Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Feeling Life

I drove a Jeep for the first time in my life the other night.  It's something I'd always wanted to do, just to see what it felt like, the experience of it.  Weird how we have these little dreams we forget about, tucked away in the corner of our pockets.  And there the opportunity presented itself...I grabbed it with enthusiasm. 

It was okay. 

I think the dream of it was more fun than the actual event.  But then, I've found life, art, relationship, are like that too.  The vision we hold in our mind is always going to be more perfect than what actually happens.  Life, art, relationships, are messy...and I kinda like it that way.  Makes things more interesting, more creative, keeps us on our toes.  Throws in that "other" element we didn't anticipate, or predict, in our seemingly perfect little picture.

Right after I drove the Jeep to its destination, I was asked to drive my son-in-law's truck home.  It's a '77 pos Ford.  I never really liked Ford trucks, but omg, it was a standard!  I haven't driven a standard since I lost my Toyota 4x4 truck in an accident years ago.  That was a very sad day, and I cried when I cleaned it out before it was sent to the junk yard.  I loved my Toyota.  And I LOVE driving a stick. 

There's something that thrills me about driving a standard truck.  As I drove it home, it brought back memories of what I felt when I was a Truck Driver in the Army, when I'd walk toward my big truck parked in the motor pool.  Something wild and free would rise up in me, and when I'd climb up into my truck, and turn the, the rush...just from the sound of that engine.  And me sitting in that seat, behind the wheel, shifting it into gear...driving it. a thrill.

I mentioned a few posts back that I had a little dream about owning a Volkswagen, with daisy rims.  As I drove the Ford home I thought maybe I don't want that after all.  Perhaps a truck is the thing.  How would daisy rims look on a full size truck?  There I am, shifting into gear, laughing out loud at the image of that in my mind.

So a small dream was fulfilled, that wasn't all I thought it would be, and in the next breath, I got to experience, again, something I already love.  I sent out a prayer of gratitude for all that I have right now, and asked that I always be open to receive, and be able to notice, these little surprises the Universe so freely gives me.



Tuesday, March 29, 2011


I recently came across what I considered a nasty little thing in me--the green eyed monster.  Jealousy.  Of course I've felt it now and then throughout my life.  Who hasn't experienced the burn of the bile?  And there seems to be all types of different brands.  The number one brand being found in romantic love, (the two seem to go together at times, don't they?), which isn't always a bad thing.  I found a quote by Maya Angelou that says, "Jealousy in romance is like salt in food.  A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life threatening."  I agree.  And I came across the one that spoils.

I seriously didn't want to admit I had that kind of thing in me.  Here I've been walking my spiritual path, sometimes thinking I'm all that, above this kind of base emotion...not human, I guess...and out crops the realization that, yes, there is an over abundance of bile in my liver.  I ran from it for awhile, got on my high horse, tried to make myself right about its non-existence in me.  Which is really uncharacteristic of me nowadays, because I've been in the practice of getting brutally honest with myself for many years now.  Okay, I've always been honest, to the point of bluntness, which I've found is a part of being Sagittarius.  Not that I'm into the whole astrology thing, but I've found there are similarities in character in folks who fall under a certain sign.  And I'm digressing big time...

I have gotten honest about jealousy outside a romantic relationship, and what I discovered was that at the root of its presence in me was a thought of lack.  In my practice of Gratitude, recognizing my haves instead of my have nots, I realized jealousy is a thought/emotion of the have not variety.  I asked myself, how do I treat it?  Because I don't particularly like the feeling...too aciddy.  First, I had to look at it, which isn't easy or comfortable.  Yet once I accepted its presence in me, and the discomfort, I sat with it for awhile and let it teach me.  Meaning, I listened to its voice, what it had to say.  In my journal, I gave it words.  The common element I found in any jealousy I encountered in me was desire.  An intense desire for something I felt I didn't have, or wouldn't allow in my life and experience.

Throughout my life I came across way too many things where I had a thought/belief that it wasn't allowed.  As mentioned in a previous post, my world and experience was way too small, and that was perfect breeding ground for jealousy and envy.  But I didn't know that at the time, so was shocked to discover how much I didn't allow in my life, mainly because of fear, but also because of self judgment.  How I began treating that is truly looking at the desire, seeing if it was even something I truly wanted, and if it was I began moving on the desire.  After giving to myself that experience, or thing, I discovered jealousy left me.

The romantic version of jealousy I found in me, however, was something else all together.  I thought it was uglier, because it felt way more intense than what I had ever encountered before, and frankly, I wasn't sure I could handle it.  Getting to the part of first admitting it to myself was a supreme challenge for me.  Once there, and once I looked at it square in the face, I got afraid.  I realized it had been lying there for a very long time, festering in me, growing bigger and bigger as it was ignored, denied.  It was a very big monster.  I had to muster a hell of lot of courage to listen to what it had to say, it's desire, what I hadn't allowed in my life and experience and expression.  It yelled at me!

Reflections are an interesting thing.  Sadly, I'm used to hate, judgment, scorn, and all those things being heaped on me.  I've lived with them all my life, and living with them kinda made me think that's the only thing I was going to receive in this life.  But when a Big Love, especially from a man, as opposed to what I felt from Spirit, comes into the picture, that reflection had whatever was getting in the way of my accepting and even receiving love, letting it touch me, rise up to the foreground.  Jealousy was around because of what I hadn't ever allowed into my experience, and still wasn't.  What I never allowed to touch me.  And it was hungry.  Starving, really.  Everything in me wanted to latch on, and feed and feed and feed.  That kind of need frightened the hell out of me.  And quite honestly, sent me into a kind of hopelessness, because that hole felt way too deep for me to ever be able to fill it.  I didn't realize all I had to do was simply begin allowing love in.  Or, at the least, be open to receiving it. 

At the root of this particular brand of jealousy I discovered self loathing, and of course, judgment...which caused the not allowed feeling.  Love was not in that dark place, and it had now become a black hole, like in space, the sucking into itself anything that comes its way kind of black hole.  Wow, what do you do with that??  Give what you need?  Well, I felt my need reached as high as the cosmos, and as low as the core of the earth. 

Here's what I discovered.  Besides the whole man/woman thing, romantic love kinda covers all relationships within it's atmosphere...father, mother, child, friendship.  Mother and father setting the stage for how we will later relate to ourselves, and the opposite sex.  There are wounds that occur, of course, none can escape it because our parents aren't, and never will be, perfect in their expression of love.  Whatever wounds we received, or even think we received, that haven't been healed in us are gonna crop up in our romantic relationships.  I see this as perfect opportunities to heal, if we are willing to go there in ourselves. 

As I've walked this road I have loved with a big love, given what I myself needed.  I've learned a hell of lot.  What I didn't realize is I wasn't allowing the love of a man to touch me in return.  I couldn't even see it.  I allowed no man to even claim me, and that is something I really desired.  I desired a man to call me his own.  I desired a man I could call mine.  I couldn't see it because I was coming from a place of believing it wasn't allowed, I couldn't, and/or didn't have it.  I can come up with all kinds of reasons for my being that way, some of them seemingly justifiable, but the bottom line is that's still me getting in the way of what I desire, and not allowing the love of a man to come in.  My need for love from a man is profound, and it still frightens me.  I hunger and I thirst for that to exist within my life, and I desire to experience a deep love from a man, let it touch me, and love him deeply, passionately, with abandon, and fire, with peace and good will behind it all, and throughout it all, know with everything in me I am his, because I trust when he says its so.  I desire to be consumed with that kind of love, not in jealousy, coming from a place of not having it, but consumed by Love's very essence in me, in him, together.  Tall order I know, and I'm sure I'll fall off the beam quite a bit, if that kind of love is even possible.

I am opening to receive.  Now that I see that black hole within me, I am praying God heal it with love, for it is a belief that a lack of love existed within me that created the hole in the first place.  A belief that blocked the way for receiving it.  I feel like I've just stepped into that place of hope, where I'm freshly allowing for possibility to exist, but also waiting for the axe to fall on it.  Where I'm saying to myself, "Are you sure you want to open yourself to this?  Because your in for disappointment.  May as well live in disappointment, its safer." 

To hell with safer.  I'll take the risk.


Monday, March 28, 2011

Some Changes

I damn near put a sad face on a friend of mine today.  Not good.  So just letting you all know I'm making a few changes here at Wings and Arrows.  My pages will be back, just a bit different.  I'm fluxxing my creative muscles.  In the meantime, here is a video Josh Spector posted today...its wonderful!  He's got a bunch of videos and cool stuff he shares on his blog, you should check him out.  ( Link to the right --->)

Enjoy :)


Sunday, March 27, 2011

For Your Pleasure

A friend of mine posted one of these on FB, and it cracked me up, so I just had to pass a few of them forward.  They are from BBC One's Walk On The Wild Side.  I've never seen them before, but that isn't saying much, I haven't really gotten into TV or the Internet for quite a few years, other than when I got lost in World of Warcrack for a time.  But then, I saw that as more like therapy for getting over a divorce.  Even started to write a blog about it that I never got back to, (  Perhaps I should, it sure was fun, and I have some fun stories.  So yeah, more information than you really needed, or even wanted to know I'm while I'm ya go....

Hope they bring you joy :).


..and for you coffee

Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Choice

I was once told I'm persistent.  I've also been told I'm stubborn, obsessed, fixated, determined, intense, relentless.

Earlier in the week I wrote I was going to do a bit of changing here on this site, and in my life.  I haven't forgotten what I said, nor have I changed my mind about it.  I've been waiting.  Once I put an intention out there, (from in here), I sit back and let a thing take shape, then I go to fill it...or step into it.  But first I check to see if it feels right inside me, or if there is anything else I need to finish up before moving in to the new direction.  And there's always something I'm going to have to let go, there's always a trade.  That's my least favorite part about making a choice.  There's always something in me that wishes I can take the entire cake, and eat it too. 

I listen...and I wait. 

I awoke at 2:30 am.  I haven't been sleeping well all week, so thought it was just more of the same.  But then I began to weep.  The part of me that has always been aware thought, "Well, this is strange.  I don't even know why I'm crying."  I did know, however, if I just let myself be in it, the answer would come soon enough.  It did.

Earlier yesterday, my mother showed me a card she bought and is going to send to my daughter.  ( She's in Navy bootcamp ).  It said, "Life is a delicate balance between holding on and letting go.  Right now, you're in the place between the way things were and the way things are yet to be.  And that's the place of Hope."  It is indeed. 

The picture above is of my daughter when she was 11 years old.   Her greatest tests of courage in gymnastics were on the beam.  I used to take her for private instruction so her coach could work with her on this apparatus.  My daughter was fearless on bars, and my God I loved watching her on them.  The girl could swing.  But the beam was a different story.  Her mind got in the way, generally over the simplest tricks.  It was an amazing thing to watch her do with ease a trick that was considered hard for anyone else.  And the tricks that were easy for everyone else, she'd fall off.  It frustrated her to no end.

One day, she'd fallen one too many times, she'd had enough.  She began crying, feeling she was a failure, and announced she was quitting, she couldn't do it.  I'll never forget what her coach said.  She took my daughter by the shoulders and said, "I want you to look in my eyes and listen to me.  You can fall off that beam 1000 times, but each time you are falling off it is in a different way.  Falling off doesn't mean you are failing.  It means you are learning.  You are learning how NOT to fall off the beam.  Once you've learned that, you'll never fall off the beam again.  Now get your ass back up there, and try it again!"  She did, and fell off a few more times, then quite suddenly the trick came easy, looking as if she'd never had a problem.  She never had a problem like that again.  Besides bars, beam ended up being one of her best apparatuses, mainly because she didn't fall off, which was counted as a huge deduction in scoring.  And her struggle within the time of being between the way things were and the way things are yet to be, her effort, not giving up, brought the hope she had within her to manifestation.  She was gorgeous on beam. 

I share this story with you because after hearing her coach say those words, I took it to a deeper place and pondered it, like I do, and applied it to life.  Simply put, we are all living our lives, making mistakes, muddling through, learning the 1000 ways not to fall off the beam of life.  Holding onto our mistakes, our seeming failures, and beating ourselves up over it seems pretty ridiculous under this light.  Holding on to guilt becomes a waste of energy and effort.  We are learning, and whenever I feel guilt, I let it teach me how not to fall in that particular way again.  When an occasion arises for me to behave differently, it isn't perfect by a long shot, but I know I corrected a tiny part, and the next time I do better, until finally, quite suddenly, it comes easy. 

I didn't know at the time I would need what I learned 2 years later, almost 10 years ago.  Before I change some things around, and in the spirit of revelation, there is a story I need to tell.  It is why I was weeping upon awakening.  A week after 9/11/01 I had to go to the emergency room.  I was in a lot of pain, and to make a long story very short, I was told I had a life threatening condition, and needed surgery yesterday.  I took it home and prayed on the matter.  The following year was one of the greatest challenges of my life.  I look at it now and see that it was also one of the greatest blessings. 

Eight years prior to that God walked into my life.  Needless to say, it changed my relationship with Him, because I was pissed at Him for a time, and went through the "why is this happening to me" stuff, like we do.  I lived with the prospect of dying every single day.  There were times I'd throw my hands up in the air in fearful surrender and say, "Okay, I can't live like this!  If you're going to take me, take me, but I can't worry about this shit anymore."  I let go for a time of the nagging worry, (until the next time I found myself falling off, in it again ), and geared my mind to what is important.  Love was important.  Because when I found out I may only have a short time to live, what was important came into sharp focus for me real fast. 

If you found out you only had a short time to live, what would you do?

So while it may appear to some that I am obsessed, or persistent on some things, and they wonder why I do what I do, and seem bent on certain actions, they haven't known my motivation, nor where it was born.  They couldn't have known, because I told no one.  I'm telling you now.  The only way I found to lose worry in that year, to not fold up and just quit, was to gear my mind toward loving.  I made a choice to be the best person I could become, to spend the rest of my days loving the best I knew how.  I decided if there was anything that needed correcting, like a broken trust, I'd do everything in my power to mend it. 

I honestly didn't know I would live this long.  I see it as living in Grace.  Every year, on Sept. 17th, I hold a private celebration for my being graced another year of this precious life.  But what I learned in that first year is our lives are significant.  Way more significant than most can even comprehend.  We cannot waste even a moment.  More than anything else we take time for granted.  We think we have it forever here on this plane of existence.  The truth is we don't know how long we have, and we need to live fully, deal with our karma if need be, build our bridges, extend our olive branches to those who are important to us.  If they aren't willing, then we have to let them go.  Life is too short.  What will you do with the life given to you?  What was important to me, and still is, were the things I will be able to take with me.  Which is all my memories, my time, with you.  All my relations.  What did I give to you?  Did I hold nothing back?  Did I do and give all within my limited power to love you without holding back?  Was I the best person I could be with you?  Was I honest?  Was I real?

I honestly don't know if I've been successful.  All I know is I have given everything in me, good, bad, or indifferent, and I am the one who learned so much from the endeavor...falling a 1000 times like I have.  Perhaps that's what it was all about.  I suppose, in the end, only God can tell me if I did okay with the gift of my life.  It is my hope that He is proud of me.

Now, I turn slightly to a new endeavor.  It doesn't mean I won't continue with the old endeavor.  It means I've walked that way for so long that it is now a part of me.  We become that which we try to interpret.  I have this practice of before leaving a place I've been renting, I will leave some thing of beauty behind for the next tenant.  Whether they like it or not doesn't matter.  I know I left it for them.  It could be anything, a flower planted, something I added that wasn't there before, and now they inherit.  I pray that it bring them a smile. 

So as I stand in the place between the way things were, and the way things are yet to be, my hope is to begin leaning toward the creative...considering some beauty I can add to this world, or this place, that will perhaps bring a smile, or touch someone in some way that is good.  My contribution, as it were, in appreciation for the life I've been given.  It's the little things, the small touch, that makes all the difference.  Wish me luck.  I'm sure I'll do a lot of falling off before I get it right :). 


Thursday, March 24, 2011

A Song Rises

I've been writing off and on all day, while listening to music, sitting in the sun, random thoughts, letting spill what would, in hopes it would ease my spirit and help me get back to a peaceful place.  The following is what I've added here and there throughout the day.  It's a rough draft to be sure, but I thought I'd share my process for letting go...

It is more than my own dream.  I hear a dream that sings in my blood.  It comes from deep within the marrow of my being with a low chant that rises from roots grown deep.  It rises to stir the cells and tissues and tendons and muscles like the wind stirs the leaves of a tree.  A song rises in a dream from a primitive place asking for its voice to be freed through my throat.

How many of my ancestors walked a trail of tears?  How many were not given a voice to live free, with their heads held high in pride for their being?  How many longed to express their joy in living?  How many dances were canceled, seen as a threat?  How many songs were heard on the wind, then silenced?  All the voices of my ancestors sing through my blood.  I represent them this day, this moment.

I sing in the morning with the doves, I sing in the evening with the crickets.  I soar in the night sky with the owl, under a quiet blanket of stars.  My spirit, and that of my ancestors, sings out for freedom of expression.  It is joy that is beaten down.  It is praise that is silenced.  It is this expression, this freedom where I stand and fight.  Not the freedom to cut down, or to tear apart.  That freedom already exists!  Let me be, let me sing, let me dance, let me praise.  Let me laugh, let me express my joy.  I am hurting no one. 

I consider my bloodline, that pool of outstanding talents, dreams beaten down.  I am in the company of writers, musicians, dancers, and actors, painters, singers, and a midwife who brought babies in the world, and healed the sick with the sound of her voice.  They only got so far with their dreams before the singing and dancing were crushed out of them.  Before they went silent under a veil of judgment.  How dare they rise!  How dare they sing and dance, and paint!  They belong here, or here, or here!  All those dreams, I know them, I hear them...longing to be expressed in the world freely.

Under an iron fist of familial pattern, I rise to break it to free those whose voices I hear.  Those who have caved under the enslavement of the work ethic tell me I should live like them.  Those who are enslaved seek to enslave a creative spirit who longs to be free.  How dare we not be like them!  I see the dreams of their heart and seek to set them free in it, but they refuse.

We're taught in our schools, trained early for nine to five, and to mind the rules and regulations.  Creativity and music and art are going slowly to their death, and in their place breeding competition.  A pack of dogs fighting for favor.  In competition there is always a loser.  I'm not saying a good healthy game isn't fun, just as long as its done in the spirit of fun.  Balance. 

Look at our children, busting out at the seems, pushing at the boundaries set in place by a society whose only motive is money.  As long as we are making money then we're deemed worthy.  We who deem creative expression as All are seen as losers and failures.  We who walk softly with our spirits, who see the moon and smile back, who play under the sun's rays, and chase the clouds, and then come in to write about it, or paint it, or sing it, are crushed under the all mighty dollar.  If it isn't making money then its not worth a damn.  For that matter neither is a flower.  What purpose does a flower have?

So then we must market our product, our creative expression, make sure it stands up to muster.  Competition.  It becomes not a thing done for the sheer love of doing it, but for making sure its seen as worth something, so maybe we can get away with what we love to  We have to go chasing our customers, our readers, our listeners, compete for an audience, and somewhere in all that our aim becomes askew, and the voice of our spirit gets lost in all the hype.

I don't do this for the money.  I do it because I have to...because a song rises up in me when I see a glorious sunrise, and I feel my spirit dance to a deep rhythm in my soul that says I must express it.  I do this because I am at home here, the only home I've ever really known.  I do this to be a voice for dreams that were snuffed out because they didn't fit in with what someone else said they should be doing, how they should be living.

There is something that happens when the fear of death is abolished.  Safety, and security become just another word.  We will sell our souls to have safety, and be secure won't we?  But when we put ourselves at the service of a dream, or love, security flies right out the window.  Nothing is secure, the strive for it is ridiculous, with insurance bogging us down, playing on our fear, playing the what if game with us, to enslave a people and their creative expression. 

He said call him when I have some pride.  This is my pride.  It may be nothing to anyone else, but it is important to me.  That's the attitude I receive, and have received my entire life.  Pats on the head for any creative venture, isn't that quaint?  But that chant, that song within me just keeps getting louder and louder, saying the time is now or never.

A song rises, and I am singing it.  In the act of freeing it, I am set free. 



I read this a few weeks ago from Annalee Skarin's book, Celestial Song of Creation:

     "It has been said that love is blind.  Love is so exalted it does not even behold the scars and blemishes and ugliness which human sight gazes upon.  Love looks deeper than the surface.  It's healing tenderness penetrates all exteriors to enfold the very heart of substance and of people and conditions and things.  Love is not blind, love is only endowed with a deeper vision.  Love looks beyond the visible into the innermost depths of a man's soul and finds there its resting place.
     "Man was created to be the bearer and the receptacle of love even as a light globe was fashioned to be the container and dispenser of light." 

I am on fire.  Angry.  So heads up.  If you don't wish to experience my version of wrath, then I suggest you move along to some other site for your pleasure. 

It is a hard, hard thing to remain quiet when someone literally stands over me with a branding iron of judgment, and thinks that humiliation is just the ticket to get what they want from me.  

It is a supreme challenge to hold back the lightning bolt I have in my hand, and to not unleash the fury that rises up in me when someone decides they wish to take control of something I have already been giving freely.  When, in essence, they have just proclaimed that I am now their slave, and should do their bidding, an assignment to ensure I'm doing it right, and if I'm good then I get a star on my report card.  But wait, before they make that dictation, and for it to even have any success, they need to make sure I feel like I'm nothin'.  And if they know me well they know right where to hit, or so they believe.  The very fact they would even strike below the belt speaks volumes about the quality of their character...not mine.  

Everything in me desires to rise up, and say, "Fuck you."  Trust me, its a rare thing that I say those words to a person's face.  Those who know me are aware that if I've just added "you" to the mix, then all is not well within my kingdom.  I think they'd rather see me blue, crying, anything else than experience that level of fury in me.  Or so I've been told.  Which is why I don't allow it to unleash toward anyone in particular.  I'll go throw rocks at a mountain, or tip tables, before I'll let that fire in me cause harm to another person.  Because believe me, I'm very much aware of how much spiritual daggers can harm someone.  It's not the words.  It's not even physical movement.  It's what lies behind those words and the striking hand that does the harm. 

Yet there are times...

I used to be one of those people who sought another person's weakness so that I could use it against them if I felt I wanted, or needed to.  That's before love came into my life, and heart, and I walked through a fire more hot than anything of this world.  That fire had me going to my knees begging forgiveness with a contrite spirit.  Because here is what I saw in me...I saw you.  I saw the pain I caused you.  Our greatest resistance and fear isn't facing the harm that was done to us.  Our greatest fear, and resistance is facing the harm we think we did to another.  Our saving grace is the fact that we didn't know.  We were ignorant.

What we didn't know is that by holding onto our hurts, what other people did to harm us, nursing them, was the very thing that caused us to behave like assholes.  Victims victimize.  So forgiveness is huge, and extremely necessary in our path to love.  Not so the other person can get away with whatever they did to harm us, but so that we won't turn around and do the very same thing to another.  Once we have crossed that line, the need to be right about our pain, and how it got there, takes on a life of its own, and will continue to live until we find forgiveness within us.  When we do that we see that holding onto our hurt was the very thing that caused us to harm another.  The act of holding on to our hurt caused the harm.  First in ourselves, then toward another. 

Now if I see weakness in another, instead of attacking it, or using it for my own gain, I move to cover it.  I move beyond it, and go deeper to the heart.  I move to heal if that person will allow it.  If they refuse then I have to let them go their way.  The very last thing I will seek to do, consciously, is to bring them any more shame, or pain than they already feel.  I would move to lift their chin, to square their shoulders, give them a hand up, lighten their burdens, give them words of encouragement if I have it in me to do so.  I have it in me to do so.  I don't give a shit what they think they did, or even what they in actuality did.  It's not for me to judge.  I am not their judge.  So it fires me right up to see someone attempt to use what they deem as weak in another, or in me, to gain control of them so they will do their bidding.  I have a serious, serious problem with that. 

I've been wondering for years why it is I feel I can't move in certain areas of my life.   Why it feels like I'm walking through quicksand.  I found out yesterday evening through a voice I felt nothing but love for.  Being in that love I was wide open for the bite to go straight for the jugular.  I've been branded.  I may as well be walking around with a Scarlet A ( Accused ) on my breast.  I wondered why I experienced such a dark hopelessness when certain things were mirrored to me.  For as long as I can remember I have lived under the branding iron of a judgment cast down on me.  I didn't know its purpose was to keep me in my place so others could relieve their guilt by standing aloof doing nothing.  I wondered why anytime I went to move beyond it, to step forward into a new way of being, the fist would show up to knock me right out of the air.

If it weren't for the facts I wouldn't have seen it.  Big mistake conjuring words that had nothing to do with the facts.  "People who live in glass houses..."  I don't have to justify myself to anyone but God. 

The rest can kiss my ass while I tip my hat as I walk out the door.


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Up A Tree

When I was a young girl, climbing trees was one of my favorite things to do.  A couple of times I got up far enough that I didn't think I could get back down.  There was no one around to call for help, so I had to figure out how to get down by myself.  After I finally mustered my courage I took it step by itty bitty step.  The way down was slow and painful and scary, and took way longer getting back down than it did climbing up there, mainly because of my fear.  I'd have to stop now and then and cry, then take another step down.  Finally, I made it low enough where I could jump to the ground.  I was never so happy to feel the ground beneath my feet.  I remember laying down, waiting for my heart and breath to settle, before standing back up to move on to the next adventure.

It's never stopped me from climbing back up another tree. 

Maybe life is like that.  Or maybe my life is like that.  Finding myself up one tree after another.  Sometimes I think I'm stuck.  And the process of getting back down is painful and too damn slow.  Other times, I slide and leap on down like its nothin'. 

This particular tree I find myself in I will not ever climb again.  This tree has too many beetles, too many termites, too much rot.  Its not a happy, healthy tree.  It doesn't bear any fruit.  And once I get back to the ground, heart and breath settled, I'll be on my way to the next adventure.  I won't even look back.


"Lighten Up, Francis"

It's good to have a reminder to laugh, and be silly, play.  That's what j, from Zebra Sounds, gave us today.  I am grateful to her for lightening things up.  I sure was in need of it.  I suggest all of you click on over to her site, and answer the fun questions she posted today.  If you don't want to answer them in her comments space, then answer them on a piece of paper where you are sitting right meow.

(or click the handy link over there on the right to her site, cuz I don't know how to put a link in a post yet ) ---->

Just doing it lightened my spirits tremendously :D.  And it reminded me that fires leaping are a good thing.

( Speaking of fun, the title of this post is from the movie Stripes.  Watch it.  And while your at it, I watched Tin Cup the other day, that's fun too :)


Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Wounded Child

Sleeping in my clothes
one foot on the floor
I know this sign in me
a child without a home

Soothe the wounded child

At the ready, just in case
one eye half open
anticipating the eviction notice
after hate walked in the door

Cover the wounded child

On the alert
for the slightest shift
tuned in to energy
a dark purpose walks

Stand for the wounded child

Sleeping in my clothes
one foot out the door
no welcome, no settling
when hate walked in smiling

Care for the wounded child

Go play child
chase butterflies, and clouds
I'll stand here, watching
my wing providing shelter

Love the wounded child



Somewhere in this blog site of mine I wrote about a prayer I uttered years ago asking for a life without fear.  I hadn't a clue what I was getting myself into, and in hindsight of course, I'm not so sure I would have asked if I'd known.

Okay, the reason I asked for that is because I was afraid all the time.  Afraid of so many things I can't possibly list them here.  But I felt I had every right to be afraid given the horrors I withstood in my life.  The trap to that kind of thinking, however, is that while I may have had justifications for my fear, being understandable by anyone's standards, the fact remained that I felt I couldn't move forward in my life in so many areas that I felt downright boxed in by the time I said my little prayer.  That's where fear leads us a very small box, no elbow room, no breathing room, no room to move at all.  Its horrible.  And small...

So you'd figure that praying for a life without fear would alleviate fear, yes?  Well, yes and no.  Here's the actually have to face your fear, then walk through it.  Well, when I got to that part I backed up a step or three, and thought that wasn't fair.  I didn't sign up for that.  My thought was the fear would just be magically, (miraculously?), lifted from me, and viola!  All cured.  Yeah, I know, only in our dreams, and the movies.  But that didn't mean I still didn't want it that way.  Who doesn't? 

I also didn't know that my first step in facing down my fear would also lead me to love, trust, and all that good stuffs.  I had no clue the opposite of fear is love.  I thought it was hate, but at the time I had hate in me, and as I examined and dissected hate, I found hate wasn't the bottom line.  Fear is.  Hate is born from fear.  Where there is fear, love is not, and vice versa.  It is an impossibility for the two to live in the same space.  Don't believe me?  Examine it sometime.  If you're anything like I was it'll blow your mind I'm sure.  My brain did a big ERT when I realized it.

In fact, all the resentment, all the rage, the little jealous feelings, envy, all of those ugly little things we experience and find in us are born from one place.  Fear.  It is at the root of all our beastly behavior.  The good news is, once realized, fear can be overcome.  It just takes a bit of practice.  Okay, it took a crap load of practice for me, but I was not okay by a long shot.  Just ask some of my family members.

Because I have walked through some pretty ugly things in myself, I am more tolerant, loving, understanding, etc., to someone else I see behaving in beastly ways.  I know what they are need of because I know what I was in need of at the time I had it in me, and still come across inside me when certain situations arise as a trigger.  I now look at these situations as a good thing, if not necessarily desirable or comfortable.  But I recognize now they are helping me stretch, love, gain more understanding, as hard as they may be to walk through. 

I see the presence of fear, in whatever form it takes, as a call for love and reassurance.  Although, those gifts aren't always welcome.  In fact, there are a lot of folks who will find it offensive.  I know that sounds weird, but take my word for it.  They will be offended by you giving love in the form of reassurance.  Yet there are those who will accept and receive it with a grateful mind and heart.  I am one of those people.  Sometimes, tough love is the way to go with folks, but I even see that as a form of reassurance.  I'm strange that way.  If love is truly backing it, then being tough with a person is saying you believe in them.  It all really depends on the person and the situation at hand, and the kind of fear they are dealing with.  It's why I lean on love so heavily for wisdom. 

Yet way more than folks being offended by my giving of reassurance, what shocks me every single time, no matter the situation, knowing what I do, is people's all out refusal to give reassurance.  I'm not sure why, but it boggles my mind.  When I am afraid, and actually need reassurance, and even ask for it verbally, more often than not, sadly, I will be met with anger, and refusal, like I have just insulted the person I am requesting it from to such a degree as to be an unforgivable sin.  I have stood absolutely stunned by such refusals made in anger.  More times than not I have had to resort to prayer, asking God to comfort me, and restore me to my right mind.  Because it's for sure I know I am in fear, and I know what I need when I'm in it.

I have asked many what made them angry about my request, and they invariably say they felt I just attacked them.  I'm like, huh????  I'm asking you for comfort and reassurance, and you get angry, say ugly things, but I'm seen as the one who attacked you, which justifies your anger toward me??  I don't get it.  In the moment I don't get it...

In truth, when I'm calmed down, and back to center, I do get it.  It is their relationship with fear, not with me.  How they just treated me, is how they treat themselves when they are in fear, times ten.  How often did I get angry, and exhibit that anger, when I felt fear in me.  Too often, too many times.  I still find myself doing it now and then.  I was not kind to myself at all when I was in fear.  More often than not I called myself all kinds of names for being afraid.  I don't do that anymore, and I certainly don't do it with another.

There are those who have so much fear, and need reassuring on a constant basis, but will do nothing to stand up, face it, and walk through it themselves.  Their needs are too great for anyone to handle, even God, as long as they refuse to even admit they have them.  There are those who just need a bit of a leg up and then their good.  There are those who need the touch of a hand on the back, or a tender voice with kind words, or a bit of encouragement to keep going.  I believe we all need these things.  We all have our days when we are plagued by doubts, and we waver, and it's kind words that suddenly come our way to let us know we aren't alone, and we can do what we are doing.  We can take that next step.  That we are okay, and it's all okay.

I have grown to accept fear as a part of life.  Life isn't lived without fear.  Fear isn't our enemy, being the opposite of love.  It is our greatest teacher regarding love.  Our relationship to it, in ourselves and in others, is the thing.  When we approach fear with love, as we would a child who just awoke from a nightmare, or is convinced there are monsters under the bed, fear leaves the child, and the room is safe once more.  But more importantly, the child learns that fear, in the end, is nothing.  Just something we made up in our head.  Giving someone reassurance is letting them know that what they fear isn't there.  There are no monsters under the bed. 


Sunday, March 20, 2011

All Stop. Then Nock, Aim, Let My Arrow Fly

Years ago, I asked God what "service" was all about.  What did that really mean?  What did that feel like, and look like?  I'm aware some folks perceive a higher calling, like saving the rain forests, or serving humanity in some capacity, like feeding the hungry, as the meaning of service.  There's also serving beer in a bar.  That could be called service.  So I wanted to know what service really meant where God, or the spiritual were concerned.  I've waited a lot of years for my answer.  Not because God didn't answer, but because I suppose my brain was just too thick for the answer to get through.  It's been there all along, hidden in plain sight. 

This past week has been interesting.  It has gone back and forth, or up and down, from downright hellish, to extremely lovely.  Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think I was manic.  I know better.  No, I think this is more like labor pains, and the contractions are coming closer together.  What's being born?  A dream.  A dream I've been pregnant with for a very long time.  It's time has now come. 

A few days ago I went into work, was there for about an hour when suddenly my feet began cramping.  Then a few seconds later I felt very dizzy.  With the dizziness came waves of nausea.  I thought it was just a passing thing, but then my heart began beating rapidly, I felt heat on my ears and neck, and when I talked it's as if I was hearing my voice from far away.  After about 10 or 15 minutes the symptoms weren't passing, and I told my boss I needed to go home.  I've never felt anything like that in my entire life, and I didn't know what the hell was going on with me.  When I got home, my left ear burned, turned bright red, and felt as if someone was pulling on it.  Later that evening, a high pitched ringing started in it.   The ringing has lasted for several days, and today it finally has toned down to being like a quiet wind stirring itty bitty chimes.

To make a long story short, the last few days have been an eye opener for me.  Or rather, symbolically speaking, an ear opener.  Sometimes, illness has this way of getting us to stop, and look at where we are going and what we are doing.  There have been countless other things going on as well to give me a reflection as to the direction I am taking, and my purpose.   I felt something important happening within me, almost like I was coming to some fine point of focus.  Like focusing the eye of a camera before taking a clean picture.  All other considerations in the photo are null and void, except for what the eye is looking to capture.

My boss called me the next day following my dizzy episode, and for whatever reason began asking me some interesting questions.  At first I was a bit put out with her, and didn't understand why she was choosing now to ask me such questions.  But after I hung up the phone I began looking at her questions closer.  Since I've been looking at reflections more lately, I looked at what she could be seeing in me that motivated her to ask those questions.  So I got brutally honest with self, and found that what she suspected was there in me was indeed a fact.  I thought, "Well what?"  The thing is,  I had that feeling anyway from the day I first went in to talk with her, and even admitted it to a friend.  But I wanted that feeling to be wrong, because, well, I had my own plans.

You'd think I'd have learned this lesson by now, given the countless experiences I've had teaching it to me, but no, I'm ever the shrew wanting my own way, or thinking my way is better...

I also got honest with a lot of other things, and because of the overwhelming amount of signposts, uncanny evidence slamming into me at an alarming rate, I finally came to an ALL STOP, and made a decision I've needed to make for many years, and have actually already been working toward, although I wasn't fully aware of it.  So yesterday morning I jumped in with both feet into a decisive action, and will now be working toward that end until it is manifest.  What lets me know that it is the right course of action for me, and that I wasn't fooling around with it anymore,  is what occurred right after I made the decision.  (See my post, Neither Do I Condemn) 

To that end, I will be making a few changes in the next week to this site, (and some other areas of my life), to reflect and support my decision.  Nothing major, but my focus has now gotten tighter.  I've let my arrow go, and it's now on it's way to its target.

What does that have to do with service?  There are things in life that are bigger than we are.  When a dream hangs around, cannot be killed, when no lid can be made big enough to cover it, when every other direction is finally closed off, and there it is, still waving, then something is definitely up.  I learned this very thing regarding love.  We can cover it, we can pretend it isn't there, but in the end we have to get real and surrender to it's presence and its voice.  It's a fact jack, and there ain't nothing we can do to control it.  I believe our dreams are like, or talents, lying in wait inside of us, no matter how simple they may seem, or impossible.  One day, we have to get real, look at them square, surrender, and say...

"At your service.  I give my life over to you." 


Egg Shaper Dreams

While I'm in the midst of writing my latest post, I just want to point out a couple of things I really want.

I so want one of these egg shaper gadgets.  (Go go gadget!)  I suspect if I had one I'd cook eggs everyday just so I could see a flower shape on my plate every morning!  I mean really, how cool would that be??

And while I'm at it with the whole flower thing, because sunflowers and daisies are the thing for me...okay, I like all flowers, but there's something about these two I really like...

Look at this!  The pic to the right ---->

Me, personally, I'd want a dark navy blue bug, with daisy rims.  I can just see myself driving one!  :D

Just thought I'd share that with you while you'll have to play your own music of course...

What little things do you dream about?


Saturday, March 19, 2011

Neither Do I Condemn

Hate found a foothold
into this house today
and out of a mouth
with forked tongue

First fascinated by
how it spoke that way
I listened to
its double meaning

Hate captured the air
gravity pushed me down
face in the dirt
where hate said I belong

Dark fingers clawed
at my heart and mind
until I heard a voice
"Neither do I condemn thee"

Turning, I looked hate
right in the eye
"I will let He
who is Innocent judge me"

I opened all that I am
to the Light of the Innocent
I gave over my mind,
heart and soul, trembling

The Innocent One brought
his big, hefty flashlight
came in, sat down, looked
and smiled...

"Neither do I condemn thee."

...hate, and darkness fled.


The Visit

My brother is in town, and has come to this house twice so far.  While for some a brother's visitation may be considered a time for celebration, I looked at it as an empty space waiting to be filled.  I considered what I would bring to the table, and held out my hands in welcome, and I waited for what my brother chose to bring. 

I brought the present.  He brought the past. 

For truly, I do not know my brother.  I have had experiences with him in the past, some good, some not so good.  But for the most part I recognize we are strangers, and have been such for many, many years.  Unfortunately, he likes to think he knows me very well based on our childhood together.  He has not walked with me through my life, hasn't even been privy to it, because he wasn't ever interested.  He chose to approach me as he approached me this time....from a page that burned up years ago.  A book now out of print, obsolete.

I find his relationship with me strange.  I go to look through his eyes at me, his viewpoint.  I find hostility, anger, an accusing finger.  I take it back to self and ask, "What harm did I cause here to have such daggers thrown at me?"  For if there is something I did to my brother that caused harm, I desire to move to heal it.  My search comes up with nothing, (my practice is to be brutally honest with self), and until he speaks his truth and lets me know, there is nothing I can do.  He has been angry a very long time.

He brought his son with him yesterday.  I haven't seen my nephew for a few years now.  My brother's son is nothing like his father, and brought to the table a quiet warmth and acceptance.  Which is what I offered to him and my brother.  My nephew and I fell into it and had a wonderful visit.  We are on the same page.  We sat on the couch and lifted each other up, encouraged dreams and possibilities.  The magic of hope surrounded us.  Our hearts were lifted in it's embrace.  We both stood a little taller I think before we parted ways. 

It has always been my hope, with a prayer, that a bridge be built, or repaired between me and my brother.  My mother has told me that at one time, when we were little, he and I were so close we had our own language.  My heart remembers.  Yet as long as he remains on the other side of the broken bridge, refusing to cross, meeting me half way, I will have to wait for another day. 

As yet...the prayer hangs in the air...unfulfilled, unanswered.



The Great Healing

She came into this world
with a love for connection

She found a broken bridge
a chasm made in the middle

With the innocent love
for her family
she moved to repair it

She took on the burden
of those who needed healing

The bridge being repaired
was the only thing that mattered

God heard the call
of a child's heart in love

He moved in us all
for the great undoing

He loves His child
of this you can be certain

She carries what is not hers
for us she built the bridge

She used her own back
now we are free to cross

Her work is done
She must be told this
while she sleeps

Bless her, God bless her
make her burden light
and give her rest

Her work is done

What was done is now undone
What was made is now unmade

Because of the great love
of a child for her family


Friday, March 18, 2011

Annoying Orange

Last summer, I moved in with some friends of mine, Mikki and Dale, who had a 3 year old son.  One morning, not long after I'd moved in, he asked Mikki to put Annoying Orange videos on the computer, and he plopped down in the chair to wait for her to do so.  I asked her what that was, and she answered with raised eyebrows, "You haven't heard of Annoying Orange?  Oh, you're in for a treat."  She had this strange little smile on her face, which made all the little red flags inside me go up.


I spent the next five months getting to know Annoying Orange very well.  I've probably either seen or heard every single episode that was ever made.  My friend's son has watched them all, over and over and...

Well, when I moved back here I just had to share Annoying Orange with my daughter, Meagan, because I'm a glutton for punishment I guess.  I was sharing with her all the happenings of the friends I'd lived with, and when I got to the 3 year old, and what his little life is like, I mentioned Annoying Orange.  She was like me, and asked what that was... Now that I think about it, I probably had the same strange little smile on my face as my friend did as I brought Annoying Orange up on the computer for my daughter to see.  There is something evil in us, my friend :).

Honestly, I didn't know Meagan would take to him the way she did.  I wouldn't have showed her otherwise...really, I wouldn't have.  My little wicked streak has come around to bite me on the ass.  She loved him, and began watching all the episodes in her spare time.  Every time we had a conversation she'd say to me, "Hey Apple!  Hey, hey Apple!"  Frequently, she'd come in and ask me if I saw a particular episode, and want to share it with me even if I told her I'd already seen it, and ALL of them.  She wanted to share her joy, and like a good mother, I'd heave a big sigh, and placate my little darling.  >.<   Understand daughter is an adult now...

One night, my daughter and her husband invited a friend over to play Mexican Train.  (Dominoes).  My daughter couldn't resist sharing Annoying Orange with her friend.  The game was put on hold for a time while we all were made to suffer through several episodes of the orange guy.  Okay...I suffered.  Everyone else in the room thought it was the best thing ever.  My daughter also shared him with all her other friends, who a couple of them just happen to be on my Facebook...

I opened Facebook this morning and the first thing I see on my wall is one of Meagan's friends had posted a video of ...yep, you guessed it, Annoying Orange.  I gave an evil squint at it, and clicked over to my friend Mikki's wall and left her a nice little message...

"It's all your fault. I opened FB and the first thing I see is one of Meagan's friends posted Annoying Orange, which Meagan introduced her friend to one night while she was over here, which I introduced Meagan to because you introduced me to him...yeah, he's a virus now, and I'm blaming you! Lmao!"

That should fix her...along with this blog, which I know she'll read, and she'll have the annoying orange guy to start her day off as well...coming back to bite her in the ass.  We reap what we sow.  Muhahahaha!  It's all about sharsies.  I love you, my friend.  Really.  (smiles sweetly)

I also decided to share the wealth of Annoying Orange with you, my readers, because I'm all about sharing :).  When I get letters from my daughter, (she's in Navy Bootcamp atm), she just has to say in them somewhere, "Hey Apple!", with a "bahahahaha!," following it up.  My daughter is a brat.

So have a good day, y'all, and if someone happens to annoy you today, now you can arm yourself with, "Hey Apple!"  That should shut them up.

Spread the wealth.  (bahahaha!)

Thursday, March 17, 2011

No Mistakes

If he hadn't left
when I was 2
I wouldn't have followed
my footsteps to love

If she hadn't left
when I was 5
I wouldn't have followed
my footsteps to truth

If they hadn't made
the choices they did
I wouldn't have found
healing between male
and female

God and Goddess

There are no mistakes
only in thought
it is time for letting
those thoughts go
when all is turned to good

There is only one path
One Life living through all
the perfect expression as us


Green Memories

I decided when my daughter was young, to celebrate each holiday like it was a big event.  I like any chance I can get to celebrate in life, and little holidays like St. Patrick's Day abound all year long, so they were a good excuse to bring a bit of magic into our lives. 

So, it kind of goes without saying that this morning I awoke with thoughts of my daughter.  Memories flit through my mind of past Green Days with her.  I hear her squeal of laughter, and the look of wonder when she thought leprechauns were real, and one of the little guys had left her a small gift hidden in the bushes.  After all, leprechauns lived in the living green things of the world.  There was even a Leprechaun Faerie who left a bit of green under her pillow.  My mother used to make up notes from Timothy the Leprechaun, written in rhyme of course, and tuck the notes in some semi hidden nook, with a bit of green magic dust as the clue that he had passed this way.

I like the idea of little people, with their magical play, and their pots of gold at the end of rainbows.  Who cares if they aren't real, or at least if they opt not to show themselves to the big people.  I can't help myself when I come across a patch of clover to look for the one with four leaves.  Now days, if I find one, I leave it there, and smile, at the memory of me as a young girl, laying on the ground on my tummy, my face set in earnest, and hope, seeking the luck and magic I was told I'd have if I found one.  My day did seem to be better with a four leaf clover hidden in my pocket. 

So today, in memory of little girls with wonder in their eyes, and a belief that magic exists, I put on a bit of green in celebration of all the Green Moments of life, where possibilities, hopes, and dreams are carried in pockets, and green magic dust leaves a trail of their presence. 

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone.  Here's to wishing you the luck and magic of Green Days all year round.  :)

In The Flesh

So what if I write and speak
of the moon, and the stars
the planets, the sun
in the palm of my hand

I am a human, woman
living out my existence
passing through time
along side you

So what if I think I see things
far beyond the sight
of those who cannot see
past their own noses

I live in a humble abode
from a humble beginning
walk a humble road
humbling along

So what if I think I understand
why Dante named his poem
a Divine Comedy
and why Buddha
grabs his belly, laughing

I laugh along with them
after walking the suffering road
my soul now standing forth
shining with life anew

Yet even with all that
I am flesh and blood
walking this earth
cleaning toilets, doing dishes
but only if I have to


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Reflective Response

The other day I almost deleted this blog.  Perhaps one day I'll get into the reasons I had for doing so, but for now I'll just say I hit a wall, and after hitting it I had some decisions to make.  At one point, thanks to some very good friends, (you know who you are :), I woke up to the fact that my response to a situation occurring in my life was to self destruct.  Why would I do that, I asked self?  In the end, it doesn't matter why I would do it, but more that I don't go through with it.  I looked to destroy something of such value to me, something I've been working toward for a long time now, and to kill it while the momentum, and enthusiasm for what I'm doing here is ripe would be like a kind of suicide.  Worse, actually. 

That night I received a comment in response to a post of mine, then hopped over to the new post by Zebra Sounds author Judy Clement, (who left the comment on my blog), called "On Mondays, I Talk About Love."  With her comment, then her blog, I felt the final nail go into the coffin of my self destruct tendency.  It left me completely.  No more destroying things I love.

I left a comment on Judy's blog in response to her recent post, thanking her, and in light of my looking at reflections in my life, I want to share with you the comment I left for her, and her response:

[My comment]:  I actually go thru what you are walking through writing a book every time I write a blog. It is a challenge for me to click “publish” every single time I write. My heart picks up a beat in fear, with all the questions you are asking yourself. I am a beginner, j, and you are an inspiration to me, and help give me courage. For reasons I’d rather not go into here, I damn near deleted my blog today, even after I wrote what I did. If not for your comment, and for a couple of other encouraging acts today, my blog would surely be gone now.

I believe what most folks don’t understand about writers is it’s not all about writing. I’ve had many people critique my writing and I’ll ask, “But what did you think or feel about what I said?” Writing is just our form of expression of what is inside us. And for me anyway, it’s what I’m writing more than how I’m writing that is important. I could care less if my writing is “correct,” just as long as what I’m trying to convey is understood.

For me personally, I’m not writing like I’m giving a performance on stage. I mean the shit I say, which means I feel like I just took all my clothes off in public. I feel like I’m doing that every time I write a blog! Here you are, “blog savvy,” and you are worried about a book! One day, when I grow up, I desire to write a book, just like j :), and dream of having it published.

You give me hope that I can do it. You give me courage to do it. Thank you for your courage, and your perseverance. One of my favorite quotes is: “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” Courage isn’t the absence of fear. Courage wouldn’t be necessary without fear. You, in your courage, are the deep breath I needed today. Just thought you should know.

[And her response]:
      I’m so glad I commented. Your post was wonderful, and the big bad blogosphere needs more wonderful posts.  I’m not blog savvy. I get nervous when I hit publish too. And the closer I write to my heart, the more nervous I get. Will people relate to what I have to say? Is it too much, too little, too personal, not personal enough? (That’s before I even get to the question of whether I said what I meant to say.)

      I kind of think that your nervousness and nakedness are the very things that will make you worth reading. Maybe it’s when you stop feeling that way that you should stop blogging. xo

Look at that last paragraph!  Isn't that fantastic??

I take risks.  I feel more alive when I take risks.  Pushing against a wall inside myself to express more, to love more, to put myself out there, expose.  The reason I decided to live this way is about trust, which is synonymous with love.  I'm learning to trust self, trust God, trust life, trust.  The only way to test that, and in my humble opinion to strengthen that particular muscle,  is to do  Lay it all out there.

But I realized something with Judy Clement's response:  I've been trying to get rid of this self conscious feeling I've had in me for longer than I can even remember.  Stage fright, whatever you'd like to call it, is something I don't particularly like experiencing.  So I've been trying to find some way to destroy it too.  Judy's response had the effect of letting me see that perhaps it's not such a bad thing to have inside me.  That maybe, just maybe, acceptance of it within me is the way to go.  Because she's absolutely right.  It is the feeling that lets me know I've just taken a risk...that I've just gotten honest, gotten naked.  I can't tell you how excited I am about accepting this part of me that has caused me havoc my entire life!  I didn't realize it was my view of it within me that was creating the havoc.

One of my favorite movies is French Kiss, starring Meg Ryan, and one of my favorite scenes, (besides the one where she says, "Happy people make my ass twitch."), is when she says, in response to what she thinks men want from women, "I'm supposed to be this pouty little girl, who says yes when she means no, and no when she means yes, and I cannot do it, okay?  Happy--smile, Sad--frown, use the corresponding face with the corresponding emotion."  That is so me.  And frankly, I'd rather be that person who is that honest.  Anything else, in my book, is me trying to cover up, pretend, playing a game with myself first, then another.  That's not living to me.  Because that isn't expressing what is true inside me.

So I thank my friends who let me express the other day, and who helped me get back on track.  And I thank Judy Clement for pointing out that a very big part of me is actually a good thing.

A very good thing.  :) 



I've been working at this new job for a week now, and the generosity of the two people who run the facility astounds me.  Their faces light up when I come in, and I can't help but meet it with light of my own.  Truthfully, the job itself isn't really something I'd like to do forever, but these two people have done more for me in one week with their treatment of me than I've had since I got here.  It makes me want to try for them.  It makes me want to do more for them. 

I don't know quite how to say what I desire to say, and I'm really tired right now because I worked a 10 hour day, and have to get up early to work another one tomorrow....

Almost my entire life there has been a struggle between two images I've had of myself.  One good, one not so good.  Recently, I realized a powerful truth;  The image I have of the not so good one was given by less than a handful of in particular.  I can't believe I have listened to it, believed it.  Because the reflections I receive from others, like the two people I work for, is common.  Seriously...a common response to my presence.  Why haven't I ever believed all these generous souls out there, who have shown up in my life time and time again to give me a wave and a smile and a welcome??

It feels like the Universe has been trying to get my attention for so long, and frankly, I feel rather foolish for it taking so long for me to see it.

And with this awakening, my aim and goals are changing.  I have way more to give than I thought I did.  I mentioned it in another blog, but seriously...I'm not going to waste my efforts anymore on those who don't even enjoy me, and don't want to even try to enjoy anything.  Life is just too damn short, and there are more important things to consider than trying to make a miserable person happy, or try to please a person who just will not be pleased.

Maya Angelou said it best:  "Does your face light up when a loved one enters the room?"  I'll add, when anyone enters the room.  A smile is so welcoming.  I smile.  I like to smile.  I especially like it when it's returned.  Gives me warm fuzzies.

Yes, my aim is changing.  I'm believing the generous reflections I receive from all the others now instead of the one.  Majority rules.


Tuesday, March 15, 2011


I came to bring life
it was rejected
I came to bring love
it was scorned
I came to bring color
it was grayed out
I came to settle
I was not welcome
I came to set free
it was feared

Your reflections of the gifts
I brought
tell me what you want
even though you have
already made it known

I've had enough
of your sour mirror
written all over this house
a tomb of stagnation
where nothing can move
or live
I am sorry, what can I do
If you slap at my hands

I want life reflected back at me
a smile, glad to see me
I want love's sweetness, passion
with it's intimate gaze
I want color, enthusiasm
matched with equal fervor
I want to settle, in you
in me, in the richness of a village
I am free to have these things
They are written in me to give
There are those who await
and appreciate, anticipate
my arrival, as I do theirs
we await to embrace
and let the celebration of life begin.



Monday, March 14, 2011

The Journey

This came to me to share today as I drove home after doing some errands.  It is a piece I wrote in August of 2009.  I think I needed to read it again as well.  

Earlier, I took a brief nap and dreamed.  When I awoke I had a strange sense of peace, and of movement.  It felt like many things are settling into place within me, after pieces have been moved about here and there, tectonic plates shifting, eruptions to blow out what isn't useful, or productive anymore.  I feel like this piece I wrote was almost self prophetic. 

And that all along, I have been heading in one direction:

I have so many beginnings, so many roads to choose from, which one do I pick?  I used to be frightened of them, and felt overwhelmed by the choices.  It felt like I was playing "Let's Make a Deal", agonizing over which door to pick.  For a very long time, too long, I stayed there at the crossroads in a state of indecision, worried I'd make a mistake and pick the wrong door.  I didn't realize none of them were wrong.  There was no wrong choice, there was just a choice.  That one looks fun, let's see where it goes!  Yet there I stood, paralyzed because I wanted to see the future, the "What if..." game playing like a broken record in my head.  The monotony of it eventually hypnotized me into a kind of comatose state, and when I did finally awaken, the choices I had been spending all that time trying to decide on were gone.  The roads that had been full of delicious adventures to try were now dark and barren.  I saw they didn't even go very far, but just dropped off suddenly into nothingness.  I could see no other roads available to me.  Not even the one I had traveled.  It too was gone, no footprints, or breadcrumbs to follow to find my way back.  No shining potential, no possibilities left for me to pick.  I despaired.  I was too late. 
I curled into a ball of regret, and the litany of "If only..." began to play.  I became Lot's wife, looking back, at what "Could have been..."  The moment I looked back in the spirit of regret I turned into a pillar of salt, a bitter taste rising in my mouth, my skin taking on the look of the desert, dry and cracked, no life giving waters to make it plump and smooth.  I railed against my fate, and there was a great gnashing of teeth.  My voice rose like a banshee as I wailed, and I screamed, and shook my fist to the heavens, pounding on God's chest, "This is not fair!  Why didn't you wait for me to decide?!"  I don't know how long I stayed like this in time, it felt an eternity to my spirit.  Each minute was a thousand years that went by in my soul. Caught in hell, the place between living and death.  I begged with the Gods, "Have Mercy!  Put me out of my misery!  Let me go back to oblivion, when I did not know, could not see what I have done."  
I wept.  The tears first appeared as clouds that blurred my vision of the sun.  Then they began a light drizzle.  Soon, the clouds grew darker and my tears got thicker, and then it was as if a floodgate opened, and my tears came pouring, harder, faster.  My hair became a great wind, fury shot lightning out of my eyes, my voice boomed thunder.  I became a storm, swelling in intensity, swirling into a massive cyclone, wet, whipping with my wind, pouring down, spending myself in complete surrender.  
Another eon went by, I built an ark to stay afloat.  Then one day the rain of my weeping finally ended.  The clouds in my eyes cleared.  A light suddenly shone through, I looked up.  The air was still wet, but clean.  I inhaled it's sweet scent.  Light reflected off lingering drops, casting diamonds and rainbows in the air.  I laughed in delight at the sheer beauty of it, my spirit felt like dancing.  I turned and there before me lay roads awaiting my pleasure.  They called, "Pick me!  Pick me!"  I thought of the Spirit of the Present who said, "Come!  Know me better!"  I squealed in girlish joy. Where did they come from of a sudden, these roads not there before?  I looked behind me to see the road I had just traveled, I saw the storm in the distance.  Dawn cast it's light of clarity, I hadn't been aware I took a step.  Now I saw I had chosen a path, the step I took was inward.  I saw I was like a sunflower, that grows tall where it is put, but now I could be something different.  I think I'll try this one....

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Chasing Love

For the better part of the first half of my life I was a chaser of love.  I chased my father's love, who pulled a disappearing act when I was 2 years old.  I chased my mother's love, who made a bad decision when I was 5 years old, and has never forgiven herself for it, and so refuses to think that I could possibly, just possibly, love her.

It began early in me, this habit of chasing love.  So I also chased the love of my siblings, friends, and anyone I romantically set my heart on.  Not saying I still don't get caught up on that wheel, because I do, and there are those who set it up for us to chase their love.  Holding themselves, and their love, like a prize to be won, ( or a drug of choice ), where, generally speaking, we are required to pass some sort of secret test, leap through fiery hoops, to prove our love before they will dole out whatever measure of love they have in their heart.  But where does that end?  When is enough...enough.  ( Doesn't it say somewhere in the Bible, "Do not test God?") 

There are many who associate love with sex, and therefore think that love has only to do with the romantic element between a man and a woman, (or same gender, whatever makes your tree tremble ).  They consider they are chasing love when they are in actuality chasing sex.  Love is not sex.  Sex is sex, an act done either with or without love.  When sex is placed within or under (subject to) the atmosphere of love, sex is oh so divine.  Without love, it is simply animalistic.  Not saying that's not fun too, and has it's place in the whole scheme of things.  If it didn't, we'd have no more animals, or bees, or trees for that matter.  Yet a problem arises when one person is just seeking sex, and the other is seeking love through sex.  It is especially problematic if the one seeking sex knows the other party is seeking love, and preys on it to get sex.  That's lower than the animals in my book.  At least the animals are honest.

 Once upon a time, I chased love, until I realized a truth.  "Whoever has will be given more, and he will have an abundance.  Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him."  (Mathew 13:12 italics mine)  At first reading, that seems a bit on the harsh side, and not very fair.  That was my thought anyway.  But that's when I believed I didn't have any love in my life, when I was chasing it.  I didn't realize that by the act of chasing love, I was saying on a fundamental level that I did not have it.  The more I thought I didn't have it, the more miserable I was.

So one day I backed up, came to an all stop, and asked some questions, "Do I have love?  What does that mean?  Doesn't love come from the outside of me?"  ...and there's the rub.  The answer is no, it doesn't come from the outside of me.  To have love we must give it.  Only in the act, the practice, of giving it will we even recognize we have it.  It can be reflected back to us from outside ourselves, but we will not see its reflection until we ourselves are loving.  The challenge for me began with that realization...well, shit, I said to self, I gotta love.  And loving is not a thing we carry around airy fairy in our heads and hearts, it requires action.  Effort.  A very scary prospect for me, and one that I personally had to travel slowly, because love and trust go hand in hand.  Trust was a BIG issue for me, which, by the same token, meant love was a big issue for me.  Can't have one without the other.  Trust is a decision, which means love is a decision we choose to do.  I asked, "What does that look like?  What does that feel like?"  And my journey to having love began...

Its been many years since I began that journey, and I have learned many things in practicing love.  I learned love is indeed one of the fruits of the Spirit (charity being another name for it), and all the other fruits will occur within us when we love.  We cannot truly claim it until we do it, practice it, consistently.  I have learned we can only be responsible for our part...and that covers all relationships, not just romantic.  I cannot look over there at you and say, "Well I'm not going to show my love for you until you do such and such."  I ask myself instead, "Am I chasing love here, trying to get it from you?  Or am I giving love here?"  If I am trying to get any love from another person, then I am acting amiss, and coming from a place of lack, which for me, isn't true, because I do have love to give.  I am one side of a relationship...and being one side I am responsible for what I contribute to the relationship.  What am I contributing?  If my aim is to get, then I am contributing nothing.  I am looking to gain instead of to give...which isn't behaving in a loving manner.

The hardest, most challenging lesson in love for me to learn was that some folks don't want the love I have to give for whatever reasons they have, which I generally don't agree with.  I desired to disagree with them, and I suppose, force my love on them.  Take it, dammit!  Or, try to prove I love them more heartily.  I don't think there is anything more painful for me than when I love a person, and they refuse the gift of it.  For I consider love is precious, and should not be squandered.  We waste our chances given.  When my love is rejected I am tempted to think my love is nothing, and that means, by definition, that I have none to give.  A view I learned early with my parents.  If my love means nothing to them, then it means nothing at all to anyone.  But I learned, fairly recently, that love doesn't ever force itself.  If it finds no home, reflection, response, in another, then it gently withdraws.  It has to if there is no ground prepared for it to grow.  Gardens must be tended. 

Within love, giving and receiving are one thing.  I receive your love when I am giving it, and vice versa.  It is a symbiotic relationship.  Love flows outward, expresses outward, is given outward, ever expanding, like the Universe.  And it must extend outward from our heart.  If there is anything that rises up in me to stand in the way of love flowing from my heart outward, expressing itself, then that is a thing in me that I must move out of the way, be it a thought or belief.  Easier said than done, truly.  If it was easy, we wouldn't have the issues we do, and everyone, and the world, would be grand.  If it was easy, everyone would be doing it.  Because humanity does like things easy, don't we?  It is the path less traveled, unfortunately.

I have recently backed up again, stopped, regrouped.  Against hate, which is born from self loathing, love has no home.  And it is not for me to argue with it.  Love doesn't argue with hate, it simply lets it be what it is.  If love is not welcome, then there is truly nothing I can do but let another go their way.  I recognize I do not have to sit and take abuse from hate, no matter where it comes from.  My life is changing.  My purpose is outward movement in love and creativity and expression.  I have an abundance to contribute, to give.  If what I have to give or contribute isn't welcome then I will say, "Peace be with you," and go my way, let you go yours.  But I'm done chasing anything, trying to get anything.  I have nothing to add to myself.  I have everything to give of myself.

But I will not throw my pearls to swine, (those who choose to listen to the spirit of hate, or worse yet, are apathetic).  I will lay them, like seeds, in fertile ground, where they are given a chance to grow under the light of the sun, and given the waters of life to bloom.