sunflower seeds

sunday scribblings - #163 -- disconnected

2009-05-16T22:09:00.008-04:00

i am a rock

zara was heading west with no particular destination in mind – her journey was not preordained with any sort of fixed itinerary, but rather just a free-wheeling sort of junket to wherever the spirit moved her --- even though the meaning of her name was “princess” from hebrew origin, she dressed like an itinerant, said sassy and provocative things to the truckers at the gas bars, and cracked her gum whenever she pleased – in reality she craved being this free spirited character that she was portraying, who had just hit the open road a few days ago with a full tank of gas and no obligations or expectations, no one to criticize or debase her, no one to trust but herself – a couple of times her spirit had gotten free enough to frighten her, and she’d had to - “whoa, hoss!” - rein herself in, but by and large it was all GOOD!!!

she loved the old “tunes from her childhood” as she was want to refer to them, and they streamed non stop from the radio, wrapping around her head and her heart like silk swaddling – her generation had gapped long ago and far away, and she was well aware that musically she lived in a time warp of sorts that easily dated her but she didn’t really give a damn --- into the mix of “oldies” came a song from simon and garfunkel – without being aware of it, zara immediately pulled herself up and sat taller and prouder, like an imperial monarch behind the wheel, and as she barreled down the highway she shrieked (never could sing!) along at the top of her lungs – this was HER! tune – she thumped her fist on the wheel keeping perfect time and bellered, “I AM A ROCK, I AM AN ISLAND!!!” --- gearing down for the last two lines she dramatically whispered, “AND A ROCK FEELS NO PAIN --- AND AN ISLAND NEVER CRIES!!!” – then as usual at this point in time she had come totally undone, flipped ass over tea kettle into a meltdown, and found herself wrenched with such ferocious sobbing that she was forced to pull off the road or drive blind --- some rock!!!

zara quickly lit a much needed smoke – the slower breathing pattern helped her overcome the great quaking gasps of her weeping and get herself down to simmer instead of full boil – after she’d sat there for a bit and had a couple of more smokes, zara finally got her act together and pulled cautiously back into the traffic feeling drained and driving more sedately --- the freeness of her spirit and the joy of that freedom seemed extinguished along with the final cigarette ---

the miles were clicking by and zara was whooshing around in her head like a psycho on ‘shrooms while she maneuvered the car as if on auto pilot --- she was sure some rock alright – she felt no pain, yeh-right! --- and the island that never cried – well that just purged itself back there on a strange and lonely roadside, didn’t it, sports fans???

how had she ever arrived at the bottom of the heap of her own life? - when had this all started and why? – was she such a rotten kid that she was unlikable and retreated into herself? – how come all the other kids would call one another out to play and leave her out? – why was she staring down the barrel of her second divorce – hadn’t she always tried to be the very best mate she could do? – how had her family left so many misunderstandings misunderstood? – how was it that she was misused and abused in her great effort to be a “part” of the world? – had she ever really been valued by anyone? – where had there been any help while she was a battered wife? - was she truly just a waste of skin? – she felt so alienated and disenfranchised and desperately alone – this free spirit and inner strength that people were privy to was just another mask, wasn’t it? – did or would anyone really unconditionally care for or about her ever? – would she always need to be a rock? – or an island? – forever??? – would she ever feel “connected” to anyone or anything? – she’d heard others talk about their warm snuggly life experiences and could barely restrain tears of sadness that she’d had none --- in a bid to get her attention, someone once alluded to the old streissand tune about people who need people being the luckiest people in the world (another tear jerker) --- well, she sure as hell needed atleast one good people, but she didn’t fancy herself lucky for that!!! ---

back where she had come from, there were quite a few people gathered at her home in an effort to find her, alarmed at her hasty departure and her unknown whereabouts – it was a sad irony about which she would never aware as she drove aimlessly into the never ending night, weeping at her overpowering feeling of disconnectedness ---

http://admin.meyercomputer.com/Newsletters/pics/0505_rock.gif

sunday scribblings - #162 -- healing

2009-05-09T17:58:00.010-04:00

heal thyself

before they left san fran for the napa valley on sunday morning katie had called her husband to touch base and murmur sweet things into the phone which probably made her feel a whole lot better than she was trying to make him feel all things considered – she knew he was getting ready for church when she called and she asked him to have a good talk with the Lord and pray bigger and harder than he ever had before – they had arrived at a point in time where the drug cache was very nearly rock bottom, and katie was carefully rationing the meagre stash out to dodie – enough to prevent her from going on a full blown one way trip into the screamie-meemies but far from what she was accustomed to taking because among dodie’s known dealers there seemed to be more demand than there was supply --- the night had been tortuous for dodie, filled with her demons, and exhausting for katie, filled with dodie’s needs and wants --- this had been going on week now, each night a little worse than the one before, each a nightmare all its own

katie had walked on the embarcardero early that morning while dodie was finally quiet and resting for a short while --- she sucked in the cool damp air - she tasted the salt as the wind currents shifted and swirled in the bay, and something bitter as some of her own demons threatened to rear their ugly heads – she could see alcatraz and at a little distance the red golden gate bridge rising from the fog, looking like it was part of an unfinished fairy tale – she knew she needed to get their show on the road, and reluctantly she began heading back toward powell street and the chaos that would make up the next and last 24 hours that she knew were still her duty ---

traffic on the bridge was a fright mare – they drove like crazy people here compared to the traffic patterns back home with which she was familiar - katie was happy to put paid to it and finally be napa valley bound ---

they stopped in napa itself to get some snacks and more booze for dodie to have at the motel overnight – there was simply no other way about it – dodie was first out of the car and moved toward the store as if she’d been commissioned under threat to get her tail in there as fast as possible – like a race against the fiends who were in charge of all things dodie --- katie was much slower getting out of the car – she lumbered out of the impala with age and exhaustion oppressing her big time, but suddenly she was energized!!! beyond measure as she looked down --- there at her feet, screaming! white and pristine, was a vicodin - spotless and gleaming in the sun, all by its own self there in its sunday perfection - jeez!!! --- go figure!!! --- her eyes welled over and she sank to her knees with gratitude – her husband must have been kneeling on rice and entreating his Higher Power all morning for this outcome --- she quickly scanned the immediate environs for more, but something told her not to push it – she said a silent prayer of thanksgiving and moved on to catch up with dodie – when she showed it to her, dodie swore that katie must have had this put aside all the while --- not the case, but no point in arguing ---

they checked into a motel in st. helena at suppertime, ordered a pizza and began the work of keeping dodie’s bottomless glass full - along with little bits and pieces of phenobarb and vicodin to keep her mellow, katie knew they’d make the overnight ---

the two cousins sat out on the patio and as it grew later, katie began to speak of her own personal experiences - the depths she had plumbed in her own life, the epiphanies and insights she’d come to accept and deal with, and the growth she’d experienced in her recuperative times – usually she was reticent and self-deprecating but for some reason she felt her age, experiences and wisdom combining into a force that she hoped would penetrate dodie’s fog and at least set the tone for this rehab episode --- she was trying to help dodie see that this was the fight of her life without scaring her to death --- she commended her for coming to this point on her journey, while at the same time she tried to help her see that it was now all up to her --- the supports were going to be there, the groups and the counselors, her fellow clients with similar problems, and the educational material – she would get good and adequate nutrition, an exercise program, and any number of psychological programs --- but the bottom line was that she had to do this by herself and for herself, she had to facilitate and allow the healing to come from deep within her, she had to true up to things she may not want to know or see --- she needed to plumb her own depths, gain her own epiphanies and insights to accept and deal with, and get to a recuperative place and time where she could savour her own personal changes and wisdom and allow herself to grow through it --- to heal!!!

the morning would bring the first day of the rest of her life --- and a new meaning for her of the words, “heal thyself!!!”

sunday scribblings --- # 161 - confession

2009-05-02T20:30:00.013-04:00

mea culpa – mea culpa – mea maxima culpa

--- “they” say that confession is good for the soul --- it strikes me that for some people that cliché philosophy might be a gimmick or a hook of sorts, and i’m not altogether sure i buy into it lock, stock, and barrel at this stage of my life ---

under the tutelage of “old school” strict nuns and priests from the first to the thirteenth grade – and beyond that throughout my post-secondary education - it became pretty firmly established in my mind that i was such a sinner and so in need of the confessional that i was quite nearly a waste of skin ---

in elementary school we were taken in a brood to mass every morning before classes began and part of the ritual was to receive communion --- hence, every afternoon before school got out we had to “order” our breakfast for the next morning – the breakfast order consisted of a chocolate dipped doughnut and/or a cinnamon swirl with white and/or chocolate milk – the way of things all those years ago required that one be fasting as a prerequisite to communion --- on a few occasions i’d thought i’d like not to have “breakfast” at school or i was caught out daydreaming --- WELL!!! – weren’t we (there were always others) in the soup then??? – the good sisters could fathom no reason for not going to communion except that we were in a state of sin – not acceptable, kids!!! --- so we were promptly trotted over to the church adjacent to go to confession ---

the confessional was hot and dark and scary and it smelled YUNKY! and you tried your level best not to hear another’s list of bad things confided just beyond the priest in the middle cuz you for sure didn’t want your stuff overheard - especially cuz half the time you were owning up to things as serious as talking in class or not doing your homework --- dastardly deeds at eight or nine years of age to be sure!!! --- somewhere along the line the sins grew along with my age and became more truly things to be acknowledged but certainly not the makings of a heaven or hell disposition ---

in my post secondary years in training to be a registered nurse it got a little dicier and very tricky to handle my transgressions because the good sisters had quite a different outlook on life than did i – you could be called from working in the hospital at any given moment and summoned to residence to meet with Sister H. and those calls struck terror in every one of our hearts --- you just knew the seat was going to be a real hot one – maybe you had folded your cap a stitch higher than regulation and one of three late leaves for that month would be cancelled – you were otherwise allowed two 10 o’clocks and one 11 o’clock leave each month, and all the other nights found you safe and sound in residence by 8 o’clock ---

in one instance when i got one of these sudden and unexpected calls i had no idea what awaited me and i sweated bullets all the way back to residence and my hands were shaking so badly that i could barely get the buttons fastened on a clean uniform – another requisite before you went to the office ---

so now front and centre in the office i stand in perfectly clean linens and shoelaces to be told the following by Sister H. – “miss p------! – you are crude, common, cheap, easy and vulgar!!!” --- clearly i was at a disadvantage in that she knew what she was about and i had no clue --- so like a sheep to slaughter i swallowed the boulder in my throat and chest and bravely and quietly said – “yes, sister” --- had to play it cool and collected here since i’d no idea what had brought this on and i was damned if i was about to tell on myself for something she didn’t even know – at least as yet --- the bottom line of all my degenerate and reprobate behaviour this time around turned out to be the fact that another nun had seen me eating breakfast that morning with the top button of my uniform undone --- can you imagine??!!!???!

so now when i respond to the prompt “confession” it is from a place where i believe that being honest and candid in my daily life is not only its own form of confession, but also not a bad way to go if i am able to keep it all balanced with some empathy and tact --- morality is as good for the soul as is confession, me thinks!!!

sunday scribblings --- # 160 - follow

2009-04-25T17:45:00.009-04:00

a slice of life

katie welcomed the peace and quiet of darkness lit only by the candles glowing randomly around the room – her thoughts were equally random, waxing and waning just as the candle flames, teasing her like the worst of all flirts --- she was trying to make sense of this whole bizarre situation and as it all came back to her, it was the stuff of which tears are made --- and hers flowed freely leaving the trail of their tracks down her face and dripping off her chin – plop-plop-plop! --- so much emotion to purge in order to make room for more ---

when 9/11 had come and gone it had left her uncle mike with an irreparable hole in his heart – sorrowfully, he had watched every second of the coverage on cnn, and he wept when he learned of the death of one of the first responders in new york – a fellow who was in the service with him and who had become a fire fighter after his army days --- he went on mourning his country, unable to heal that heart wound – it was irrevocable and permanent, a pain that could not be put in words --- and it was believed by the family to be the cause of his sudden heart death just a few months later --- only three days before christmas ---

katie remembered her shock when bits and pieces of her computer arrived over three days beginning on the second of january – she learned that it was one of the last bits of business – having it custom built for her - that mike had tended to before his untimely death --- they had shared a love for words since she had been a precocious two year old, and gave back as good as she got when he was teasing with her – she fervently wished there were a way to go back and see those little verbal sparring matches in real time ---

the computer had been mike’s legacy to her – but, even if it had been just a gum wrapper it would have meant just as much, just knowing she had been his focus so shortly before he died --- and because of that very strong bond they had, she was where she was at this very moment – adrift in a real, real bad situation in san francisco --- like, REAL BAD!!!

she had learned just a month previously of the desperate state of affairs in which her cousin, dodie, was living – living? – HAH! – existing was more to the point, and barely even doing that most days --- seems dodie had been self-medicating ever since mike’s death five years past, and was currently nourishing herself with nothing but an average of ten vicodin a day and forty ounces of vodka with just enough ginger ale to lend a minimal bubble --- she was in end stage addiction and without an advocate to intervene her days were surely coming down to not so many ---

katie had learned of this terrifying state of affairs quite by accident, which was really a side issue --- and it left her thunderstruck that no one was stepping up to help dodie --- katie had spoken with her aunt emm, dodie’s mom, and had been frustrated to learn that dodie’s mom and her siblings were absolutely worn down by dodie’s high maintenance behavior – they were just plain tired of her bullshit, so no one was prepared to do boo – peep – or squat now ---

feeling so keenly her bond with her uncle, katie felt a sureness settle into her core – an absolute certainty that were he alive, HE would! be stepping up for his daughter – and it left her feeling unequivocally that she should step up in his place --- a way to pay it back and pay it forward at the same time – so having ironed out the logistics with aunt emm, here she was right smack dab in the middle ---

she had been in san fran five days now and she was spent – physically, emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically fried --- her days were consumed with unending phone calls to rehab centres, pleas to doctors, her aunt, social services and call backs from people who proved to be of no help whatsoever --- nights were a madcap and chaotic schedule of events that made a horror flick of the mad hatter’s tea party --- dodie was hallucinating, alternately screaming at phantoms and weeping hysterically in fear of them, and falling all over herself as she insisted on refilling her own glass at regular intervals ---

in addition to being up all night with dodie - who clearly had at least one foot into withdrawal (holy shit, very scary!) - today there had been extra icing on the cake for katie --- she had been forced to maneuver the huge chevy she’d rented around all the one-ways, and up and down the hills of this unfamiliar city to get to the haight-ashbury district - home of jerry garcia and the grateful dead, and still looking like hippie-heaven!!! --- the high point of her trip to the haight was doing a pre-arranged drug deal to score some vicodin and whatever else she could get to keep dodie up and going and she felt like it was all an out of body experience --- like WHAT THE HELL!!???! was she doing buying street drugs??? --- she had a very provincial way of life in a small city of a hundred thousand that was north of sixty, and she simply couldn’t reconcile that with her current activity --- WHAT WAS SHE THINKING???!!!!!!??? --- in fact she wasn’t thinking at all, but running like sixty through all the prayers she knew in her mind that she wouldn’t get arrested on top of everything else --- “dirty deeds done dirt cheap!” --- get me back to powell near the embarcadero ASAP, pulleeeze!!!

she had known she was into another of what would be many “iffy” situations before she actually delivered dodie to a rehab in the napa valley - she finally spotted her guy, and approached her business with marty robbins crooning in her head about a white sport coat and a pink carnation --- he was a beautiful man, a pure purple-black and he looked altogether prosperous if one were to go by the weight of gold around his neck and in his teeth --- he acknowledged her almost imperceptibly and she realized business would be done “over coffee” – so very civilized! – and trance like she followed him into a café and waited for the caffeine and its brother chemicals to come her way – in a matter of minutes she was bent to the task of secreting the holy stash safely in her purse - when she raised her head once more he was long since gone ---

she was repeating her heavenly pleas like an impassioned mantra and walking in time to that rhythm in her head – it kept some anxiety at bay --- and her faith in the purity of her motives

was standing her strong

she was following her heart!!!

ss - #159 - language

2009-04-19T14:08:00.011-04:00

LOVE UNSPOKEN

his gaze lingered on her
she cast down her eyes
that he might look longer
without being known

they walked hand in hand
along the shore’s edge
unmindful of the stares -
a world known only to them

they danced all alone on
each new years eve
clad in flannel pajamas -
unspoken renewal of their commitment

they sat outside
on velvet soft nights
each drinking in the other -
punctuated only by sighs of contentment

at the end of his days
she curled softly and gently beside him
she crooned anthems of love that had no words
and lovingly stoked his hair and his face

words uncalled for
redundant --- superfluous
all is communicated
in their language of love

sunday scribblings --- #155 --- “i came from …..”

2009-03-21T17:42:00.006-04:00

song of a silver swan

deeply cocooned in a swaddle of soft cozy blankets she lay quietly on the chaise lounge near the hearth – the jewelled hues of the flames mesmerized her as they reflected along the lines of the opalescent damask as she sank deeper and further away from the world around her ---

mary kate knew that she was actively dying and she burned with the fever of her impending death as sound swirled around her as senselessly as the voices at babel must have sounded in their time --- as she contemplated her condition the sounds made little difference to her beyond the fact that they were kind and gentle, filled with caring and calm --- her nieces were watching over her with such love and respect that she’d surely have tears were she not so very dehydrated --- inwardly the tears cascaded around and through her core, bathing her very essence, saturating her spirit with sensations that defied the inevitability of her death and endowing her with a sense of well being that she had experienced all too infrequently ---

free fall could best describe her thought process as she waited contentedly for her demise – her thoughts hopped from hither to yon, like birds drunk on fermented berries, with fragments of disconnected memories ---

she was just your average every day spindly kid – or so she thought at the time – stupid looking and graceless, gawky and clumsy --- it would be many years after she passed the peak of her own personal physical beauty that she could look back in a melancholy to see how truly pretty she had been – certainly far too many years to begin using her good looks upon which to build the self-confidence that she lacked all those many lifetimes later ---

mary kate knew that some of the people around her had tried to buoy her up as a child – uncle leo had always called her “merrily” and smothered her with lavish bear hugs --- he was one of the special and important ones for her and she could now hear his cheery “merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream” and in a rush she remembered how he came to call her “merrily” ---

capriciously her recollections shifted their focus and abruptly shining in her mind she was the young woman who was living in a dorm - and the image she saw was the night her dorm mates killed her pet white mouse because they thought it was getting an overdose of vitamins - and she creatively captured her anger by putting lighter fluid on the terrazzo door sills of their rooms and lighting it --- when they came blasting out of their rooms in fear she was waiting with the fire extinguisher and covered every last one of them in foam --- hah!!!

switch!!! to her friend gwen who had helped her acquire an appreciation of candles and incense and freed up that part of her that had always envied but failed to treat herself to their use – together they had done art and amateur tarot readings while secrets were shared but always held in confidence --- so much different than those secrets in childhood that were always the proverbial elephants in the living room ---

she thought unexpectedly of kandy with whom she had been out of touch for years that seemed like a lifetime before they re-established their friendship – she was always wise, spiritual, and pragmatic and held tremendous confidences, all the time being totally supportive during mary kate's fears and sorrows ---

she knew the end was gaining ground now by the speed with which her recollections were flashing - illuminated randomly, speed strobing with scenes of abuse being blotted out by seeing herself trading comic books with the boys on the railroad tracks while the other girls played with their infernal dolls far below – incidents of nursing wounded mourning doves in the poison ivy under the evergreens supplanted by pictures of playing carelessly in the surf with the love of her life --- that first sexual tingle as she rode her bike on a bumpy dirt road, too young to even recognize it for what it was, displaced by mind snaps of the police answering her calls for help as she was battered yet again --- her cousin sylvia who had been so steadfast and patient with her during the really bad times ---

she had a short stark realization of the enormity of what had gone into comprising her life - bringing her full circle from the total dependence of the infant at birth to the total dependence of the infirm actively engaged with death ---

she had no fear – she only hoped death would be tender with her, like the late night walks she and her beloved had enjoyed – she had never hesitated to take his hand, to trust him to keep her safe and warm – she was far too young to be experiencing this phenomena of life, but she hoped she would pass from this life to the next without a moan or a fuss, but rather a silent swan song - so the happy loving noise would be the melody to which she could choreograph her final and solo waltz --- best for them to believe her asleep as she danced with elegance and pride from here to there ---

The phrase "swan song" is a reference to an ancient belief that the Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) is completely mute during its lifetime until the moment just before it dies, when it sings one beautiful song.

The well-known Orlando Gibbons madrigal (The Silver Swan) states the legend thus:

The silver Swan, who living had no Note,
when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:
"Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!
"More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise."

2009-03-14T16:24:00.003-04:00

note to self: can’t get there from here!

“kate, what the hell is wrong with that kid?”
“who knows,bob? – just who the hell knows anymore anyway??? – he’s just off in his head again – don’t pay any attention to him!!!”
brad was off in la-la land again --- his sister loved to tell people shit like that when he was caught up in his head and soooo removed from all the folks around him – she also said that he wasn’t wrapped too tight, that he was many few facets short of a good cut diamond, and all the rest of that crap that nine year olds spout off about before someone puts the brakes on their yap ---
today his uncle had said to him - and not for the first time - that he should have gone the way of his older brother and wrapped his cord around his neck before he landed on deck --- something that would have suited him straight down to his socks reverberated in his brain with an unending and irritating boing! boing! boing! --- they say you can never go back, but what if i could??? --- wonder if i would? – maybe a do-over wasn’t such a bad idea when you got right down to it!!! – maybe i could use that cord after all --- what a bittersweet idea!
he had no real memory of being as yet unborn – but some things he knew just as sure as he knew that stephen king was creepy – he knew that he should have done as his uncle said, he knew that his folks were not parent material, and he knew that by the time his little twirp of a sister was his age, eighteen, that she’d be off in her screwed up head, too!!!
secrets were as much a part of gestation as growing fingernails - that was one thing he knew even if he couldn’t vividly recall any of that time – when he rambled around in his head it cemented certain thoughts that became increasingly upsetting, thoughts that now were kept under a veil of secrecy as well and drove him starkers!!! --- it was supposed to be safe and warm as you lay there curled in innocence and becoming increasingly cramped for space – but he knew it couldn’t possibly have been a secure harbour – he tried to talk to his “mother” about the pregnancy and his early years – no satisfaction there – she cooly told him him he had coloured on the blinds and cost her a shitload of money – that the pregnancy brought more trouble to an already troubled marriage --- GAWD!!! – she had so many ways of making herself his victim and he hated it – he was her victim all along – why couldn’t she wrap her head around it???
he was at the mercy of her moods from the moment he was a fertilized ovum – what tipped her canoe threw him into a chemical storm against which he was defenseless with what had to be overdoses of adrenalin and god only knew what other hormones and chemicals --- by the time he stupidly let himself get popped out alive he was such a sensitive wreck that everything set him off – still at the mercy of her chemical maelstroms and their fallout, he had been an infant who was extremely high strung – coupled with a mother who lacked the skill set to be what he needed, things just went from bad to worse day by day, year by year, until here he was bouncing around in his own head again like a berserk mexican jumping bean ---
a part of him “got it” and realized she couldn’t offer what she never had – a much bigger part was filled with resentment and anger and sadness even after an epiphany of insight – and it was the sadness of it all that prevailed when he went off in his head - a sadness he could no longer bear ---
he had been doodling mindlessly on a writing pad and without warning he discovered that he had done more than doodled, he had written --- he guessed it would do, because regardless of what he wrote, they’d never get it in the end anyway –

as yet unborn with a top secret life
no available boundaries
just the innate skill of secrecy
overcome by chemical vagaries of
maternal mood and influence

born unvolitionally - overly sensitive
no available boundaries
just the innate skill of survival
overcome by the unskilled caregiver
maternal mood and influence

growing up – withdrawn and awkward
no available boundaries
just the innate knowledge
to be seen and not heard
maternal mood and influence

he cried - oh shit! how he cried!!! - and he rifled in his closet for the cord he needed ---

sunday scribblings --- #152 -- lost

2009-02-27T20:33:00.004-05:00

give me a break

UH-OH!!! - LOST? WHO? ME??? – bet your sweet bippy i am --- this prompt did it to me BANG SALLY!!! with so many possible directions in which to go ---

my consciousness is going six ways for sunday, taking off on so many tangents that i feel incapable of containing it or even getting a slim grip on it --- i flounder attempting to capture the words of it as it runs amok, going at break neck speed with all the many and varied possibilities ---

reading a book – doing the laundry – driving to the grocery store – feeding the cats – you name it, and i’ve misplaced myself in too many ways and so many places that it is scary to dwell too long upon it ---

maybe it’s one of the pieces of my grief puzzle at this particular point in time – but until a year ago when doug died i had no such excuse and it happened regularly none the less ---

professionals would have me subscribe to the theory that i am not being mindful, and i have to give fair room to that idea --- but i have to wonder when i’m off in my head so much with all this stuff running wild if i’m not just a maniacal genius in disguise --- like what if i was really supposed to be einstein and he got here before me and beat me to it? - what about that, sports fans???

or maybe i got lost on my way to writing the strauss waltzes – like maybe the blue danube ought to have been my accomplishment – so many delicious things i may have done if only i’d been here first – but in truth and in fact, i wasn’t, was i? – more’s the pity ---

now that i am here, i’m discovering that i feel lost regularly on my journey – i seem to lack a proper compass for my sojourn in this mixed up earth place --- i have a moral compass, but is that all there is??? – like what the hell is my purpose here? – have I been dropped off by mistake in a place parallel to where i truly belong??? – sometimes I just hafta wonder!!!

i’d like to be the doer of something great and good but to this stage of the game i’ve not been cast in the role – does the producer need a bed mate, or what’s the story???

on the flip side, perhaps my standards are simply too high and i just need to give myself a break – maybe deeds done already have been great and good and my measuring stick is simply too big for me to handle - i can deal with that if i think about it a bit ---

i’ve heard it said that you can make it through a day without chocolate or an orgasm, but not without atleast one good rationalization --- maybe all i really need is a good rationalization and i’ll be just tickety-boo!!!

sunday scribblings --- #151 - trust

2009-02-20T19:55:00.004-05:00

hindsight by candlelight

she lit another smoke in the half dark, and took another big swig of jack’s as she gazed hauntingly into the candle – it was the only light she could tolerate when her eyes were so swollen and burnt with these many melancholies and tears --- the deeper into the candle she sunk the more vivid and acute the pain became --- it engaged her on an almost feral level and consumed her more quickly than she could consume the booze --- fifteen years of her life down the tubes and nothing but this grip of agony to prove its reality!!!

hannah had been over the moon to begin with – twenty-one with two months to spare and engaged to a fellow that she had eyed from afar for several months – then he asked her to go out and it was all too good to be true!!! --- next she actually became a bona fide fiancee --- WOW!!!

hiccups in the relationship started, and like any respectable case of hiccups, they kept coming back – so she literally held her breath each time she felt the need to assert her own true self as things progressed --- he treated her condescendingly each time she confided misgivings over the whole marriage thing, and she soon began to doubt her own feelings and put all of her faith in his answers --- when she expressed uncertainty that she really wanted to marry and have her time consumed with other penned in women prattling on about kitchen curtains, measles,cookie recipes, and the like, he patronized her yet again and softly coaxed her into the belief that she was suffering a little case of pre-nuptial jitters --- the jitters began to evolve into seismic activity sized doses of anxiety, but she was IN LOVE!!! - and so it was that he was so easy with the facility to talk her out of her own convictions, qualms or reservations --- she went forward with her certainty based on his wants and needs, and all too soon the wedding was actually happening, becoming a fait accompli - and hannah was caught up in the hype and excitement of the real deal as it actually transpired ---

she had seen herself softly and romantically clothed in a flowing, liquid mother of pearl gown, glowing in ethereal beams of a subtle otherworldly light --- her attendants had looked waif like, seeming almost to be fragile and rare butterflies with sequined wings --- the groom and his group stood waiting, elegant in dazzling formal wear – it was all very distorted in her mind!!! --- back then it had felt like an inter-galactic affair but in truth and in fact, it was an ordinary october wedding with all the usual bells and whistles on a very modest scale --- more’s the pity for the girl in love with love rather than well and truly in love – desperate to escape a life filled with disappointment and woe by romanticizing her independence and freedom from what came before --- seeing what lay ahead as perfect and beautiful, an unblemished and untroubled “happy ever after”

BUT THOSE DAMNED HICCUPS WERE STILL TAKING HER BREATH AWAY!!!

soon after the big day was over and done with, they returned with the vengeance of a mythical creature betrayed in the worst way --- and as if to add insult to injury she became pregnant when she least expected it – far and away too soon to suit her - and her worst fears were being realized --- all the worst case scenarios that ever she had fantasized were fact rather than fiction --- and now when she tried to unburden her heart to her groom he was no longer patient or kind --- he was callous and rude, debasing her intentionally and calculatingly ---

her insight had grown proportionately to her overloaded belly and on the birth day her hopes and dreams were as empty as that same recently evacuated belly --- the downhill ride which was the remaining years of the marriage had been terrifying and brutal, ending with a predictable fatality of the whole relationship ---

why had she let herself get roped into that mess? – why did her life mate change so drastically? – had he really changed so drastically? – or was she finally in touch with a reality from which he had cajoled her away? – she could see it all with such clarity now in the waxing and waning glow of the candle - his own ulterior motives of having a family as an accomplishment, a trophy of sorts!!! --- a way of inflating his sick, sorry, and sad self-image - a pretentious way to make up for all that he had seen himself to thus far lack in life – he was the same manipulative SOB that she had happily allowed to drown her skepticism in the first place --- she felt opressed by her own need and stupidity - how had she let this happen to her --- shit!!!

why had she not trusted her own intuition??? --- maybe someday she could --- maybe someday when she didn’t need the jack’s and the candle --- maybe someday she would ---

just maybe!!!

sunday scribblings --- #149 - art

2009-02-07T14:30:00.006-05:00

renaissance widow

there is a force that is drawing me out and encouraging me to keep it real - an ideal prompt helping me to once more be open and honest and a great segue between last week and this ---

i usually rely heavily on my words – however, when i saw the topic of the week at sunday scribblings i felt emboldened to post some body art for all to see, and fall back on my words simply for explanation and background rather than the essay being the pivotal point of my post

i arrived at a place in my grief this past summer which caused a major and total meltdown and culminated with a psychiatric admission --- it heaped trauma upon trauma for me - i am one of those people who subscribe to the theory that it will always happen to someone else, but surely not me!!! --- anyway, i became the someone else – it was surreal and i hardly recognized myself!!!

with nothing but professionals and time on my hands i became acutely aware that i desperately needed to focus on myself and figure out how i was going to survive this indescribable anguish and sorrow which refused to give a respite --- lopsided trial and error finally prevailed with a half baked idea that i would work on reinventing myself --- as the ideas began to come into the light i put them on my own bucket list and went from there ---

my hair would be longer(still a work in progress) and i’d get that tattoo that i’d secretly wanted for the longest time – these were at the top of the list

i decided to do a whole sleeve on my right arm as a memorial to my hero --- between october and the middle of december while my hair began to get longer, i worked at my body art and i’m very proud to display it here as a done deal ---

my friend volunteered to draw it out for me so that it fit my arm properly and incorporated as many elements of my idea as possible --- my tattoo artist tried to grant my every wish patiently - and i am really proud of the finished product - and pleased as well that i had the forbearance to withstand the people who told me that it was a silly thing to do at my age, yatta-yatta, and otherwise tried to discourage me!!!

my sleeve is comprised of all my hero’s favourite flowers from our yard – summer was his favourite time of the year ---

he most preferred sunflowers, and so i began with that – the yin and yang in its middle represents the beautiful balance we had in our marriage

he was keen on morning glories, too – so they are weaving their vine down and through from my shoulder to my wrist --- the calico cat is named girly-girl, and she’s there also – a butterfly, ecchinacea, a lady bug, daisy, purple delphinium and orange impatiens to name just a few, find their way down my arm --- he was a big peanuts fan, so charlie brown, woodstock, and snoopy are at the base of the florals --- finishing it off is his signature scanned in from an inscription in one of the stephen king books that were always special gifts, and always inscribed with a message of love and that special signature ---

and so began this complex journey into widowhood and loneliness, and i feel some pride of accomplishment to have gotten my body art – one by one i’ll add to my bucket list and one by one i will achieve the things on it --- and i will continue to be the renaissance widow for the balance of my years!!!

sunday scribblings --- #148 -- regrets

2009-01-31T16:46:00.003-05:00

about MY HERO

he drew his last breath and closed those beautiful blue eyes for the final time at 5:30 in the morning on 02 february, 2008 --- my hero is gone!!! --- and i am helpless and suffering the most brutal and raw pain of all my years – in a dark place with reminiscences that must forever be just that – recollections of the greatest love of my life - things that can never be enjoyed in real time again, but must be enjoyed as happy and loving in the past tense - things that ring with only the sounds and colours which my recall can ascribe to them ---

i’ve entertained more that my fair share of regrets in my lifetime – i struggle and fight to be rid of them – nonetheless they raise their ugly little heads at the most inopportune times to haunt me and keep me ever mindful of all the poor choices i’ve made in my lifetime – the kinds of options that validated my mother ‘s words – “i told you so!”

today one regret that i am striving to overcome is that i have been unable , up to now, to be straightforward and honest regarding the greatest loss in my life and the impact that it has on me all day and all night, every day and every night --- i have written poems and prose, always trying to keep him alive to my fellow bloggers --- but day after tomorrow is the first anniversary of his death --- and to honor his memory, i need to make everybody understand that part of my huge effort to go on feeling connected to him has been to keep him “alive” in a hazy nebulous way – i feel i’ve been illusory in a way - so today i am here to say that even though in reality he is departed, he lives in me and will never be gone for as long as i put in my remaining years ---

he was kind and gentle and loving – he never even went to the corner store without kissing me atop the head - he made a point of going through the tv guide to find shows he knew i'd like, and mark them down so i didn't miss them --- he smiled all the time, even through his last few days – and he always thought of me before himself --- i did my best to reciprocate, he brought out the the most favourable characteristics that i had, and loving him so completely was just a joy – the years we spent together made up for all my poor choices and their consequences in my earlier years --- we were together for five years before we married - when we did marry in july 1981, i knew that i’d never have regrets again!!!

doug died here at home in our bed as i lay close and held him to me, struggling his struggle with him, as if that would somehow ease his passage – i knew in my wise mind it didn’t work that way, but my emotional mind was running the show in those final hours and it just felt like the last and only thing that i could help him to do --- our marriage was special and wonderful and magic, and it just somehow made me feel i was helping --- afterward, during the hours before i finally called the funeral home, i lay with my head tight to his – i could barely discern a boundary between the two – i had no perception of where mine ended and his head began – it was an oddly comforting sensation ---

all through the last months people tried to paint me as a heroine, but it just wasn’t that way!!! --- this man had loved and cherished me so much in his lifetime, that i just felt absolutely rich and blessed - as though i had been given a rare and very precious gift - to be able to nurse him at home and give back a small portion of the love and dignity that he had lavished on me in better times --- i know that he’d have done no less for me!!! --- that’s just the way we were – neither of us ever had to face anything without the other – we had no secrets or lies between us – our marriage was a wonderful friendship and we respected and loved one another unconditionally ---

for those of you who read “robot in my moccasins” i want to own up that every word was true, as was the experience in “channel 42” which happened to me this past may --

my special friend has done a mural on one of my walls – an outdoor scene that is stunning – and in front of it i have a statuary of an elderly couple on a park bench --- it’s representative of “me ‘n him” in later years --- so while parts of me know that he is gone to forever, other parts of me are fighting tooth and nail to keep him as alive as i possibly can because i don’t believe i can put in the remainder of my years without that connection to “MY HERO”

it’s been tremendously emotional for me to write this, i have meltdowns on a regular basis – most especially when trying to talk about doug --- however, as a special tribute to him on this terrible first anniversary i’ve endured, and if you’re reading, i thank you!!! --- his favourite hymn was “morning has broken” --- i have added it to my playlist if anyone would like to listen to it ---

i regret having mislead anyone over the past year ---

i regret most of all that i don’t have left unending years with MY HERO!!!

sunday scribblings - #147 -- phantoms and shadows

2009-01-24T20:38:00.014-05:00

TRANSITION TIME - 30 MAY 2001

aching dramatically understated the situation in my lower back and legs - rigid more accurately described my neck than stiff, and i had acquired computer eyes --- all in all i could probably have qualified for unequivocal brain death as i thwonked!!! into the front seat by the energy of pure fatigue --- i knew full well that i would be tempting fate to triptik me straight to the land of winkin’, blinkin’, and nod – never the less i brainlessly and bravely rested my forehead on the steering wheel - it felt oh my gawd!!! way too good! - better at that very minute than chocolate and orgasm all in one instant ---

i am fortunate (?) enough to be nicotine dependent and that stubborn narcissistic little monkey on my back cancelled that dozy triptik pretty damned quick --- a screaming red howl out of his stinky little mouth straight into my right ear brought me around more effectively than any smelling salt could have dealt with a fatal swoon -

UH-OH!!! - where’s the lighter? - can’t find the lighter! shit-damn-bugger-bitch-bugger-bitch-damn!!! - whooops! - right here in the package with my tar and nicotine drug sticks --- a reasonable possibility of semi-recovery loomed on the horizon ---

now able to process the sensory stimuli of my immediate environs again, i opted to take a minute or five for a transition phase --- this would facilitate the conversion from the frenetic pace of the office to my vegetative evening state ---

twenty or so feet straight out from the front of the car were four robins red breast and a small wild rabbit - they performed like pros in the flashing spotlights of sun through the branches of a pint-sized grove of white birch and poplar --- their choreography was flawlessly set to the musical score of bird song and spring breeze ---

yearwood - the lead red breast took one jump to the side and three hops forward --- right on cue, never missing a beat, skwank the bunny raised his head - in perfect time, his nose squiggled and wrinkled taking stock of the rest of the entourage --- jeffrey, dawg, and wentworth - the other three in red breast attire - moved in unison --- one hop, STOP, two hops, STOP --- skwank was right on cue again and yearwood began the finale with a hop, STOP, fly away --- jeffrey, dawg, and wentworth followed as one — a three hop, STOP, and aloft to follow yearwood --- skwank rose to his bow with a final nose squiggle and hopped off stage left --- the orchestral and light show continued as i pulled away with a relaxed smile on my face ---

and an idiot drug crazed monkey curled up in my purse sucking contentedly on my lighter!!!

collage images from deviant art

sunday scribblings --- #146 -- pilgrimage

2009-01-17T15:48:00.007-05:00

moon horse

kindly and quietly, softly and gently

i float my form,

as like a phantasm i come to rest

on the muted silhouette of his back
my silent silvery mount
moves without a sound and surely – unerringly
he passes perfectly
along the paths created by the luminescent orb
beneath whose light we go
following the shafts of light and shadow it creates
with flawless precision
i ride with the poise of a naïve trust
knowing not where we may go
nor yet of our arrival
just riding
a certainty begins to imbue my soul
trust abounds - limitless
as i recall that it is not about the destination
but rather the journey itself
the breezes play soft music
which passes through my core
and back out from me
to return to the moonlit secrecy from which it arose
my soul reverberates –
a tune further than this time and place
and it pleases me
quietude surrounds my essence on my magical hajj
and for one mute and precious moment
all is well

graphic from the cover of "moonhorse" by mary pope osborne

sunday scribblings - #138 - grateful

2008-11-21T13:31:00.005-05:00

this is a little poem i stumbled across in my travels --- when i found it , it had author unknown at the end of it – if anyone is aware of the author’s name i would be glad to know and give credit where credit is due

WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN'T LOOKING

when you thought i wasn't looking,i felt you kiss me good night,and i felt loved.

when you thought i wasn't looking,i saw tears come from your eyes,and i learned that sometimes things hurt,but it's all right to cry.

when you thought i wasn't looking,i saw that you cared and i wanted to be everything that i could be.

when you thought i wasn't looking,i looked ...and wanted to say thanks for all the things i saw when you thought i wasn't looking.

author unknown

when first i found this wonderful little piece of poetry, i was in search of a piece of something to express to my hero just how very much he had furnished our lives with his love, how many things of which i was aware that were largely unspoken --- the verse seemed the perfect vehicle to carry all those unarticulated things, and so i set about using the free verse as a basis for a 25th wedding anniversary card – it has since been laminated and made into a bookmark for our bible ---

each time i reread it – which is sometimes quite often – i remember the way it softened his face when he read it, and the stray tears of sentiment that rolled slowly from his beautiful pale blue eyes --- he was so touched and i could see so clearly the resemblance to the young james dean poster i kept for that very reason – and i knew that i had just captured another memory to go with all those others “when he thought i wasn’t looking, but i looked!”

now more recently, i have come upon a longer piece of the same verse, again author unknown, this one with a more child like flavor --- the longer piece holds the shorter one within it --- and i just wonder how many people apart from my own selfish little self let go the little things, pretending they weren’t looking or perhaps not really seeing, and never acknowledging or voicing thanks or gratitude or perhaps remaining oblivious to those insignificant momentous banal experiences that make up our days and are forever woven into the tapestries that make up our lives --- when i read the simplicity of thought in this poem, it really makes me want to whack myself upside the head with a skillet for all the mundane moments i let go unappreciated and unremarked!!!!!

WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN”T LOOKING
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator, and i immediately wanted to paint another one.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i heard you say a prayer, and i knew there is a God i could always talk to and i learned to trust in God.
when you thought I wasn't looking, i saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and i learned that we all have to take care of each other.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing left and i learned that those who have something should give to those who do not.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i felt you kiss me good night and i felt loved and safe.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw you take care of our house and everyone in it and i learned we have to take care of what we are given.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you did not feel good and i learned that i would have to be responsible when i grow up.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw tears come from your eyes and i learned that sometimes things hurt, but it is all right to cry.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that i could be.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i learned most of life's lessons that i need to know to be a good and productive person when i grow up.
when you thought i wasn't looking, i looked at you and wanted to say “thanks for all the things i saw when you thought i wasn't looking”.

author unknown

http://www.diking.com.au/images/people/Overlooking_Ocean2 60.jpg
http://oddsandinsonline.com/catalog/images/Children/Peek%20a%20Boo%20by%20Anderson.gif

sunday scribblings -- #136 change

2008-11-09T19:18:00.008-05:00

LIMITED ALTENATIVES - ADJUST, MIGRATE OR DIE

typhoon, hurricane, tornado, storm,
cyclone, tempest or squall
turn yer head
play dead
nothing will help you at all
ya still get wet!

alter, modify, vary, transform,
revolutinize, adjust or amend
fight all ya like
go fly a kite
it’s all the same in the end
ya still get reject!

thrust yer head in the sand, choke on dust
enjoy the warmth and dim light
don’t give a care
pretend unaware,
try with all of yer might
ya still needa know!

change is afoot, it’s all about
no place to go for escapes
jist feel that flow
jist lette self go
no need for a case of the vapes
ya can’t get away nohow!

sunday scribbling #135 -- scandalous

2008-10-31T23:51:00.008-04:00

EXCUSE MY DUST

Resumé
Razors pain you;

Rivers are damp;

Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

dorothy parker

born on 22 august, 1893 in long branch, new jersey – died on 07 june, 1967 at age 73 in new york, new york --- in those 73 years, she was best known for her caustic wit, wisecracks, and sharp eye for 20th century urban foibles ---

i rather like to imagine a snifter or five worth of time spent enjoying this gal’s camaraderie, trading acerbic comments and conversation, and hearing first hand her take on her own pessimistic poetry and memoirs ---

i’ve been assigned some of her unique and quirky characteristics from time to time, and have had my humour likened to hers – these are not always qualities to be admired or to which one would deliberately aspire – none the less, i get a kick out of a lot of her stuff, and it’s my feeling that for her day and time she was more than just a mid-pale shade of scandalous --- i confess admiration for her, as well as sadness for a woman plagued with alcohol and depression for much of her adult life ---

she was an incorrigible, incurable, and hopelessly offensive satirist as critic, screenwriter, and journalist – at one time losing a job as a screen writing critic at vanity fair magazine for insulting powerful producers once too often – ironic that she herself went on to become a playwright in hollywood - her successes there, including two academy award nominations (she co-wrote the script for “a star is born”, wrote additional dialogue for “the little foxes”, and received another oscar nomination for “smash-up, the story of a woman”), would eventually be curtailed, as her involvement in left-wing politics would lead to a place on the infamous hollywood blacklist ---

an early feminist, she was quick to identify social inequalities – much of her poetry illustrates her disappointment with men, love and social injustices --- regina barreca wrote, in the introduction to parker's collected stories, that "parker's wit caricatures the self-deluded, the powerful, the autocratic, the vain, the silly, and the self important; it does not rely on men and small formulas, and it never ridicules the marginalized, the sideline or the outcast - when parker goes for the jugular, its usually a vein with blue blood in it." ---

of the many one liners and quotes ascribed to her were two that she thought appropriate to mark her death – “that would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment”, and “excuse my dust” ---
dorothy parker died of a heart attack – she bequeathed her estate to the dr. martin luther king, jr. foundation in her will – subsequent to his death it passed to the naacp – her executrix bitterly contested her will but was unsuccessful – her ashes lay unclaimed in various places, including her attorney’s filing cabinet, for approximately 17 years ---
the naacp claimed her remains in 1988 and crafted a memorial garden outside their baltimore headquarters for them --- the plaque reads : here lie the ashes of dorothy parker (1893-1967) - humourist, writer, critic - defender of human and civil rights - for her epitaph she suggested, “excuse my dust” – this memorial garden is dedicated to her noble spirit which celebrated the oneness of humankind and to the bonds of everlasting friendship between black and jewish people – dedicated by the national association for the advancement of colored people – october 28, 1988

sunday scribblings #134 -- "I don't like myself. I'm CRAZY ABOUT MYSELF!" -- Mae West

2008-10-26T15:44:00.014-04:00

DECLARATION OF SELF ESTEEM

I AM ME

in all the world there is no one else exactly like me – everything that comes out of me is authentically mine because i alone chose it
i own everything about me – my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or to myself
i own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears – i own all my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes
because i own all of me, i can become intimately acquainted with me – by doing so i can love me and be friendly with all my parts
i know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that i do not know
but as long as i am friendly and loving to myself, i can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and for ways to find out more about me
however i look and sound, whatever i say and do, and whatever i think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me
if later some parts of how i looked, sounded, thought and felt turn out to be unfitting, i can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which i discarded

i can see, hear, feel, think, say and do
i have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me
i own me, and therefore i can engineer me

i am me
and
i am okay!

author unknown

there seems to lie in all of us to one degree or another a reticence of sorts, a reluctance to own – or own up to – our very personal accomplishments --- what’s that all about? – when did the child’s naiveté and ingenuousness wither and die – where did the glow of the ember of self-pride go when it evaporated???
i was told that as a very little girl, i had a terrible time making friends with the potty, and when finally i produced a golden egg i would run, crowing my face off, to let everyone know - moreover to lead the parade to “show and tell” of my great intrepid accomplishment – when i was about six i was overcome by the feeling of a deed well done when (i mistakenly thought) i had dyed a pair of navy and white saddle shoes navy and red with the inspired application of cordovan polish to the white of the shoe – a very proud moment for me!!! --- i was dead wrong, but too young to know it, and so thought i was deserving of great kudos as opposed to the reaction that i ultimately had to endure ---
now i do things which are legitimately great, but i’m usually too awkward and bashful to accept a direct compliment graciously without belittling myself in the process – SAD!!!
so ……….... now comes the ideal chance to sing my own praises – damn the torpedoes and full steam ahead!!!
i am a good friend, a good listener, extremely loyal, and always go the extra mile if it’s within my power to do so – i do not break a confidence unless i deem it is the very best and most appropriate thing to do on a friend’s behalf --- i have many many acquaintances, but a very short list of real friends – there is a tremendous difference between the two in my mind!!! --- i am trying hard to learn the art, science and spirit of becoming my own best friend; however, the road seems a little tricky as i go, full of pitfalls and stumbling blocks – hard to find my way back to that place and time of being that precious little nontoxic me – i ought to have left behind a few breadcrumbs!

i have unrealized wishes, hopes and dreams, and in the process of becoming my own best friend i am making a HUGE! effort to be ever so good to myself by actually realizing some of the things that are on my personal “bucket list” ---
as a loving partner i have always gone above and beyond, doing innumerable little extras for my hero, always respecting him and never lying to him --- i’ve recognized his little quirks and allowed for them in our lives, just as my hero has tolerated my own oddities --- i’m responsible, dependable, punctual, and more laid back about things than thirty or forty years ago, to be sure – my spontaneity and sense of humour are things about me to be appreciated – and i’m a good cook!!! --- in the summer, i have beautiful flower gardens and a killer tan!

i feel the shyness beginning to swaddle me like an opaque mantle, so before i am altogether gone like the cheshire cat i shall just add that i have a facility and a style all my own with

words ---

Hobo in a Chrysalis- Sunday Scribblings

2008-10-17T18:05:00.003-04:00

HOBO IN A CHRYSALIS

my style – hmmmm!!! --- i gaze at all the mixed up and mottled interpretations this prompt calls up in my mind – all the sundry things that betray one’s personal signature on life – interesting, the insights i get applying the word on a personal level – more interesting still since i am in my own private and delicate chrysalis, morphing and working on reinventing myself right this very now ---

how easily i can see some of the changes being wrought, how covertly and surreptitiously others are finding their way into the ME

my approach to life has more often than not been a state of being pretty much shut down and oblivious of the moment as it happens – unlikely to think of looking at the night sky as i go to my car, for example – now in a huge effort to be more mindful and appreciative i found myself mesmerized by the harvest moon two nights ago and truly conscious of the experience – i would be curious to know how much of my life i’ve missed muddling my way through it so haphazardly --- the downside to being more open and vulnerable as i live is the damned ubiquitous hyper vigilance that is always at the highest level – screaming red alert!!! – at even the most innocuous junctures ---

my behavior, my way of being has gone happily along hand in hand with being disconnected – insensitive, unfeeling, unaware of others to a degree --- i’ve always been able to recognize another’s pain, been a dynamite caretaker for them, but part of my numbness kept things from resonating with me --- and the complexity attached to this newly heightened sensitivity that has developed in me is that for about the past year and a half i’m weeping if i see a leaf fall – or so it seems, sometimes ---

my fashion is unpredictable, related to nothing in particular except my mood by times --- i have a flair for fashion and a good eye for color, but i only show this awesome fashion sense outwardly when the spirit moves me --- i can assemble an outfit for an “occasion” and step out looking downright chic, the very essence of panache - like fresh out of the pages of a styling rag – or i may be found in a more laissez-faire mood dressed in the holey and smeared pants i use to paint in and an oversized and worn out sweatshirt – the street urchin “look” --- overall, on a day to day basis, i lean toward an au courant casual appearance, sometimes a little preppy, other times in a yoga mode ---
there is no easy way to identify the label for my style stamp – the hobo in my soul by it’s very nature keeps moving along - evolving, changing, rearranging and reinventing me – always for the better, i like to think --- all as personalized as i will have it, and as individual as each of us is ---

sunday scribblings - #124 - observations

2008-08-16T17:25:00.007-04:00

chaos!!!

whenever i hear an emergency vehicle roaring through the city with all its bells and whistles at full pitch i can’t help but think that a terrible unplanned event has befallen someone who never knew what life held for them only moments before the experience --- i think about what may have come to pass in their existence to have put them into such a crucial and alarming state of affairs – and what may still be ahead of them to be dealt with, the aftermath and the challenges --- and i feel a measure of kinship with them, in that i have my own experiences which flash briefly and painfully, reminding me of the sheer terror and chaos of those moments --- CHAOS!!! --- disorder, confusion, bedlam, disarray, turmoil, madness, mess --- call it what you will, but in a moment of mortal uncertainty it is emotional and sad and a time when all things are just plain out of whack, and for a time nothing will resolve it and put things right again --- i was motivated to try and translate into my art my mind’s observation of chaos --- the sheer dilemma of the upheaval of chaos and the insanity it imposes on an individual world ---

sunday scribblings -- #123 - ask

2008-08-08T20:30:00.010-04:00

never ask a question until you're ready for the answer

i once had a near death experience – there was a point during that experience when i felt as if i was on familiar terms with EVERYTHING! --- i don’t know now precisely what great information or understanding i had at the time, but it was a pervasive sense of being all aware and all knowing --- it was a breathtaking and staggering feeling that i suddenly and totally perceived every single thing in its entirety and had a total grasp of it --- it was a reassuring sensation, a colossal impression of having arrived at a place of safe haven where i was au fait with all things, and there were no more uncertainties or queries --- it would be an understatement to say that i was loathe to come back from that place – it was peaceful, and filled with a clarity and a serenity which i would never be able to recreate in my wildest dreams --- that all-inclusive and totally infused feeling of being altogether at peace, with no fear of an unknown because nothing was unknown, defies description by any words known to me --- it was an awareness, a feeling beyond representation by mere lexis --- i wonder if this is what the perfect meditation reaching the zenith of bonding with the cosmos would be???

sunday scribblings - #122 -- do i have to?

2008-08-03T13:55:00.005-04:00

breaking free

i was torn between my fiction piece and just thinking out loud when i saw this weeks prompt --- now that i find i have some extra time, i’m going to try thinking and sending my thoughts through my fingers to the keyboard ---
my personal point of view on whether i “HAVE TO” do some thing or another immediately hurdled beyond daily chores and tedium to what are more important life choices for me, and how my answers have been changing over the years as i’ve grown and matured ---
there was a time when i would turn myself inside out and hyper extend my spirit to please people – it was much more than just “going along to get along”, more like such a deeply ingrained habit that i had no boundary or sense of self – i did so many things that i wanted no part of, just bowed down with the weight of obligation and a weird sense of duty ---
then i came to a place in my journey where i was able to realize anew something i had known all along but seemed to have lost track of --- we were all created and given the gift of free will – none of us “HAVE TO” do anything, nobody can "MAKE" us - it's all a matter of personal choice ---
i found the place where i could clearly define the shoulds and the oughts, the prefers and the rathers, and begin to exercise that God given endowment of free will and self-government ---
there was an excruciating sense of freedom that came with this epiphany, and as i began to use it more and more, i got better and better at discerning situations – i was free to send regrets without excuses or explanations to a social event that someone else thought I SHOULD attend, and instead do the thing which I CHOSE to do --- i was free to decline affection in the form of a hug, a “habit” hug given by someone with whom i was not in the least intimate, free to speak up for myself tactfully when i needed to, free to do or not do what i chose and not what was expected, because deep inside i must give myself what i truly need in order to remain healthy, whole, and to love myself ---
i guess a lot of it comes down to my own value system, behaviour code, ethics, morals – name it what you like – but the bottom line for me is respecting others and being true to myself at the same time --- not a case of “DO I HAVE TO?”

url image - http://images.elfwood.com/art/g/b/gbowden/breaking_free.jpg.rZd.224139.jpg

sunday scribblings - #122 -- do i have to?

2008-08-02T17:07:00.005-04:00

a crying shame

OVER!!! --- it was all over – the pain of her heart being fractured in way too many places would last indefinitely, but her romantic strength had been annihilated – the homecoming to a horde of crazy making relatives was over – she mocked them in her mind calling them the “crazy corrigan family sub-committee” --- the only silver lining in their dark cloud presence was their meaningless irritating squirrel jabber – she was unable to hear past it --- thankfully it allowed her to remain oblivious to her mother’s histrionics in the next bedroom --- hysterics!!! – because of or in spite of the pills and the booze – who ever knew? --- all she knew was that it made her crazy sick ---

poe rolled over on her bed and totally tuned out the maternal theatrics – easily done with her fifteen years’ experience --- she locked into herself and began to relive the past few GOOD crazy days

poe had thought she would or should have at least a cardiac arrest when zach dropped the bomb ---

“they’re sending me! – do you believe this? my folks are actually friggin’ sending me to military school in california – shit! – it’s not like I’m gonna flunk out for crying out loud – my worst marks were the two C’s in phys. ed. and geography ---

“oh my gawd!”, she replied , barely capable of being heard, even with superhuman effort

they were passionately unaware of this train coming down the track, and had been knocked right off their emotional feet when it careened into their fragile intimate world --- they WERE fifteen, after all – not like they were still just kids – why were they being treated like kids? --- they didn’t hang with the bunch who smoked and drank and partied hearty – they just went their own way and did their own thing, never a worry or a problem for their families – just a pair of only children in upper middle class family units – no big deal! --- zach’s marks had fallen only slightly since september, this was just way way too bizarre!!!

the immediate solution was to skip school – something they had NEVER done! - much less thought about – they could use shirley’s apartment for the day, and devise a dynamite long term solution ---

the way out of this whole mess eluded them for hours - suddenly it exploded KA-BAM!!! and crystallized as if from an unseen geode --- “we’ll run away and get married”, a stereo decision delivered in emphatic unison – a no brainer, why hadn’t they thought of it sooner? - they talked intently about their resolution and agreed that of course it all made perfect sense --- it kept zach from going to military school and liberated poe from the crazy corrigans at the same time – bonus! --- point for them!!!

poe remained practical – “we’ll need money and extra clothes – we need a car and a map and a place to go.”

“piece of cake, hon”, zach assured her with an extra hug – “we’ll get our gym clothes when school gets out – i’ll ask dad for a few bucks and the car to go to the library and study – we can grab a map anywhere, and i know the perfect place to go – it’s all good!”

poe sighed her relief – everything was coming together perfectly – within an hour of conception their solution was reality, and they were rolling happily northward from suburban detroit to mackinaw city – point for them!!!

she had been thunderstruck at zach’s revelation: they were going to his family’s year-round chalet in the upper peninsula – soon it all made more sense – fully equipped accommodation with all the perks – bonus! --- just get married and live happily ever after like in the love stories she read – but yes, of course!!!

lots of construction and detours that day, rush hour traffic in the bargain, but no sweat! – never once got lost – point for them!!!

they found a quiet spot and slept in the car that night – sleepy talk drifted from back seat to front and back again – the stars provided hypnotic visuals – the sleepy talk soon yielded to night sounds around them

new day – new problem --- nearly no gas – no panic --- poe pried sixty-two cents from her charm bracelet – “we’re two dollars and sixty-two cents rich now”, she chuckled jokingly --- “don’t worry”, he reassured her – “I’ll think of something” ---just down the road in a small town they found a tiny gas station – zach approached and asked for work doing anything in exchange for gas --- he explained that he and his sister were on their way home, both from schools in detroit, mother sick up north, spent money on transmission problems, yatta-yatta --- no work available, but great guys – passed the hat, filled the tank, and away they went – point for them!!!

another day, another problem – money for the bridge toll at the straits of mackinaw to cross into the upper peninsula – just like being really married – zach calmly said, “you wait here,honey – i’ll go and try to sell the spare tire.”

well, the service station guy got suspicious, thought it was a stolen tire, and called the state police --- the state police breathed easy – two underage runaways --- two points for the state police!!!

zach and poe laughed the next day following their release to the dad people – the dad people had gotten lost three times, gotten angry, and gotten crazy --- poe and zach kissed a long goodbye, whispered promises, and each left with a dad person for the return trek to detroit ---

then home again to face the hastily convened sub-committee, brought together like a SWAT team to “handle” her

uncle michael’s interrogation: “what’s wrong with you? see how upset your mother is? how could you do something so embarrassing???”

uncle joseph said, “how could you? your mother is humiliated!”

aunt mary ellen squealed, “i just can’t fathom you, girl! why upset your mother this way? You’re making her sick! and what will the neighbours have to say about it?”

uncle kenshook his head – looked disgusted --- words unnecessary – same crazy head game – SHAME!!!

tante laureen asked. “what’s wrong sweetie? what’s upsetting you? promise never to leave this way again until we’ve talked – if you must leave, let me help – i don’t like you on the road without money – you’re not safe – I LOVE YOU and I want you to be happy and safe.”

and now the step father to put the final straw on the camel’s back --- “your upsetting everyone – after you were gone nearly two days we had to put the house on the market and now we’ll have to go into a condo because of you – your mother is mortified – she can’t even hold her head up in front of the neighbours because of what you did – and as for you, miss high and mighty, you’ll be put away in a private school – all the arrangements are made and you’ll go next week, and i don’t want to hear anymore about it!!!”

even as she framed the question, she knew it was useless to ask, but she tried anyway – as tears ran slowly down her cheeks and she struggled to get around the lump in her throat she managed in a voice so low that it was barely audible – “i’m sorry --- do I have to???”

image url http://www.smh.com.au/ffximage/2007/10/10/tears_lead_wideweb

sunday scribblings #121 - solace

2008-07-26T13:40:00.008-04:00

Water, water, everywhere,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, everywhere,

Nor any drop to drink.

"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - written 1797-1799

originally "The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere"

in search of consolation

lush emerald meadow animated with a ballet of wild flowers
undulating softly on a gentle zephyr
as serene and chaste as a babe in slumber
tranquilizing

blazing rich crimson sunset as it melts away the day
putting lives into dusk and day’s end
swaddling the world in a negligee of obscurity
awe-inspiring

alongside a sizzling bonfire pleasurably warmed by a nip
protected by grandmother moon and endless dazzling stars
gaze penetrating embers and flame
mesmerizing

deep sapphire sky at midnight saturated with countless stars
cavernous space boundaries far flung
welcoming desires and dreams
enchanting

open arms with the comfort of understanding it all
unending respect everlasting nurture and loyalty
infinite unconditional love

solace

2008-07-18T20:41:00.006-04:00

phantasms in the sand

young lovers sated with lifetime dreams
on the beach they poured their hopes all over each other
like being buried in the warm soft sand

newlyweds spilling over with aspirations
on the beach they conspired in private
enlisted in their war to achieve

older now established somewhat
on the beach they awaited the news
first grandbaby soon to be born

aged at last a few aches and pains
on the beach they reminisced and thought back
still suffused with the love of their youth

now they no longer go to the beach
one gone and one left behind
each holds a place for the other

invisible footprints layer the sand
millions they made on that beach
uncountable numbers of hot lonely tears

two ethereal lovers hold hands now
on the beach where they played through their years
so very deep in the reflecting pool

every night they still talk
one the beach no one knows

stars codes reaffirming that loves

image url: http://www.teresalunt.com/mvineyard/images/ghosts.jpg

sunday scribblings #119 my oldest friend

2008-07-13T13:59:00.005-04:00

the ten o’clock news had barely signed off
time to call it a day
squiggling and squirming - screaming and slimy
i arrived to say , “WHOA – HEY!!!
i wasn’t impressed with the trip i’d just had
it was bumpy and cramped and it stunk
i arrived like a diva with a head full of hair
and I got slapped on the ass like a punk
what gives?

and so began my journey through life --- my mother wrote in my baby book, “we now have our hearts’ desire – a beautiful baby girl!” ---

my life travels have been bumpy and cramped just as my birth – my mother and I were at odds right from the git go, and it’s not a thing to be dwelt upon - it seems best just to say that we each lacked the ability to respond to the other’s emotional and psychological needs --- history repeating itself as per my mother’s experience at being parented ---

from the time of her death in 2001 i have deeply mourned, and for the most part it is a tremendously selfish grief – i am distressed and filled with sadness for the relationship i never had, for all the things i feel i missed out on --- no “special” confidences, shared joys, or common tears – i feel a whole part of me never came to life, and i am especially disconcerted that i never really felt “connected” to my mother in her lifetime ---

from the way people spoke i became increasingly desperate after she died to discover SOMETHING that would enlighten me, somehow soothe that little girl that so badly wanted a mommy --- i began to search doggedly and anxiously for a piece of something just for myself, something to hold close and to cherish – a piece of our relationship that i knew must be there, hidden in the tortuous ways of our years as mother and daughter ---

i travelled up and down so many unlit aveues that all wound up to be dead ends, each failure frustrating and devestating – but i was determined and i clung to my search like a dog with a bone, bent and bound that i would find what i was about ---

finally – FINALLY!!! – i turned up some very old medical records, and there it was! – a note in the records that my mother had forestalled having any more children in her second marriage because --- SHE WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO HER LITTLE GIRL IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HER!!! --- this little nugget of information left me feeling sucker punched, doubled me over with a different, but equally intense, grief and filled my heart and soul with a feeling of being so cherished and infused with my mother’s love - nurtured in a way that i had never known in all my life ---

and so ended my search and i had an epiphany of just how much my mother loved me despite our oh so strained relationship --- my oldest and best friend??? --- MY MOTHER!!!

sunday scribblings - #118 -- chance encounter

2008-07-04T19:22:00.004-04:00

disconnected

she was sprawled out on a warm flat rock which cropped out over and a few feet above the whitecaps of lake ontario - she mindlessly let herself drown in the solitude --- peace!!! – she let herself drift down and down and around and around, eddying deeper and deeper into the nowhere place where the disconnect is total and protective and the whole of her is safe --- she’s almost there when, WHONK!!! WHONK!!!, she begins to perceive the shrill sound of the interloper --- DAMN AND BLAST!!!!!

“who invited you?”

“guess I pretty much invited myself since you weren’t about to!”

“that should have been your first clue that you weren’t welcome – so just piss off!”

“so what’s going on, anyway? – why all this disconnect crap? – i feel like i have no value these days!”

“right on, ace!!! --- who knew you were an einstein?”

“smarter than you think i am, bitch! if you’d get out of your own way, you might learn a thing or three.”

“not really in the mood to learn diddly-squat – just want to disconnect in peace and quiet without company – especially yours!”

“you really are a jack ass, you know --- disconnect all you like but sooner or later, like it or not, whether you choose to or not, there WILL be that reconnect jazz waiting!”

“well, aren’t you just a little sunbeam???”

“ 'not my job to be a cheerful earful', as the bishop said to the actress – just my god forsaken assignment to help you keep it all together and in perspective – which, i might add, you’re failing at miserably these days!!!”

“doing the best i can with what i’ve got, ya know???”

“liar, liar, pants on fire!”

“okay, okay – what’s your bright idea?”

“just stay in touch – i really hate running all over hell’s half acre all the time to corral my part of you so that we’re us – YOU!!! – so that we can approximate some degree of relatively normal function!!! you really think i like these random meetings??? --- WRONG!!!!! --- anymore i feel like we’re a pair of unfamiliar people having a chance encounter, instead of integrated parts of the whole - and the “whole” mess just gives me exceedingly lousy vibes --- get it???”

Image url http://www.fluxfire.com/disconnected.jpg

2008-06-30T12:06:00.000-04:00

sunday scribblings #117 - vision

2008-06-26T20:44:00.004-04:00

channel 42

the whole thing started out as an unwelcome nuisance when dori felt that unmistakable sensation - yoyo walked across the top of her head --- she had spent the better part of three hours clutching her husband’s shirt, sobbing and gulping and soothing herself into a blessed state of stuporous sleep, and the experience of being rudely wakened by the the cat and going through all the grief again ground her off --- she remained inert like the blob she felt herself to be, all the while fighting back another meltdown – played possum waiting to see what the feline’s next move might be --- WOOWOOWOO!!! - the tv was suddenly alive and well and going strong – harebrained little fur ball had made her next move by stepping on the remote that dori kept beside her on a pillow with her glasses – well, shit! – no more playing possum now, but dori was damned! if she was about to get up and do kitty things for yoyo ---

resentfully, she rolled over to that special pillow which once had cradled her love’s head - a pillow now relegated to the status of a pseudo bed mate and a shelf of sorts – bleary eyed and fuzzy headed, she reached for the remote, at the same time glaring in the direction of the electronic wonder with a baleful eye --- OMIGAWD!!! – WIDE AWAKE NOW!!! --- SHIT-DAMN-BUGGER-BITCH-BUGGER-BITCH-DAMN!!!!! --- WHAT THE FUCK???

dori had been watching “house”, one of her faves, when she had shut the thing off, and everything had been just sweet, peachy-keen, swell, hunky-dory --- now the screen was adrift in newspaper tinted snow and there was a bizarre wide ovoid dark shape in the middle – and the sound was waaaaay beyond WONKY! --- a strange garbled sort of speech pattern – WARP TALK!!! – was making its way out into the bedroom and mesmerizing her with its mystical quality --- she felt like alice gone down the famous hole momentarily, then reasoned that there must be poor weather or some other perfectly natural reason for channel 42 to have had a psychotic break, so she popped the button and turned the poor sucker off -

just as she was fwumping! back over to resettle herself, she espied yoyo sound dead asleep on the foot of the bed on the far side --- so out of it in fact, that she was in dream quivers – sprawled on her back with her little paws going six ways for sunday --- dori was pretty much awake now and it began to dawn on her that yoyo had a whole routine for flaking out – it was lick-lick-lick, turn around in a circle and flop, repeat a couple or three times, and finally doze off all curled up and cozy, and by the time she got to quivers and flat on her back she had been asleep a mighty good long time --- the pieces all began to fall into place – chink! chink! chink! – like the end of a jigsaw puzzle finishing itself --- yoyo had been asleep all along, never had walked on her head and disturbed her --- a quick glance at the clock told her it was 5:15 in the morning – she ZAPPED! that tv back on in short order and waited an eternity of heartbeats for it to come to life --- when it did it was plain old everyday channel 42, and she crumbled like a dresden doll annihilated with a sledge hammer --- she felt the burning tide rise behind her eyes and begin to run riot down her face, and that familiar painful lump choking off her breathing, the precursors of the sobbing and gulping misery --- she blew it - had a chance and she blew it! --- STUPID!!!

when he had died it had been 5:30 in the morning – every day she wished on the stars, prayed and hoped that there would be something, some sign or a message that they were still connected despite her loss --- and now months later this spontaneous and inexplicable vision on the television – had she been more with it, she woulda – coulda – shoulda not turned it off when she did --- the very thought that this was a message, answer for her most profound longing to feel reconnected comforted dori --- next time ......

picture: http://img519.imageshack.us/img519/4986/catssleepingpositions18qr7.jpg

sunday scribblings #116 -- happy ending

2008-06-20T14:29:00.006-04:00

..... real happy endings

there have been so sooo many happy endings noodled into our lives over the years --- they whip through my mind like strobes blinking and bopping, hyper and fleeting - i can barely get one processed before another is right there waiting to illumine itself, and my fingers can’t keep up and capture them all at such a frenetic pace --- in and of themselves they aren’t huge, but taken together they become an immeasurable amount of love and happiness --- because of the chaotic and boisterous way in which they cram themselves in between my ears i’m just grabbing at them the best way i can --- they are all being flirts and vying for my attention as they flit around so capriciously - it’s like they all want to be an only child, ya know??? --- in no particular order, here are the ones who made it successfully through my fingers and into the post - and for every one here, there are many many more, no less important or special, just some that want to be more private and/or didn't make the cut in time!!!

a “ kiss for the cook” after a great meal -

watching the sun begin to set on the beach at the end of a day spent frillicking and jellicking like a pair of seal pups in the water -

savoring the personal inscription in my new books long after all the gifts have been torn open on christmas morning -

waking up together after a snuggled up night and playing silly little games with our feet before the real day horns in -

visiting my sister-in-law and our most special family after church on Christmas Eve -

long drives in the country at summer’s end to oooohhh and aaaahh over the pageant of fall foliage and stumbling across a beaver lodge -

dancing oh-so-close in our flannel pj’s in the kitchen at years end when the ball was dropping in times square and having tears of regret and melancholy gently kissed from my face -

giggling and kissing like a pair of teen agers in the basement of the hospital after a “good” check-up at the cancer clinic, then up to the gift shop to buy another “special” ornament for the christmas tree –

sitting back and enjoying the beauty of our yard after all the spring clean-up and weeding and planting is over –

after waiting for a litter of kittens to be born, watching them grow and learn, tumble-falling all over each other in their quest to become great fierce felines -

my hero’s delight in welcoming treasured and special children and friends every year after he got the wonderful pumpkins carved just so, and then the gargantuan Christmas tree decorated to his satisfaction –

unexpectedly stumbling across great pictures long forgotten and reliving the happiness of the moment they were taken -

snuggling safe and warm into our nest at day’s end with all our love and respect intact, each knowing the other loves unconditionally -

so many of these fantastic specters crash this memory party on such a whim that it’s beyond me to keep up with and record them all --- my biggest and best happy ending was the day MY HERO an I got together for good and for all in may, 1976, and eventually married on 04 july, 1981 (see "HOW I MET MY HERO") and thus “ended” our on again-off again relationship and really began to get on with our lives --- i hafta say that was the fairy tale story of my life, my one big love, and everything else is the fruit of cultivating that wonderful magical love – the rest of the happy endings were an outgrowth of that cinderella and her prince as they lived out their enchanted love ---

picture - kim anderson's sweethearts - "first kiss"

sunday scribblings #115 - guide

2008-06-13T15:01:00.003-04:00

follow your instinct

if it's pitch black, follow your instinct --- don't ask, cuz i just don't know - it just banged into my brain with neither fanfare nor warning whilst i was about my morning toilette ---

the wild things survive on their instinct - they weren't blessed with our capacity for emotion, reason, or free will - by their innate senses and learned behaviours they go day by day, dealing with them one by each --- they have no sophisticated burdensome thought processes to bow them down --- they enjoy the elements of nature as far as they enhance their lives and bring them pleasure - and when they are able, they avoid those that may have a negative impact on them ---

they just go from one moment to the next doing whatever wants doing in that moment - they don't carve out elaborate two, five, or ten year goals for themselves --- they don't set themselves up for failure, even though they aren't immune from it ---

what they CAN do, at which we are far less adept, is this: they live in the NOW, and deal with their lives more simply and directly --- by following their instinct they know when to hunt and when to rest - better than we, they are far more aware that to everything there is a season ---

if we find ourselves in the feral equivalent of pitch black, we too should just follow our instinct - "just coast" --- cry when we need to and laugh when we can --- fill the times between with whatever pleases us - even when what pleases us is nothing --- hide if we like or venture forth for a touch - go with our gut and sooner or later it won't be pitch black any longer ---

let the pitch black validate and soothe your angst and follow your heart - when it breaks anew put the band aid of a special memory on it and give it time --- rest secure in the knowledge that although none of us can ever feel exactly the pain of another we can none the less appreciate it by virtue of the fact that we too can hurt ---

one of my favorite books is "if you're afraid of the dark, remember the night rainbow", by cooper edens --- it's a children's book as lots of my favorites are --- the illustrations are wonderful and follow the whimsy of the text --- it’s one of those special gifts to myself that I enjoy when everything is pitch black --- a little bit of a guide back toward the lights for me sometimes ---

the book finishes by saying this:
If there is no happy ending... make one out of cookie dough

The beautiful illustration of the wildcat and cubs was found at: http://livaudaisnet.com/portfolio/illustrations/index.htm

sunday scribblings #114 - my nights

2008-06-06T19:37:00.003-04:00

NIGHT LIFE

if you’re a swede, you’ll drom, in holland you’ll droom --- in german it’s traum, and if you’re really heavy into latin, it derives from dormire – for those of us who live in the anglo-saxon, we’ll dream when we crash ---
what is a dream??? --- well, an ordinary dream is the brain activity of a sleeping person – it leaves its traces on the waking state --- dreams are fickle and easily influenced – they can arise from bodily sensations – one too many pieces of pizza churning away? – or be the result of previous waking thoughts --- has your one and only been a real jerk for the past day or two???
recording and interpreting dreams has been done for centuries --- dreams and their meanings are not only unique and individual, but also full of symbolism and messages ---
what, for instance do colors signify??? --- beige is the tone of neutrality, blue denotes harmony, pink is representative of love, and white signifies purity --- purple or violet (my own personal favorite) is said to be associated with aristocracy --- if you have a personal signature color, it might interest you to check out its meaning ---
everything in the dream world is symbolic --- clothing, objects, places, colors, even animals ---
i dream a lot about parrots and monkeys, always in vivid hues --- a talking animal is said to stand for wisdom and magical communication – right on!!! --- when you conjure up monkeys in your slumber, they show mischief and humor – that wily coyote is a trickster or a rogue – lions? – you guessed it! – nobility, strength, and pride ---
remember we each live in two different worlds --- you’re already well acquainted with the daytime you on the go with school, work, chores, and all the rest of the minutiae that comprises our lives --- take a glance over your shoulder, and you’ll catch sight of the nighttime you not very far behind – get to know that midnight mind that you have and enjoy your other half –
some people like to keep a dream journal, but be quick about it on awakening before the mysteries evaporate in the light of day --- dreams are teases and flirts!!! ---
represented by the picture is a dream I had several years ago --- because of divorce and distance, I saw very little of my father after about age eight - but he was prince charming to me none the less, probably because he was never the disciplinarian or the constant presence, and so he had a sort of a mystique about him, the unknown – whatever!!! --- when I was round about half past forty or so, somebody showed me a very old picture of him – he was a dreamy looking young man, just about 30, and he was sitting beside his elegant new ‘37 black packard coupe – WOW!!! – the photo is on the hard drive in my mind --- came as no surprise to me when I had this most beautiful dream – and you know, it seemed like so much more than just a dream, it was just all that vivid and left me with its feeling to this day --- astral planing??? --- in any event, it moved me to capture it on paper - not only with my words, but also with my paper and colored pencils ---

DREAM SCENE

the daylight was deep, heavy as lead, and unnaturally dark, but the all encompassing peace and serenity left it void of things sinister or threatening --- the silence was so loud and thundering that all sound was muted to the point of total deafness –
the virgin blanket of snow was extremely deep and soft, but not wet despite the massive accumulation – a frosty feathery down tick available for any and all on which to flop --- huge sparkling clods of white arctic dust slid like slippery oversized cotton balls from over laden low hanging boughs, leaving immense snow craters where they smashed into the landscape with a fwoomp! that went unheard –
the vehicle encountered no resistance or problem as it powered through the bottomless cold powder --- the pristine winding wake told the tale of its progress, but the stillness absorbed even the barest sound of snow being thrown aside as it went on smoothly –
as the sleek black panther moved effortlessly through the ponderous dismal light, it glided beneath towering stately conifers which accepted its presence graciously --- they bowed gracefully under their mighty load and intersected above the track, forming long dim tunnels even less illumined than the daylight dark –
the nearly overpowering embrace of nature's majesty and grandeur flipped all sense of self down side up - the self became minute --- in contrast, the mint condition '37 jet black coupe became as titanic as a hercules bomber –
the infinitesimal self was deeply, almost totally sunken into its richly appointed interior, nearly an integral part of the silken soft alabaster leather-
the inner sanctum was replete with sensory experiences --- each was rich and full in and of itself; however, none was overwhelming –
the man's hands on the wheel were slender, tanned copper, and relaxed --- an elegant but conservative diamond sat comfortably on his right ring finger --- his subtle cologne reeked of money --- his three piece suit seemed to be woven of smoke colored butter, and the hand waxed patina on his ebony kid Wellingtons was flawless --- his lightly starched shirt was as white as the snow outside –
the custom upholstered seats oozed their smell of fresh and new --- every knob, every handle, every surface was spotless --- the immaculate pale grey carpet was so deep and plush as to tempt a rest in the arms of morpheus - the radio was off --- the lack of sound enhanced the pervasive silence, rather than exaggerated it –
her microscopic self was costumed in a full length, hand tailored, winter white chesterfield coat, accented by a black velvet collar --- blazing white anklets trimmed with lace were shoed in black patent leather whose shine rivalled that of the man's boots --- black ermine embraced her head and tied beneath her chin, leaving only her golden bangs visible above her sun bronzed face –
together they presented a gentle portrait of compatible companionship --- neither evidenced fear or frustration as their ship moved stealthily through their surreal surroundings --- they rode in their own cocoon of silence, clearly not unsettled by the wondrous strange in which they found themselves ---

2008-05-30T20:40:00.001-04:00

CURVE BALL

2008-05-30T18:38:00.002-04:00

HOW I MET MY HERO

right off the bat i know i have very little capacity for science or math – too much to memorize for me – so we won’t go there with the curve prompt --- next i hear myself thinking more about life – isn’t there a quote about life is what happens to you while you’re busy planning your life or something along that line??? --- i have a good friend that spoke of life recently as a journey where you stop for flat tires, food, directions, potty, to switch drivers, whatever, and she advised me to get in the back seat and let Somebody Else drive for a while and just enjoy it – i’m trying to do that –

so as i cogitate back here and gaze at the scenery of life as i pass by, i think about curves - it comes to me that i think about the journey as a constant learning curve, then I remember it’s a very long road that has no turn (another old adage, if i’m not mistaken), you never know what’s around the corner, and all that jazz --- then somehow the switch is flipped and WOOT! WOOT! - i’m actually relaxing and dozing off here in the back seat with random clips of curve balls --- seems to me that life is a series of curve balls - what else would hold anyone's interest? - that sometimes means a swing and a miss, or with a good solid THWAKKKK!!!! can turn into a grand slam --- my greatest grand slam was meeting MY HERO ---

we first met on june 10, 1966 – that was the day I got engaged to my first husband –

in those days they sized rings for you in a matter of an hour or two – we had chosen my engagement ring at a downtown jewellery store, and decided to go and toast our wonderful occasion while we waited for it to be sized --- we went to the old la salle hotel, the grande dame of town at that time, and made our way to the “persian room” – the quiet lounge adjacent to the dining room – the bartender on duty was a friend of my new fiance, he came to our table to take our order, and we were introduced --- he congratulated us on our happy event, and bought us a bottle of champagne for a gift --- he served it with all the pizzazz and flourish one would see on the big screen – silver tray high over his head, white linen, expert cork-popping, the whole nine yards --- now truth to tell, i never have been much of a champagne aficionado, but it certainly seemed like the most appropriate thing to be doing under the circumstances – i was feeling pretty pampered and altogether special ---

in due time, the new fiance had to use the washroom, so there I was all by my own self, minding my own business, and WHOA!!! --- Zippity-Bim-Bam- Boom, here comes the bartender, folks!!! --- well, he was absolutely polite about it all, and smiled a really beautiful smile, and stood there before me as if he were in his right mind to tell me this: “this guy is not the one for you, but go ahead and marry him if you want to – just remember when you two are through, i’ll still be around!” --- can you believe this? – what a cad!!! – I mean I was in LOVE! with my brand spanking new fiance - not even two hours before the bartender had been introduced to his ?friend’s prospective new wife, and now as soon as the guy is gone, well! – here he is lining himself up! --- what a piece of work, eh wot???

time passes – the fiance and i were married on october 29, 1966 and we were separated in august of 1968 --- more time passes, i am into my career and the bartender has become a municipal employee, and eventually we strike up our own friendship in 1970 – we “accidentally” ran into one another often and schmoozed over coffee as we became closer and closer --- we had a trial run at romance, bad timing, and went our separate ways ---

but WAIT - THERE’S MORE!!!

we began seeing one another again in may of 1976, and got along famously --- we were still going to have to work to iron out a few kinks, but guess what? --- the bartender was right – that first guy sure was NOT! for me, but the bartender WAS! still around ---

we were married on july 4, 1981

HE’S MY HERO!!!!!

sunday scribblings #112 quitting

2008-05-25T17:46:00.004-04:00

the lilacs slammed! into bloom this week when they finally got some encouragement from the sun, and they are standing tall and strong, dancing in perfect step to the lead from the wind – they’re not doing anything but what they’re meant to do, they’re just being lilacs --- my furry feline buddies are getting stoned on the fresh new catnip, chasing one another and whatever else they spot as a moving target – they are simply being felines in frolic and doing their own thing, just being cats --- there seem to be no pretentions in nature, and things seem to go along quite agreeably --- creatures are their authentic selves with seemingly little or no dire outcomes, and we accept them as they are ---

the most difficult thing for me to quit was being a plastic, phony, people pleasing personality --- taking off my mask and just putting myself out there as who and what i am has been a fear ridden process, and is somewhere between its infancy and toddler stages of evolution --- i never learned, in large part because i was never allowed, to use my own voice; there were always invisible, invincible and strictly enforced boundaries - i want to feel freedom and relief with it, but it always leads me to a place of self doubt and a fear of i don't know what, as though i am the back seat driver in my own life --- i am still pleasant, and when i am able, i still make a genuine effort to please people, but no longer at my own expense --- i hear the old tapes playing the “I SHOULDS” and the “I OUGHTS” and they are creating cacophony and dissonance inside where i live - and sometimes it’s been oh sooooo difficult to tell them to “just shut the fuck up!!!” and let me think straight while i try and pick out the undertones of the softer and more lyrical harmonies of the “I PREFER” and the “I CHOOSE” refrains --- the majority of folk want and need the approval and appreciation of others – i fancy that i am no different – but it seems altogether quite strange to me that those who ostensibly “want only the best for you” become so nonplussed and flummoxed when you are reaching for what YOU KNOW!!! is the best for you - as the old saying goes, “when you change the steps, nobody knows how to do the dance anymore”.....

a retrospective provides a resonance of clarity that so many of my bend-over-backwards stabs at pleasing people have devolved into situations where my good will and heart felt intentions find me being used and treated badly – ultimately creating a painful experience for all involved as I extricate myself from one mess after another --- learning to respond rather than react and taking a chance on being my authentic self --- it’s been HUGE!!! for me

TO MINE OWN SELF BE TRUE!!!

2008-05-18T13:44:00.000-04:00

TOPAZ AND MOONGLOW

My mother got her hair done regularly for a spell by a beautician named Veda. Veda liked to do some customers at her home rather than at the shoppe – more convenient??? – more lucrative??? – who knows, and it doesn’t really matter after all this time, except that I’ve managed to stay inquisitive about the trivia over time.

I don’t really recall how near or how far it was to go to Veda’s house, but in memory it doesn’t feel all that long a drive to the youngster whose story this is. Veda was friendly and very tolerant in that I was a constant accessory when my mother went there. She included me to some degree in the socialization; however, I needed little to amuse me beyond listening to their chatter and watching this process of beautification as it unfolded. It seemed altogether quite a complicated ritual to me, and it always puzzled me that when it was finished my mother always looked the same. How could that be????? There were potions and notions and glops of stuff interspersed by trims and washes and rinses. It seemed highly improbable to me that with all of these ministrations things were not dramatically different at the end of it all. When we left, though, we always looked exactly like the same two people who had arrived some few hours earlier!!

One night as the show went along, and the mysterious liquids were being freely dispensed on my mother’s tresses, there arose what seemed to be a question whose answer promised to be monumentally important. Now that I have become a peroxide dependent person in my own right, I too find myself in the same complicated set of circumstances – what color are we really trying to impose on the hair and exactly what mixture of exotic, romantic, and drop-dead gorgeous elixirs are required to produce the perfect finish? (Only your hair dresser knows for sure, as they say!) Somewhere along the line, the conundrum was solved that night, and things got back on track and eventually it was all a done deed once more.

Fast forward to one of those infamous “open houses” at school where there are student papers plastered on every available inch of wall space - spelling tests scrawled by cave babies with next to no penmanship skills, rudimentary art work of never before seen flowers, and the most decent of pages from the old “Think and Do” books of fifty plus years ago. Parents dutifully stood in line to hear their prodigy praised and tattled on – in my case, praised for spelling, read well, but she talks too much in class – oh dear!!! And she doesn’t seem to have good study skills. I was yet to learn that I could not memorize, but I had the ability to retain clearly spoken information

My mother drew closer her place at the front of the line and I drew proportionately further away, since I had the inside scoop on the tattle stuff. Now here I was – skinny, scared, and six - not only out of my own classroom but many doors up the hall where the “big” kids had their classes --- LOST!!! To the rescue came one of those omnipresent nuns who did the tattling, and to whom you just knew you had to tell the truth, completely and at all times. In that nun-speak that they all had, she got my name and my classroom, and asked me what mommy looked like. In an effort to be the very best little lost girl that I could, I described my mother in detail, right down to what she was wearing and the color of her hair. Mother appeared from nowhere just in time to hear me tell the good sister that her hair was Topaz and Moonglow. WELL!!!!!

Sister laughed, but my lost mother didn’t think it too funny. Our departure from school was abrupt (and embarrassed, I expect). I know that on top of catching hell for talking too much in class and passing notes, I also caught the devil for being a “leaky bucket”, as my mother called it.

I don’t think I ever went to Veda’s with her again after that.

robot in my moccasins

2008-05-16T13:55:00.000-04:00

robot in my moccasins

my heart is soooooo sore – the pain of loss has unlocked desperate and unbearable feelings – words to describe it defy discovery, are on the tip of no one’s tongue --- as each day dawns, the tears are racing down my already tear stained face before I am even fully awake – they follow the tracks laid down from crying myself to sleep intermittently throughout the night --- the evidence of sorrow seems to have engraved a path from my swollen and burning chocolate eyes to the narrow of my chin – the chin that is usually part of a stoic mien; however, that very same chin quivers and trembles almost incessantly as i repeatedly lose my composure with no regard to time, place, or audience --- i am frightened and lonely and utterly devastated and i seriously entertain the notion of just not getting up – EVER!!! – on a daily basis --- this is the nightmare from which there will be no awakening because it happened while i was quite WIDE AWAKE! and will not allow any sleep or respite for me now --- i wander painfully, aimlessly and pointlessly through most days barely aware of what happens in “the world”, not really caring or interested because i am just so preoccupied with my own situation – selfish perspective, to be sure, but there it is! --- once in a while i catch sight of myself in a mirror and i am puzzled to know who this person is looking back at me – has she made the coffee that i sipped while i apathetically turned the pages of the newspaper? is she the one who fed the cat? – i am shocked to see her there, and i quiz her as to her next move and her plans for herself, how does she propose to get through this and what or who shall she be then? --- the questions are soul searching, incisive, and profound – by my measure not a waste of time – and yet i get no answers, and it’s then i realize that while i have been unconscious and oblivious to my life, somebody has put a robot in my moccasins --- she goes my way and does my thing, she makes the coffee and pays the bills, does the errands and picks up a few groceries, feeds the cat and watches jeopardy!, and all the while i crouch in the murky and menacing shadows of grief all alone, afraid of the whole world and everybody in it --- where is she when each new wave of the loneliness crashes over and around me like a renegade tsunami leaving me breathless and struggling to get myself upright again? is it that robots are incapable of comforting people? --- each happy memory reduces me to tears for the very fact that it will forever be just that! – only a MEMORY, a thing never to be experienced again in real time - and i can feel the pain of my heart breaking anew deep within me with each wonderful recollection along with its attendant realization that it is forever a memory – i don’t know where the REAL things that make up happiness are now --- i feel disconnected and unsettled, lethargic and buried fathoms deep in aloneness – so deep that no one can hear my cries for help, so far down that it is humanly impossible to dig me out --- i try and try to get on top of the situation, but i don’t seem to be able to conquer such a steep climb and i know no one can help – there are people to call; however, this loss was far and away less paramount in their lives and they have been able to move on and i can’t seem to catch up --- i feel like a nuisance and an imposition, they have their own life concerns, after all, and their words, as sincere as they are, are trite and cliché and ring hollow --- the tapestry of my life has been rent seemingly beyond repair, the pattern is not even recognizable so full of holes, and i feel as if it will take my lifetime to gather in all of those loose ends and reweave it to a whole and pleasing piece of work once more --- I think that there simply is no bandage big enough or strong enough for this sore

the ubiquitous “they” tell me I’m doing fine, and I’ll be okay after a “while”, but they don’t seem to be able to see that there is a ROBOT IN MY MOCCASINS!!!!!

#110 -- Telephone

2008-05-10T22:15:00.000-04:00

a call

6 a.m. – wrong number
dreamer gets another chance

8:30 a.m. - reminder
don’t forget the dentist tomorrow

10:15 a.m. – special order in
must be picked up before Thursday

10:45 a.m. – telemarketer
bother

11:55 a.m. – close friend ill
put on the prayer list, yes

12:15 p.m. – forgot my lunch
drop it off to you

2 p.m. – good news
mother and baby doing fine

2:15 p.m. – telemarketer
more nuisance

3:45 p.m. – called to say hi
so thoughtful, so chatty

5:30 p.m. – telemarketer
blast! – ought to be a law – isn’t there?

7:20 p.m. – dinner Saturday
what to wear

11:20 p.m. – called to say i love you
wish he were here

3:15 a.m. – can’t be
we just spoke around 11 – how did it happen

dreamer loses

the telephone --- an innocuous piece of plastic electronically driven to make your day, needlessly interrupt it, keep you connected and up to date, and in some cases shatter your life beyond repair --- oft times makes you tempted to shoot the messenger when you’ve given in to the invitation of its seemingly harmless and sometimes bothersome ring --- you can exercise a pinch of control with caller i.d. to screen the who of it, but the why of it is never known until a message is retrieved or the deed is done and the call is answered --- where was the line crossed that took it from luxury to necessity to nuisance and the whole spectrum of labels in between i wonder? --- the change must have been subtle and delicate, a covert event that took its very own time in unfolding, until suddenly, KAWHAMMMM!!! – here we are at the beck and call (no pun intended) of gadgetry, because there seems to be no way out of it now --- where did the real people go, and how come the only ones left seem to be literally unable to even eat a meal, sip a coffee, or use the facilities without being on the phone at the same time? – happened in the very next cubicle to me, made me feel the whole world was in that rest room! – i miss the more personal style of face to face dialogue, seeing the special smiles as i share a silly moment, watching the glint of a pair of lively eyes as i speak, spotting the unspoken question or potential misunderstanding as it may be forming – the world is a busy spot, for sure, with folks bemoaning their lack of free time and relaxation, grumbling about the tax on their privacy, but each of us has to make and enforce our own boundaries, and keep our personal power intact – PERSONALLY! --- for me the phone is a necessity, true enough, but nothing more, and to give it more import than that in the scheme of my life would be folly for me --- it will never measure up as a substitute or replacement for that personal stamp each of us puts on our communication with others --- memories are made and treasures of them put aside to take out and savor at another time when you are blessed with good conversations and even better friends!!!

dear mommy

2008-05-10T16:02:00.000-04:00

family

2008-05-04T13:54:00.000-04:00

FAMILY!!! – RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!! --- Fear – abandonment - lies – secrets – masks --- some of the things that the red flags and deafening alarm bells in my head represented when the word came out of nowhere and “bitch-slapped” me upside the head. Having gained a modicum of skill at stepping back from the knee-jerk reaction it elicited, I know now that’s it’s just a word after all, isn’t it? Being where I am and who I am in the moment allows me the freedom to define it to my liking. I choose now for it to mean a group of people that I have deliberately opted to include in my life with whom I can be just myself – people with whom I can feel safe, who accept me with no strings attached, no lofty ideals or expectations for me to fulfill for them. There are but a few of them, but they can be trusted with my fragile essence. They are not toxic for me; rather, they are nurturing, supportive and provide that unconditional acceptance that is one of my most basic needs. Biology has been usurped by preference and personal selection, family in-law ousted by a penchant for true respect as opposed to feigned obligation. My family of choice loves me on good days and bad, is respectful of my space and my opinions --- and while they mightn't always agree with them, they do recognize my right to hold those personal views. This small chosen family group has no need to make an effort to invalidate me or re-arrange my thoughts to avoid possible embarrassment to themselves. My family is loving, respectful, and kind. My family values me for the person that I am. My family stands ready at any time, day or night, to be available for me in every way. My family is a gift which I’ve been fortunate to be able to choose from a wish book over time. My family is a blessing!!! Perhaps it will grow over time – this type of pregnancy is most usually an unplanned event and the time to parturition is considerably variable. Que-sera,sera.