Today

[AtlasJones]

I have not been able to maintain a job with C-PTSD,; so I come up with grandiose schemes and unrealistic ideas. I do hope some will come true one day. One is buying a safe house and apartments for those abused their children and pets. But, today I responded to a women from a job inquiry I sent, as the first thing on their Website talks about their adherence to ADA It is a very interesting company that works with making blood and cellular technology. The woman asked me to apply for a position I felt fit, There is one. Program Manager of Marketing Communications. I wrote a killer cover letter, but after almost had a panic attack....what if they want me? What if they don't? What did I do wrong?

It is a bit overwhelming. I know I can do this if I could do it from home. This job will require travel, and do not want to set myself up for failure.

So that is today. Good wishes to all.

Mizpah,

Jenn

[sange]

aim for the sky fall in the tree top ..you will still have tried and learnt from the jourmey ..research the dream ..bless

[AtlasJones in reply to sange]

Thank you. I actually have a writing called "Painting the Sky" Please enjoy...I like the tree tops mention. Love trees!

Painting the Sky

The Universe gave me a paint brush last year after a summer storm and said, “Paint the sky!” I was flabbergasted, as I looked around at my paint of pain that was now a sea of goo on the ground, sticking to my feet making it difficult to walk, much less reach the sky to paint!

Plus, I had no energy left to paint the sky, nor any paint to paint it with. All the paint had seeped out of me onto the ground; the colors had now run together from the storm creating only a dark abyss of goo. “How can you ask me to paint the sky?” I asked, getting a bit edgy, as I looked at this pristine, clean brush, soft bristles and a handle that fit perfect to the shape of my hand. “And why this brush now?” I cried out. “I could have used this brush a long time ago!” as I had

painted everything by hand before I thought to myself. “And just look at all this

mess I now have to clean up!”

The Universe said simply and serenely, “I did not give you a mop, I gave you a brush. The paint below is not a mess. You will soon see. Give it some time and let it dry.” “How long?” I asked impatiently. “As long as it takes,” and then matter-so-factly stated “Some colors take longer than others to dry.” The Universe was obviously humored by all of this. I, on the other hand, frustrated, angry, steaming mad!

You see, this mess below my feet was once an exquisite masterpiece that was created from tears of strength, painted in careful form, as I could not allow myself to get out of the lines. It had to be perfect. I thought it was…then one day the rain came. It was a light drizzle at first, so I thought it could not hurt the masterpiece. Then it got windy and started swirling all my colors together, all the lines were crossed, as I hastily used my hands to try and reposition the colors, but the picture had lost all form and was no longer perfection. The storm shouted at me

with thunder and threw bolts of lightening, as I ducked and quivered. Somehow, able to maneuver these threats, I thought I had finally beaten the storm, but then the storm dropped hail the size of baseballs down on me, beating me into the waves of goo. I thought I would surely drown…

That is when the Universe handed me that paint brush from a clearing sky, pulling me up from the goo. So you can see why I was flabbergasted at its request! “What do I do while I wait for this paint to dry? I cannot paint the sky,” I repeated. “It’s out of reach, I have no paint, nor do I have money to buy any paint. Am I just to sit here then in this drying goo of eternity, stuck?” The Universe

replied, “That is your choice, but you can paint the sky. There are other painters here on this planet with paint, ask them for some of theirs. Let them know you are going to paint the sky with it. Who wouldn’t want their paint in the sky?”

I pondered this thought for a few months, as the paint below began to dry. The Universe was right, some colors dried faster than others, as I slowly felt the now cushy color of red beneath me, separated out from the dark abyss of goo. I followed its path, with my brush in hand, and found another painter. “I know this may sound absurd, but the Universe has asked me to paint the sky. I do not have any money to buy paint from you, but please know when I paint the sky you will see your paint in the portrait, so you will forever be a part of the sky.” “Where did those words come from?” I thought in a daze of confusion. “He is going to think I am crazy!” But then the most amazing thing happened. The painter extended to me an entire can of yellow paint. “This is for you. Go and paint the sky. I believe in you. It will be beautiful. It will be you.”

“It’s a miracle!” I exclaimed, as I thanked the kind man from the bottom of my heart, the top of my spirit, and the depths of my soul. I looked down to find another color had turned from goo to a bouncy yellow, so I followed this path and found another painter. This painter responded with another can of paint, this time blue, with similar sentiments. As other colors began to dry, I followed their paths, sometimes effortlessly bouncing off the buoyancy of the drying paint, sometimes slipping and getting some paint on myself and at times getting stuck for a while.

During the sticky times, I would look at the sky and envision my painting, my new masterpiece, not one of perfection, inside carefully painted lines, but an abstract full of infinite movement.

Almost a year had passed. As I now had the full spectrum of colors, it was time to paint! But then an overwhelming panic struck. “I still cannot reach the sky.” I cried to the Universe. “All of these painters, they believed in me and now I will let them down. I have failed once again…” “Be patient, be open. Is your intention to paint the sky?” “Yes!” I exclaimed. “It is now my dream to paint the sky. I want more than anything to take all of these gifts and create a stunning, brilliant sky brightened with the loving colors everyone has so kindly shared with me. It is not just for me. It is for them. It is for you.”

All I could do was sadly and solemnly stare at the sky. “What are you looking at?” Startled, I turned to find kind eyes staring into mine. I did not recognize this man, as he was not one of the painters that had shared their paint. If he was a painter, he would have known why I was looking at the sky, as word travels fast amongst the painting community.

“What a long story to share,” I thought to myself. “I do not have time for this. I have to figure out how to reach the sky.” I looked into his eyes full of inquisitive delight. “Why is he looking at me like this?” I thought. I was all covered in paint from my long journey. “I am a mess,” I uttered. “Just look at me!” “I am not looking at a mess. I am looking at an amazing masterpiece, perfectly imperfect, beautiful inside and out,” he joyfully said to me. His kind eyes were still bright and intriguing, pulling me into his energy. An unfamiliar sense of peace came over me, and I opened up to him. I shared the story of the storm, the paint brush and what I thought at the time was the Universe’s ludicrous request and what I now knew was my destiny, the generous and kind painters along the path and now my paralyzing dilemma…how can I reach the sky?

He listened to the story intently, and I paused at times and listened to what it was that brought him to the center of my now dried foundation of colored paint paths. He too was on a journey. That was comforting to know and was so happy that he crossed my path. As I finished the story, I looked back up at the sky and sighed. He joined my stare and said, “You know, I am taller than you and could probably reach the sky and paint it for you, but the Universe asked you to paint the sky. I know you will do an amazing job painting your vision, and I believe in you.” Then he looked at me and said, “I know we just met, but can you trust me?” Trust was a lost word to me at this point in my life, but for some reason the word “yes” came out of my mouth. With brush in hand he lifted me up…I reached up high and started to paint the sky!

Thank you to all my painters along this path and the brilliant colors of hope and love you have given me. The painting is just now underway, but feel free to look up at anytime, as it is yours, it is ours; and thank you kind eyes for the lift; right when I needed it you were there!

Mizpah,

Jenn

[noesweet]

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