My friend John has gone to heaven and is buried in a cemetery in New Bern, N.C. I just had the thought that I now have one friend buried in a cementary in New Bern and another friend buried under a brick at the beautiful Presbyterian church in the heart of New Bern's downtown.
Today I did not go to church. I needed the day. My stomach was all 6's and 9's. As I am typing I realize this day has felt like two days. I have been busy at some points. It has been a normal day, I suppose. I grew spacey as the day wore on; found myself shook up at the degree of spacey today.
An acquaintance three doors down from me lost her job of 8 years. She was fired on the spot. She says she does not know why they would fire her. She doesn't have any heating because her heating system is out and she does not have the money to fix it and infers on facebook that this may be the tip of the iceberg. She began the post with comments of how her family has let her down even though they know her needs. She expresses her needs clearly and gets nothing back in return. I have known her for a number of years if only by occasional interactions. The self-destruction has begun. The pattern is as familiar to me as the face of an old friend. How do I know this about this woman when we have not spoken other than hellos and good-byes in a number of years? A glimpse of a garbage bag full of empty beer cans told me the story. She has fallen into the arms of her disease. Self-destruction began with the first drink. I know this path. But, she does not ask for help. She blames the world and family and friends for her fate in life. My urge is to close myself off from her. Avoid her. The progression of the disease is difficult to watch. Her vulnerability reminds me of my own.
On a brighter note it is now Monday. A new 24 hours has begun.
My friend John has gone. No turning back! No turning back!
Monday, December 1, 2014
Monday, November 24, 2014
Expect The Unexpected
This week a dear friend of mine passed away. He had been sick for at least 4 months and moving towards sickness long before his death. John was one of the most eccentric people I have ever met. He was also one of the most intelligent, frustrating and loving men I have ever met. We worked together for several years. I directed his work or, more tothe point, I did my best to direct his work. John directed himself despite all attempts to conform him to one standard or the other. Words do little to describe him or the impact he made on my life and will continue to make in my life though he has moved on.
John was shaped by the difficult childhood he endured. He never asked for sympathy,and did not discuss his childhood until he knew you well. As I now know he carried his cards close to his chest. Even as he was dying he surprised me once again when I found out he has a daughter from a first marriage. He never once mentioned his daughter to me yet, Ms. Bea, John's wife assured me that John and his daughter had a great relationship. I am happy in that knowledge.
After a number of years of arguing, imploring, cajoling and outright commanding him to provide me with short reports I realized I was defeated before the battle began. Those years were full of laughing, making fun of each other and finding ourselves with much in common. Time passed and John told me about his paintings. Indeed his art work is phenomenal. Thoroughly researched, based mainly in the Civil War period and stunning in detail and color these paintings caught me off guard. After all the time we spent together he never once mentioned his art yet there it hung in his living room. I am certain my mouth dropped open.
Oh, there were many times I wanted to ring his neck. Nothing was ever simple with John. He defined obssessive compulsive and, despite all I could do, continued to bring me reports of 10 to 20 pages with information sorted, researched and minutely detailed. Nevermind that the information would not be used nor even seen by anyone else. He had a belief that if he continued in his own inimitable way the facts would find their way to the top one day. Conversations led into conspiracy theories of fascinating design. I found myself setting him up for a conversation of sort by dropping one word or sentence. Immediately, as if he had been triggered by an invisible force, John would launch into his theory or thoughts on the subject and I, shame on me, would spend time baiting him, teasing him and generally disrupting him until he showed me he had come to the end of his ability to endure me. I would shut up and he would continue to himself, muttering and figuring, as he did his work.
I met his wife. The mysterious and, by John's reckoning, the loveliest woman with impeccable manners, a great shape and he, the lucky suitor, the envy of many a man. Meeting Ms. Bea, John's darling, told me more about this man than any one thing. She was and is all the things he claimed and more. He loved her with a beautiful love, a devotion deeply ingrained in him and he never once said otherwise or showed shame in bragging about his wife.
After that the three of us became fast friends. Ah...the story goes on for awhile. I retired. John, believing that retirement was a ticket to poverty and death, stayed on despite his detiriorating health. The poverty of his childhood fueled a fear of imminent poverty that none of us could touch or refute effectively. I knew when I left that he was devastated. We both knew things would change for him. Our working relationship had provided an avenue for John to work and communicate in a way that he had not experienced. I suppose my total acceptance and love for him helped others to see him in a different light. As time passed he forged his own friendships and became a familiar figure around the hangars and supply stores. He never conformed. Not one tiny inch. He did allow himself to impact and be impacted by people who learned to be fond of him. In return he gave back a respect and loyalty that humbled more than one person. Once you were in his good favor he would lay down his life for you. He loved God, loved Jesus, loved life. If he could be at his upcoming memorial service he would say, in all honesty and humility, I love all of you so much!
I miss him. I will miss him until we meet again. There is no way to get over John or to emerge from a friendship with him the same as when the friendship began. I want to write and write to keep him alive in this writing. While I am happy here I look forward to the day when John and my many loved ones who have gone before me can be reunited. John, if true to his nature, will stand guard watching and waiting with high expectations for that day to come. Boys! Won't I be happy to see him!
John was shaped by the difficult childhood he endured. He never asked for sympathy,and did not discuss his childhood until he knew you well. As I now know he carried his cards close to his chest. Even as he was dying he surprised me once again when I found out he has a daughter from a first marriage. He never once mentioned his daughter to me yet, Ms. Bea, John's wife assured me that John and his daughter had a great relationship. I am happy in that knowledge.
After a number of years of arguing, imploring, cajoling and outright commanding him to provide me with short reports I realized I was defeated before the battle began. Those years were full of laughing, making fun of each other and finding ourselves with much in common. Time passed and John told me about his paintings. Indeed his art work is phenomenal. Thoroughly researched, based mainly in the Civil War period and stunning in detail and color these paintings caught me off guard. After all the time we spent together he never once mentioned his art yet there it hung in his living room. I am certain my mouth dropped open.
Oh, there were many times I wanted to ring his neck. Nothing was ever simple with John. He defined obssessive compulsive and, despite all I could do, continued to bring me reports of 10 to 20 pages with information sorted, researched and minutely detailed. Nevermind that the information would not be used nor even seen by anyone else. He had a belief that if he continued in his own inimitable way the facts would find their way to the top one day. Conversations led into conspiracy theories of fascinating design. I found myself setting him up for a conversation of sort by dropping one word or sentence. Immediately, as if he had been triggered by an invisible force, John would launch into his theory or thoughts on the subject and I, shame on me, would spend time baiting him, teasing him and generally disrupting him until he showed me he had come to the end of his ability to endure me. I would shut up and he would continue to himself, muttering and figuring, as he did his work.
I met his wife. The mysterious and, by John's reckoning, the loveliest woman with impeccable manners, a great shape and he, the lucky suitor, the envy of many a man. Meeting Ms. Bea, John's darling, told me more about this man than any one thing. She was and is all the things he claimed and more. He loved her with a beautiful love, a devotion deeply ingrained in him and he never once said otherwise or showed shame in bragging about his wife.
After that the three of us became fast friends. Ah...the story goes on for awhile. I retired. John, believing that retirement was a ticket to poverty and death, stayed on despite his detiriorating health. The poverty of his childhood fueled a fear of imminent poverty that none of us could touch or refute effectively. I knew when I left that he was devastated. We both knew things would change for him. Our working relationship had provided an avenue for John to work and communicate in a way that he had not experienced. I suppose my total acceptance and love for him helped others to see him in a different light. As time passed he forged his own friendships and became a familiar figure around the hangars and supply stores. He never conformed. Not one tiny inch. He did allow himself to impact and be impacted by people who learned to be fond of him. In return he gave back a respect and loyalty that humbled more than one person. Once you were in his good favor he would lay down his life for you. He loved God, loved Jesus, loved life. If he could be at his upcoming memorial service he would say, in all honesty and humility, I love all of you so much!
I miss him. I will miss him until we meet again. There is no way to get over John or to emerge from a friendship with him the same as when the friendship began. I want to write and write to keep him alive in this writing. While I am happy here I look forward to the day when John and my many loved ones who have gone before me can be reunited. John, if true to his nature, will stand guard watching and waiting with high expectations for that day to come. Boys! Won't I be happy to see him!
Saturday, November 8, 2014
A Memory
In a small book of quotes from Mr. Rogers he suggests that sharing memories is a great way to spend our times together.
My first conscious memory: I am standing outside of a large, black car. It is about 1954. We live in a small Virginia town. Night has fallen. It must be cold because I am wearing a coat, a hat and maybe gloves. I am upset. I am missing the powder puff to my child's purse size make-up kit. It is a brief memory. I am miserable and intensely disappointed. It seems the powder puff meant a great deal to me. I have a slight sense, in the memory, that my parents have spent more than their usual amount of time trying to help me find it and I know we are going in the house very soon. The memory ends.
These many years later I feel that memory as much as see it. What I see, of course, is the space between an open car door and the inside of the car. What I clearly remember is wanting that powderpuff and being hurt and angry realizing. that the pink container is nothing without the puff.
That's it. Proof that I was once a girly girl!
My first conscious memory: I am standing outside of a large, black car. It is about 1954. We live in a small Virginia town. Night has fallen. It must be cold because I am wearing a coat, a hat and maybe gloves. I am upset. I am missing the powder puff to my child's purse size make-up kit. It is a brief memory. I am miserable and intensely disappointed. It seems the powder puff meant a great deal to me. I have a slight sense, in the memory, that my parents have spent more than their usual amount of time trying to help me find it and I know we are going in the house very soon. The memory ends.
These many years later I feel that memory as much as see it. What I see, of course, is the space between an open car door and the inside of the car. What I clearly remember is wanting that powderpuff and being hurt and angry realizing. that the pink container is nothing without the puff.
That's it. Proof that I was once a girly girl!
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Absence of Audio
My doggone phone is on the blink. No audio. I can text but I don't hear any sounds of the phone at all. No beeping, no playing tunes, no helpful little melody to let me know I have a message. Nada! Nothing! People calling in saying whatever and I can see the seconds going by as I look at my phone. They don't hear me and I don't hear them.
So the answer is to get another phone or only use this one for texting. What a monumental pain in the tush! I am having withdrawals from that little, ridiculously archaic cell phone! ARRGHH-H-H!
I would march off into the land of "off the grid" but I have been watching t.v. and that "off the grid" stuff is not an easy life. Chopping wood, cooking with propane, out houses for toilets, gardening, raising chickens and no electricity. I am simply not fed with creature comforts on that level.
Oh, I once I wanted to be a pioneer. When I was younger I wanted to go back to the "good ole days". Having my illusions shattered by watching the folks on educational t.v. felt funky. I do not like anything that interferes with a dream I want to live out. But the fact of the matter is that I have come to love things like that stupid, little cellphone. I like hot and cold running water and I don't want to think about an out house. I am a poser pioneer! That is just plain sad.
Who knew? A sense of embarassment meets up with my sense of relief. We are all living in one conumdrum or the other. This is one of mine. To be or not to be! That is the question, isn't it?
October 30th A New Dawn
A friend of mine gave me a Nokia Lumina (?) phone that she had dropped in water and thought was done for but placing it in rice and waiting a long time saved the phone. During that time she bought an updated phone and she gave me her dry phone. It is light years ahead of my burnt out flip phone. I have no clue how to use most of the features. I am learning. Like most advances in technology that enter my world I am now spoiled forever for the second cheapest flip phone StraightTalk had to offer. I have a new love. My friend bought the plan, transferred my number and information from my old phone to my "new phone" declaring that she did not intend to go one more day without having access to me. That alone should give a clue to this woman's mental health but who am I to judge. She loves me. She is a blessing in my life. She continually offers herself as a friend, a confidante, a rescuer and I offer whatever it is that she thinks I offer. It seems to work. Has now for a number of years.
So now I have a phone with bells and whistles. Not the most recent on the scene but more than I would have bought for myself. I find that happens to me often. I was given 2 Kindles, my IPAD and now this phone. I did not ask for any of them or even hint strongly. I am not above hinting strongly.
Anyway...it is nearly 3:20 a.m. and I start my first short shift of my job working from home. Why did I choose a 3:20 a.m. shift? Is it because I am mad crazy for that $8.00 an hour? Maybe. The hours add up during the week. The paycheck makes a signifigant difference. No one else from here to Kansas with this company wants to work early hours. When I realize that I have chosen that hour of the morning to start my day I question my wisdom. I wish taking an early morning shift were the deepest wisdom I had to question.
I wish a little girl, not too far from where I live, did not have pneumonia. She is four and yet her tiny body is crippled with severe scoleosis (sp?) and pneumonia could be the beginning of the end of her life. We prayed for her and her family at church last night. I pray now that she has already begun to heal and that her mom and dad will have more time with her. God knows and we placed it in God's hands but did boldly ask.
May the peace of God be with you!
So the answer is to get another phone or only use this one for texting. What a monumental pain in the tush! I am having withdrawals from that little, ridiculously archaic cell phone! ARRGHH-H-H!
I would march off into the land of "off the grid" but I have been watching t.v. and that "off the grid" stuff is not an easy life. Chopping wood, cooking with propane, out houses for toilets, gardening, raising chickens and no electricity. I am simply not fed with creature comforts on that level.
Oh, I once I wanted to be a pioneer. When I was younger I wanted to go back to the "good ole days". Having my illusions shattered by watching the folks on educational t.v. felt funky. I do not like anything that interferes with a dream I want to live out. But the fact of the matter is that I have come to love things like that stupid, little cellphone. I like hot and cold running water and I don't want to think about an out house. I am a poser pioneer! That is just plain sad.
Who knew? A sense of embarassment meets up with my sense of relief. We are all living in one conumdrum or the other. This is one of mine. To be or not to be! That is the question, isn't it?
October 30th A New Dawn
A friend of mine gave me a Nokia Lumina (?) phone that she had dropped in water and thought was done for but placing it in rice and waiting a long time saved the phone. During that time she bought an updated phone and she gave me her dry phone. It is light years ahead of my burnt out flip phone. I have no clue how to use most of the features. I am learning. Like most advances in technology that enter my world I am now spoiled forever for the second cheapest flip phone StraightTalk had to offer. I have a new love. My friend bought the plan, transferred my number and information from my old phone to my "new phone" declaring that she did not intend to go one more day without having access to me. That alone should give a clue to this woman's mental health but who am I to judge. She loves me. She is a blessing in my life. She continually offers herself as a friend, a confidante, a rescuer and I offer whatever it is that she thinks I offer. It seems to work. Has now for a number of years.
So now I have a phone with bells and whistles. Not the most recent on the scene but more than I would have bought for myself. I find that happens to me often. I was given 2 Kindles, my IPAD and now this phone. I did not ask for any of them or even hint strongly. I am not above hinting strongly.
Anyway...it is nearly 3:20 a.m. and I start my first short shift of my job working from home. Why did I choose a 3:20 a.m. shift? Is it because I am mad crazy for that $8.00 an hour? Maybe. The hours add up during the week. The paycheck makes a signifigant difference. No one else from here to Kansas with this company wants to work early hours. When I realize that I have chosen that hour of the morning to start my day I question my wisdom. I wish taking an early morning shift were the deepest wisdom I had to question.
I wish a little girl, not too far from where I live, did not have pneumonia. She is four and yet her tiny body is crippled with severe scoleosis (sp?) and pneumonia could be the beginning of the end of her life. We prayed for her and her family at church last night. I pray now that she has already begun to heal and that her mom and dad will have more time with her. God knows and we placed it in God's hands but did boldly ask.
May the peace of God be with you!
Friday, October 17, 2014
Jeez Louise
I am typing this on the ipad. It has been much longer than I realized since I wrote. Time has melted away. That statement is far too mellow considering the events that have filled up the passage of the time.
I will only say that the past few weeks have been mind numbing. At certain times I have been convinced that I was losing my ability to process information. The truth is that I reverted to survival mode living each hour as it played out. The possibility exists that people meeting me for the first time have walked away puzzled by the distracted woman they met. My thoughts have been jumbled and yet clear as a bell which continues to confuse me.
It is after two in the a.m. I don't feel anxious or depressed. I feel numb. Drifty. And at this point sleepy. Time to allow myself to rest.
Next day and at mom's desktop:
Back at the computer...darn large print will not save so I am just gonna go with this itty-bitty print. And I am going to stop. Time to go back to work. Rats!!
Next day on ipad again:
Visit with shrink today. Questions and answers...back and forth and I came to the realization that my friend John's diagnosis of 3 to 6 months to live is at the center of my angst. The knowledge fades away only to come back to me with a painful realization bringing me to a place I cannot bear. John is dying. John will be gone. John can't go. I want John to stay. Oh, God! John is dying. NO! I cannot allow it. I cannot breathe as the knowledge moves through my spirit, through my heart, through all the memories of time with John and then with John and his precious Ms. Bea. I am distraught. I hate the inevitability of losing John. I'm not ready. I will never be ready. I suspect I will be willing as John's disease progresses. I suspect I will ask God to take Him. I suspect that time is not far of and I feel as if a vast desert has opened up before me. The horizon ripples with the heat of my sorrow. I know God will lift me up to where He desires me to be in a place of love for John and Bea. I know God is allowing me this time of agony and I know that time is nearly over. John is worth the best I have to offer with God's grace covering every step. For now I can nearly stand the pain.
Love lifted me. Love lifted me. When nothing else would help, love lifted me!
I will only say that the past few weeks have been mind numbing. At certain times I have been convinced that I was losing my ability to process information. The truth is that I reverted to survival mode living each hour as it played out. The possibility exists that people meeting me for the first time have walked away puzzled by the distracted woman they met. My thoughts have been jumbled and yet clear as a bell which continues to confuse me.
It is after two in the a.m. I don't feel anxious or depressed. I feel numb. Drifty. And at this point sleepy. Time to allow myself to rest.
Next day and at mom's desktop:
Back at the computer...darn large print will not save so I am just gonna go with this itty-bitty print. And I am going to stop. Time to go back to work. Rats!!
Next day on ipad again:
Visit with shrink today. Questions and answers...back and forth and I came to the realization that my friend John's diagnosis of 3 to 6 months to live is at the center of my angst. The knowledge fades away only to come back to me with a painful realization bringing me to a place I cannot bear. John is dying. John will be gone. John can't go. I want John to stay. Oh, God! John is dying. NO! I cannot allow it. I cannot breathe as the knowledge moves through my spirit, through my heart, through all the memories of time with John and then with John and his precious Ms. Bea. I am distraught. I hate the inevitability of losing John. I'm not ready. I will never be ready. I suspect I will be willing as John's disease progresses. I suspect I will ask God to take Him. I suspect that time is not far of and I feel as if a vast desert has opened up before me. The horizon ripples with the heat of my sorrow. I know God will lift me up to where He desires me to be in a place of love for John and Bea. I know God is allowing me this time of agony and I know that time is nearly over. John is worth the best I have to offer with God's grace covering every step. For now I can nearly stand the pain.
Love lifted me. Love lifted me. When nothing else would help, love lifted me!
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Where Is Everything?
It is Sunday around noon. Normally I would be leaving church about now. My grandson has strep throat so we are home. Doing very little...IPAD....LAPTOP...sleeping, falling asleep. I personally have been on the verge of falling asleep since we returned from the urgent care last night. I have finally gotten up and am in a semi-state of wakefulness. I feel as if I have been drugged. Last night I basically fell onto my bed and slept. Woke up two hours later, took night meds, fell onto the bed again and slept. Woke up at 6 a.m. for a short time with no sense of anything other than a compelling urge to sleep more. At this moment I am on the edge of sleep but trying to be awake to do something around this place. Couldn't text...kept falling asleep. Took me forever to get a text off to my pastor. Fell asleep multiple times.
I have periodic times when my body, especially lower back and legs are in absolute turmoil. My body seems to have gone to war with itself. I am uncomfortable day and night for 3 to 4 days. I bet if I had been paying attention I would find that this absolute exhaustion follows one of those episodes.
Doctors have not made a diagnosis. They give me medication for restless legs but that has no power when an episode hits and fully engages me. My thinking goes fuzzy, I am clumsy, my muscles pull in my feet and my back aches across the lower part. Then it goes away. So weird.
Meanwhile my wonderful grandson is playing music on the ipad and recovering from strep throat and hubby is zonked out in bed. The cats are languishing in various hiding places. No energy here. No smarts to access.
Can't find the thermometer. Can't find triple A batteries. Can't find my arse with both my hands. I am drifting through the day. The entire household is drifting through. If the trailer were moving it would be floating along a few feet off the ground fueled by a serious lack of ambition.
Is this what they call a "lazy sunday"? If my name were Susan I could be a "lazy Susan"! Irrelevelant. So irrelevant.
Hope you are having a lovely Sunday and that you can find your way out of a paperback.
I have periodic times when my body, especially lower back and legs are in absolute turmoil. My body seems to have gone to war with itself. I am uncomfortable day and night for 3 to 4 days. I bet if I had been paying attention I would find that this absolute exhaustion follows one of those episodes.
Doctors have not made a diagnosis. They give me medication for restless legs but that has no power when an episode hits and fully engages me. My thinking goes fuzzy, I am clumsy, my muscles pull in my feet and my back aches across the lower part. Then it goes away. So weird.
Meanwhile my wonderful grandson is playing music on the ipad and recovering from strep throat and hubby is zonked out in bed. The cats are languishing in various hiding places. No energy here. No smarts to access.
Can't find the thermometer. Can't find triple A batteries. Can't find my arse with both my hands. I am drifting through the day. The entire household is drifting through. If the trailer were moving it would be floating along a few feet off the ground fueled by a serious lack of ambition.
Is this what they call a "lazy sunday"? If my name were Susan I could be a "lazy Susan"! Irrelevelant. So irrelevant.
Hope you are having a lovely Sunday and that you can find your way out of a paperback.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Untitled
Untitled as a post title is ridiculous. The moment I keyed it in I realized that Untitled is the title.
Sunday night. I am sitting in my living room with my grandson, my granddaughter a couple of cats and I am as relaxed as I am able to get these days. We are all on an IPAD or laptop. My granddaughter is, in truth, my step-granddaughter. She is 18 years old and she is autistic. She is wonderful and she is absorbed in a world of anime on her IPAD. I am learning to communicate with her in what I hope is a comfortable level for her. She rocks back and forth talking gently to herself and watching anime characters. When she talks to me about it I am fascinated at the intricacy of her anime world. The characters, their names, their family historys and what is to come in the future of that world absorb her.
My grandson is sitting in a rocking chair with my IPAD playing Minecraft...
Monday night. Danielle spent two nights with us. I am certain it has everything to do with internet service. She spends an entire day with her ipad and her anime friends. It is the first time I have spent any time with a young person who is autistic. I did some reading and understand that Danielle responds in true statements with very little fluff, if any, involved. I find that intensely refreshing. The answer is either yes or no, like or dislike. Today she spent the entire day in my room absorbed completely in her own world. Tonight she had to go home as I will not be here much of tomorrow. There is, currently, no internet at her home so she was completely unhappy. I promised to pick her up tomorrow when I get off work and bring her here. I am not sure if she understood that concept fully. I believe her thoughts are rather in the moment and future promises have no true value. What a privilege God is giving me to learn how to communicate with someone who thinks completely different from my way of thinking and what a privilege to have the opportunity to relieve her distress by providing something as simple as wi-fi. After brief reading I accept that our relationship is based almost entirely on the practical need for wi-fi. It suits me just fine. One more person God has placed in my life for me to love and to have love me in her unique and honest way.
Yay, God!
Sunday night. I am sitting in my living room with my grandson, my granddaughter a couple of cats and I am as relaxed as I am able to get these days. We are all on an IPAD or laptop. My granddaughter is, in truth, my step-granddaughter. She is 18 years old and she is autistic. She is wonderful and she is absorbed in a world of anime on her IPAD. I am learning to communicate with her in what I hope is a comfortable level for her. She rocks back and forth talking gently to herself and watching anime characters. When she talks to me about it I am fascinated at the intricacy of her anime world. The characters, their names, their family historys and what is to come in the future of that world absorb her.
My grandson is sitting in a rocking chair with my IPAD playing Minecraft...
Monday night. Danielle spent two nights with us. I am certain it has everything to do with internet service. She spends an entire day with her ipad and her anime friends. It is the first time I have spent any time with a young person who is autistic. I did some reading and understand that Danielle responds in true statements with very little fluff, if any, involved. I find that intensely refreshing. The answer is either yes or no, like or dislike. Today she spent the entire day in my room absorbed completely in her own world. Tonight she had to go home as I will not be here much of tomorrow. There is, currently, no internet at her home so she was completely unhappy. I promised to pick her up tomorrow when I get off work and bring her here. I am not sure if she understood that concept fully. I believe her thoughts are rather in the moment and future promises have no true value. What a privilege God is giving me to learn how to communicate with someone who thinks completely different from my way of thinking and what a privilege to have the opportunity to relieve her distress by providing something as simple as wi-fi. After brief reading I accept that our relationship is based almost entirely on the practical need for wi-fi. It suits me just fine. One more person God has placed in my life for me to love and to have love me in her unique and honest way.
Yay, God!
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Just wondering...
I'm not sure if I am making a difference or if I am running at full speed from a truth I cannot accept! When I was young, fifteen or so, I would lock my room door at night, check the closet over and over for someone or something waiting to get me when I slept. I checked under the bed over and over looking for a hand that would touch my leg when I slept. Many nights I stayed awake till almost dawn listening to soul music from far off Indiana or 45's spinning on the record player. I held something or someone at bay then. I wonder if I'm doing that now? I wonder If I am making a difference or if I am running from a truth I cannot accept.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Please Don't Scold!
I know that I am well past my bedtime. I am closer to my getting up time than my going to bed time. I meant to go to bed since about 2:00 p.m. today. A silly thought given my plans for the remainder of the day.
My daughter, who lives in Virginia, was asked to show two of her photographs at an art store on the waterfront in our town. It was an exhibition titled, "The Soul of A Woman". She won an honorable mention on her first time entering an exhibition. I am bragging so I am going to repeat that she was "asked". It was in the local paper so I am bragging and telling the truth at the same time. What an odd sensation!
I took my son and his family with me. At some point tonight I realized that I had been in a location with both my son and daughter at the same time. It has been a long, long time since I remember our schedules blending. How sweet a moment for me!
Great time! Laughs! Appreciation of art bringing with it a craving in me to create. All of this lovely time together alongside the fears of my son's family needing to find a place to live in a week. Their car broke down this week and neither my son or his wife have a job. Actually, my son has a job starting next week paying him the average pay for our pay stricken area. Tonight showed that beauty, family, evening air along the water and the company of people we would never meet otherwise can co-exist with the gut level concerns of finding a home within a week, starting a new job that same week and getting a car repaired that same week. For a while we lost ourselves enjoying Lynne's success. viewing the work of other artists, laughing together, talking and talking and interacting with the other artists. Very groovy.
My granddaughter and I also volunteered at the adopt-a-thon for cats today. Why it was held under a canopy in a grassy field on a day when the heat and humidity had animals and humans panting and drinking downing fluids is beyond my comprehension. Not to mention a large colony of red ants who resented the intrusion of the people volunteering to show the shelter dogs. Again, we were happy volunteering and playing with the cats while being hot and a bit miserable. Again the reminder that joy and discomfort can, and often do, co-exist with one another.
Perhaps the Apostle Paul had this in mind when he admonished us to rejoice in all things. Certainly today's discomforts did not, under any circumstance, emulate the challenges met by Paul but, as a micro example, they work well.
Going to bed now. Later.
My daughter, who lives in Virginia, was asked to show two of her photographs at an art store on the waterfront in our town. It was an exhibition titled, "The Soul of A Woman". She won an honorable mention on her first time entering an exhibition. I am bragging so I am going to repeat that she was "asked". It was in the local paper so I am bragging and telling the truth at the same time. What an odd sensation!
I took my son and his family with me. At some point tonight I realized that I had been in a location with both my son and daughter at the same time. It has been a long, long time since I remember our schedules blending. How sweet a moment for me!
Great time! Laughs! Appreciation of art bringing with it a craving in me to create. All of this lovely time together alongside the fears of my son's family needing to find a place to live in a week. Their car broke down this week and neither my son or his wife have a job. Actually, my son has a job starting next week paying him the average pay for our pay stricken area. Tonight showed that beauty, family, evening air along the water and the company of people we would never meet otherwise can co-exist with the gut level concerns of finding a home within a week, starting a new job that same week and getting a car repaired that same week. For a while we lost ourselves enjoying Lynne's success. viewing the work of other artists, laughing together, talking and talking and interacting with the other artists. Very groovy.
My granddaughter and I also volunteered at the adopt-a-thon for cats today. Why it was held under a canopy in a grassy field on a day when the heat and humidity had animals and humans panting and drinking downing fluids is beyond my comprehension. Not to mention a large colony of red ants who resented the intrusion of the people volunteering to show the shelter dogs. Again, we were happy volunteering and playing with the cats while being hot and a bit miserable. Again the reminder that joy and discomfort can, and often do, co-exist with one another.
Perhaps the Apostle Paul had this in mind when he admonished us to rejoice in all things. Certainly today's discomforts did not, under any circumstance, emulate the challenges met by Paul but, as a micro example, they work well.
Going to bed now. Later.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Waiting for the clothes to Wash
I will let you in on a little secret. I am motivated to write at this very moment. I have purpose and a set amount of time that I must fill with writing. My motivation stems from a basic need, an understanding that this is the perfect time to put fingers to the keyboard composing myself and my imaginings into words on a screen. So much for pen to paper though there is much to be said for the intimacy of handwriting out sentences, page after page.
My purpose, my motivation for writing at this very moment hinge on one thing. I am waiting for the clothes to finish washing. Yep! There is a deep wisdom to ponder in that motivation. Creativity birthed out of a common, ordinary load of clothes slushing around in water and soap. Many are the times I have waited for the last spin of the washing machine drum. Waiting for excess water to spin out of the clothing. Waiting. Waiting. Perhaps I could do a spoof on a Stephen King novel using the droning of the machine as it spins on and on and on in a seemingly endless cycle. I, waiting, believing at any minute the cycle will end and I will have relief from the sound of the ceaseless spin. Tortuous spin. The dryer sits quietly waiting for clothing to dry. The spin cycle continues. My eyes are weary from staring into space waiting, my lips are parched with thirst. Yet, the source of all this.....WHAT...quiet? Is this a trick? Am I being lulled into a false sense of relief? Will the monsterous machine start up again when I begin to approach it? I feel a dread, a doubt that the spinning has ceased. Listen! No sounds from the hall. No gears changing for re-engagement. I feel ecstatic. I have won over the spinning cycle. I can now move to the drying cycle. The heat will build. The clothes will begin to dry. I will go to bed.
Phew! Eternity was only five minutes! How subtle eternity must be to hide itself within five minutes.
My purpose, my motivation for writing at this very moment hinge on one thing. I am waiting for the clothes to finish washing. Yep! There is a deep wisdom to ponder in that motivation. Creativity birthed out of a common, ordinary load of clothes slushing around in water and soap. Many are the times I have waited for the last spin of the washing machine drum. Waiting for excess water to spin out of the clothing. Waiting. Waiting. Perhaps I could do a spoof on a Stephen King novel using the droning of the machine as it spins on and on and on in a seemingly endless cycle. I, waiting, believing at any minute the cycle will end and I will have relief from the sound of the ceaseless spin. Tortuous spin. The dryer sits quietly waiting for clothing to dry. The spin cycle continues. My eyes are weary from staring into space waiting, my lips are parched with thirst. Yet, the source of all this.....WHAT...quiet? Is this a trick? Am I being lulled into a false sense of relief? Will the monsterous machine start up again when I begin to approach it? I feel a dread, a doubt that the spinning has ceased. Listen! No sounds from the hall. No gears changing for re-engagement. I feel ecstatic. I have won over the spinning cycle. I can now move to the drying cycle. The heat will build. The clothes will begin to dry. I will go to bed.
Phew! Eternity was only five minutes! How subtle eternity must be to hide itself within five minutes.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Wednesday Night Musings!
Tonight at the church discussion group I found myself linking the threads of conversation together toward the topic of communion and breaking bread. Breaking bread, in the Christian community, is highly significant for as many reasons as there are people who take the communion in their home churches. Our central theme tonight was the community of the early church and their practices to maintain that community and how those are applicable to us in our Christian communities today.
The topic was drawn away to the subject of baptism. At first I wanted to be irritated and then I realized that the exact purpose of discussion groups is that they allow for a bit of controlled meandering. Ultimately I saw how the discussion of baptism and the discussion of Christian community and communion wove together. In fact there were few topics where I could fail to see a connection back in towards the Christian community and the communion of that community. The purpose and ultimate beauty of that relationship between believers seems to me to require the discussion of and understanding of multiple facets of the Christ led life. While the impression given is one of a tranquil brotherhood with respected leadership and well established modes of operation I believe, and would bet on it, that the established community remained viable through lively debate and discussion of the faith.
Also, tonight I had a full understanding of the absolute necessity of attracting people who have questions, concepts, lack of knowledge, are odd, are, at times, difficult to relate to and who challenge us to come out of our established community. It is our purpose to attract and minister to such people. I am guilty of making huge assumptions and judging....contempt prior to investigation is the perfect attribute to describe my own prejudices. Tonight I realized that the blend of people attending our Wednesday night discussions is critically important. I left the gathering with a heart filled with excitement and delight. Our community is drawing others to us. Not the already schooled and jaded Christians but the lost and craving community Christians and non-Christians.
We have a delicate balance to maintain. I pray the God of this universe, of all eternity tempers us, opens our hearts and our minds to this opportunity to blend each person into our community just as they are and without reservation.
The topic was drawn away to the subject of baptism. At first I wanted to be irritated and then I realized that the exact purpose of discussion groups is that they allow for a bit of controlled meandering. Ultimately I saw how the discussion of baptism and the discussion of Christian community and communion wove together. In fact there were few topics where I could fail to see a connection back in towards the Christian community and the communion of that community. The purpose and ultimate beauty of that relationship between believers seems to me to require the discussion of and understanding of multiple facets of the Christ led life. While the impression given is one of a tranquil brotherhood with respected leadership and well established modes of operation I believe, and would bet on it, that the established community remained viable through lively debate and discussion of the faith.
Also, tonight I had a full understanding of the absolute necessity of attracting people who have questions, concepts, lack of knowledge, are odd, are, at times, difficult to relate to and who challenge us to come out of our established community. It is our purpose to attract and minister to such people. I am guilty of making huge assumptions and judging....contempt prior to investigation is the perfect attribute to describe my own prejudices. Tonight I realized that the blend of people attending our Wednesday night discussions is critically important. I left the gathering with a heart filled with excitement and delight. Our community is drawing others to us. Not the already schooled and jaded Christians but the lost and craving community Christians and non-Christians.
We have a delicate balance to maintain. I pray the God of this universe, of all eternity tempers us, opens our hearts and our minds to this opportunity to blend each person into our community just as they are and without reservation.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Wherever It Goes
For some reason the large type looks exceptionally large to me. As in many other things I find it difficult to come to a happy medium. My thinking...oh my goodness...I just re-read what I have written so far and "the happy medium" part took off in my head with streams of thought trailing behind so...
What would it take to make a medium happy?
Why would I find it difficult to go see a happy medium? Would I prefer a glum medium who may find my future to be dreadful with no cheer or laughter?
I have only met a couple of mediums. They did not seem particularly happy to me. Maybe that was because they sounded like the Sunday paper's horoscope section. Maybe they are sad because they have become a cliche or maybe they are tired of people like me who make fun of them. I don't know. Maybe it is because they seem to be required to wear either odd clothing or to dress up, have a Bible opened on a table with flowers and drip with solemnity. Do the "spirits" require solemnity or they will bring bad luck on the medium? I have met only two "official" mediums. What the heck does that even mean?
I am not going back over this blog. I know I started out with a direction in mind. A happy medium messed that up real good. Wonder what she has against me? Maybe she was just showing off by misdirecting my thoughts in a nano-second.
Oh well, everything's groovy. Peace out!
What would it take to make a medium happy?
Why would I find it difficult to go see a happy medium? Would I prefer a glum medium who may find my future to be dreadful with no cheer or laughter?
I have only met a couple of mediums. They did not seem particularly happy to me. Maybe that was because they sounded like the Sunday paper's horoscope section. Maybe they are sad because they have become a cliche or maybe they are tired of people like me who make fun of them. I don't know. Maybe it is because they seem to be required to wear either odd clothing or to dress up, have a Bible opened on a table with flowers and drip with solemnity. Do the "spirits" require solemnity or they will bring bad luck on the medium? I have met only two "official" mediums. What the heck does that even mean?
I am not going back over this blog. I know I started out with a direction in mind. A happy medium messed that up real good. Wonder what she has against me? Maybe she was just showing off by misdirecting my thoughts in a nano-second.
Oh well, everything's groovy. Peace out!
Monday, August 25, 2014
HEY, BABY!
MR. OWL HAS LEFT FOR ANOTHER ADVENTURE. HE HAS BEEN GONE A LONG TIME. I WONDERED IF I WOULD LOVE ANOTHER BIRD. WOULD IT FEEL LIKE BETRAYAL OF MY LOVE FOR MR. OWL? HOW WOULD I GET TO KNOW ANOTHER BIRD? WELL...
A FRIEND OF MINE MOVED BACK IN TOWN. WE ARE HAVING FUN GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER AGAIN AND I AM LOVING GETTING TO KNOW HER THREE; YES, I SAID THREE; PARROTS. THEY ARE EXCEPTIONALLY INVOLVED IN EVERY FACET OF MY TIME AT THEIR HOME. THEY CALL OUT "HELLO!" WHEN THEY HEAR SOMEONE AT THE DOOR. LAUGH WITH US WHEN WE WATCH A FUNNY MOVIE AND DEMAND OUR ATTENTION. THERE ARE TWO GIRLS AND ONE BOY. I LOVE THEM ALL BUT THE PARROT NAMED "NIBBLES" HAS DECIDED WE ARE BEST FRIENDS IN THE WORLD. I HAVE COME TO ACCEPT THAT AS A GIVEN FACT. I LOVE ANOTHER BIRD. THERE IS ROOM IN MY HEART FOR MORE THAN ONE BIRD AFTERALL.
NIBBLES BEGAN DRAWING ME INTO HER WORLD BY CLIMBING UP TO MY SHOULDER AND SAYING, "HEY, BABY!" IT IS A SAD COMMENTARY ON MY LIFE THAT NO ONE HAS SAID, "HEY, BABY!" TO ME IN A LONG TIME SO MAYBE I OVER-REACTED A TAD. I KNOW I WAS ASTOUNDED, PLEASED AND LAUGHING SO HARD. THEN NIBBLES WHISTLES AND SAYS"UMM-MM. UMM-MM" AND I AM A GONER.
TONIGHT, THE MOMENT I ENTERED THE ROOM NIBBLES CALLED ME BABY AND ACCEPTED MY OFFER OF AN ARM IMMEDIATELY. SHE STAYED WITH ME MOST OF MY VISIT. SHE ALLOWED ME TO PET HER. SHE MADE BIRD NOISES THAT MEAN, "THAT FEELS SO GOOD". SHE TRIED TO GROOM ME BUT I STOPPED HER. I HAVE LITTLE BIRD PECK SPOTS ON MY ARM FROM THE LAST CLEANING. SEVERAL TIMES SHE SAT ON MY CHEST AND LOOKED ME STRAIGHT IN THE EYES AND SAID, "HEY, BABY!" AGAIN.
NIBBLES AND I ARE QUITE A PAIR. OUR RELATIONSHIP IS PURE-TEE COOL!
OF COURSE I WILL ALWAYS VISIT NIBBLES AT HER HOME. MY FOUR CATS MAY NOT APPRECIATE THE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN A BEAUTIFUL PARROT AND THEIR HUMAN MOMMY. THERE IS A BETTER THAN GOOD CHANCE THAT THIS PARROT COULD GIVE A CAT A THOROUGH THROTTLING. SH-H-H! DON'T TELL THE CATS! THEY THINK THEY ARE BAD TO THE BONE!
FOR THE NIGHT I BID YOU, "HEY, BABY!" FROM NIBBLES AND SWEET DREAMS FROM NIBBLES BEST FRIEND....ME, CAT MOMMY EXTRAORDINAIRE!!
Sunday, August 17, 2014
ADHD...who knew?
Lack of organizational skills, impulsivity, hyper, cannot focus on one thing for any length of time, low self esteem and sense of hopelessness. These are a few of the traits assigned to ADHD folks. These are traits that define me and so, a wise doctor has named the elephant in the living room, shone the light on the hidden places and diagnosed me as ADHD. None of my friends are shocked. I am, after a few moments of disbelief, relieved. The moment he began describing the hallmark traits of ADHD I knew I had come home to myself. All these years of being a "colorful" person, a distracted, moody, hyper excited woman flinging herself at life choosing time and again to follow paths of misery and confusion. I wondered why I could not finish anything unless there were only hours until the deadline. I know now that my posture of not caring was actually a way of deflecting attention from the fact that I could not finish anything. Oh, I had a more than satisfactory IQ. Mom had us tested in our teens. By the numbers I have the ability to accomplish goals, to experience success, to make good choicess. Instead I jumped around like a mexican jumping bean leaving hurt people in my trail and developing an acceptance of my lot in life which was to underachieve and flow with the motion I experienced running through my body. A quick glimpse of my journey to this point reveals a constant motion, constant change, constant impulsivity that brought life to my door in bits and pieces. Sanity would loom towards me, recede, madness would visit, recede, little hippy girl...people, places and things changed in a kaleidoscope of motion. I am over dramatizing to make the point that identifying an underlying cause is liberating and ,I believe, a direct gift from God. It is as if I have been running a complex piece of machinery for years without a manual or someone to teach me. At the age of 62 a man watches me running this machinery and asks if I know what the machine is and do I know how to run it. Voila! No, I don't know what it is and I do not know how to run it. Suddenly I knew help had arrived.
At least a week on the medication for ADHD and I am amazed at the initial results. To be clear, the medication does not cause me to be organized or to slow down and take notice or to make any changes. The medication provides me a subtle shift in my psyche and in that shift I am less confused, less impulsive and, most stunning of all, many of my keynote physical disomforts are gone. My chest isn't tight and I have energy. I am also experiencing incredibly difficult days. I am not sure what that is all about other than change is always a double edged sword of pleasure and pain.
I, for one, have been heart broken and lost with the news brought to my home by t.v. Instant notification, on the scene suffering, one catastrophe after the other and I begin to bend under the sorrow of our world gone seemingly mad. In light of the enormity of the groaning of our world my diagnosis of ADHD seems inconsequential. It seems a luxury for people who have more than they can manage in life...food to eat, money for the basics, cars, gas, jobs...no running to refugee camps, it seems a luxury to spend money to think about myself, work on myself, pursue healing for myself while a modern day holocaust rages killing the innocent, watching the light fade from countless eyes as death takes place of life. Yet I have gratitude for the world I live in and the opportunity to make peace with the crazy in me. Another God moment in my life. Peace! Be still!
At least a week on the medication for ADHD and I am amazed at the initial results. To be clear, the medication does not cause me to be organized or to slow down and take notice or to make any changes. The medication provides me a subtle shift in my psyche and in that shift I am less confused, less impulsive and, most stunning of all, many of my keynote physical disomforts are gone. My chest isn't tight and I have energy. I am also experiencing incredibly difficult days. I am not sure what that is all about other than change is always a double edged sword of pleasure and pain.
I, for one, have been heart broken and lost with the news brought to my home by t.v. Instant notification, on the scene suffering, one catastrophe after the other and I begin to bend under the sorrow of our world gone seemingly mad. In light of the enormity of the groaning of our world my diagnosis of ADHD seems inconsequential. It seems a luxury for people who have more than they can manage in life...food to eat, money for the basics, cars, gas, jobs...no running to refugee camps, it seems a luxury to spend money to think about myself, work on myself, pursue healing for myself while a modern day holocaust rages killing the innocent, watching the light fade from countless eyes as death takes place of life. Yet I have gratitude for the world I live in and the opportunity to make peace with the crazy in me. Another God moment in my life. Peace! Be still!
Saturday, August 9, 2014
First taste of chocolate in Ivory Coast
I am sharing this video because it blew my mind. When I was a child we lived in Ghana West Africa and I knew of the cocoa bean. I would never have believed that the people who grow and harvest it have never tasted chocolate. Very cool video, in my opinion.
An ad may pop up in this video that you need to X out or you won't see the subtitles.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Ta Da! I Am Still Alive!
It has been awhile since I have felt like sitting down and writing anything here. There are a variety of reasons. Not all of them negative. Mostly time passing faster than I suspected mixed in with a dash of boredom with my ownself. I was getting too down and out when writing. Self-confession and introspective drama only stretches so far before sickening me. I'm not saying I have been wrong. I am saying I have been enough on the side of serious thinking. Lethal for a recovering alcoholic. Oh how seriously I take myself, myself, myself...! Bleh! Best to remember that I am one among many and have so far not found one single thing unique about myself other than, of course, my DNA. So when I blow myself up to a huge proportion of anything I have stepped over the danger line. I mean, really!
So, I have these four cats. I don't even know which of me decided to take in four cats. It could not have been the practical me. (I do too have some practical part, smarty friends!) It certainly could not have been the part of me that grasps reality from time to time. I think, because they came into my life one at a time, that it was the mothering part of me. Yes, maternal instincts were dominant in each case. Four cats. I love them all. I wanted a dog. You can see that the maternal me was undoubtedly confused four times in a row. Imagine that! Stray animals and stray people are my achilles heel. One of the cats acts a little like a dog, which is kind of him. He must intuitively know that he should have been a dachsund. Darn! It isn't as if I can just let them go or give them back. I don't want to for one thing...the main thing. Four cats!! Is you crazy?
Mr. Owl has been gone for awhile now. I resent progress as trees fall and roads are built. The bunny rabbits and the squirrels and the owls and the little foxes disappear. I want to stand in the middle of the woods and scream, "NO!", but they have big bulldozers and scary looking men wearing hard hats and I am a 62 year old activist without a cause other than I miss my animal friends. Mr. Owl was my true friend. I pray he is happy and finding mice in abundance.
Back to work in a few minutes. Then time to feed the cats and sit and wonder what I am going to avoid doing for the remainder of the day.
So, I have these four cats. I don't even know which of me decided to take in four cats. It could not have been the practical me. (I do too have some practical part, smarty friends!) It certainly could not have been the part of me that grasps reality from time to time. I think, because they came into my life one at a time, that it was the mothering part of me. Yes, maternal instincts were dominant in each case. Four cats. I love them all. I wanted a dog. You can see that the maternal me was undoubtedly confused four times in a row. Imagine that! Stray animals and stray people are my achilles heel. One of the cats acts a little like a dog, which is kind of him. He must intuitively know that he should have been a dachsund. Darn! It isn't as if I can just let them go or give them back. I don't want to for one thing...the main thing. Four cats!! Is you crazy?
Mr. Owl has been gone for awhile now. I resent progress as trees fall and roads are built. The bunny rabbits and the squirrels and the owls and the little foxes disappear. I want to stand in the middle of the woods and scream, "NO!", but they have big bulldozers and scary looking men wearing hard hats and I am a 62 year old activist without a cause other than I miss my animal friends. Mr. Owl was my true friend. I pray he is happy and finding mice in abundance.
Back to work in a few minutes. Then time to feed the cats and sit and wonder what I am going to avoid doing for the remainder of the day.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Being Pathetic Is Boring
Enough of this tomfoolery! It is time to rise up and reclaim myself from the ashes of the most recent crash and burn event in the life of my family. There has been collateral damage this time. I suppose family events rarely remain the property of those in the midst of the fray. For years I have accepted this as a normal response to trouble in the family. It becomes overwhelming when an inordinate share of that trouble seems to come from my side of the family. Unfortunately I have participated in bemoaning, verbally running down and judging my own situations allowing family members the privilege of judging, advising and generally degrading the events in my life that are less than savory and there are many when I include my children and my spouses along with myself. I recently realized that I am sick and tired of the low self-esteem and self-degradation I have decided were rightfully earned. I realized I have participated in creating those for myself. I now realize I don't want to feel that way anymore. I have compared myself to people in my family who appear to have "it together". I have felt less than for too long. A dear friend told me recently that I am good enough just like I am and to be myself and not worry about other people's opinions of me. She gave me a sense of freedom that has taken root and blossomed. I am a good person. I love deeply. My immediate family's life has been difficult through the years. I have enabled and I have done tough love and I have been stupid enough to share every moment of my fears and angers with other family members. This has created a sense of ownership in them that is not healthy for them or for me. Why I just woke up to that I do not know. Now I am working on losing the resentment I feel and to accepting my part in creating an environment that looks and smells an awful lot like superiority and feels an awful lot like humiliation. Today I have come round the bend in recognizing that this has taken place over a long period of time and that my family members do love and care for us deeply. I can see why they are concerned and I can see how I have given permission for that to become the passing of judgement in my mind based on their opinions. I am such a twit. 62 years old and waking up a piece at a time. Not saying that the problems exisiting today in the world of my family are o.k. or that I approve or that I have responded in a psychologically healthy way or that I can even grasp them. Just saying that I don't want to appear pathetic in my own skin anymore. I am who I am and God is changing that at a pace I have to run to keep up with these days. Being pathetic is boring and exhausting and in a way it is yet another form of ego run riot. I love all of my extended family very much. I just don't want to hang my laundry out on them to dry anymore. I don't want to pretend or explain or pretty up who I am and what happens in my life. I kinda think I painted myself with this brush of shame and inadequacy. I compared myself and found myself lacking. I who know so intimately how much my Father God loves me have taken on the form of ugly and unloveable for myself. The truth is the truth. Me and mine are messy people. I am not ashamed of that anymore for some reason that I cannot explain. See, I told you God is changing me even before I catch up to the change. I am truly bored with this pathos. The old saying, "It's not my brother, not my sister but it's me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer." about says it all. I will no longer participate in my own degradation and humiliation. That war is over. Praise God!
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Life Is Just A Chair of Bowlies
I am in the mood to quote some of the words from a David Allan Coe song. It is one of my favorite songs which in no way infers that I remember the name of the song but I do know these lyrics and they represent just a bit of what I am feeling today. I may be the only person to understand the correlation but that is good enough for me. So here are part of the lyrics of the song I love so much:
Reading these lyrics I wonder how in the heck they fit but they do and that is about it. The last couple of days have been brutal. Simply brutal. I don't want to drink but I don't mind a song about drinking.
Peace out!
"Well I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in the pick-up truck
She got runned over by a damned old train
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in the pick-up truck
She got runned over by a damned old train
And I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain
And you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even called me, well I wondered why you don't call me?
Why don't you ever call me by my name?"
And I never minded standin' in the rain
And you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even called me, well I wondered why you don't call me?
Why don't you ever call me by my name?"
Reading these lyrics I wonder how in the heck they fit but they do and that is about it. The last couple of days have been brutal. Simply brutal. I don't want to drink but I don't mind a song about drinking.
Peace out!
Sunday, June 29, 2014
BUSTED
Life is difficult, which Scott Peck states as the first sentence of his book that I don't feel like looking up the name of at this moment. I read the book, more than once, and have heard that one sentence quoted over and over again as if that thought in itself must be brought to our attention again and again. We know that life is difficult. Why does the statement that life is difficult provide such a galvanizing moment when brought to our attention? The room gets quieter, some eyes water with tears, heads nod in solemn agreement. A presence of wisdom settles over the listener, the release of an unrealistic expectation that life were any other way is permissible. The truth is out. Life is difficult.
As if that were not enough in itself I, (don't know about you), make decisions on a daily basis that increase the probablity of difficulty. Confession is good for the soul and I could use a little "good for the soul" stuff so I will list a few of my "guaranteed to ensure difficulty" choices. Either you will find yourself in this or you will feel a sense of relief that you are not bent on proving Mr. Peck's statement beyond a shadow of a doubt.
1. I stay up late. O.K. I got to bed early. Early in the a.m. Often just before sunrise. New studies show that is one of the worst health habits I can choose. I would deny that I choose it but I would have to undo a million sentences I have made regarding personal choice. Not going to try to defend myself. Going to try to change this one. The evidence puts me squarely in the same grouping with people who smoke a pack a day after having been told they have emphysema and cancer is just a thought away. Busted.
2. I am overweight. No, I am, by medical standards, obese. Which, guess what, ties back into the lousy sleeping habits. Scientifically proven at this point. Obesity sucks. The word sounds nasty like something a school kid would say to gross out their friends. Busted.
3. I don't exercise. I have my reasons. Health reasons mostly and they are valid but not to the extent of inertness which has become my choice. Oh, I do hate the "choice" word! I want to exercise. Guess what lack of motivation to exercise ties back into...lack of sleep.
4. Poor eating habits - nuff said. Ties back into lack of sleep.
5. Neglecting to practice techniques for reducing stress in my life. Truth is I doubt I can make the stress go away but I can choose situations to lessen the effects of stress. Stress management. Guess what adds to stress and neglect and depression and feelings of hopelessness. LACK OF SLEEP!
That is enough confession. I can't say that my sould feels good at the moment. I will say that I write about myself to be transparent to anyone reading and to myself.
Why would an intelligent woman of 62 years of age continue to choose one habit that impacts every other part of her life dramatically? Life is difficult. Apparently that is not good enough for me. I seem to be reaching for a higher degree of difficulty. And, oh dear me, guess what? The less I sleep the more difficult it is for me to make an effective change. Viscious cycle. No excuses. Well, restless legs do hamper me from time to time. No, I do not want some chesse with that whine!
It is 11 p.m. I am going to bed. Five hours earlier than I went to bed last night or the night before. If you happen to read this blog I will report how I find myself after a week of going to bed at 11 p.m. What if I should feel competent and clear-headed with less of a craving for over-eating and the energy to exercise a wee bit? What if the fog clears up and I can see the horizon and call it good?
Good-night, sweet friends!
As if that were not enough in itself I, (don't know about you), make decisions on a daily basis that increase the probablity of difficulty. Confession is good for the soul and I could use a little "good for the soul" stuff so I will list a few of my "guaranteed to ensure difficulty" choices. Either you will find yourself in this or you will feel a sense of relief that you are not bent on proving Mr. Peck's statement beyond a shadow of a doubt.
1. I stay up late. O.K. I got to bed early. Early in the a.m. Often just before sunrise. New studies show that is one of the worst health habits I can choose. I would deny that I choose it but I would have to undo a million sentences I have made regarding personal choice. Not going to try to defend myself. Going to try to change this one. The evidence puts me squarely in the same grouping with people who smoke a pack a day after having been told they have emphysema and cancer is just a thought away. Busted.
2. I am overweight. No, I am, by medical standards, obese. Which, guess what, ties back into the lousy sleeping habits. Scientifically proven at this point. Obesity sucks. The word sounds nasty like something a school kid would say to gross out their friends. Busted.
3. I don't exercise. I have my reasons. Health reasons mostly and they are valid but not to the extent of inertness which has become my choice. Oh, I do hate the "choice" word! I want to exercise. Guess what lack of motivation to exercise ties back into...lack of sleep.
4. Poor eating habits - nuff said. Ties back into lack of sleep.
5. Neglecting to practice techniques for reducing stress in my life. Truth is I doubt I can make the stress go away but I can choose situations to lessen the effects of stress. Stress management. Guess what adds to stress and neglect and depression and feelings of hopelessness. LACK OF SLEEP!
That is enough confession. I can't say that my sould feels good at the moment. I will say that I write about myself to be transparent to anyone reading and to myself.
Why would an intelligent woman of 62 years of age continue to choose one habit that impacts every other part of her life dramatically? Life is difficult. Apparently that is not good enough for me. I seem to be reaching for a higher degree of difficulty. And, oh dear me, guess what? The less I sleep the more difficult it is for me to make an effective change. Viscious cycle. No excuses. Well, restless legs do hamper me from time to time. No, I do not want some chesse with that whine!
It is 11 p.m. I am going to bed. Five hours earlier than I went to bed last night or the night before. If you happen to read this blog I will report how I find myself after a week of going to bed at 11 p.m. What if I should feel competent and clear-headed with less of a craving for over-eating and the energy to exercise a wee bit? What if the fog clears up and I can see the horizon and call it good?
Good-night, sweet friends!
Monday, June 23, 2014
TAKING A SHORT BREAK.....
I've been sick of late. I am on steroids for a few more days. On steroids I kinda think like this:
so you can see my point!
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Just another blog
Naming each and every post becomes an ardous task for me. Normally days have passed since my last post. Life has happened, as it does to us all, in ups, downs, u-turns, aha moments; the options are limitless. Defining a blog when I have no defining point is exhausting. It reminds me of the song I learned years ago that is a girl singing to her mother and her mother replying. There is a French phrase in here. If I botch it I should confess that I skipped fully two-thirds of my French class my senior year. I passed that class. We were in Taiwan at a large school with teen-agers from all over the world. I remember very little of any specific class. French is memorable because I chose, for a reason lost to me now, to purposefully skip class. I digress. Defining a blog when I have no defining point reminds me of this song:
Girl: When I was just a little girl I asked my mother what would I be? Would I be pretty? Would I be rich? Here's what she said to me.
Mom: Que cera cera! Whatever will be will be. The future's not ours to see, que cera cera! What will be, will be.
And so I am tonight in the middle of a "Que cera cera!" blogging mood. There is no specific title. My life has been arbitrary, meandering and threading in and out of mind sets and life situations. I have had days of great personal emotional challenges when I found myself wondering if the all too common "mental illness" in my dad's side of the family has finally found me. At that time I honestly wanted to hide away and, if it wouldn't cause too much of a commotion, die. The emptiness, lonliness, self-criticism and absolute sense of abject failure feel too heavy to bear. At those times I find it difficult to share myself with someone else. I recognize that it is an intensely self-absorbed time and I cannot bear the platitudes, solutions, off-handedness that folks often toss out at times like that in my life so I don't tell anyone. At times like that I don't trust anyone with myself. I feel as if my skin is raw and the stakes are so high. My saving grace is that I do continue with my social life and attendance at church and working and care taking of my loved ones. I continue though I feel as if I cannot move and that I am bleeding out from a severe wound. The best cure is an opportunity to help someone else who is in a situation that requires me to focus outwardly. So I had that going on for a time and an opportunity appeared and I took it and felt better.
Dramatically different is the time I spend with my grandson. It is magical time for me. Our relationship transcends tiredness, worries, dark thinking or anything other than joy. I am so grateful for this child in my life. I have three other grandchildren who are my heart and when I am around them I feel that same sense of joy. I cannot express it in words other than to say I have found nothing more powerful in my life excepting the love of God. They are all growing up. That is o.k. This Friday night a friend of mine and I went to a local fort to hear a local zydeco band play. Beautiful evening, an awesome friendship, folks in their lawn chairs with their children running and playing and then the zydeco music. The zydeco music begins to take hold of the listener. At first there is a moment of familiarity and satisfaction, then a few people start to dance on the grass, by the third song the children become overwhelmed by the impulse to dance and frolic in front of the stage. That is what got me last night. Two little girls who danced with their grandma and then with themselves. Joyous little girls who began sticking their tongues out at me and making faces when they realized I was photographing them. I could not resist getting closer to them. Next thing I knew I was dancing with them, spinning in circles, clapping, twirling, laughing and lost in the joy of child-like wonder. So I know my grandchildren are growing up and I cherish the years in between now and then and I also know that children will appear who will call out that child-like part of me from here until then.
Oh, the entire week or so has been, in the words of an elderly woman who use to say, "interesting" when new things or situations confounded her. Things have been "interesting".
And so, I will leave you, dear reader, with this:
Girl: When I was just a little girl I asked my mother what would I be? Would I be pretty? Would I be rich? Here's what she said to me.
Mom: Que cera cera! Whatever will be will be. The future's not ours to see, que cera cera! What will be, will be.
And so I am tonight in the middle of a "Que cera cera!" blogging mood. There is no specific title. My life has been arbitrary, meandering and threading in and out of mind sets and life situations. I have had days of great personal emotional challenges when I found myself wondering if the all too common "mental illness" in my dad's side of the family has finally found me. At that time I honestly wanted to hide away and, if it wouldn't cause too much of a commotion, die. The emptiness, lonliness, self-criticism and absolute sense of abject failure feel too heavy to bear. At those times I find it difficult to share myself with someone else. I recognize that it is an intensely self-absorbed time and I cannot bear the platitudes, solutions, off-handedness that folks often toss out at times like that in my life so I don't tell anyone. At times like that I don't trust anyone with myself. I feel as if my skin is raw and the stakes are so high. My saving grace is that I do continue with my social life and attendance at church and working and care taking of my loved ones. I continue though I feel as if I cannot move and that I am bleeding out from a severe wound. The best cure is an opportunity to help someone else who is in a situation that requires me to focus outwardly. So I had that going on for a time and an opportunity appeared and I took it and felt better.
Dramatically different is the time I spend with my grandson. It is magical time for me. Our relationship transcends tiredness, worries, dark thinking or anything other than joy. I am so grateful for this child in my life. I have three other grandchildren who are my heart and when I am around them I feel that same sense of joy. I cannot express it in words other than to say I have found nothing more powerful in my life excepting the love of God. They are all growing up. That is o.k. This Friday night a friend of mine and I went to a local fort to hear a local zydeco band play. Beautiful evening, an awesome friendship, folks in their lawn chairs with their children running and playing and then the zydeco music. The zydeco music begins to take hold of the listener. At first there is a moment of familiarity and satisfaction, then a few people start to dance on the grass, by the third song the children become overwhelmed by the impulse to dance and frolic in front of the stage. That is what got me last night. Two little girls who danced with their grandma and then with themselves. Joyous little girls who began sticking their tongues out at me and making faces when they realized I was photographing them. I could not resist getting closer to them. Next thing I knew I was dancing with them, spinning in circles, clapping, twirling, laughing and lost in the joy of child-like wonder. So I know my grandchildren are growing up and I cherish the years in between now and then and I also know that children will appear who will call out that child-like part of me from here until then.
Oh, the entire week or so has been, in the words of an elderly woman who use to say, "interesting" when new things or situations confounded her. Things have been "interesting".
And so, I will leave you, dear reader, with this:
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
That GOD Has Placed You In - He that hath ears to hear, let him hear!
Romans 12:10-13 (NIV)
Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
There is none like Him!
Today was a lifetime full of experience for me. Looking back I realize that each moment, each place and time of this day was overflowing with God's grace and mercy for me and for the people with whom I interacted, for the situations that were birthed and resolved from wake up until this moment I have been experiencing the mighty grace of a God who is faithful even as I teeter on the edge of falling He protects and defends me and He hears my prayers.
I don't want to go into details because I don't want to draw attention to myself so much as to the unbelievable and humbling grace of my Father who art in Heaven.
It began last night as I made a decision out of my self-will that, in the morning, created another decision of mine to cancel plans I had made to visit someone I love dearly who is sick and in the hospital and to be with his wife. I also had a friend who was going with me who cancelled because of a forgotten prior commitment. Had things gone according to my plans we would have visited in the morning and I would have been home in time to attend a graduation party in the afternoon.
I attended the graduation party where I received a call that led me to choose to go to the hospital as soon as possible where the situation had worsened quickly. (Stay with me cause I want to share the power of a living God with you)
On the way to the party I stopped for gas. An old friend was at one of the pumps gassing up his motorcycle. We have chemistry but no history and that is enuff info on the matter. We talked, had not seen each other in months, caught up on stuff for a few minutes, he bought my gas, the chemistry was real and I am very lonely in my marriage. I ended up agreeing to go for a motorcycle ride in the near future and we parted ways.
Immediately the struggle began inside of me. I started rationalizing and fighting with myself. Finally I called a friend and confessed the huge fantasy building in my mind. I asked God to help me, parked and went into the hospital.
Over the course of a few hours my friend's wife and I became alarmed by her husband's worsening condition. We went to the cafeteria for a rest and here is where I start tying all of this together.
My self-will the night before was turned to God's purpose because I was positioned for God to do His will for my friends later in the day when my presence best served His purpose.
God was not finished. I would have missed the graduation party had I gone to the hospital in the morning. I got the call at the party where there were a group of Christians who prayed for my friend.
I met my old friend at the gas station causing me to confront a struggle that is intensely challenging for me when it occurs. I made a bad choice. I became confused and faced a life changing decision point. I confessed it and turned it over to God.
At the hospital a dear friend of mine who works there was able to see my friend, find me and his wife in the cafeteria and offer us insight that gave us an entirely new perspective on how to best serve and care for my friends husband. On the nurses floor the nurses immediately agreed and, much to our amazement, my friend, so desperately ill, let go and allowed the nurses to guide him. He even became convicted of what they were telling him. We had prayer and I left to go to a friend's to decompress before going home. I was still struggling with this incident at the gas pumps. I talked to my friend about it and left her house feeling the old nature sparring with my new life in Christ.
I randomly chose a movie from Netflix and it was completely about a woman who felt lonely in her marriage, chose to hang out with this other man and, long story short, the consequences were devastating. My God showed me beyond the shadow of a doubt where I was heading if I continued in my train of thought and I know as good as I know I am sitting on my couch this moment that my Father loved me that much to grace me with a story that brought me back to my senses and away from the temptation.
So, short story long, God redeemed my self-will through out the day, used each moment of the day to build on itself showing His glory in perfect timing, perfect love with a healthy dose of a much needed lesson for me.
We asked God to grant my friend peace, calmness of spirit and the last call I got from his wife she told me the drama and stress had subsided and her husband and my friend was relaxing, letting go and calm. The night nurse had first put her arms around him and told him she loved him and then began the marching orders. WOW!!
There is none like Him. I am not saying God ordained that I make self-willed choices to cause a change in my plans. He had a plan for today and I was in it because He chose for me to be in it. God loved us today, He guided us today, He protected us today, He gathered us together today. He does it all the time. Today it was revealed to me as the day wore on and by this time of the day I am in awe. Tomorrow I may not see the path so clearly. I might not see it at all but that does not mean the path is not evolving or that I am any less on it. I don't know the mind or the ways of God. There is none like Him!
I don't want to go into details because I don't want to draw attention to myself so much as to the unbelievable and humbling grace of my Father who art in Heaven.
It began last night as I made a decision out of my self-will that, in the morning, created another decision of mine to cancel plans I had made to visit someone I love dearly who is sick and in the hospital and to be with his wife. I also had a friend who was going with me who cancelled because of a forgotten prior commitment. Had things gone according to my plans we would have visited in the morning and I would have been home in time to attend a graduation party in the afternoon.
I attended the graduation party where I received a call that led me to choose to go to the hospital as soon as possible where the situation had worsened quickly. (Stay with me cause I want to share the power of a living God with you)
On the way to the party I stopped for gas. An old friend was at one of the pumps gassing up his motorcycle. We have chemistry but no history and that is enuff info on the matter. We talked, had not seen each other in months, caught up on stuff for a few minutes, he bought my gas, the chemistry was real and I am very lonely in my marriage. I ended up agreeing to go for a motorcycle ride in the near future and we parted ways.
Immediately the struggle began inside of me. I started rationalizing and fighting with myself. Finally I called a friend and confessed the huge fantasy building in my mind. I asked God to help me, parked and went into the hospital.
Over the course of a few hours my friend's wife and I became alarmed by her husband's worsening condition. We went to the cafeteria for a rest and here is where I start tying all of this together.
My self-will the night before was turned to God's purpose because I was positioned for God to do His will for my friends later in the day when my presence best served His purpose.
God was not finished. I would have missed the graduation party had I gone to the hospital in the morning. I got the call at the party where there were a group of Christians who prayed for my friend.
I met my old friend at the gas station causing me to confront a struggle that is intensely challenging for me when it occurs. I made a bad choice. I became confused and faced a life changing decision point. I confessed it and turned it over to God.
At the hospital a dear friend of mine who works there was able to see my friend, find me and his wife in the cafeteria and offer us insight that gave us an entirely new perspective on how to best serve and care for my friends husband. On the nurses floor the nurses immediately agreed and, much to our amazement, my friend, so desperately ill, let go and allowed the nurses to guide him. He even became convicted of what they were telling him. We had prayer and I left to go to a friend's to decompress before going home. I was still struggling with this incident at the gas pumps. I talked to my friend about it and left her house feeling the old nature sparring with my new life in Christ.
I randomly chose a movie from Netflix and it was completely about a woman who felt lonely in her marriage, chose to hang out with this other man and, long story short, the consequences were devastating. My God showed me beyond the shadow of a doubt where I was heading if I continued in my train of thought and I know as good as I know I am sitting on my couch this moment that my Father loved me that much to grace me with a story that brought me back to my senses and away from the temptation.
So, short story long, God redeemed my self-will through out the day, used each moment of the day to build on itself showing His glory in perfect timing, perfect love with a healthy dose of a much needed lesson for me.
We asked God to grant my friend peace, calmness of spirit and the last call I got from his wife she told me the drama and stress had subsided and her husband and my friend was relaxing, letting go and calm. The night nurse had first put her arms around him and told him she loved him and then began the marching orders. WOW!!
There is none like Him. I am not saying God ordained that I make self-willed choices to cause a change in my plans. He had a plan for today and I was in it because He chose for me to be in it. God loved us today, He guided us today, He protected us today, He gathered us together today. He does it all the time. Today it was revealed to me as the day wore on and by this time of the day I am in awe. Tomorrow I may not see the path so clearly. I might not see it at all but that does not mean the path is not evolving or that I am any less on it. I don't know the mind or the ways of God. There is none like Him!
Saturday, May 24, 2014
I Don't Even Know What To Call This!
I've been in such a somber mood of late. It is time to break on down to the other side.
But first, I have had the discussion of people's impression that I am eccentric with someone again. I am at 100% in yays rather than nays. This covers the span of a few years now. I chafe at the definition though I can't imagine why I give a rat's tiny buttocks about it. Could be that I am even proud of it. How would I know? It is an assignation that does not match with my vision of an eccentric. Hold one moment! I am going to get the definition of eccentric. Be right back!
Whadda' ya think?
A personal favorite!
I just like this little song! Ya!
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
The Lark Ascending - Ralph Vaughan Williams
This is long and it is beautiful. I put it here for me but each of you are worth the hearing. My spirit calms, sorrow takes a place a little further from my heart. It is well with my soul.
Seventy Times Seven
OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER .
Matthew 18: 21-22
21 Then Peter came up to Him and said, Lord, how many times may my brother sin against me and I forgive him and [a]let it go? [As many as] up to seven times?
22 Jesus answered him, I tell you, not up to seven times, but seventy times seven!
Oh, wow! This journey is difficult and I am tired!
I am going to bed!
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
HERE THERE AND EVERYWHERE
I have lost my mouse. I lost it a week or two ago. Now I have lost the thingy I plug into my laptop so that I can operate that mouse. I don't do so well using the pad on my laptop. I tend to hit super scroll by accident or delete everything I have written with some movement I have yet to discern.
I am writing in large letters because normal appeared so tiny to me. Yeah? Well, I am not young anymore and normal is unnatural to me on a good day. If anyone reading my posts prefers normal, leave a comment. I dare you! I don't even know if the darn "comment" function works on this blog. Not resentment or anything. This is me writing so of course the words are precious and beyond reproach. But they don't have to be in large text. I am a people pleaser. Let me know. I am also sarcastic so I will either change the size or ridicule your request.
My friend John has lung cancer. Little place on his left lung at the top of the lung. My friend John and his wife Miss B are among my favorite people in all the world. I worked with John for a number of years before I retired. He is about my age...little older. He wears khaki to work every single day. He carries ink pins in his top pocket with one of those plastic pocket protectors inside the pocket. He makes a steady "huh-huh" noise 95% of the time. He is a conspiracy theorist. He is the quintessential gentleman. He loves his wife of over 30 years in a precious and romantic way. He is detail oriented. DETAIL ORIENTED! He loves God and his country. Will defend women with the bravado of one of the legenday knights of King Arthur's court. He will drive anyone absolutely and completely nuts with his convoluted thinking processes. He is old fashioned. He wears real clothes away from work and he is nice looking in his street clothes. He is an accomplished painter, He paints historical scenes of our area. He researches for up to 2 years for accuracy. Very few people even know he paints. Very few people allow themselves to look past the decidedly eccentric ways of my friend John. He is funny. He has very little understanding of the computer creating multiple opportunites for side-splitting laughing moments. He doesn't get what is funny and launches off into a conspriacy theory with wild abandonment, talking to himself when we have long ceased to listen. He is probably a genius. Probably at the high end of the genius level. He had an awful childhood. Crazy mother who put him in an orphanage, orphanage put him into foster care, he put himself on the streets making his own way by the age of 13. God graced John with an awesome, petite woman full of southern grace and charm. They married. They have never had children. They are spectacular. She is a lady through and through. She is John's reason for breathing. John is the product of a sad mischance. John's father looked for all of his children and he found them and raised them and sent them to college. The orphanage would not tell John's father where they had placed him. John did not know this story until about five years ago...Soon enough to meet his dad and to be able to attend his funeral not long afterwards. John drives me nuts. We dig at each other verbally all the time. We laugh and have the best time poking fun at each other. He is the best of the best. He is a square peg in a round hole and I am so grateful. I am so filled with joy for knowing him and his lady love, Miss B. I will be at the hospital when he has his surgery. Of course I want John here but if God has decided to bring His strange and wonderful child home then I will have one more reason to shout with joy when I meet him in our Father's House.
I am writing in large letters because normal appeared so tiny to me. Yeah? Well, I am not young anymore and normal is unnatural to me on a good day. If anyone reading my posts prefers normal, leave a comment. I dare you! I don't even know if the darn "comment" function works on this blog. Not resentment or anything. This is me writing so of course the words are precious and beyond reproach. But they don't have to be in large text. I am a people pleaser. Let me know. I am also sarcastic so I will either change the size or ridicule your request.
My friend John has lung cancer. Little place on his left lung at the top of the lung. My friend John and his wife Miss B are among my favorite people in all the world. I worked with John for a number of years before I retired. He is about my age...little older. He wears khaki to work every single day. He carries ink pins in his top pocket with one of those plastic pocket protectors inside the pocket. He makes a steady "huh-huh" noise 95% of the time. He is a conspiracy theorist. He is the quintessential gentleman. He loves his wife of over 30 years in a precious and romantic way. He is detail oriented. DETAIL ORIENTED! He loves God and his country. Will defend women with the bravado of one of the legenday knights of King Arthur's court. He will drive anyone absolutely and completely nuts with his convoluted thinking processes. He is old fashioned. He wears real clothes away from work and he is nice looking in his street clothes. He is an accomplished painter, He paints historical scenes of our area. He researches for up to 2 years for accuracy. Very few people even know he paints. Very few people allow themselves to look past the decidedly eccentric ways of my friend John. He is funny. He has very little understanding of the computer creating multiple opportunites for side-splitting laughing moments. He doesn't get what is funny and launches off into a conspriacy theory with wild abandonment, talking to himself when we have long ceased to listen. He is probably a genius. Probably at the high end of the genius level. He had an awful childhood. Crazy mother who put him in an orphanage, orphanage put him into foster care, he put himself on the streets making his own way by the age of 13. God graced John with an awesome, petite woman full of southern grace and charm. They married. They have never had children. They are spectacular. She is a lady through and through. She is John's reason for breathing. John is the product of a sad mischance. John's father looked for all of his children and he found them and raised them and sent them to college. The orphanage would not tell John's father where they had placed him. John did not know this story until about five years ago...Soon enough to meet his dad and to be able to attend his funeral not long afterwards. John drives me nuts. We dig at each other verbally all the time. We laugh and have the best time poking fun at each other. He is the best of the best. He is a square peg in a round hole and I am so grateful. I am so filled with joy for knowing him and his lady love, Miss B. I will be at the hospital when he has his surgery. Of course I want John here but if God has decided to bring His strange and wonderful child home then I will have one more reason to shout with joy when I meet him in our Father's House.
John 14:2
The Message (MSG)
The Road
14 1-4 “Don’t let this throw you. You trust God, don’t you? Trust me. There is plenty of room for you in my Father’s home. If that weren’t so, would I have told you that I’m on my way to get a room ready for you? And if I’m on my way to get your room ready, I’ll come back and get you so you can live where I live. And you already know the road I’m taking.”
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
YUCK! BLEH! POOR ME! (Copious tears of self-pity)
On days like today I wonder where my gratitude has gone. I look for it to appear instantaneously. This is a futile expectation on days like today. I am required to go looking in every nook and cranny for it. I will rephrase that last sentence. It is best, by a long shot, that I try to find my gratitude on a day like today. It is not a requirement.
I have been in low cotton, for three weeks or so, with a viral something or other that hit like a sledgehammer one evening while I was watching t.v. Yep! Felt o.k. one minute and the next wondered what on earth had taken over my body. Keep in mind that I am a recovering alcoholic with the ability to exaggerate even the smallest event in my life but, this time, I am telling the gist of it. I've got doctor's notes to prove it. Because I tend to dramatize I called a close friend today and asked her to tell me if she thought I was being a drama queen. She assured me, with references to my past, notes at the bottom of her conversation with me, quoted resources, etc. that I am not dramatizing. She reminded me that at one time I was ill like this on a recurring basis with few breaks between. In essence I have been doing much better. Unfortunately, I have gotten stuck in a familiar pattern of trying to get well. The difference is that I am choosing to rest.
I went looking for my gratitude and found this and know that it is true. Pass the humble pie, please!
I have been in low cotton, for three weeks or so, with a viral something or other that hit like a sledgehammer one evening while I was watching t.v. Yep! Felt o.k. one minute and the next wondered what on earth had taken over my body. Keep in mind that I am a recovering alcoholic with the ability to exaggerate even the smallest event in my life but, this time, I am telling the gist of it. I've got doctor's notes to prove it. Because I tend to dramatize I called a close friend today and asked her to tell me if she thought I was being a drama queen. She assured me, with references to my past, notes at the bottom of her conversation with me, quoted resources, etc. that I am not dramatizing. She reminded me that at one time I was ill like this on a recurring basis with few breaks between. In essence I have been doing much better. Unfortunately, I have gotten stuck in a familiar pattern of trying to get well. The difference is that I am choosing to rest.
I went looking for my gratitude and found this and know that it is true. Pass the humble pie, please!
Monday, May 12, 2014
TINY LITTLE POST
Walking home from my mother's house tonight I thought, "My gosh, I think I just heard a whip- o-will." (I've no idea how to spell that name correctly and am too lazy to look it up.) This distinctive bird call brings a flood of memories when I hear it.
My Papa (maternal grandfather) imitated the calls of many birds. This was a gift he earned through hours of time in the woods hunting or farming along side of those same woods day after day.
This whip-o-will was one of his best calls. I have stood by his side as he responded to the call of this wild bird luring it closer and closer to the edge of the property. "Whip-o-will!" would come from the woods surrounding my papa's home. "Whip-o-will!" my papa would echo back in a whistle which must have seemed like an identical echo to the unsuspecting bird. I may be a bird brain at times but I have no idea what birds are thinking. There is the possibility they were onto my Papa and would volunteer to take turns calling their distinctive call, listening for my Papa's return call and move just a little closer until they were at the edge of the woods. I can see the remaining birds holding their sides in bird laughter at their precocious choice.
I said this would be short. I called back to the whip-o-will I heard tonight. Even I didn't believe myself. My papa, temporarily resurrected, stood at my side. He drew in a breath, paused a split-second and whistled a clear, spot on, reply to the whip-o-will. As I turned the corner of my yard my papa faded. Another second passed. From the woods I heard the replying call of the whip-o-will.
I miss my papa!
(I wrote the post before including the actual call of the whip-poor-will but I'll be darned if I am going back through this post and correct my spelling of the bird's name. Maybe that is why the bird did not respond to me.)
Friday, May 9, 2014
Shameless Stealing Mr. Sponsorpant's perspective.
It's about pausing. It's about not letting other people's actions determine my actions.
It's about breathing and understanding that someone else's spiritual sickness does not have to activate my own.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Flotsam and Jetsam
I chose the title because as a child I loved that combination of words. I remember it today in the same placein my mind where I remember the pungent odors on certain streets in Taipei, Taiwan or in a memory of sea air briny and strong coming to me on a rush of night air. I remember the tree I climbed in Africa where I settled into a comfortable position in the tree limbs with a book and an apple. In those days I read voraciously imagining myself as the heroine of a neighborhood; dashing out into the imagined night imitating the likes of Florence Nightingale and Clara Barton. I saw myself fling a cloak around my shoulders, medicine bag in hand, a carriage waiting in the dark night as rain driven by the wind lashed against my running legs. Headed for the carriage and the person who somewhere in the dark night needed help I saw myself leaping into the carriage, heart pounding, cloaked against the harsh weather abandoning all need of sleep for that dark evening as my mind filled with the task ahead.
Or
Alice in Wonderland. Oh my, how I loved that book. After a time I began to imagine myself with Alice. Each paragraph of the book fed the image I created of myself lost in a land full of strange events, up being down and down being up, the Cheshire cat grinning, fading out of sight without moving a muscle. The mean, sharp-tongued Queen chasing us as we ran from her screeching shouts. Oh how I loved the adventures and characters I met on my way through Wonderland. I spent an inordinate amount of time imagining the mouse in the teacup. My heart sped up as Alice and I became tall and then small ingesting a magic potion at great peril to ourselves. The Mad Hatter, Twiddle-de-dee and Twiddle-de-dumb, the catepillar; all these characters sprung to life as I sat, time after time, reading the story of Alice and her adventures inWonderland.
I could go on and on...The Yearling tore my heart from my chest. Little Women and Jo's Boys drew me into their family so deeply that I thought I would wake up in one of the living room chairs placed by the fireside.
Memories of the day I learned to ride a bicycle. Too short for the height of the bike I devised a method of jumping onto the seat of the bicycle from a nearby cement block. There were more than a few failed attempts. At last I pedaled off into the distance with my feet barely touching the pedals as they rose and fell with the rhythm of my legs. It would be years before I had a bike that fit me. I learned to ride in Africa. Strange how I can see myself jumping from the cement block onto the seat of the bike. It was freedom. Freedom to put distance between myself and home. Freedom to experience the hot African wind blowing through my hair. Freedom to dream. There is something about Africa. I was young when we lived in Ghana, West Africa. I miss Africa. I yearn for it. Something in Africa comes to dwell in a visitor's psyche. It stands the test of time and distance. I have heard many people speak of Africa with a wistful craving.
Enough of my musings. Flotsam and jetsam. Memories. Homesick for the little girl who lived in those times and places I promise to visit again. She waves at me over the long years and I wave back. Until we meet again, my friend.
Or
Alice in Wonderland. Oh my, how I loved that book. After a time I began to imagine myself with Alice. Each paragraph of the book fed the image I created of myself lost in a land full of strange events, up being down and down being up, the Cheshire cat grinning, fading out of sight without moving a muscle. The mean, sharp-tongued Queen chasing us as we ran from her screeching shouts. Oh how I loved the adventures and characters I met on my way through Wonderland. I spent an inordinate amount of time imagining the mouse in the teacup. My heart sped up as Alice and I became tall and then small ingesting a magic potion at great peril to ourselves. The Mad Hatter, Twiddle-de-dee and Twiddle-de-dumb, the catepillar; all these characters sprung to life as I sat, time after time, reading the story of Alice and her adventures inWonderland.
I could go on and on...The Yearling tore my heart from my chest. Little Women and Jo's Boys drew me into their family so deeply that I thought I would wake up in one of the living room chairs placed by the fireside.
Memories of the day I learned to ride a bicycle. Too short for the height of the bike I devised a method of jumping onto the seat of the bicycle from a nearby cement block. There were more than a few failed attempts. At last I pedaled off into the distance with my feet barely touching the pedals as they rose and fell with the rhythm of my legs. It would be years before I had a bike that fit me. I learned to ride in Africa. Strange how I can see myself jumping from the cement block onto the seat of the bike. It was freedom. Freedom to put distance between myself and home. Freedom to experience the hot African wind blowing through my hair. Freedom to dream. There is something about Africa. I was young when we lived in Ghana, West Africa. I miss Africa. I yearn for it. Something in Africa comes to dwell in a visitor's psyche. It stands the test of time and distance. I have heard many people speak of Africa with a wistful craving.
Enough of my musings. Flotsam and jetsam. Memories. Homesick for the little girl who lived in those times and places I promise to visit again. She waves at me over the long years and I wave back. Until we meet again, my friend.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Whee Doggie!
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!
If you're happy and you know it then you smile will surely show it!
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
So Ya Think Ya Know Everthing?
Whew! What a day! I am working at my home job taking calls and about an hour out from quitting time when my mother calls my name. I think maybe she just wants me to fix somthing on the ipad for her so I take a couple more calls when she calls out again with emphasis. She says she is calling the rescue squad to come to the house. Easy going daughter goes into solution mode immediately. Call rescue squad, cancel hours for next day's work, assist in answering rescue squad's questions, call the appropriate family and church numbers. Arrange for someone to bring hubby supper and cat
food for the felines, get in the car and head for the hospital.
Mom was hurting all over and shaking like a leaf in a swirling blast of autumn air and nauseated.
She is southern to the core. She would never call the rescue squad under her own power and certainly would not allow them to pick her up with her nightgown and slippers on...a short nightgown at that with all her Christmas (what my granny use to call "it") showing at one time or the other. This is what told me, more than an other thing, that my mother was suffering.
I had noticed a slow decline in her energy level and she complained of having no energy, no motivation, no desire to do what she knew she had done until recently. This "something is wrong" thing nagged my brain to the point that I called my sister and voiced my concerns. We put it up to old age and lack of exercise. Mom was staying home more and more. She never felt well enough to keep up with her yoga, exercising and church attendance. She was peevish, lacking in motivation and miserable. So it came as no surprise to me that something was physically wrong with her. I was grateful. I thought she was slowly going crazy. I was not prepared for the answer to her numerous symptoms.
Mother tested well on everything. Still there was the fact that she was changing in a number of ways and that she was in pain. Real pain. I spoke with the doctor. I mentioned her constant use of her ipad. Bingo!! My mother suffers from extreme ipad use. The muscles in her neck, shoulders, back and even in her legs have, over a period of time, all become compromised thru basic repetitive motion while using the ipad. Head bent over, shoulders pulled forward and out to hold the ipad and use it. Lack of motivation, what appeared as depression, no energy, all of it part of her hours and hours on the ipad.
Well, ya coulda knocked me over with a feather! 85 years old, sitting in her easy chair plays games and reads facebook until her body screamed, "ENOUGH!!" Who knew? Not in a million years did I see that coming. I was relieved. Mom is sore and hurting but not dying with heart fibrillations.
So I brought her home, called my sister who is the bad cop to my good cop relationship with mom. I left mom's to go home for awhile. My sister told me to hand mom the phone and proceeded to take her to school because , I had whispered to her on the phone,that our mother was already playing on her ipad. I dropped that bomb on the bad cop and fled mom's house. Like I said, my sister plays a gread bad cop. I drop the ball in front of her and she kicks it through the goal.
Never believe a day is going to follow the path you laid out for yourself. It ain't gonna happen. Flow with the day. If it bears garbage and vermins, flow with it. If it bears the boredom and day after day monotony of plans set in stone years ago, flow with it. If it fills you with joy and happiness flow with it.
Thus my title: So Ya Think Ya Know Everything? I'm laughing. Hard. Go on with your bad self. Let me watch for a change. I thought I had seen everything. HA!! My 85 year old mother is an IPAD junky and now she has the creds to show it!
Word to Ya Mama!
food for the felines, get in the car and head for the hospital.
Mom was hurting all over and shaking like a leaf in a swirling blast of autumn air and nauseated.
She is southern to the core. She would never call the rescue squad under her own power and certainly would not allow them to pick her up with her nightgown and slippers on...a short nightgown at that with all her Christmas (what my granny use to call "it") showing at one time or the other. This is what told me, more than an other thing, that my mother was suffering.
I had noticed a slow decline in her energy level and she complained of having no energy, no motivation, no desire to do what she knew she had done until recently. This "something is wrong" thing nagged my brain to the point that I called my sister and voiced my concerns. We put it up to old age and lack of exercise. Mom was staying home more and more. She never felt well enough to keep up with her yoga, exercising and church attendance. She was peevish, lacking in motivation and miserable. So it came as no surprise to me that something was physically wrong with her. I was grateful. I thought she was slowly going crazy. I was not prepared for the answer to her numerous symptoms.
Mother tested well on everything. Still there was the fact that she was changing in a number of ways and that she was in pain. Real pain. I spoke with the doctor. I mentioned her constant use of her ipad. Bingo!! My mother suffers from extreme ipad use. The muscles in her neck, shoulders, back and even in her legs have, over a period of time, all become compromised thru basic repetitive motion while using the ipad. Head bent over, shoulders pulled forward and out to hold the ipad and use it. Lack of motivation, what appeared as depression, no energy, all of it part of her hours and hours on the ipad.
Well, ya coulda knocked me over with a feather! 85 years old, sitting in her easy chair plays games and reads facebook until her body screamed, "ENOUGH!!" Who knew? Not in a million years did I see that coming. I was relieved. Mom is sore and hurting but not dying with heart fibrillations.
So I brought her home, called my sister who is the bad cop to my good cop relationship with mom. I left mom's to go home for awhile. My sister told me to hand mom the phone and proceeded to take her to school because , I had whispered to her on the phone,that our mother was already playing on her ipad. I dropped that bomb on the bad cop and fled mom's house. Like I said, my sister plays a gread bad cop. I drop the ball in front of her and she kicks it through the goal.
Never believe a day is going to follow the path you laid out for yourself. It ain't gonna happen. Flow with the day. If it bears garbage and vermins, flow with it. If it bears the boredom and day after day monotony of plans set in stone years ago, flow with it. If it fills you with joy and happiness flow with it.
Thus my title: So Ya Think Ya Know Everything? I'm laughing. Hard. Go on with your bad self. Let me watch for a change. I thought I had seen everything. HA!! My 85 year old mother is an IPAD junky and now she has the creds to show it!
Word to Ya Mama!
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Growing Pains
All in all I consider myself , with a degree of smug satisfaction, to be a person who has come a long way in my spiritual walk. It is this belief system that has been challenged of late. An awareness of habits I have or behaviors I allow in myself has been quickened.
What's that? Prove it! O.K. Not a problem for me at this moment because the light is shining on a few of these behaviors. As is often the case my behaviors are of the garden variety. For a woman who takes herself too damn seriously every day of her life the idea of being "garden variety" is not easy to swallow. At the age of 62 I have less energy to perpetuate the myth of uniqueness. This myth vanishes when I am confronted with character defects that are juvenile nor are they innocent. Sigh! Here goes a confession of the most boring garden variety character defects imaginable. Yet the most capable of ruin for me and for others.
1. Gossip/Character assassination: Cunning and adept at dressing up in the garment of "concern" for others, this pig of a behavior is still a pig no matter the disguise. Oh, how safe I have felt trading stories, judging the behaviors of others, speaking of matters with no actual truths to back them up and, absolutely for their own good, of course for their own good. I have miles and miles of memory tapes I could review to find myself practicing this fine art. SO WHAT IS THE POINT?
My Father says, "Thou shalt not murder" Thou shalt not bear false witness" "Thou shalt not covet! " My Father says that I should love my neighbor as I love myself. Oh the burden of this awareness. My Father is loving me with growing pains! He is showing me the ugly truth of gossip and my whole-hearted participation in it. He is opening my eyes to see that I particularly enjoy talking about my brothers and sisters in Christ. This is painful. I feel ashamed. I want to hide from Him!
Yet, He loves me beyond measure. Even as I begin to shed this character defect He reaches to grow me up! He shows me how I can love the ones I have so smugly trashed with my gossiping. He is revealing to me how I can move from destroying to uplifting, from my way to His desire.
It must be late. Probably close to morning. I know most people who read this blog...all ten of you, lol, may wish I would lighten up. Well, I got lit up, if that counts, and I gotta be me! I am my Father's precious daughter. I am a child of the King!
What's that? Prove it! O.K. Not a problem for me at this moment because the light is shining on a few of these behaviors. As is often the case my behaviors are of the garden variety. For a woman who takes herself too damn seriously every day of her life the idea of being "garden variety" is not easy to swallow. At the age of 62 I have less energy to perpetuate the myth of uniqueness. This myth vanishes when I am confronted with character defects that are juvenile nor are they innocent. Sigh! Here goes a confession of the most boring garden variety character defects imaginable. Yet the most capable of ruin for me and for others.
1. Gossip/Character assassination: Cunning and adept at dressing up in the garment of "concern" for others, this pig of a behavior is still a pig no matter the disguise. Oh, how safe I have felt trading stories, judging the behaviors of others, speaking of matters with no actual truths to back them up and, absolutely for their own good, of course for their own good. I have miles and miles of memory tapes I could review to find myself practicing this fine art. SO WHAT IS THE POINT?
My Father says, "Thou shalt not murder" Thou shalt not bear false witness" "Thou shalt not covet! " My Father says that I should love my neighbor as I love myself. Oh the burden of this awareness. My Father is loving me with growing pains! He is showing me the ugly truth of gossip and my whole-hearted participation in it. He is opening my eyes to see that I particularly enjoy talking about my brothers and sisters in Christ. This is painful. I feel ashamed. I want to hide from Him!
Yet, He loves me beyond measure. Even as I begin to shed this character defect He reaches to grow me up! He shows me how I can love the ones I have so smugly trashed with my gossiping. He is revealing to me how I can move from destroying to uplifting, from my way to His desire.
It must be late. Probably close to morning. I know most people who read this blog...all ten of you, lol, may wish I would lighten up. Well, I got lit up, if that counts, and I gotta be me! I am my Father's precious daughter. I am a child of the King!
Thursday, April 24, 2014
I Uncover A Fly In The Ointment Of My Thinking
Recently a friend of mine helped me get a dramatic discount on something I legitimately needed but could not afford at full price. Her gesture meant that a pet of mine received the care it needed. I was deeply appreciative.Tonight my mind opened up a bit. In the program I attend we speak often on honesty and what honesty looks like..little white lie, outright lying, lying with ill intent, etc. Also at the church I attend we speak of walking our talk. Between the program and my faith honesty becomes an important component of spiritual health, physical health and so much more. I have heard that I am only as sick as my secrets. I wholeheartedly subscribe to this powerful concept having spent many years keeping secrets, running from the uncomfortable light of truth. My reasons were many. Fear probably tops the list of my motivations.
So, I started to feel uncomfortable. I examined this awesome gesture from my friend under the light of truth. Did anyone have to lie, either by action or omission of the facts? Yes! All parties involved agreed quietly to make the arrangement and to be available to ensure it happened without any trouble. Did this act rob anyone? Yes, it directly robbed the business owner who generously allows perks to his employees which he trusts will not be abused. Was anyone harmed? My grandson who went with me and overheard the conversation about waiting for the right time so my friend would be available to provide the savings. What did that choice teach my grandson? It sure looks like grandma and her friends can make agreements that require secrecy! That there are times when we agree to hide the truth from others and it is o.k. to do wrong when it benefits us. Yet I will always teach him that telling the truth is a core component of trust between ourselves and others. My choice to ask my friend to provide this service directly led her into a situation that required her to fabricate and manipulate so that I could get an awesome bargain.
So...the world did not stop spinning and my animal is better off now and I appreciated my friend's offer of help but I will not be doing it again.My pastor once taught us that recording music from a friend's collection into our own collection was stealing. The music is sold for a reason. Taking that one small step of avoiding paying for music was a lie, a theft and wrong. Yes, we all want a bargain...you wash my back and I will wash your back kind of thing. But, for me, the choice is a first step down a long and slippery road. Darn it all!
So, I started to feel uncomfortable. I examined this awesome gesture from my friend under the light of truth. Did anyone have to lie, either by action or omission of the facts? Yes! All parties involved agreed quietly to make the arrangement and to be available to ensure it happened without any trouble. Did this act rob anyone? Yes, it directly robbed the business owner who generously allows perks to his employees which he trusts will not be abused. Was anyone harmed? My grandson who went with me and overheard the conversation about waiting for the right time so my friend would be available to provide the savings. What did that choice teach my grandson? It sure looks like grandma and her friends can make agreements that require secrecy! That there are times when we agree to hide the truth from others and it is o.k. to do wrong when it benefits us. Yet I will always teach him that telling the truth is a core component of trust between ourselves and others. My choice to ask my friend to provide this service directly led her into a situation that required her to fabricate and manipulate so that I could get an awesome bargain.
So...the world did not stop spinning and my animal is better off now and I appreciated my friend's offer of help but I will not be doing it again.My pastor once taught us that recording music from a friend's collection into our own collection was stealing. The music is sold for a reason. Taking that one small step of avoiding paying for music was a lie, a theft and wrong. Yes, we all want a bargain...you wash my back and I will wash your back kind of thing. But, for me, the choice is a first step down a long and slippery road. Darn it all!
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Random Thinking
I have country songs stuck in my head. One of them is a Glen Campbell song. I like the guy. It's just that to me he is the Barry Manilow of country. I liked it better when I had Hank Williams stuck in my head singing, "Hank why do you drink?........It's a family tradition!" None of these can compare to the days when I have the Goofy Goober song from Spongebob Squarepants on repeat play up in my head. "I'm a goofy goober yeah! You're a goofy goober yeah!..." Once in awhile a Veggie Tale song will trail through. I especially love the cheeseburger song. These will get mixed in with short memories of The Pee Wee Herman show or snippets from Groucho Marx.
Forget about it if classical music is playing. I am either reminded of every old cartoon I saw with the dancing and singing flowers and the buzzing bees or Snow White running through the frightening, gnarly forest trees as the wind whipped around her and the branches seemed to reach out to grab her. The classical music for those cartoons fed my imagination bringing more and more into that world and further from my seat on the floor.
Or, classical music again, I choreographic dances and musicals in my head as the music plays. I may be still on the outside. On the inside I am busy placing dancers, imagining their dances and the scenes.
But opera? Oh dear opera of mine! I have no idea what they are saying but I love it anyway. When I play opera music I become an opera star. I sing out with all I have to give and throw my arms wide in the pathos of the story. It does not matter that I don't know the story or that I sound like a feral cat gone mad or that I have about five feet of space. No! What matters is the absolute and complete majesty of the opera music and the opera singer bursting forth in utter abandonment to the experience.
Rock and roll? Oh hell yeah!! I don't become anyone else or build scenarios or pretend that I can sing those songs. They are my heart. They are at the birth of me. Jazz, blues, soul music, Dylan, beach music, The Supremes....does it get any better?
Gospel music makes a fool outta me. I sing, dance and amen right along with the songs wishing I had a church to be jumping and praising God in as the music calls me higher and higher. I hope there is Gospel Music in Heaven.
That's about it! Sweet Dreams!
Forget about it if classical music is playing. I am either reminded of every old cartoon I saw with the dancing and singing flowers and the buzzing bees or Snow White running through the frightening, gnarly forest trees as the wind whipped around her and the branches seemed to reach out to grab her. The classical music for those cartoons fed my imagination bringing more and more into that world and further from my seat on the floor.
Or, classical music again, I choreographic dances and musicals in my head as the music plays. I may be still on the outside. On the inside I am busy placing dancers, imagining their dances and the scenes.
But opera? Oh dear opera of mine! I have no idea what they are saying but I love it anyway. When I play opera music I become an opera star. I sing out with all I have to give and throw my arms wide in the pathos of the story. It does not matter that I don't know the story or that I sound like a feral cat gone mad or that I have about five feet of space. No! What matters is the absolute and complete majesty of the opera music and the opera singer bursting forth in utter abandonment to the experience.
Rock and roll? Oh hell yeah!! I don't become anyone else or build scenarios or pretend that I can sing those songs. They are my heart. They are at the birth of me. Jazz, blues, soul music, Dylan, beach music, The Supremes....does it get any better?
Gospel music makes a fool outta me. I sing, dance and amen right along with the songs wishing I had a church to be jumping and praising God in as the music calls me higher and higher. I hope there is Gospel Music in Heaven.
That's about it! Sweet Dreams!
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