Issara Simone Edwards's Blog, page 13

The Death Card.

Thursday 19th of September 2019

I realised, a few moments ago, that isolation is an armour of protection I’ve erected around myself to keep me safe. To remove that armour would leave me vulnerable to attack from all sides. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I’m not sure I’m brave enough.

Being alone keeps me from getting hurt and keeps me from hurting others. It’s certainty, why would I willingly go back to a life of uncertainty?

I’m terrified of all the changes coming my way because to survive them I have to change.

That kind of metamorphosis requires the shedding of old armours so that bones and muscles can shift without restriction. But it’s also death, isn’t it? The death of one self and the creation of another.

It feels like death. It feels like dying and naturally my mind, my body is resistant to it. ‘It’, being this self, wants to live, it’s fighting for survival.

How do I say: “Be calm, go gentle into that dark night. Be dignified and graceful. This isn’t death, this is reincarnation, you’ll be a butterfly or a black swan. You’ll be at peace. You’ll be at rest.” and make it believe me?

I don’t want to die, as it turns out, and metamorphosis feels so much like death.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ available from booky places.

The Oracle Project.

https://society6.com/issara_simone

Tuesday 17th of September 2019

It’s one in the morning. Hi. I had another crying in the bathroom breakdown, but it was more than that. It was a paralysed by fear of an unknown but obviously bleak and desolate future. Literally paralysed by fear, standing in the bathroom, crying my eyes out, unable to move until I came up with a solution, The Oracle Project.

There’s a line in ‘AHS: Cult’ that goes something like “From now on assume that everything is someone else’s fault.”

Standing in the bathroom, that line popped into my head and made me think of this:

“From now on assume that everything that has ever happened to you, and everything that is happening to you, and everything that will happen to you, is propelling you forward to the person you want to be.”

So, that’s The Oracle Project, and how does it all connect? It’s a map. It’s the work. It’s something to have faith in. Vague enough? Are you ready for it?

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, written and illustrated and available from booky places.

A or B?

Friday 13th of September 2019

Do you struggle with indecision? Can’t figure out what’s right and what’s left? [Insert directional joke here]

Well, I’ve had a thought about indecision, whilst trying to decide whether or not to go back to sleep, having been woken up by rodents and five this morning. My head hurt and I was exhausted, but also the sun was up and I could take that as an opportunity to get an early start. So, what to do?

Then I thought, maybe making a decision isn’t about weighing up the pros and cons, analysing and questioning until you stall and do nothing, or a decision is made for you. Maybe it’s like a coin toss, at least to start off with.

Maybe I just pick a course of action and stick to it. Done. And, if it turns out to be the wrong decision, well, why waste time of regret. How about I look at it like this: What did I learn? Will I make this decision again?

When you’re prone to indecision, just picking a course of action rather than procrastinating over the inability to make a decision is a start, just a start.

Think of it like the first stages of an experiment. You pick choice A instead of B this time, see how it goes, record the results. Next time, you pick B, or C, see how that goes. Overtime you build up a database of information you can look back on. A leads to this so next time I’ll pick B.

Maybe this way decision making becomes easier over time. Until, practice, experiment, play.

I feel like I’m going to regret the decision to stay awake, but then, I’ll know better for next time and make a different choice.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, available in booky places.

Thoughts.

Thursday 12 of September 2019

I’ve been having the worst luck with pencils. Anyway.

Sometimes, a lot of the time, we can be aware of something that’s in our way, aware of what’s mentally blocking us from moving forward, achieving our goals, whatever, and still not be able to push those blocks aside.

It’s not that the blocks are insurmountable, because usually they aren’t, it’s more they’re too ingrained. They’re like a fungus that has built a root system inside, pulling it out when it’s in so deep would be like pulling out a kidney. Yes, you can live without one, but the removal is still going to cause problems.

My current problem is procrastination caused by depression caused by a desire for perfection. More than that, this desire for perfection is being caused by attachments to the idea of success and the fear of the inevitability of failure. Got all that?

I want the things I create to be perfect. If they are perfect, they will be a success. If they are a success, I will be a success. If I’m a success, my life will be perfect. And round and round it goes. Perfection, however seems impossible, which leads to disappointment and failure. What’s the point in trying? Result, I do nothing.

So, I know my blocks, but can I move them?

The trick is to not aim for perfection but completion. The trick is to just do the best that I can do. What I can imagine is not always going to be reality, but that’s a good thing, it gives room for surprise, discovery, invention. But, why is it the closer I get to finishing a project, the less interest I have in finishing it?

I would say, I’m about 80 to 90 pages away from finishing the first draft of my second book. I know, near enough, what I want to write, so writers block is not an issue. I have few ideas of how I want to end it, so why have I stalled? It should be “I see the finish line, full steam ahead!” But, instead, its “What’s the point? Why am I doing this? Do I really think this is going to change my life? The first book didn’t, why bother again?”

The trick with this block is to remember the mission statement from when I first started writing the book. Remember the things I wanted to say, the ideas I wanted to share, the things I wanted to change.

But, the problem with that is, I don’t believe. I don’t believe my voice is valid, that my opinions matter, that I can change or influence anything. At least, not right now.

An irrational fear is the ego trying to protect you from something it perceives as dangerous. In actuality, it’s a sign that the ego has developed a fault and needs reprogramming. How do I reprogram myself?

Do I concentrate on removing these blocks and re-centring my life? Or, do I try to force myself to finish the book?

Are all these fears that are coming up things I should take the time to deal with first, or are they distraction I need to ignore so I can finish? Can I do both at the same time? Can I work through my blocks and finish draft one? Any ideas? Thought? Queries?

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, available now, from booky places.

Do You See What I See?

Friday 30th of August 2019

I have a restless spirit, and all of this monotony of staying, being, folding clothes and watching TV, is getting to me.

I have so many ideas and the fear of them, the weight of them, intimidates me into stillness, into distraction. It’s like I fear my potential, why?

Here’s the reality I’m not facing. My sister’s moving out, moving on, and I’m stuck, physically and psychologically it seems. It seems obvious that one of these things is informing the other. Why am I so scared of myself? Why am I afraid of what I can do? Am I scared I’ll fail? Because this is failure, right now.

I was told today that writing isn’t a job, it’s something to keep me occupied and it hurt. It hurt because maybe she’s right, maybe it’s another distraction. What’s left without it?

I’m 33, unemployed, live at home with my mother. I have no children, and that’s it. She also told me I’m going to be so alone when my sister moves out. She’s right of course, I’m also pretty lonely now. People pity me. They look at me and see emptiness. They see waste, they see failure. They must do, it’s what I see.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ an illustrated novella, by me. Available from booky places, like Amazon and Kindle.

People =

Thursday 15th of August 2019

The older I get, the more it becomes clear that gender is an idea. We have ideas of what masculinity is and ideas of what femininity is, but they are just that, ideas. We put them there, we attached them. I wonder if the non-binary would even exist if we didn’t have these ideas of what male and female should be?

I, personally, didn’t start using the term non-binary until 2017, or was it 2018? It was when I saw and interview with Jill Soloway, and they referred to themselves as non-binary, with an explanation of what that meant to them. It was one of those, ‘oh, my god, that’s me!’ moments. But before that, I didn’t have the vocabulary for it but it was always there.

I suppose it became more present in my early to mid-teens. I always felt androgynous, and I always loved the word, it was my word. I felt that I wasn’t really female, and I wasn’t male, but something in between, or other.

I was also fascinated with religion back then and when I first read about the archangel Gabriel being androgynous, I latched on to that. A little while after that ‘Constantine’, 2005 came out, and Tilda Swinton as Gabriel, instant icon. The amalgamation of both and neither, I became slightly obsessed with Tilda Swinton after that, and I went back, I’m talking Derek Jarman days.

Maybe, now that I think about it, six was when it became solidified, when I made the conscious decision to try and be a tomboy. The notion of ‘girl’ was so boring and off to me. It didn’t work though, I failed to fit into the tomboy category too. I was just an awkward misfit, given names and assigned terminologies by others until finally I picked my own. I like non-binary, it sounds like me.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, available from booky places.

How was Cornwall?

Sunday 4th of August 2019

I just spent a couple of days in Cornwall and I feel as though I should write about it, but, why write about a good time. Let’s get serious.

It’s Sunday night, my mum’s cousin has popped round for a visit. His daughter got married over the weekend and he wasn’t there.

He didn’t raise her, he has stepped in and out of her life until finally they had an argument about this and he said he was done with her. It’s a familiar story, it’s my story.

He says that he doesn’t care, she’s nothing to him, and I think, is this the same stuff my dad says about me? Is this the story from his side?

He says she never made the effort to be in his life, she was too rude, too self involved, she would only make time to see him when she wanted to, he was right to cut her out. When he sees her no, he turns and walks the other way. In fact, he’s replaced her. That’s what he said, just like he replaced his son, who he also doesn’t speak to.

My dad has done this too. He stopped speaking to my half brother when he pointed out that he spends all his time with his ex’s son, who he has no biological relationship to, then any of his actual children. He then legally adopted his new wife’s grandchildren. He cooks their meals, drives them to and from school, he’s there, which was my brothers point. Why was he never there for any of us? Why, with us, was it so easy to say: “I’m done.”?

Listening to my mum’s cousin, and hearing his justifications for not being at his daughters wedding, for ignoring her invite:

“I don’t have time for someone like that.”

“I’ve replaced her.”

“Her step-father was probably there.” (Yeah, he probably was)

I realised something. Maybe this idea that family is supposed to support you and be there for you, love you no matter what, care for you and fight for you, is really just a damaging one. Maybe family isn’t something that’s meant to hold you, maybe the purpose of a family is to create you and then that’s it, you move on. Perhaps we’re supposed to find other people that are more in tune with us, then those people become our family. Until that dynamic serves its purpose and we move on again. Which is kind of a cold, analytical way of looking at it, but it explains life.

We move in clusters, or we strike out on our own. Either way, existence moves forward. We grow and develop as people. And all of this would be a lot easier and less painful if we let go and remove ourselves from the antiquated propaganda of the family unit.

To be fair, this could be a rationalisation on my part, trying to reconcile my absent father issues, my loss of family ties issues, my issues.

I’m different from everyone around me, I’ve always felt it, and embracing it has left me pretty lonely at times.

My family created me, they did their job and moved on, and I felt abandoned. I still do at times. How do I move on from that? Everyone else has, right?

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, available from booky places.

Today I Will Change the World.

Tuesday 30th of July 2019

I want to crack open this world like an egg to see if there’s anything redeeming left inside of it.

I’ve sequestered myself from reality, even more than before. I want people to stop lying. The idea that we live in a democracy is just that, an idea, an illusion we’ve been bred to believe. Now it’s time to face reality, accept the truth. Power is not in the hands of the people, and we have no control.

In order to survive this, I’ve had to step away from the truth of it. I do that a lot. In order to reconcile bad memories bad experiences, with good memories, I pretend the good ones never happened, or I come up with excuses as to why they weren’t really good. In this reality, people aren’t complicated, they’re either one thing or another. In this reality I get to be the victim and everyone else in the wrong. Then I view this as protection, no one will ever hurt me like that again because I will suppress anything good about them and only see their flaws. I’ll never trust them or let my guard down again.

I see the flaws in this reality we’ve allowed ourselves to stubble into because the relinquishing of responsibility was easier. We trusted. I see the torn fragments of the illusion we all carried, oscillating in and out, clinging like scraps of degraded seaweed to what’s real. We believed the world was getting better. We believed we were evolving. We believed in our own superiority. We believed in our potential. It’s laughable.

My past has taught me that I have little to no power, that things happen to me and around me whether I do anything or not. Then there’s what we all want to believe, that we are the power we crave, we can change anything we want with our will.

I’ve believed too long, I’ve believed I’m everything I’ve been taught I am, by people and by circumstances.

Right now, I believe one thing, my power, however limited or encompassing it may turn out to be, can only be accessed by accepting my flaws. I need to be the one to accept them, understand them and make them mine.

Instead of trying to change who I am to fit, to be better, to be perfect, I need to accept and embrace. Then use whatever that give me, to strike out at all the broken parts of the world and reshape them.

It can be difficult to know what’s enlightenment and what’s depression posing. In the same way that it can be difficult to understand what it is I’m accepting here. I suppose, If I have to explain, I’m accepting how others see me, instead of wasting energy and my psyche trying to fix it. I’m accepting that some things can’t be changed and that sometimes things will break when you try to. I’m accepting that when they break, the fault is with me and I have no other choice but to accept that and move on. I’m accepting that sometimes, things need to be broken, how else can we find something that works better.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, available from booky places…

Muddy Water, Let Stand.

What do I do? I don’t know what to do. The laptop is the gateway to everywhere, where do I go?

I’m tired, I wanted to sleep, but some people have set up residence outside my house with a laptop and a dog. The laptop has replaced the boombox in this scenario. I’m not getting any sleep tonight. Where can my laptop take me?

Or, there is another option. It’s a hot summer night, and that’s the point, isn’t it? You can sleep the sleep of the dead in winter, but summer belongs to everyone. The space for one persons will cannot accommodate the space for another. Their battery will have to run out eventually.

If it gets too late I can ask them to turn it down, again, because the second time is bound to work. I can call the police, that one might work. I can stop being ridiculous, this is reality, right now the floor is theirs, my time and space will come. Law of averages, right? The odds are in my favour. One day I’ll believe these things to be true.

This is self inflicted anyway. I didn’t get much sleep last night, I wasted what I could have had on Netflix, and I woke up far too early. I live next door to a banshee who hates kids but somehow has ended up with two, both under the age of six.

It seems quieter, have they finally gone? My mistake, just picking the next song. Some people can sleep through anything. I wish I was one of them.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, available from booky places.

The Oracle Series: The Patron Saint of Rebellion.

‘The Patron Saint of Rebellion’ Print available from Society6 – https://society6.com/product/the-oracle-series-the-patron-saint-of-rebellion_print?sku=s6-21660052p4a1v45

04.05.2021.

Have you heard of Lilith as the rebel, the patron saint of non-conformists? Lilith as the spark of rebellion, the taste of freedom. Who would I be if I hadn’t met Lilith? Where would I be? What would I be doing? How old was I when I met her? Fifteen? Sixteen? Younger?

She visited me once, in a dream, and once when I was as awake as I am now. I was lost enough and young enough, not to question whether I was going mad. The experience was real, not a hallucination, and I felt chosen by her.

Lilith led me here, to this person I am now, to all the things I know now. I gave up on conforming, I’ve attempted to live my own way, to forge my own path. Lilith led me here, to this me, to this place, she did her art. But what would I be if I never met her? Where would I be?

01.06.2021.

I did the first sketch for the next painting in the Oracle Series today, Lilith. Each one is an experiment, there’s no certainty in them, but that’s the point. Each one is an exploration of what I can do, with what’s possible, with what I have, my level of skill, my state of mind in those moments of creation. Where I’m at emotionally, mentally, where my focus is, the alternating steadiness of my hands. Saying this, knowing this, each painting is… more than the one that proceeded it. Lilith is wild and unruly, but grappling for steadiness, even in sketch form.

09.06.2021.

I spent the day working on ‘The Patron Saint of Rebellion’, aka, Lilith… I look at Lilith across the room, she looks wild, untamed, strong in her rebellion against the world, but also herself. Rebelling against her perceived limits, what her body’s capable of, the limits of her own mind, the limits of her existence.

There’s no serpent, no wings, she’s just a woman. A woman slandered, a woman just trying to be herself. Behind her is the blood moon, or the red of a lunar eclipse. Above her head, crowning her, is a crescent. Poking out from behind her like a dragon’s tooth, it reminds me of advice I once heard. “Be like the dragon. Can you imagine a dragon being afraid?”

‘The Murder of Miss O’, a novella, which also features and appearance from Lilith… sort of. Available now, from booky places.