There are small raindrops falling tonight. Enough to dampen my hair but not to wet my clothing. No wind of any remark. I stole a glance towards the watertower on my way home from mom's believing that any respectable owl would not sit that high above the ground without benefit of cover to keep him dry. To my surprise Mr. Owl is perched in stark relief against the light fogginess of the night lit up by the reflection of the tower's red light. He is unabashedly in full view. One might even say highlighted against the sky for all to see if they thought of looking for an owl on top of the tower. I threw Mr. Owl a laugh letting him know I find him amusing tonight perched high in the air with a light rain coming down.
I contacted an old friend today. I met him on an airplane flight several years ago when I was coming home from a business trip. He and I talked of deep areas of our lives. His daughter has severe physical and, resultant, emotional and mental problems. He and his wife are bound to her 24 hours a day either in direct care or with the use of care providers who must stay with her every moment of the time they are in the home. This has been going on for a number of years now without much change, flickers of hope here and there but no real change. Certainly no significant change to their lives and their hurt and pain at their child's suffering has occurred. My friend is a man of faith and so deeply faithful to his daughter. So many prayers have gone up on his family's behalf. Watching a situation like this I tend to wonder where are the answers to the prayers. What do God's answers look like because I know He answers. I just can't see the answers. I pray that my friend does see the answers even if only as glimmers and pieces of hope and trust. The years are passing by and exhaustion has long become a way of life for his family. His daughter's condition is an accumulation of several illnesses. Each one is difficult and heartbreaking in its' own right. Pooled together they provoke a disability that is beyond my ability to absorb. Yet my friend is a gracious man and he loves God and he shares himself and his story as he travels. Maybe someone who hears his story gains hope and strength for their own struggles. Maybe that is God's answer for this present time. Love is a beautiful thing when it is sacrificial and offered freely without conditions. My friend loves this way. He has said that on a good day he finds sees that love in his daughter and is in awe.
I wish you peace if you are reading this post tonight. I wish you hope and joy. Life is so delicate and fragile. Be gentle with it.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
HUH??
Free floating anxiety? Doesn't add up to me. Free floating and anxiety exist in two different worlds. Maybe Unknown Cause Anxiety or WTF anxiety or "beats the heck out of me" anxiety but not free floating. Clouds free float. Joyous moments free float. The fantabulous full moon shining high in the sky tonight free floats. The thought came to me a few minutes ago that I am having free floating anxiety. BAM! My next thought was...HUH? I have used that phrase for years and I do understand the rationale behind it but tonight I lost the belief in free floating anxiety. Free floating sounds happy. I could dance to free floating bliss. Anxiety drags me down. My focus becomes polarized and obsessive. Anxiety shrinks my world, creates paranoia, refutes my faith in life and claims my time. Free floating lifts me up, frames my life in hope, calls out to my faith and renews me.
FREE FLOATING
FREE FLOATING
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
A Post Before Bed
I don't know about any of you but I see weird things at times. Glimpses of something out of the corner of my eye or a shadow or a movement. A few days ago as I was walking up the ramp at my mom's I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a tall, skinny wolf standing straight up on his hind legs as he ran around the corner of my mom's house. A flash of him and he was gone. I made note of it then went inside. No fear. No searching in myself for the meaning but I also do not discount myself when I get a glimpse that may be my imagination or may be a forewarning or may be shadows in the evening with the moon coming through the trees.
A few days later during the book study I attend at church I experienced a deep knowing in my spirit. I felt that the order of my life will change dramatically in the not so distant future. I felt that my mom is going to need much more care than she needs at this point in time and that her need will require more of me than I have imagined.
Tonight the moon is full. The clouds surround it in patterns of white and grey. I take no stock in such things as a full moon and yet I make mention of it because something is afoot in my world.
People rarely confound me. I believe I prefer denial to the knowings that ripple across my thinking as my intuition confronts me with pieces of a puzzle I prefer to allow to remain unsolved. Yet a voice I have come to know as the Holy Spirit draws my attention again and again to the pattern I see in the puzzle pieces. I ask for wisdom and yet draw back from the fruit of wisdom. I heard three owls calling today. It was not night though evening was near. Three! In my world something or someone is afoot. I don myself with the armor of God and prepare for a battle not of this world but of the princes and principalities of the dark one. Time will tell.
Lest you think I have gone off on a paranoid tangent I can assure you that is far from the truth. God is in charge. He always prepares me and you, if you will allow, for what is to come. He is love. Love shows me the way.
A few days later during the book study I attend at church I experienced a deep knowing in my spirit. I felt that the order of my life will change dramatically in the not so distant future. I felt that my mom is going to need much more care than she needs at this point in time and that her need will require more of me than I have imagined.
Tonight the moon is full. The clouds surround it in patterns of white and grey. I take no stock in such things as a full moon and yet I make mention of it because something is afoot in my world.
People rarely confound me. I believe I prefer denial to the knowings that ripple across my thinking as my intuition confronts me with pieces of a puzzle I prefer to allow to remain unsolved. Yet a voice I have come to know as the Holy Spirit draws my attention again and again to the pattern I see in the puzzle pieces. I ask for wisdom and yet draw back from the fruit of wisdom. I heard three owls calling today. It was not night though evening was near. Three! In my world something or someone is afoot. I don myself with the armor of God and prepare for a battle not of this world but of the princes and principalities of the dark one. Time will tell.
Lest you think I have gone off on a paranoid tangent I can assure you that is far from the truth. God is in charge. He always prepares me and you, if you will allow, for what is to come. He is love. Love shows me the way.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Pick Up Sticks
When I was a kid we played a game called "pick up sticks". The game pieces were made up of a number of long, slender sticks resembling long, thick toothpicks. Each player would have a turn picking up all the sticks at one time, holding them in their hand and then letting them drop to the floor. Then the player would use their hand or a pick up stick to try to pick up each stick without making the other sticks move or fall. The one picking up the most sticks before disaster struck was the winner. We argued and teased our way through the game as decisions were made about sticks moving and we tried to unnerve the player picking up the sticks. Eventually one of us would get tired of the whole thing and drop the sticks from a foot or two off of the floor scattering them every which way but Sunday. We would vow that we would not play again, forever! The game rarely finished without a minor brawl unless parents were present. If they were present we resorted to making faces at each other, whining to our parents about one of us cheating and scoring the occasional pinch without getting caught.
When I was a kid we lived in Ghana, West Africa. We only had electricity from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. It was supplied by a generator that provided light for the entire campus of the boarding high school where we lived. We did not have t.v. or even radio. We did have an electric phonograph. My mom played records in the evening. It was the late 50's and early 60's. We were homeschooled part of the day and left to our own devices for entertainment the remainder of the day. I skipped rope counting up to 1,000 skips, resting and starting again. I read books, climbing into the small trees near our house with a book and an apple in hand. I bought the apple with my allowance. Apples were expensive in the nearby town so I had to buy my own if I wanted one. I learned to ride a bicycle in Africa. The bike was a boy's bike and too high for me. I had to jump from a cinder block onto the bike seat, balance myself and take off. My feet would not touch the ground when my legs were extended. I cannot remember how I got off without half killing myself but I know I did because I rode the bike frequently. Snakes were a constant danger. One young missionary boy died from snake bite while we lived in Ghana. My mother was terrified that we would encounter a snake. The snake that bit the young boy was a tiny and highly poisonous snake. It was difficult to find the bite mark when the doctor was determining the cause of death. There were pythons and ants that ate small animals and, we were told, small babies if they were left alone. I don't remember any of this frightening me. I was afraid of the dark and things that did not exist but seemed to show up in my room and stand in a corner to terrify me until the sun came up. There were small monkeys in the surrounding jungle who had a cry that sounded exactly like a baby crying out. They were called "bush babies" for good reason.
It was while we lived in Africa that I found out about "pick up sticks". My clearest memory of playing them is while we were on vacation at the coast of Ghana in a town called Accra. We rented a house that seemed huge to me. I was around 7 years old. I remember the pick up sticks scattering over the tile floor. I remember the African man coming round with his sack full of goods for sale. I thought he and his sack of goods were just about the most exotic thing I had ever encountered.
Enough of memories for this evening. Before too much more time passes it will have been 60 years since I was a child in Africa. Time has a way of slipping by.
When I was a kid we lived in Ghana, West Africa. We only had electricity from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. It was supplied by a generator that provided light for the entire campus of the boarding high school where we lived. We did not have t.v. or even radio. We did have an electric phonograph. My mom played records in the evening. It was the late 50's and early 60's. We were homeschooled part of the day and left to our own devices for entertainment the remainder of the day. I skipped rope counting up to 1,000 skips, resting and starting again. I read books, climbing into the small trees near our house with a book and an apple in hand. I bought the apple with my allowance. Apples were expensive in the nearby town so I had to buy my own if I wanted one. I learned to ride a bicycle in Africa. The bike was a boy's bike and too high for me. I had to jump from a cinder block onto the bike seat, balance myself and take off. My feet would not touch the ground when my legs were extended. I cannot remember how I got off without half killing myself but I know I did because I rode the bike frequently. Snakes were a constant danger. One young missionary boy died from snake bite while we lived in Ghana. My mother was terrified that we would encounter a snake. The snake that bit the young boy was a tiny and highly poisonous snake. It was difficult to find the bite mark when the doctor was determining the cause of death. There were pythons and ants that ate small animals and, we were told, small babies if they were left alone. I don't remember any of this frightening me. I was afraid of the dark and things that did not exist but seemed to show up in my room and stand in a corner to terrify me until the sun came up. There were small monkeys in the surrounding jungle who had a cry that sounded exactly like a baby crying out. They were called "bush babies" for good reason.
It was while we lived in Africa that I found out about "pick up sticks". My clearest memory of playing them is while we were on vacation at the coast of Ghana in a town called Accra. We rented a house that seemed huge to me. I was around 7 years old. I remember the pick up sticks scattering over the tile floor. I remember the African man coming round with his sack full of goods for sale. I thought he and his sack of goods were just about the most exotic thing I had ever encountered.
Enough of memories for this evening. Before too much more time passes it will have been 60 years since I was a child in Africa. Time has a way of slipping by.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Cool Sunday
Reasons This Sunday is Cool:
Today the weather is cool and clear. Beautiful.
My grandson oftens spends Saturday afternoon and night with me. We sleep in my "cozy little bed" together. Waking up with his arms thrown around me or briefly cuddling until we are fully awake is the best cool ever.
My son and his family go to the same church I attend. SUPER COOL!
We are having a pot-luck lunch after church today. My mom is coming plus my son and his family AND my husband. COOL TO THE MAX.
I greet people at the door of our church building. I get hugs. I give hugs. Cool
I know I will hear the Word of God today from a man of God who walks his talk.More cool than you can know.
Kim is trimming my hair today. She is a cool chick.
Book study at church tonight. Challenging! Humbling! COOL!
My Sunday is so cool I'll call it ICE SUNDAY!!!!
Today the weather is cool and clear. Beautiful.
My grandson oftens spends Saturday afternoon and night with me. We sleep in my "cozy little bed" together. Waking up with his arms thrown around me or briefly cuddling until we are fully awake is the best cool ever.
My son and his family go to the same church I attend. SUPER COOL!
We are having a pot-luck lunch after church today. My mom is coming plus my son and his family AND my husband. COOL TO THE MAX.
I greet people at the door of our church building. I get hugs. I give hugs. Cool
I know I will hear the Word of God today from a man of God who walks his talk.More cool than you can know.
Kim is trimming my hair today. She is a cool chick.
Book study at church tonight. Challenging! Humbling! COOL!
My Sunday is so cool I'll call it ICE SUNDAY!!!!
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Keeping it Short
My son inferred that my posts are too long at times. I agree with him for the most part.
My reason for having this blog at all is to provide me a forum to write. It is a practice place for my writing. I finally got it that becoming a writer or developing skills as a writer come through writing and writing and writing. Voila! This blog is my way of committing to writing. I love that people may read what I write and I welcome comments. However, I may go on and on at times because that is what one does when practicing. My challenge is to push through writer lethargy and writer laziness and write here regularly come rain or shine.
Tonight will be short. I have already trespassed my other goal. Be in bed by eleven p.m.
love to each of you who do read this blog and love to those of you who may find it a bit much!! I have no focus of topic or frame of reference other than writing for the sake of it. Add that to my imagination and things get interesting. Not necessarily but interesting.
Ciao! (better not say "ciao" too loud. my cats may think I want to feed them again. they are greedy little felines) LITTLE?? HA!!
My reason for having this blog at all is to provide me a forum to write. It is a practice place for my writing. I finally got it that becoming a writer or developing skills as a writer come through writing and writing and writing. Voila! This blog is my way of committing to writing. I love that people may read what I write and I welcome comments. However, I may go on and on at times because that is what one does when practicing. My challenge is to push through writer lethargy and writer laziness and write here regularly come rain or shine.
Tonight will be short. I have already trespassed my other goal. Be in bed by eleven p.m.
love to each of you who do read this blog and love to those of you who may find it a bit much!! I have no focus of topic or frame of reference other than writing for the sake of it. Add that to my imagination and things get interesting. Not necessarily but interesting.
Ciao! (better not say "ciao" too loud. my cats may think I want to feed them again. they are greedy little felines) LITTLE?? HA!!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Mr. Owl and A Falling Star
Before I begin...if you want to comment on any of these blogs the best way I know to do it is to click on the "no comments" link and you will be brought to a comment screen. A friend of mine asked if I was seeing her comments and I have not been seeing them. I tested out the "no comments" link and it brought me to the comments screen. A little counter-intuitive to go through the "no" to get to the "yes" but these are the days when all my assumptions seem to be under suspicion.
Mr. Owl is sitting on the top of the water tower tonight. It has been a bit of time since I saw him. Imagine my relief to see him perched on the tippy-top of the tiniest bit of rod on the top of the water tank. I began my greetings to him as I stared into the night sky just as a falling star shot across the sky in a long arc. Signs and wonders meant for me on an evening when I need them so deeply. I made a wish on the star which is a secret wish I anticipate with joy.
I work my first hour at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning. My brother is visiting with my mom. We had a great time tonight as my son came over with his little family. My brother looks so much like my father now. Vivid resemblances are difficult to navigate. One moment I saw my father move in my brother's face. The next moment I saw my brother. A tug at my spirit brought memories of dad. My brother brought my father to life for seconds at a time. But my brother's laughter, which I have not heard in a long, long time, belongs solely to him. His laughter is impossible to resist. His laughter demands a laugh from all present even when they have no clue what is funny. Joy! Joy! My brother laughing and sitting in my dad's loungechair. We seldom have time with him. This evening was short, precious, healing and will be a tasty morsel of memory as we tell stories of our family.
It was on my mind to write a poem or the lyrics of a song tonight. There was one rumbling round in my head until I sat down to write. If you read this blog you know full well that I wander around inside my head spinning thoughts together one after the other. A mental spider weaving a complex web stringing from place to place; a gossamer spider web caught with the dew and the young morning sun reflecting off of the strands revealing for a brief moment the home of an artist. A spider with an artist's spirit and a strong purpose ignoring all around to weave a web of finest splendor. A web that will ensnare an intruder leaving no way to escape, stuck firmly to the binding strands, glistening now with the spider web glue. At this point I have no clue what this has to do with my writing but maybe one of you clever readers can find the thread and follow it. I? I have lost the thread, the path and the desire to find it. All in a few minutes from poem to song to a bug stuck in a spidere web. My! Oh, my! What shall I do? What shall I do?
Adieu!
Mr. Owl is sitting on the top of the water tower tonight. It has been a bit of time since I saw him. Imagine my relief to see him perched on the tippy-top of the tiniest bit of rod on the top of the water tank. I began my greetings to him as I stared into the night sky just as a falling star shot across the sky in a long arc. Signs and wonders meant for me on an evening when I need them so deeply. I made a wish on the star which is a secret wish I anticipate with joy.
I work my first hour at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning. My brother is visiting with my mom. We had a great time tonight as my son came over with his little family. My brother looks so much like my father now. Vivid resemblances are difficult to navigate. One moment I saw my father move in my brother's face. The next moment I saw my brother. A tug at my spirit brought memories of dad. My brother brought my father to life for seconds at a time. But my brother's laughter, which I have not heard in a long, long time, belongs solely to him. His laughter is impossible to resist. His laughter demands a laugh from all present even when they have no clue what is funny. Joy! Joy! My brother laughing and sitting in my dad's loungechair. We seldom have time with him. This evening was short, precious, healing and will be a tasty morsel of memory as we tell stories of our family.
It was on my mind to write a poem or the lyrics of a song tonight. There was one rumbling round in my head until I sat down to write. If you read this blog you know full well that I wander around inside my head spinning thoughts together one after the other. A mental spider weaving a complex web stringing from place to place; a gossamer spider web caught with the dew and the young morning sun reflecting off of the strands revealing for a brief moment the home of an artist. A spider with an artist's spirit and a strong purpose ignoring all around to weave a web of finest splendor. A web that will ensnare an intruder leaving no way to escape, stuck firmly to the binding strands, glistening now with the spider web glue. At this point I have no clue what this has to do with my writing but maybe one of you clever readers can find the thread and follow it. I? I have lost the thread, the path and the desire to find it. All in a few minutes from poem to song to a bug stuck in a spidere web. My! Oh, my! What shall I do? What shall I do?
Adieu!
Monday, April 15, 2013
Before 10 p.m. or How Can I Think At Such An Early Hour?
Boston Marathon bombs kinda took the air out of me today. Mom and I were at the local Bible Book Store when we heard the news. I have looked for a song on youtube to express what I am feeling. I ended up listening to bits and pieces of Leonard Cohen songs. This is a straight ticket to a place that makes me want to smoke cigarettes, be in the rain, drink whiskey straight over ice and move on down the line. Feels like the perfect mood as I reflect on all the incidents of violence in our country, not to mention around the world, but there is something especially insidious and horrific about violence that appears from nowhere on a beautiful day when children are in school or runners are running a race rejoicing in the day and the supporters are cheering and encouraging from the sidelines. There is no good time for violence. Violence comes in many forms. Violence bends and shapes us into confused and angry people. It is only the grace of God that allows us to move forward and drop the ugliness to embrace His grace.
But I wonder at times if I am becoming callous. There is so much suffering. I see it on the macro level (big view, for my friends who are thinging, "say what?") and the micro level (close at hand for purposes of this blog). Better be careful or I will be using words like "paradigm". Paradigm is overused to the point that it makes me giggle when I hear it. Retirement has taken me out of the world of management and classes on the technique du jour (not a soup, silly! That is "soup du jour") I am saying it has taken me away from the most current technique of these days for being positive, creative, productive, leading others, buzz words, brain-washing, mind numbing techniques for doing what we were going to do anyway without the (ahem) b.s. which was get the job done with fewer people, more work and shortened deadlines. Lord, where was I when this paragraph started. Think! Think! Think! Oh yeah!! I was saying I am afraid I am becoming callous or even indifferent to the pain and suffering in this world. T.V. dramatizes every incident down to the smallest detail. I have precious little time to process my shock and despair at all before the news announcers drain the reality out of what happened and I am left with details that mean nothing to me and multiple pictures of the same person being taken to an ambulace. It is macabre. (I like that word) The poor lady on the stretcher is shown over and over again while the voice of the announcer works a magical spell into the incident stating the facts in a hundred different ways, interviewing just about anyone that will talk to them and asking questions like, "Were you in shock that this happened today?" GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK! I was in shock and I was nowhere near Boston. Just give me one chance at a question like that in a tragedy situation and I promise to anyone reading this that I will break into maniacal laughter screaming "No! No! Of course I was not shocked! Moi? What a stupid question!" Then I will foam a little bit at the mouth, pull my hair with both my hands and run off into the distance.
Maybe I should not write before 1 a.m. Maybe I need to be close to asleep with my ears beginning to hear that little buzzing sound that means I am sleep deprived. Which makes me wonder why I stay up until 2 or 3 a.m. when I am exhausted. Why? I mean to go to bed. Let me rephrase that...I know I should go to bed earlier. It would do wonders for my health and I could lose weight and my thoughts would be coherent and life would be a dream but best to refer back to my first paragraph of this blog to see who the real me is when left to my own devices. I have never really been about doing all the right things for myself. There is that dark side. Yep, Leonard Cohen sings and I drift into my daydream of wandering and lostness with cigarette smoke curling out of my mouth, pulling it into my nose and out again through my mouth as I ponder and ponder. To quote Simon and Garfunkel, "Hello darkness my old friend!"
I bid you adieu! It is 10 p.m. Freaky! Absolutely Freaky!
But I wonder at times if I am becoming callous. There is so much suffering. I see it on the macro level (big view, for my friends who are thinging, "say what?") and the micro level (close at hand for purposes of this blog). Better be careful or I will be using words like "paradigm". Paradigm is overused to the point that it makes me giggle when I hear it. Retirement has taken me out of the world of management and classes on the technique du jour (not a soup, silly! That is "soup du jour") I am saying it has taken me away from the most current technique of these days for being positive, creative, productive, leading others, buzz words, brain-washing, mind numbing techniques for doing what we were going to do anyway without the (ahem) b.s. which was get the job done with fewer people, more work and shortened deadlines. Lord, where was I when this paragraph started. Think! Think! Think! Oh yeah!! I was saying I am afraid I am becoming callous or even indifferent to the pain and suffering in this world. T.V. dramatizes every incident down to the smallest detail. I have precious little time to process my shock and despair at all before the news announcers drain the reality out of what happened and I am left with details that mean nothing to me and multiple pictures of the same person being taken to an ambulace. It is macabre. (I like that word) The poor lady on the stretcher is shown over and over again while the voice of the announcer works a magical spell into the incident stating the facts in a hundred different ways, interviewing just about anyone that will talk to them and asking questions like, "Were you in shock that this happened today?" GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK! I was in shock and I was nowhere near Boston. Just give me one chance at a question like that in a tragedy situation and I promise to anyone reading this that I will break into maniacal laughter screaming "No! No! Of course I was not shocked! Moi? What a stupid question!" Then I will foam a little bit at the mouth, pull my hair with both my hands and run off into the distance.
Maybe I should not write before 1 a.m. Maybe I need to be close to asleep with my ears beginning to hear that little buzzing sound that means I am sleep deprived. Which makes me wonder why I stay up until 2 or 3 a.m. when I am exhausted. Why? I mean to go to bed. Let me rephrase that...I know I should go to bed earlier. It would do wonders for my health and I could lose weight and my thoughts would be coherent and life would be a dream but best to refer back to my first paragraph of this blog to see who the real me is when left to my own devices. I have never really been about doing all the right things for myself. There is that dark side. Yep, Leonard Cohen sings and I drift into my daydream of wandering and lostness with cigarette smoke curling out of my mouth, pulling it into my nose and out again through my mouth as I ponder and ponder. To quote Simon and Garfunkel, "Hello darkness my old friend!"
I bid you adieu! It is 10 p.m. Freaky! Absolutely Freaky!
Friday, April 12, 2013
Brief Stream of Consciousness (as in no concerns with punctuation, capitalization, etc.) STREAM!
spent part of the morning with the therapist of my son's family. trying to learn how to keep from being the monkey in the middle. trying to learn how to be valuable in their lives without getting my own self twisted up in chaos and drama. great visit. came home and went to work on work from home job. voices coming over the phone to me from places near and far. often overseas. often difficult to understand. those darn romance languages and the rolled r's are tough to understand on the phone. please spell your first and last name i say in what i am sure is a southern drawl to any ear listening on the other end of the line. then i ask them to repeat because i have gotten lost in their accent and the odd to me rolling of letters as if there is some automatic guttural mechanism in their throats that is not in my throat. same with people with accents from India. i mean no harm. this is not profiling. it is just how small our world has become through technology. california, georgia, illinois, hawaii, hong kong, argentina, south korea, london,,,all fly by in brief telephone calls of less than 45 seconds. fascinating to someone like me who loves people and a bit disconcerting as visualization is another one of my traits or maybe imagination plus visualization so when i hear a voice i often associate with that voice and my mind wanders as i key in their information and send them on to their next digital destinaton. babies crying in the background, radio music, whispers of office staff, frustration with the process on my end of the line, mad scrambles to find passwords or id numbers and often the sound of traffic as someone i will never meet careens down the highway talking to me on the phone and fumbling to find their information. i am constantly listening for the crash of metal and indeed had one phone call in which the person calling basically did not speak a word other than "OH-H-H! in a startled voice that gave me the shivers and the line went dead. somewhere out in this land or another land someone had a moment which was shared with me in about 1 second or less that made the hair on my arms rise up and freaked me out a bit. professional women who are in a hurry with little patience for talking to me at all. they are often haughty or as haughty as one can be in a brief interlude on the way to a conference on-line or by telephone or who knows what part our system plays into with their system or what they will discuss because we do not listen at all if possible...once in awhile hear brief phrases that are almost always part of a greeting or something about sales...like the sounds coming from a car as it passes at a rapid speed, windows rolled down and the radio blaring...click...i am off of the call in a nano-second and often immediately talking to someone else. did i say this was going to be brief? i could discuss my two cats who are completely off the hook for part of the evening. hissing, running, leaping, rolling around on the floor being primal in an aluminum condominium as the woman on the computer types quickly, thoughts flying through her head, choreographing scenes and dialogue in her head as she writes. flashes of thoughts had during the day. a rush of emotion that drags her down for a moment, distracted by the darn cats, the flow of the air conditioning and the realization that it is late. too late to be going on and on about whatever and this and that..too late to discuss any impressions that pop-up such as the awesome chihuahua puppy at the neighbor's this afternoon or the absence of Mr. Owl for the past week. men cleaned the water tower. I imagine Mr. Owl is watching the tower to decide if the coast is clear now. I imagine so much that my mind should burst but instead makes more room for imagining. sign of brilliance or insanity. either could be true. does it really matter? soon will be 62 years old. who knew? i never planned to come this far. that is the problem in a nut-shell. i did not "plan". in some ways my youth and middle adult years were truly lived one day at a time though i confess i was stoned part of those years meaning i don't remember things the way they really happened unless prompted and then i often have to trust the one telling me how things were back then. i'm not proud of it. what is...is! today, sober for a long, long time and working on sanity of a sort i find recall to be a challenge. is it stress or a society filled with stimuli or distraction as i wander around in my head creating and listening to that still small voice and ruminating on the nature of things and how did i end up on the coast living in an aluminum condominium (trailer...o.k.?) wasn't i destined for something a wee bit more colorful. sister, the colorful is in your head. let it flow out. colorful is as colorful does...writing opens a can of worms or a bouquet of flowers or a doorway into another realm or soothes the savage beast. writing is painting without brushes. loving people as they move and breathe and have their being around me in this world is painful, exquisite, wonderful, heartbreaking, what i was born for to my way of thinking. hello, may i have your conference id number. brief interaction with a voice. identification. click. gone. next up please. jeez, look at the time. i gotta get in that bed. no excuses. pardon me invisible audience whom i love. time for lights out.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Writing to Write Because I said I Want to Write
After my post yesterday I felt drained and more than a little vulnerable. I spent several hours last night going through mail I have avoided, assessing the damages and tossing out enough paper to construct a small tree. I love our paperless society.
As is frequently the case I found I was in less of a mess than my imagination had constructed and in enough of a mess to still call it a mess. I don't really like the word "mess". There are southern connotations that come to mind and give me the shivers. But, I digress, again!
Today has been a better day for having taken the bull by the horns after busting myself in front of, well, maybe not in front of that many people. One would be enough for my post to have been a confession. But today is easier and I am working on stomping out the thought that I am not that bad off so why pay any attention to it. I'm looney that way. It's like, "Oh, I'm not dead! Yay! Let's do it again." Typical of me to see a loophole in the mood I had last night and go for the easy escape only to sweat the consequences in the months to come.
But I took a step or two and I can see the handwriting on the wall. I may be totally nuts but I am not stupid. I can manage the chaos I have allowed to grow at this point. A little bit more of my reckless and self-destructive decisions and the cat will not be so easily put back into the bag. Keep me honest! The fact that I believe someone is reading my posts holds me to a challenge. I want to succeed in this endeavor and experience the self-respect and freedom. It is like catching a whiff of the ocean on the air while your heart leaps in your chest and craves the sand, the waves, the salt and the sun. Just a whiff excites the imagination. I want a whiff of self-respect won by moving forward towards freedom. I will say it again...no... I will shout it...FREEDOM!
I 'm tired. Wanna take a nap. Think I will....Ta! Ta!
As is frequently the case I found I was in less of a mess than my imagination had constructed and in enough of a mess to still call it a mess. I don't really like the word "mess". There are southern connotations that come to mind and give me the shivers. But, I digress, again!
Today has been a better day for having taken the bull by the horns after busting myself in front of, well, maybe not in front of that many people. One would be enough for my post to have been a confession. But today is easier and I am working on stomping out the thought that I am not that bad off so why pay any attention to it. I'm looney that way. It's like, "Oh, I'm not dead! Yay! Let's do it again." Typical of me to see a loophole in the mood I had last night and go for the easy escape only to sweat the consequences in the months to come.
But I took a step or two and I can see the handwriting on the wall. I may be totally nuts but I am not stupid. I can manage the chaos I have allowed to grow at this point. A little bit more of my reckless and self-destructive decisions and the cat will not be so easily put back into the bag. Keep me honest! The fact that I believe someone is reading my posts holds me to a challenge. I want to succeed in this endeavor and experience the self-respect and freedom. It is like catching a whiff of the ocean on the air while your heart leaps in your chest and craves the sand, the waves, the salt and the sun. Just a whiff excites the imagination. I want a whiff of self-respect won by moving forward towards freedom. I will say it again...no... I will shout it...FREEDOM!
I 'm tired. Wanna take a nap. Think I will....Ta! Ta!
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
A Victim of Circumstances
Did you ever come to the realization that the choices you made over say....61 years...have brought you to some places that are glorious and habits that have been shed and those things seem very easy to take credit for but the nasty, stinking stuff that continues to haunt you in one form or the other...well....you are a victim of circumstances. Yep, thought so. Most of us (I am throwing all of you under the bus with me) have ghosts in our mental closets. Oh, I am not talking about terrible stuff that can get you arrested or divorced. I am talking about patterns of thinking and habits that are detrimental to our peace of mind or prejudices that have far outlived their usefulness. I'm talking about where the rubber meets the road. Where we live inside of ourselves and avoid looking at unless, of course, we are forced to look and that is where the victim of circumstances rears its'' ugly head.
We don't mean for it to appear. We are evolved. Grown-up! We are masters of our own fate. Oh yeah...the good and the bad? Do you mean to tell me that the thought never crosses your mind that the reason you shop too much, don't pay enough attention to your spouse, lied on your taxes and are now nervous waiting for the letter that "may" come or whatever may be your cup of tea...that you havev NEVER thought, "If it weren't for (put in a million different thoughts here). I would not be in this situation. I make this/these decisions because of the way I was raised, the system is against me, I was never allowed to play sports, my parents did not train me to budget, no one ever helps me...the beat goes on and on. It circles in our heads until we have a full blown resentment and a concrete justification for our shortcomings. You would have them too, if you were me! Famous refrain of those of us who do, at times, hang the hat of our shortcomings on someone else's coattree.
Now you may wonder, if you are reading this, why this topic is on my mind. What bee is in her bonnet? Blah, blah, blah...and so what, you might think to yourself. The clue to your question is in the sentence "What bee is in her bonnet?" You see I am currently facing cleaning up messes I have made and allowed to fester because I have been afraid, ashamed and irresponsible in meeting my responsibilities. It isn't the first time in my life but it is deeper than before and I won't go to jail or anything of that nature but I am emotionally and mentally bound up in this prison of my own making and I have had thoughts of who is to blame. My husband? Some would help me place the onus squarely on his back. My chornic sickness? Yes, it does affect my desire to face tough situations. My lack of money at this point in my life? True. And then the ultimate blaming of my ownself from the past. SHE did this to me. She behaved irresponsibly and did not listen when people made important suggestions. SHE is a failure and now I am payng the price for HER failures. That is twisted. Yes, I will admit it, but if you think about it for a moment you may realize that you have seen this thought pattern in yourself or in someone you love. Self-loathing. Self! Self! Self! It is enough to choke a person. So...just to get things straight and out in the open...I am talking about myself at this point in my life.
There a couple of things I have avoided. Only a couple and those things are eating me for breakfast. I am a Christ Follower so I am asking for His guidance and, of course, He is showing me that I need to fess up, admit my shortcomings, make amends and find a way to get to a point of agreement with the truth and those who deserve it from me. Oh, you thought following Christ was a piece of cake? God love! We all get lollipops and candy and blessings and never suffer again. Is that what you thought? What a dreadful and disappointing God that would be to follow! If that is your impression you have not read the Bible or, if that is too far out of your comfort zone, you did not watch the recent series, "The Bible". But this is not a theological post. I am stating that when I asked God, Christ, the Holy Spirit to help me what I received was a clear vision of myself as the self-imposed victim and I saw that to escape this opression I must choose to release myself from this bondage and take the steps towards meeting my responsibilities. Throughout this process God will be with me and go before me but He will not do it for me and the consequences will still exist in one form or another BUT I will be free. First...stop being the victim of me or others or whomever. It's not my mother, not my brother but it is me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer. Second, take the first steps to admitting my guilt and making restitution in whatever form that may take. I thirst for the freedom from seeing myself as a victim. God has allowed me to come to the end of my rope on this matter. From this point on any failure to make a change is just plain going to hurt me. Not because you, or my neighbor or society sucks but because I have chosen to allow myself to avoid the truth in my life today.
I already feel better....thanks for listening. Tune in again for the "I wanna kick somebody's ass" song I sing at times. Confession is good for the soul. Peace out!
We don't mean for it to appear. We are evolved. Grown-up! We are masters of our own fate. Oh yeah...the good and the bad? Do you mean to tell me that the thought never crosses your mind that the reason you shop too much, don't pay enough attention to your spouse, lied on your taxes and are now nervous waiting for the letter that "may" come or whatever may be your cup of tea...that you havev NEVER thought, "If it weren't for (put in a million different thoughts here). I would not be in this situation. I make this/these decisions because of the way I was raised, the system is against me, I was never allowed to play sports, my parents did not train me to budget, no one ever helps me...the beat goes on and on. It circles in our heads until we have a full blown resentment and a concrete justification for our shortcomings. You would have them too, if you were me! Famous refrain of those of us who do, at times, hang the hat of our shortcomings on someone else's coattree.
Now you may wonder, if you are reading this, why this topic is on my mind. What bee is in her bonnet? Blah, blah, blah...and so what, you might think to yourself. The clue to your question is in the sentence "What bee is in her bonnet?" You see I am currently facing cleaning up messes I have made and allowed to fester because I have been afraid, ashamed and irresponsible in meeting my responsibilities. It isn't the first time in my life but it is deeper than before and I won't go to jail or anything of that nature but I am emotionally and mentally bound up in this prison of my own making and I have had thoughts of who is to blame. My husband? Some would help me place the onus squarely on his back. My chornic sickness? Yes, it does affect my desire to face tough situations. My lack of money at this point in my life? True. And then the ultimate blaming of my ownself from the past. SHE did this to me. She behaved irresponsibly and did not listen when people made important suggestions. SHE is a failure and now I am payng the price for HER failures. That is twisted. Yes, I will admit it, but if you think about it for a moment you may realize that you have seen this thought pattern in yourself or in someone you love. Self-loathing. Self! Self! Self! It is enough to choke a person. So...just to get things straight and out in the open...I am talking about myself at this point in my life.
There a couple of things I have avoided. Only a couple and those things are eating me for breakfast. I am a Christ Follower so I am asking for His guidance and, of course, He is showing me that I need to fess up, admit my shortcomings, make amends and find a way to get to a point of agreement with the truth and those who deserve it from me. Oh, you thought following Christ was a piece of cake? God love! We all get lollipops and candy and blessings and never suffer again. Is that what you thought? What a dreadful and disappointing God that would be to follow! If that is your impression you have not read the Bible or, if that is too far out of your comfort zone, you did not watch the recent series, "The Bible". But this is not a theological post. I am stating that when I asked God, Christ, the Holy Spirit to help me what I received was a clear vision of myself as the self-imposed victim and I saw that to escape this opression I must choose to release myself from this bondage and take the steps towards meeting my responsibilities. Throughout this process God will be with me and go before me but He will not do it for me and the consequences will still exist in one form or another BUT I will be free. First...stop being the victim of me or others or whomever. It's not my mother, not my brother but it is me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer. Second, take the first steps to admitting my guilt and making restitution in whatever form that may take. I thirst for the freedom from seeing myself as a victim. God has allowed me to come to the end of my rope on this matter. From this point on any failure to make a change is just plain going to hurt me. Not because you, or my neighbor or society sucks but because I have chosen to allow myself to avoid the truth in my life today.
I already feel better....thanks for listening. Tune in again for the "I wanna kick somebody's ass" song I sing at times. Confession is good for the soul. Peace out!
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Oh, for the love of Pete!!
This was going to be a structured post about the things I have learned since retiring. I was going to provide a few examples and wax eloquently about the changes in me as the result of these things I have learned but my computer shut down. Yep! Right in the middle of me being wise and eloquent (and I had not finished the first paragraph) this laptop popped and shut off. TOO HOT!! I knew it! I am sure the fan is shot in this little laptop. I don't have the money nor do I imagine I have the expertise to install a fan so once in awhile this faithful, old laptop becomes indignant and goes on strike until she cools off. BUT...I, clever and resourceful me, brought my fan over, put it on the top of the printer, plugged it in and aimed it at the computer. Problem solved! Yes! Yes! I know! This action serves to perpetuate the belief that I am eccentric. A belief that I don't buy into in the least but, by a poll taken by myself ,was strongly supported by a number of my friends. As a matter of fact, the phone calls I made were the result of a friend stating to me that I am eccentric and I bet her that no one else would agree with her. I made the calls to a number of friends who know me well and there was a 100% concensus that I am indeed eccentric. Egocentric I would have no trouble buying into but eccentric seems a misguided interpretation of my choices and responses.
ANYWAY...the computer shut down. It is up and running and I lost all my clever thoughts. I lost all the babbling I was going to do about building friendships with people I never would have met if I had not retired and worked at Wal-Mart and now working at home, on-line and on chat with folks I will never meet yet building chat friendships with a few of them. There's been an entire world outside of Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station where I worked for 29 years. I got sober after working for the government for about a year. Lord knows it is tough enough to work for the government straight much less hung-over and losing a healthy buzz about the time I showed up for work. It took me, a reasonably intelligent woman, way too long to learn how to keypunch. (ancient computer skills now defunct). People still smoked at their desks and drank at office parties and followed volumes of resource books that have since been condensed into about 30 pages of instructions leaving much to the imagination of someone trying to crack the code of government processes and procedures. But, I digress, I got sober, worked until retirement, probably got sick from asbestos and environmentally crappy air, took my retirement and ran through the guarded gates into the bosom of "the rest of the world"!
For awhile I related to Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz..."We're not in Kansas anymore!" Slowly I woke up and realized that I was with "my people". I could hang with this new way of life. I might be sick and I might be poorer and I might not be a big shot in this great big pond but I was one of "them". Yep! I fell right smack into home by my definition. I have not taken one step back through the gates of Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station since I left. I'm not mad. I don't have resentments. It seems like an old movie set to me now. Once in awhile I talk with someone who still works there and we chat about this and that and how things are going downhill and I drift off as I'm thinking that I have already seen that movie and I know that setting well.
Before I close...where did the expression "Oh, for the love of Pete!" come from...do any of you one or two people who read my blog happen to know where the expression comes from? Maybe I'll google it and write about it. I realized that my grandmother never lived to know that we would be googling everything we could dream up to google. Google is slowly replacing the word research. I don't research it. I google it!
ANYWAY...the computer shut down. It is up and running and I lost all my clever thoughts. I lost all the babbling I was going to do about building friendships with people I never would have met if I had not retired and worked at Wal-Mart and now working at home, on-line and on chat with folks I will never meet yet building chat friendships with a few of them. There's been an entire world outside of Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station where I worked for 29 years. I got sober after working for the government for about a year. Lord knows it is tough enough to work for the government straight much less hung-over and losing a healthy buzz about the time I showed up for work. It took me, a reasonably intelligent woman, way too long to learn how to keypunch. (ancient computer skills now defunct). People still smoked at their desks and drank at office parties and followed volumes of resource books that have since been condensed into about 30 pages of instructions leaving much to the imagination of someone trying to crack the code of government processes and procedures. But, I digress, I got sober, worked until retirement, probably got sick from asbestos and environmentally crappy air, took my retirement and ran through the guarded gates into the bosom of "the rest of the world"!
For awhile I related to Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz..."We're not in Kansas anymore!" Slowly I woke up and realized that I was with "my people". I could hang with this new way of life. I might be sick and I might be poorer and I might not be a big shot in this great big pond but I was one of "them". Yep! I fell right smack into home by my definition. I have not taken one step back through the gates of Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station since I left. I'm not mad. I don't have resentments. It seems like an old movie set to me now. Once in awhile I talk with someone who still works there and we chat about this and that and how things are going downhill and I drift off as I'm thinking that I have already seen that movie and I know that setting well.
Before I close...where did the expression "Oh, for the love of Pete!" come from...do any of you one or two people who read my blog happen to know where the expression comes from? Maybe I'll google it and write about it. I realized that my grandmother never lived to know that we would be googling everything we could dream up to google. Google is slowly replacing the word research. I don't research it. I google it!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Pardon me! My slip is showing!
Is it truly the end of Wednesday? My last post was on Sunday evening? Time must have stoked up her engines and made a mad dash for Wednesday passing at such an incredible speed that I appear to have been standing motionless for the past two days. Well, there is that and, to be honest, to be painfully honest now that time has been addressed...I forgot my password. There! I have said it on paper. Yes!! I forgot my password and could not get to this site for all the tea in China nor for the craving to write nor knowing that at least a few of you are checking in to read my posts. I've had visitors and left nothing new for them to read. It is a bit after 1 a.m. so technically it is Thursday morning. My eyes are closing. My brain has shut the door and is preparing to pull the shades. My thoughts make no sense at all. I am shutting down for the evening. It seems the power to write is leaving me as I type. I am shutting down one piece at a time. Aloha! Au Revoir! Goodnight! I tip my hat to you, the reader and bid you a fond adieu for now! Night!
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