In a dream, I ushered men out of a light-filled chute and onto the ground at the bottom.
Creation of Beings
I could hear them flopping and bouncing and clattering down the chute, some cussing loudly, some weeping and wailing, terrified; others silent.
All came out with a shout of pleased and excited surprise that they were still alive and unharmed.
My role was to show them how to see that thoughts are things, and that they could create their own reality from now on. Continue reading
I had a dream where I was being hunted by dozens of enormous ravenous beings.
Gnarly Monsters try to grab me…
They stomped and crashed the very earth under their feet, making me stumble and fall.
Each one reached gnarly fingers out to grab and rend me, but somehow could never latch on.
I was terrified.
What do the different file type names mean and how do they affect your images?
These explanations of file types will help you understand what kinds of files to use for your documents, print books, ebooks or websites.
This is an enhanced excerpt from my book, The Etsy Image Guide.*
I’m asked about image file types so often that I decided to publish this part of the book independently. Since I wrote the book in 2018, this post includes more recent information.
In this post, I go over file types: jpg, png and tif files; and compression types: lossless and lossy files.
Hang with me as I point out the basic differences of each file type, because the quality of your post, publication, book, or website depends on your knowing what file type to use, when, and where.
If you consider yourself ‘not tech savvy,’ please just pause a second, take a breath, relax a little, and pretend to enjoy reading these little definitions — I guarantee you that once you know the differences in file types, your experience using images both online and off will improve dramatically. Continue reading
How many times have you looked at my tile drawings and they didn’t make sense to you? Or maybe felt so busy you didn’t look at them for long?
Here’s how to ‘read’ them.
1. Direct your eyeballs to the exact center of the square.
2. Drop your eyes vertically to the center of the bottom line.
3. Now look over to the right bottom corner,
4. And then back up to the center.
You have now traced a triangle with your eyes.
Keeping your vision within the triangle, look again, this time focusing on the elements that are there. Continue reading
A radical twist in my self-perception happened recently….
I’m Happy to Be Me
My mother died early, at only 69. She was one of those always-takes-care-of-others-first people, so you never heard about her, as a person. I have felt cheated for almost 40 years, not having a better picture of who she really was. I didn’t want that to happen to my sons.
So I’ve been writing stories about my life. I want them to know about the person I am, the things I’ve done — the folks I’ve met all across the world, the places I’ve visited, the amazing things I’ve accomplished, even though I never thought I could.
I was surprised out of my sox when memories started to emerge about how I was raped by my trusted family dentist at the age of 13 … as well as other not-so-fun events as a teen, young adult, and older. Continue reading
What can be done about it? How do we deal with it on a daily basis?
My Prismatic Heritage
I can hardly believe the things men oh-so-casually do to women. The things they have the nerve to say. Even after decades of observing and experiencing their stupidity, I’m still astounded. I’m in my late 70s, and men still grope me, FFS. For real!
Recently I read a post by fellow medium writer Susan Wheelock, in which she talks about a man in a higher position in her company saying this to her in the elevator: “You know, Red, I’ve been meaning to ask you — does the carpet match the drapes?” Continue reading
A long time ago when I lived in Santa Cruz, I had an all-black cat we named Oedipuss. I know, corny . . .
Freedom
He loved being outside at night, prowling the neighborhood. In the morning, he’d hang upside down off the top of our bedroom window’s protruding casing, and reach down to scratch on the window glass to get in. Continue reading
Grab your power and dance and sing and cry and laugh and have a loud, colorful, delicious full-on life – why the hell not?
You Are My Dream
My friend commented on my post about how what I had thought would be a romantic first-time love tryst turned into a complete horrible abusive farce.
She said, “…you sure don’t do anything by halves!…”
I’ve thought about that a lot today. And I realized that I hated that idea! Because I can’t think of one good, solid reason why we should live our lives any less than full-on!
Who set up the rules that say you can’t express fully – yell and scream and cry and burst your guts with raucous witchy laughter? Continue reading
And I know you know what first time I’m talking about…
It was freezing cold on December 6th, 1963, the night before my 18th birthday. I was on my way with my date, flying as fast as we could through the west side of NYC to his apartment. Hands tightly clasped together, our palms crackled with unspent energy. I’d bet about anything we gave off sparks to anyone who could see. Continue reading
Grinding My Teeth at the Nerve of Some People
Every once in a while, some douchebag who thinks I’m as naive as new snow makes a smarmy comment on one of my articles, and joins my newsletter. Continue reading
I miss my sweet doggie so much.
Doggie Hugs
It’s been more than 20 years since I last saw her, but I think of her every day. She was the sweetest Being I ever met.
She was English sheepdog size and appearance, except she had the sweet button nose face and curly tail of a Husky.
She would raise her head and rest it on my leg until I got up from my chair, then she’d push me towards the door. We’d go outside, where she’d literally run circles around me as fast as she could.
After maybe four or five circles, she’d suddenly stop, and turning to make sure I was looking at her, race to hide under a bush.
Then I was supposed to call out to her – where arrrrre youuu?’ – pretending she’d disappeared.
She’d wait a few seconds before bursting out with a big grin on her face, HERE I AM! and run more circles.
How could anyone not love a character like that? I adored her.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
DOGGIE HUGS
© Angela Treat Lyon 2021
No. Not Ever.
The Goddess of Life
I could feel my body start to contract into itself, shrinking, freezing. My head fell, my chin pressing against my chest. I vaguely noticed my feet press down and anchor themselves to the floor. I wondered if it would be a punch or a slap this time. Even if I had thought of moving out of the way, I wasn’t capable of it.
I slowly raised my eyes. I watched crimson rage creep up T’s mottled skin — up his neck, over his face, seeping up to his hairline. I was riveted, fascinated/terrified/paralyzed. Continue reading
I had to slowly slowly convince myself to open to receive any thoughts at all that I might be worthy, and even lovable.
My precious new babe.
In a reel I watched tonight by a gal whose name I never caught, she explains how parents used to be advised to ‘let the baby cry itself out.’ That the baby will self-soothe, and eventually go to sleep on her own.
As she spoke, I vividly remembered reading one of those baby-advice books that told you to do that** 50+ years ago, when my boys were yet babies. Because my sons now have kids of their own, I have seen that parents are still advised to do that same thing.
“Let the baby cry itself to sleep! It will self-soothe.’
The problem, this wise young woman stated, is that babies that young cannot self-soothe. Continue reading
There have been several times in my life when Angels boldly stepped in and picked my sorry arse up and sent me packing to other, better places. This was one of them. Her name was Cynthia, and there is no one else like her anywhere.
Going Home
My dear friend Cynthia and I met at a week-long dowsing convention in Arkansas, in May of 1996.
I was perched on the edge of my bed in a shared room with 2 other gals. We were gabbing and going over the day’s schedule, when into the room this tall whirlwind Valkyrie strides, wavy red hair tousled from stormy winds outside. Her aura of intensity was larger than life, her joy almost volcanic.
Standing by the doorway grinning wide, hands on hips, she announced full volume, “We’re going for lunch! Who’s coming?” As one, we all jumped up and shouted, “Me!” “Me!” “Me!”
She swept us up in her enormous zeal, and we, little peeping human chicks, followed her down the hall, magnetized right out the door and over to the restaurant to a table for ten. Perfect. Continue reading
They were jumping in and out of the water so smoothly, so fast, that it looked like a fountain of silvery sea flesh.
Mantas! Splishing and splashing all around us!
When my boys were young, we lived in Hawaii on the island of Kaua’i, in Kekaha, a tiny little sugar town. The main residents were mostly Filipinos and Puerto Ricans who worked at the big sugar mill.
They were the ones who went out in the monstrous heat — unrecognizable in their head-to-toe long sleeves, long pants, face masks and floppy hats — and cut the cane by hand using wicked sharp machetes. Continue reading
Nights when magical swaths of stars would span the entire ceiling above, making it seem as light as noon. Bright evening lightning shows burst through the dark evenings on the far horizon…
Let’s Go for a Walk, Mom!
Living in New Mexico in the early 1990s was one of the darkest times of my entire life. I was perpetually depressed, never once feeling like I had a single chance to make it as a sculptor, but trying my utmost to do so anyway, despite maybe having one or two sales a year.
When I first got to the ex-coal-mining town of Madrid (pron. MADrid), I stayed in an old miner’s house with my old friend, Melissa, helping her renovate it so it could be sold.
At the end of that adventure, I was told about an old empty fire-truck garage with five bays. I was able to rent the two bays on the far end from the main road for cheap. It was dank, musty, and not fit for human habitation. It stunk of mice and old dust. But I had nowhere else to go, so I made the best I could of it.
Each bay was 15’ x 40′. Huge warped doors that never closed all the way. Everything got in through them — bugs and spiders and small birds looking for a nesting home, a million mice, and rushing currents of ice-cold air. Continue reading
We allow little mundane BS things to distract and steal our attention away from what’s important: being with and cherishing the ones we love most, caring for those who need and want our love, attention, and affection.
Cycles of Life
Lately I see so many posts on facebook by folks who have lost friends and family from covid and other illnesses, from accidents and mishaps, and sadly, self-endings.
And, some of us are getting old enough that we are beginning to fray and fade and peel away to the Rainbow Lands.
It’s devastating, shocking, when a friend or close person is suddenly just *not there* anymore. It’s as if we got slapped across our soul, an inner assault of not-there-ness. A big energetic hole where a very lively Being used to live within our heart and awareness.
In our society, we think and act as if we will live forever.
We have no real relationship to the reality of death, nor any regard for the idea of, or the force of, the plain fact that we die. Continue reading
Semi trucks started edging us sideways, pushing into our lane, trying to run us off the road. Gas stations and roadside restaurants saw us coming, switched their ‘open’ signs to ‘closed’ in their windows and front doors.
Windy Winter Trees Along the Road
1966. I was 21, living in an upstairs apartment on Mason Street in North Beach, San Francisco. I was a very junior artist at a top advertising agency, being trained in The Game — designing ads, learning how to deal with reps from Skippy Peanut Butter, Foremost Dairies and other large companies.
For each order, I was given the basics of the ideas the job boss wanted, no more. I drew hundreds of sketches, did color combos, created mockups. I sat silently with my boss – not allowed, as junior, to say a word — even as they tore my work apart and demanded ‘something better.’ Continue reading
It can be painfully hard to let go of the what-ifs and the blame/shames, he-did-it-to-me’s and the she’s-such-a … — or the what-am-I-going-to-do . . .
Imagining my reality into being
I’ve been a devoted student of metaphysics for decades. One of the most basic things I learned when I began to study the beyond-ordinary is that what you give your attention to turns up in a very real way in your life — whether it’s something you consider ‘good’ or ‘bad.’
It’s hard to remember sometimes. It’s so easy to keep worrying or complaining about something you feel helpless about, or something you don’t like.
We keep chewing on those problems. We keep ourselves confused; we tell our friends about This Awful Thing. Continue reading
Loving ‘painting’ with’ my pastels
I’m a stone carver, painter, author and book designer— among other things — and I used to say, “I hate marketing!”
I thought the very idea of marketing was disgusting. I thought you had to be a sleaze-bag in order to do it. It was too hypey, something beneath me, and that it was a waste of valuable carving, painting, or writing time.
I felt ashamed and embarrassed if I talked about myself
or my artwork or books in front of people.
The old ingrained conditioning I had as a girl — little girls should be seen and not heard, and preferably not even seen — would kick in, and I’d become a stiff, mute plank. Paralyzed with terror of being punished for even being visible. And worse —
In a frozen stand-off, all three halted, just a few feet from each other. Like wooden soldiers, they stood silent in the middle of the street. Slowly, Frank reached up and tipped his hat, took Lilly’s hand and walked on.
Frank and Lilly
“No, Frank, don’t! He didn’t mean it!” Lilly exclaimed.
“Don’t hold me back this time, Lilly, he ain’t got no right to talk to me like that!” Frank growled, as he grabbed his drink and angrily gulped it down, wildly splashing the rich amber liquor all over his new jacket. He grunted loudly in disgust.
“Git outta my way, Lilly, it’s time I took care o’ that rude basturd!”
Frank started to slide sideways off his chair to follow the man who had had the nerve to insult him. Him! The Mayor of the community of Desolate Desert Valley! The owner of the Desolate Desert Valley Silver Mines! The owner of the Desolate Desert Valley Bank!
Lilly reached for her purse, grasping the one-shot Derringer and pressing it to his side under his silken jacket. Continue reading
In sessions with my clients, I’ve heard them say, “I didn’t even remember that until today! It’s been years since it happened!”
Dreaming my new life
I’ve experienced that same forgetting, myself: I was raped several times between the ages of 13 and 19 when I lived in New York City. But if you had asked me before this last year if anything at all like that had ever happened to me, I’d have emphatically said no.
How could that be — 60+ years of forgetting???
It’s so strange, isn’t it? Because once you remember the incident, it can have you on the floor in tears and shock and major upset. Continue reading
My friend Rachel had two grand-daughters, aged 2 and 4. The two-year-old, Tina, was prone to throwing some mean tantrums.
Rachel was concentrating on finishing up a 3-year back-to-college program, and found it difficult to deal with the kids’ high energy — especially the tantrums — when the girls came to visit her.
She was also going through a long, drawn-out, very challenging, extremely uncomfortable situation at her job. She adored the kids, but always felt ragged and worn out after their visits.
In my weekly Tapping sessions that I held at the local health store, Rachel learned how to use EFT/tapping, and began using it on herself at home. Little Tina watched, saying nothing.
One night, when Tina was working up to an I-don’t-want-to-go-to-bed tantrum, Rachel sat down with her and tapped on Tina’s little body, saying the phrases for her as Tina listened raptly.
(The tapping points: EFTBooks.com/the-points)
Recently when I was speaking with my advisor about a business and marketing plan we were creating for my coaching, I started to get really sleepy.
Say yes to your Dreams!
I felt like if I didn’t lie down right now I would simply collapse on the floor in a big ole slippery puddle.
I had been blazing wide awake the moment before, and now I felt as if I was going to flat pass out on the spot.
Did I really need a nap? Continue reading
Uh-Oh!!!!
I got a call from an artist friend, all upset and depressed and crying because of recent world events.
She said, “When I look at how the world has gotten, I think why bother with making art anymore? What’s the use? I feel like giving up. What the heck good does it do? I’m just throwing paint on canvas and who cares, even?”
Continue reading
Ahhh, yes! A bunch of innocent delightful critters playing in a lovely world where things are the way they’re supposed to be: open, loving, caring, fun, creative and compassionate….
Patty Cake, our fun innocent game…
PATTY CAKE, PATTY CAKE, BAKER’S MAN –
Run away! Run Away! Fast as you can!
How I wish I could. With the BS happening now across the world, I truly do wish there was a safe haven to run to.
But guess what? There ain’t one. There ain’t a second planet. There ain’t a Star Gate (that I know of) we can use to escape. Continue reading
A lament for the delicious mainstay of almost every lunch and dinner since childhood. What have they done to my beautiful fruits???
My tomatoes love their marigold companions that keep the aphids at bay
I adore tomatoes. In a perfect world, I’d have a godzilla-sized garden with way too many varieties that would produce way too many tomatoes to be able to eat them all, and they would all be big, juicy beautiful organic juicy deep red, orange, or yellow or weird-colored globlets of rich juicy flavor.
Did I say juicy? Mmmmm — savory succulent juices drooling down your chin and dripping off your arm as you set your chompers into one and allow the earthy scent and luscious flavor to fill your mouth and swamp your tongue and rise up and smack your brain with ecstasy…
I never buy them anymore. Continue reading
Annie and I allowed ourselves to face the debilitating beliefs we had about ourselves, money, and business. Here’s what happened.
How green your garden grows, without all those weeds!
Not too long ago, my buddy Annie and I got together on zoom, and did some inside work on our relationships with money.
Hahaha — no, we weren’t going to get a divorce from money! Quite the opposite, in fact, since we had both already been at some distance to the green stuff for most of our lives. We wanted to attract and be stewards of more of it.
Neither of us is a spring chicken, so we decided it was about time we added a little prosperity gravy on an otherwise very thin serving in life.
I suggested that we pretend that we both had hundreds of thousands of followers on medium. Because I’m fascinated with those who have 10K, 100K, even 300K followers. What’s that like? Continue reading
Depression is a daily nightmare
That’s what comes to mind when I see people getting down on folks who write about being depressed and scared. Just be kind.
See, you have no idea how frightening it is to feel so shitty and not know how to get out of it. People say to them, “get over it!” Well, you can say that until you’re blue in the face, but it doesn’t help. Believe me, if they knew how to get over it, they would! No one likes to suffer!
“Cheer up!” you say. “Get up and get going! That’s enough! Just turn it around,” you say. Oh how that hurts to hear! Don’t you think they’d turn it around if they knew how???
How we can drum in a new era of joy, peace, beauty, and love.
Purple Bear Drummers
I guess I’m still an old hippie at heart. I look at what’s going down in the world right now, and remember the 60s, and how the world looked upside down and crazy, then, too.
Out of that ‘bad’ time, men’s groups grew, shamanistic trainings flourished, women threw away bras and other restrictions that had been ingrained in us for centuries. Hallucinogens transported us to new awarenesses and extra-3D dimensions.
It was both a dire and a very, very rich time. I believe we are now at a similar juncture, albeit more dire by magnitudes than it was back then.
No matter the intensity, we have a choice.
We can buy into the directed narrative, and ignore the increasing urgings of regimented realities that our respective, unrespecting govs are trying to foist upon us; or we can stick our trusty middle finger up and say, ‘nope, not going there.’ Continue reading
