The universe has my back

Recently, I've had some rough patches in my life.

"I feel so bad for you! Don't you feel like the universe is out to get you?", came the words of a well meaning friend.

While I won't dwell on details, I thought I'd some personal thoughts. After all, isn't that why we write?

It occurs to me that the universe is not "out to get me". In fact, I look at it in reverse.

While I don't particularly welcome life's challenges, I have learned to appreciate them for what they are. A gift, an opportunity to grow, a chance to learn from, and strengthen, my weaknesses.

I recognize my flaws.....especially those I tend to repeat over and over and over.

• I must learn to be proactive, not reactive.
• I must learn to trade anger for forgiveness
• I must learn to embrace the beauty rather than  pain
• I must learn to trust in others and not try to go it alone.
• I must remember that if I focus on the path, the obstacles will be so much less daunting.

As I face today, I will find that ray of sunshine behind the clouds. I will smile in the midst of my tears.

For at the end of the day, I'll continue to believe, the universe has my back.

How selfish am I?

On a scale from one to ten, how selfish am I? 

It 's an age old question that has haunted me for years.

Of course, I'd like to believe I am altruistic, someone that gives for the sake of giving without slightest regard to self.

But then I wonder......

Can I even conceive the meaning of altruistic? 

Even if I give for the sake of giving, isn't there the underlying (selfish) reason hiding behind the scenes.  I want to make a difference?  

I don't know the answer, and perhaps never will. 

But for now, I shall continue to emulate those I perceive to be truly selfless in hopes that one day, I too will make the cut. 

In the name of love

"If Love alone could have kept you here, you would have lived forever."

Today I wrap you up in your favorite blanket and hold to my breast pretending you're okay.

Tomorrow I'll face the truth

Today, I feel your tiny heartbeat and indulge myself in your being.

Tomorrow, I'll find the card I'd hoped never to need.

Today, I'll turn off my phones and communicate with no one..

Tomorrow, I'll make the dreaded call.

Today, I'll cease to exist for anyone but you.

Tomorrow, (in the name of love), I'll say my  last tearful goodbye.

My Perspective on Surprises

Surprise: an unexpected or astonishing event, fact, or thing:                                                                   


As a child, surprise was among my very favorite words.. It made me think of birthdays and parties with sparkly wrapped boxes, Mama's homemade cakes dripping with sweet icing we would lick from the bowl. Visits with grandma and grandpa where every hug was filled with love. Surprise was synonymous with the word happy, and I couldn't hardly wait for the next one to come.

As an adult, I've developed a totally different perspective. Unlike the fond reminiscences' of childhood, these surprises  pack a heavy wallop that knock me off my feet.  
  
Tomorrow, my baby sister is gets a mastectomy.

What's one supposed to do with a surprise like that?

Healing dreams

It's twilight, yet I wander. Alone but not afraid, In fact, I am fearless. My spirit soars with the awe and clarity of a child. My limitations fade in an exquisite timelessness that dissolves pain and preconceptions. Perfection prevails.

As dusk fades into dawn, I am a silent observer witnessing majesty. Morning glories blossoming one by one,dew drops glistening as welcome the birth of a new day, birds prattling merrily in warmth of the rising sun, and through it all, I can feel your smile.

Healing dreams. A gift from God.

The pit

She'd been here too many times, precariously close to the precipice, dangerously close to descending into the world between limbo and hell. But she was older now,  wiser, more prepared. She'd learned to navigate particularly well, especially within the confines of darkness.

Today however was different. She could feel a chill seep into her bones even as she gathered the courage to peek over the edge.

It hadn't changed, The same black ominous pit, threatening to devour her, but its voracity surprised her,

Struck by panic, she stumbled. Her body awkwardly lurching toward the cold empty darkness below.

It beckons her like a friend.

Clinging desperately to a single thread  hope, she refuses to fall.

Can she hang on?

Will she hang on?

Sealed

To be fair, she too was a victim. While her ascension to glory seemed a gift to be envied by others, in reality it was a curse, an invisible tether she'd never escape, Unaware, she basked in her glorious reign of splendor, blinded from the truth. A princess borne to heal the pain of desperation, they'd deemed her their savior. Her lot had been sealed on the day of her birth.

Abyss

Even from where we stood miles and miles away, we could see the explosion. It was huge and immediately big black billowy smoke consumed the corner of the sky. They had bombed the amusement park, and then came a second hit, larger than the first. I thought I felt the ground shake. My awe turned to fear. I knew we were in the kind of trouble we were not likely to recover from.

The gray smoke spread, the cell phones were dead.....we were far away, and not directly affected so the collective panic had not yet spread.

I myself was thankful to have my husband and my daughter near by. My mind bounced between not wanting to leave their side,  and needing to venture out and try to find a way to connect with the rest of my family. I needed to know they were alright.

I thought about my boys, my home, my animals. I thought about my neighbors.....all of them so much closer to the disaster.....but still far away enough that maybe.....

I trailed off on my own, searching for cell power, search for away to connect with the rest of my world. For a brief second the Internet worked, and a map of the planet flashed across my screen. The explosion, a chunk of earth flying out into the atmosphere, our earth, giving up.....

The billowing darkness began filtering out the sun, the blue slowly giving way to the blackness. I bowed and prayed fervently on the public stairs of a place I didn't even recognize, as the heat of the blazing sun, fell cold behind the clouds.

I prayed and I cried and I prayed. My thoughts unable to come up with any prayer that made sense. It was too little, too late, and the consequences we were about to face, I didn't want to face alone. I needed to find the people that I knew were still here. I needed to do it now.

Mystical Moon

Oh mystical moon
bathe me in your silv'y light
'til sunlight finds me

Glad to wake up...

I was sitting alone on my front porch-swing soaking in the last glorious remnants of the late summer sun when my eyes were drawn to a multitude of children converging onto the streets. No ethnicity was prominent, but the age group was obvious. Streams of teens and preteens wandered aimlessly into the neighborhood. In groups; alone, all seeking  attention, all seeking positive direction.

Compelled to help,  I decided I'd start a club. 

I call the kids together in attempt to find out what it is they like to do. I suggest reading, writing, drawing  and painting. sports, dancing... an endless list, all with no results. As it is with dreams, the specifics have since faded, but the fact that I failed them looms large in my mind. 

I remember feeding them and sending them on their way. I remember the sting of sadness and defeat I felt as they drifted into the distance. I remember being glad to wake up.

What does it mean? Perhaps I'll never know. But even now, I am glad I was only dreaming.

You're Only Old Once

You're only old once

were the words that I read

so I pondered that thought

as I rested in bed

If you're only old once

you should make your days great

not waste them on sadness

not waste them on hate

With a positive attitude

you can keep your heart young

 you can fill it with kindness

to make life more fun

So no more complaining
and don't be a grouch
just get up and dance
 and stay off of that couch

Let's give our best efforts

 and with, age, make a truce

for "You're only old once"

says the great  Dr. Seuss

 

 

haiku

Radiant sun beams
renew the cycle of hope
promising spring

Old School Idioms

                           What???

The other day, I was conversing with my daughter in what I considered to be perfectly normal English. I don't remember the topic, or exactly what I said, but I do remember her outburst of laughter interrupted my thoughts.

"What?" she giggled? 

 "What do you mean what?" I asked in confused exasperation. 

Containing her laughter, she repeated my apparently old school words and flashed me a quizzical look.  "Mom, what does that even mean?"

It'd never occurred to me that I tend to speak idioms that to many are obsolete.

That being said, I decided to  write down some of my favorites, and would ask that you contribute yours.

And please, while your at, pass along some new updated versions, (along with their meanings), so I can work on closing the generational gap. 

Cool As a Cucumber

Like a broken record

Cat nap/forty winks

Blue in the face

 

Hold your horses

Scared the living daylights out of me.

Head In The Clouds

Dead As A Doornail

It'll be a Piece Of Cake

Never bite the hand that feeds you 

Happy as a clam

Cry over spilt milk

Add insult to injury

A bit under the weather

Hit the nail on the head

Let sleeping dogs lie

Off your rocker

Blessing in disguise

Beat around the bush

ball in your court

barking up the wrong tree

curiosity killed the cat

blind as a bat

Hit the sack...... 

Yes, I really do use these, all the time!! ha ha

A Chunk of My Life....

Missing my mom

My mom was dying. She needed an advocate. She needed me.  

So my not so infinite wisdom, I decided that I'd call a "meeting of the minds" to do away with the looming white elephant, and clear the air forever. I call up my sisters. Now mind you, I come from a blended, broken family, and things can be more than a little complicated. So I prepped, I prepared, I practiced, certain I could eliminate insurgence of drama.

Boy, was I ever wrong!!!

That being said, I penned this letter to my sister. An apology of sorts, but more a cleansing of the soul. Deep and personal this is not really a slice of life, it's more like a chunk of my life that I've chosen to share with the world!!

Dear ____________

I've been mulling over our family meeting, and the original intent behind it. I realize, in retrospect, you were probably feeling attacked, and for that, I sincerely apologize. Please know I accept complete responsibility for the idea, and it's failure,

When I asked you girls to participate,  I believed it to be a good thing. I envisioned it as an opportunity to share our thoughts, (good and bad), spew out any residual venom, and move on so we could at least try to heal.

I cannot reiterate enough that lack of communication has forever been the source of discord in this family, and I do mean forever!  Shrouded in secrets, we've been ripped apart at the seams time and time again, and forbidden to acknowledge the pain. It's sad. It's tragic. It's reality that can't be denied.
That being said, what my brilliant plan failed to consider was the depth of the childhood wounds we've each been forced to carry, and the fragile adults we've grown into because of them. Mending decades of wounds by hashing out words in a an hour long meeting is like throwing gauze over a ruptured artery......too little, too late..... and completely ridiculous.

I'm deeply sorry if my intentions were misinterpreted, by you, or by anyone, but I'll never apologize for my reasons behind them. My heart was coming from a good place, and I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to share my thoughts with all of my sisters together in one room. It was, for a moment, like like stepping out of the shadows into the sunlight....

but only for a moment.....

My mom was dying. She needed an advocate. She needed me.  I needed her.

Sto lat

When I think of the best grandpa in the world, hands down, I think of my father-in-law. 

If I were to ask my children for word association, it would go something like this:

Puppies and polkas, music and marigolds, tomatoes and tenderness, snack cakes and soda, cooking and cat food, green grass and garlic, rosemary and restaurants, patient and practical, classy and cool. 

John Mitchell Sr. would be 100 years old today!!

Happy Birthday to a man that lives on in our memories......a man who was Amazing and Adored. 

The knock

Tap, tap, tap.....

She'd heard it before and was adept at ignoring. "Go away", she mumbled to no one in particular, "I've got this under control. Just leave alone." But loud and unrelenting, the knock continued, grating her to the core. In a surge of sudden rage, she flings the door open prepared to unleash her fury.

"Why, she asks scathingly, "would you continue to knock when it's clear I do not wish to answer?"

The stranger moves in closer, as if to study her before she responding to her wrath. His  grey/blue eyes remind her of her dad. A tranquility in his tone envelopes in for a moment, what feels like peace.  "You must learn to trust, he whispered, his steely gray eyes peering into her soul. Let someone in before it's too late."

Hysteria wells up in her belly. "You don't understand", losing her words in a sob, "I can't, because....  I don't know how."

The sun drops quickly behind the horizon leaving her to wrestle her fears in the dark. Her entire life she has spent constructing her walls. How could she let someone in?

Tap, tap, tap.....

Instinctively she knows the stranger's returned. Fighting the feeling of dread that attempts to invade her, she opens the door, focusing  only on the tinge of hope. She knows it will not be easy, but it's time, and God knows it's the only thing she can do.

The flow

If I had a single piece of advice to share with a writer, it would be this. When you find your flow, never let it go.

The flow is when you find your words  are writing themselves, your thoughts are flowing effortlessly through your fingertips. You find that your reading something you never believed you could write.

Unfortunately,my flow has a mind of its own. Sporadic, and frustratingly unpredictable, I  often have to jump through hoops to get it back. This is one of those times. 

So tonight I shall read, sleep, and dream in living color, hoping tomorrow I've recaptured my flow.

Wish me luck!!! 

Outside in

Diluted words from a pre-dawn flow..... 

I barely recognized him.....his frail skeletal body hunched over a long polished table working on something I couldn't make out. In my mind, I could visualize the man he used to be. Strong, beautiful, nearly perfect in my eyes. Nearly perfect in his own. I found it painful to watch, but could not tear my eyes away. His crippled hand painstakingly maneuvering the pen in small, meticulous increments, his oversized glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
Stripped of the external beauty of his youth, he now bathed in the light of his hard earned wisdom. Stripped of vanity, he'd learned to face the flaws of his own humanity, so finally his internal beauty could shine through.

The Poet

The Poet

Touched by the honesty his words reveal, she's commits them to memory. Sweet and rare as vintage wine she's intoxicated by his poetic proclivity. She yearns to be a part of his world, simple, unpretentious, a world that no longer exists. As she reads on, she can almost feel his presence, the warmth of his breath, feather light touch of his fingers caressing her cheek; A tear escapes. Separated by centuries, the two shall never meet face to face, but the purity and passion of his words will etched into her soul for eternity. The poet's words cannot be diminished even by the heavy hand of time.

Scary News

                                                  Today I received scary news.

Numb,  I stare blankly at random shadows flickering against my shades in the fading afternoon sun. A moment ago, everything was normal.....but now....

I swallow deeply as if this will somehow help me to absorb the unwanted information. My heart plunges into the pit of my stomach, then lodges its way into my throat, I'm nauseous.

I search for an reasonable response, but "Jesus" is all I can manage.

I can't face her, or even talk to her. I can't imagine my life without her in it. I know my fear is irrational and and selfish and.... I'm angered by it. So.....

I breathe deeply, and do the only thing I know to do.

Pray.

Dear God, please help me to overcome my fear, and find strength to be the person she will need me to be. 

Illusion

 

Illusion

Whimsical, glorious, fanciful you
illusory gifts you cast into their arms
warming their hearts with a perceived benevolence
you make them believe

Whimsical, glorious, fanciful you
protecting your pretense with locks and with keys
your display of sincerity a sparkling jewel
You gain their trust

Whimsical, glorious, fanciful you
With a princess-like glory you sit on your throne
collecting the spoils you bought with your soul
Not yet aware your illusion will fall

You

     

I was in the city, You were there, and it made my heart smile. It didn't matter the reason, as my heart always smiles when you're near. We talked, our words flowed easy as they have a habit of doing. We ran a gamut of subjects.....then we touched upon your father. You had so much to say, the emotions gushed out....a side of you I'd never seen.  Tears streamed, your voice cracked, spewing a jumble of words that could only really be understood by you. I could feel your pain, your fear.... I ached with helplessness, not knowing how to comfort you.....

It was time to move on. We both had things we needed to do, people to meet. You said you were hungry, together we walked to your car. I begged you to find a way to let me know you were alright. Now, the tears were in my eyes. I'll send the message in a book, you promised. We both smiled. 

I woke up, tears still in my eyes, making me realize that I'm much more concerned that I realized. So, I will say to you, as I said in my dream, please let me know that you're alright.

The Secret Chapters

The solemnity of silence was broken by the squeak of the old wooden door. Arm in arm they tiptoed into the darkened room clinging to each other for balance. The air was stale; reeking of residual loneliness, but they did not notice. They'd forgotten how to breathe.

The journal immediately caught their eye. Dread, gripping at their souls like the devil himself, disabled their limbs, causing them to collapse into each other. It was time, they knew, and together they reached for the forbidden book.

Collective tears poured like rain, rippling pages and conveying thoughts that grieving tongues dare not utter.

To love someone so much, to know so little....

If only they'd known about the secret chapters.....