quiet and hide  Never have too much pride keep everything inside But we could taste the poison of unspoken truths Truth is, you showed me how to speak Out to a crowd and against the man All the while, staying hand in hand Overcoming all obstacles Stronger together, we continued to stand.  You would be Thirty five Now I stand alone but our souls have grown Friends for so long, life’s needle has sewn our beings together I know I’m never on my own I can still feel your hand Holding me high Guiding my way As I reach to the sky No longer afraid Because you taught me to fly Now flying with me Invisible  Cloud like wings  You would be Thirty-Five 

Roots of Genocide Roots of genocide can no longer hide in the depths of our democracy The evil is being revealed We’re on reality tv waving “Hi mom!” as our children  are getting killed. Ratings are up While we’re getting beat down shot while the cameras are rolling for all to comment on facebook. Taking our rights even to kneel,  so they can steal our future. Robbing us blind of the crumbs they’ve left behind for us.  A trail of tears they want to keep hidden under the rug of stars and stripes  forever. Kidnapping our kids, to feed them to the wolves or worse. The worst of mankind right in front of our eyes representing us but I recognize  his roots. The Roots of Genocide

Yosemite By Raquel Morris The mountains have been calling to my spirit, to relieve my soul of the daily stressors of being mother  and social worker and boss and healer. A lot of heavy hats for one woman to hold.   As we drove towards the snow covered mountains. I could feel the moment being cemented in our minds held with love for all of time. It all felt so timeless like it had always been a dream, a memory, simultaneously. A magical place bow before her majesty, the Mountains.  Surrounded by shimmering snow, golden rivers that flow, her emerald green forests,  where towering giants grow. It holds the wisdom of the earth. As we walked the forest paths I thought of the stories of all the people who have walked on that exact ground  in the past. Who has touched this sacred Earth?