I’ve found it hard to bring myself to share on this blog the news I have received. But I feel connected to many of you and want to let you know I will be away from my blog for a little while. My eldest daughter has committed suicide - the days are hard right now. I don’t have any more words.
As Carolee at PDW says “time for our confessions! it’s confession tuesday, which means we acknowledge that confession is a part of our creative process.” Join us with your own confessions, just let PDW know so she can add you to the confessions blog roll.
- I’m late, very late.
- I’m tiered. I’m so tiered. I want to be bubbling over with energy! But I know I just have to get used to working again.
- Good news. I not only got the job, but the program director let me know that she would be moving on within the next year and would like for me to apprentice to take over her position! I was floored. Excited. Scared. Honored. Did I mention scared. She creates a unique atmosphere for the children according to principles she learned as a pre-school teacher and child development specialist at a Waldorf School. The environment is natural, home-like, nurturing, safe and so much more!
- Nope. I haven’t gone to the gym.
- My new cat, Nicky, pooped in the closet. It feels like a personal failing, like being a bad mother.
- I vegged when I got home today and watched 3 back to back Law & Order shows. I don’t even watch Law & Order. Then I switched to TVLand and watched Bonanza. I was properly numbed out, but at least I muted the commercials 
- I keep meaning to take pictures of a couple of art journal entries to share —– but, obviously, I haven’t done that.
- I was listening to one of Martin Luther King’s speeches on my way to work this morning. I was feeling all uplifted, inspired, my heart all swelled up and everything. Then someone ran a red light coming awfully close to hitting me and I quickly reverted to my snarky latrine mouth.
- I missed going by to visit the poets on my I Promise Blog Roll.
- I tried to start meditating again yesterday morning. I got in my lotus position (kinda sorta), took my deep breaths - and ended up having a giggle attack. What does this mean about me?
- I was going to do a load of laundry, sort out the mess in the art room, and return a couple of emails. But, like I said, I familiarized my self with Law and Order.
- Paul and I went to a homeless shelter and spent some time talking to the folks there letting them know about the program. I’ve been in their shoes. It was hard to sleep that night.
can’t believe I am saying this - but it’s 8:30 pm and past my bedtime. Good Night - I’ll be out and about in blog land in a couple of days.
As Carolee at PDW says “time for our confessions! it’s confession tuesday, which means we acknowledge that confession is a part of our creative process.” Join us with your own confessions, just let PDW know so she can add you to the confessions blog roll.
(This is my first go at this and my knees feel a little trembly.)
- My knees are actually knocking pretty hard
- I’m having trouble getting into a healthy eating and exercise routine. To me this means that I need to pay attention to what’s going on internally. The problem isn’t time, opportunity or lack of knowledge. After a bit of introspection I realize that as grateful and energized as I am with my new found health and freedom I am also bumping up against my fears related to being more active in the world again. Scared, just plain scared of failure, rejection . . .
- I haven’t done much writing for quite a while. It’s starting to feel like a huge empty space in the middle of my gut.
- I’m overwhelming myself with all the things I want to start doing. Well, maybe that’s not quite right. I think I am overwhelming myself with the pressure I put on myself to get things done RIGHT NOW.
- I have been meaning to ask my neighbor (the one with the chickens) if he wanted to come together with us in a joint effort to create a community garden. I finally did it! I’m excited, this is something I have dreamed about for so long without ever taking any action. The wheels have started to turn!
- Me, the one who talks about creating community and all that stuff, has a neighbor she would like to see disappear from the universe. He’s the one without the chickens. What he does have is a loud voice and an uninformed opinion about EVERYTHING. I don’t really want to share bell peppers and tomatoes with him.
-I’ve decided to go back to school. I’ll be applying to a counseling program - I am confessing to wanting to be a therapist - Yep, me with all my fears and other psychological eccentricities. My goal is to become a group specialist with a holistic view of people and their environment.
- I love my volunteer work and today I found out it may turn into a part time job. I’ll find out by the end of next week. The woman who runs the program is one of my heroes, she is so damn good at what she does. She is one of those women who is strong, assertive, while still kind and loving.
That’s all the confession I can muster this week
After a little recovery time I’m ready to go again. Tomorrow morning I’ll be meeting with an amazing woman who works with people who are homeless, especially families with children. It’s a grass roots non-profit that depends largely on volunteers (I will officially be one tomorrow). They work on the daily needs of the homeless as well looking at the big picture and implementing strategies to address the problems. I get discouraged sometimes because it feels like running around putting temporary band aids on wounds while the core of our community problems are not acknowledged. The core is in the status quo way of thinking that needs to be overhauled. Part of it is seeing “people in trouble” as “the other” and not as and extension of our own humanity. And I believe a huge part of it is an inability to see that this unsustainable way of life is creating suffering in our families, our communities and in communities thousands of miles away. Sometimes when I talk about these kinds of things it’s been assumed by some that my motivation is guilt. But the reality is that I am talking about loving ourselves, loving one another and the planet that is our life source. The problems are complex and I’m not suggesting that if we all just hold hands and sing “All We Need Is Love” all would be well. Here where I live in the O.C. most people are notoriously vehement about maintaining the status quo and their single focus seems to be “more”. Creativity, community, friendship . . . and so many other things just don’t appear on the radar. Whats been encouraging to me is the connections with the rest of the world I have been able to make here in blog land. It reminds me that there are poets, artists, moms, dads, people facing their struggles with courage . . . All, in my estimation, a part of the solution - each in their own way. I don’t think we all have to be activists to make a difference. So here’s to all of you for showing me, for reminding me that there are people who are creative, loving, honest, real, aware, compassionate, and funny. I didn’t know how much I needed to open this cyber window and let fresh air in. You’ve all (ever single one of you!) inspired me in so many ways. Thank You.
Happy New Year! I wish all of you a year full of dreams shimmering their way into reality. It’s been a while and I do so miss everyone. In my little world, I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of activity. I just go, go, go like a wonder filled little kid and then SPLAT! I fall asleep in my porridge. Loving it, — well, except for the porridge stuck behind my ears! Lots of creative ideas, I can hardly keep up with myself. I’ll be sharing some of creative art journaling later on. I’m also working on making art I can spread around, like wandering around the library and tucking art inside books for others to discover.
We’ve added a new family member, a black and white kitten we rescued. Chiron, our twelve year old orange tabby, considers here an interloper. He hasn’t been aggressive with her, he just gives us that Garfield look as if saying, “Why? No, REALLY, WHY?!” We named her Nicky. She eats, sleeps and chases invisible friends. Chiron shakes his head in disbelief, yawns and finds himself a sunny spot on the window sill.
Chiron
Nicky
One of the things I grieved these past three years is hiking. I finally got back on the trails and look forward to going again this coming weekend. Using the “baby” trails for now, taking it slow so my body won’t have to throw a temper tantrum to remind me. Although the canyons and hills are bare for winter, their stark beauty is seductive. We walked through a regional part first to get to the trails. Just a few yards in I could feel my whole physiology shift. The smells, the sights, the way the ground felt under my feet - changed everything.
Pics of the Regional Park
Pics On The Trail
My last look back as we left the trails to head home. My favorite birds.
Just before getting on the trail. I wasn’t going to include this picture because of all the weight I’ve gained over the last 3 years of inactivity - but decided what the hell!
I noticed something about my blog, a glaring difference between my face to face life and my cyber life. . There are things I do, things I talk, think and write about that I am not sharing here. They’re not what would be considered intimate details, but they are central to my personality and they way I live. Topics like permaculture, community and a heap of other stuff. I ask myself why I haven’t shared these things here and the truth is a little embarassing. Truth: I’m hiding out for fear of how others will react to me here in the cyber world. I’m more comfortable in face to face situations than in this evironment. But I do know I have received so much support, encouragement from so many here in blogland. I have found open hearts and open minds. So I guess I’ll be loosening up and letting ya’ll see more of me.
Now I am off to catch up with you guys!
All things went well yesterday - the sweet man is home, in good spirits even though he isn’t allowed to talk. We both took a couple semesters of American Sign Language so his hands are communicating. Really its a whole body language - something I can appreciate seeing as I lived with my Italian Grandmother for years He did amazingly well.
Before
Afterwards we stopped by our favorite Mexican takeout to get him some refried beans and guacamole. He got sympathy from a snowman.
Now for those Yule Tide Crows who were previously devoured by the picture eating monster stalking me in WordPress. When I came to California I fell in love with crows. Most of the people around here aren’t quite so enamored. I admit they have a well earned reputation for invading gardens and, yes, they are scavengers of just about anything - organic, inorganic, decomposing, fresh and let’s not forget sparkly, I kinda like that about them. Our neighborhood’s crows are relatively well-behaved, though they do enjoy teasing my neighbor’s chickens (I’ve got to get some pictures of his chickens. They’re actually beautiful birds and I love that he’s raising them in the middle of Orange County.) There’s something earthy and reassuring about the caw & call of crows and they alert the whole planet when a hawks comes around. If the sun hits them just right their feathers become streams of purple and red neon. I sit at the bottom of the stairs to watch them balance their way across the curb then scoot close to watch me with intelligent eyes. They talk about me making rattling sounds, even something that sounds like a coo, while they gesture to one another as if to say “Does she know those pink glasses don’t go with ANYTHING?” But I’m not the only one who thinks they’re smart - if you want to know more about them check out this link. When I ran across the crow dolls in a craft magazine at my doctor’s office I couldn’t resist making them despite the fact that they seem highly over done lately and my own traumatic stitching history. Halloween is over so I decided Yule Tide crows would work. Now, I know crows aren’t known for lighting softly on the branches of evergreens with Peace On Earth banners flowing from their beaks, but I figured why should the doves get all the love? Just because they have staring roles in dark myths (and dark myths do have their charm) doesn’t mean they don’t want a little bourbon in their eggnog and a chance to show off the glitter and flash they’ve been hording.
I loved making them. The pictures aren’t the greatest, I need to learn to take stuff like this outside in the sunlight to snap better shots.
I got a little HP digital camera to keep tucked in my purse for those times I don’t have the super duper Nikon with me. It takes fairly good shots. Here’s a few from last week.
Just before my first time driving in 3 years.
This is the frog McPhearson who lives in my car.
There’s more from a blustery day at the beach (including reindeer butts), but I don’t want to overdose you guys. Besides, that darling WordPress monster could be lurking.
I have been trying to post and upload pictures and this thing somehow annihilates my post - which took over an hour. Deep breath.
Paul has surgery tomorrow to remove a benign cyst from his vocal cords - simple in and out - no cutting. He gets to keep his singing voice
I’ll try the post and pics tomorrow, just don’t have the gumption to tackle the picture eating monster lurking in wordpress right now.
Thanks to everyone for your comments and emails. The last few days are a joyous blur of activity. Something quite unexpected happened. We knew that for a small percentage of people the treatment I’m getting for Menier’s works right away, but we never thought I would be one of those lucky few . . . but I am! So I have been, going to the gym, running errands, going on dates with myself and anything I can invent to do. I’m looking for volunteer work and possibly a part-time job. It feels a bit surreal. The other day I was going into Trader Joe’s when I was flooded with gratitude - I had to go back and sit in the car until the tears stopped and my hands quit shaking.
Creatively I started an art journal, getting into the whole holiday decor thing, I’m discovering what I think again and stories and essays are percolatin’ and I’m working on something that requires sewing. The last time I was near a needle and thread was in 7th grade home ec. I made, well - I tried to make a pair of “lounging pajamas”, looked more like a hideously orange backward straight jacket. Seriously. No, really. I have pics too. Not of the “lounging pajamas” - they are buried at an undisclosed location in New York City. Or Missouri.
Over a week ago, Christine tagged me with meme: 7 random things about myself molded into poetry.
Random Verse My husband calls me Cool Breeze because he shivers under the open window in our bedroom - Sugar Bud because he in unbelievably corny and lovable. The smell of my own body odor, the pine sol used to clean shelter floors, the way life blurs when you're lost - it all still invades my memory. I love diving into the free fall of sleep after staying up till dawn, sunlight just beginning to filter through the blinds with the sound of my neighbor's chickens clucking. I've stopped trying to explain being an introverted homebody that loves travel, group work and city street photography. I know it's important to help each other live and die with dignity. I've learned that sometimes the receiving is harder than the giving. I try to remember this when my compassion is met with contempt.
It’s about to rain in Southern California - rainy days make me feel delicious like hot chocolate, a good book, my softest blanket. (I also worry about mudslides - hoping the best for all those who may be affected.) I woke up at about 2 o’clock this morning after dreaming of being a river and of being rain - Since it’s Thursday and time for a poem . . .
Ecology Lesson The rivers still flows, it has simply gone underground to gather wisdom from the roots of things: How to yield to the terror and ecstasy of union. How to become no more than a drop and not forget. How to ride the currents of the sky. How to tumble back to earth and start again.
I’ve experienced a big shift in perspective, I think my head popped out of my —- you get the picture. The closer I get to the treatment (I finally have the device in my hands and the tube gets inserted Saturday!)– the more thoughtful I get about what I do with my time. And the more creative I feel. What’s surprising me is the ways that I’m drawn creatively. I sit down to write poetry and I end up writing flash fiction. I doodle mindlessly and I end up at an art supply store. For awhile I fought my creative impulses. I created a rigid mindset about being a poet feeling I had to put all my energy into it and nothing else. When I do that my poetry becomes stalled and uninspired. But after 3 years of isolation, depression and vertigo I am ready to look closely at the set of unacknowledged beliefs I’m operating under. As I become vertigo free I want to minimize my stress and open up to whatever lessons there are to learn in order to give myself a break. I questioned myself about why I was so rigid about having to channel everything into poetry and only poetry. Once I started journaling, on about the third page of wandering through my psyche looking for answers, I practically stumbled over what I found. In college I was praised for poetry and essay, encouraged to write and apply to several MFA programs. But, my first creative writing professor was blunt about how much my stories, according to her, literally sucked. She offered no guidance, just told me to stick with “what you do best - poetry”. Couple my belief that the art I make is not “real” art and I end up squashing any creative instinct that veers from poetry or essay. But when I do that, poetry turns into a chore like washing windows (I actually dislike all forms of housework - all forms. Why I thought it was important to tell you this I don’t know) So, I am surrendering to my creativity. I know poetry won’t disappear from my life - as a matter of fact it will probably be fed by giving myself the freedom to explore other things. I’ve sent out 4 poems - it feels good to have done it and I don’t feel what I expected (terror!) - at least not yet! Surrender has me feeling bold, alive, tickled, brave, loving, loved. We only live until we die - such a simple statement - obvious- like things that make you say “duh!.” When I bumped into it during my psyche exploration I laughed out loud. Of course, what else to do? But what I had been doing was hiding - not living. Even hiding from myself. I remember going through the healing process from childhood abuse and acknowledging the value of surviving while at the same time knowing I needed to go beyond survival into living. During the past 3 years of illness I have fallen back into survival mode battling fears - old and new - real and imagined. It’s time to live - treatment or no treatment ( know people, especially women, who live with chronic illness and embrace life.) It’s good to be alive even with all the painful imperfections we all face in one form or another. In the south we tend to say we are “fixin’ to” as in “fixin’ to let the cat out.” It’s time to stop fixin’ to and get on with it!
This is the device. Gray, boring, lackluster —- but a real beauty to me!
