How did I get here?
Nine months ago I was just another girl living in Seattle...
going to work...
taking care of my kids...
having as much fun as humanly possible without getting in too much trouble..
(or at least getting caught).
Today the tears fall behind me...and I'm afraid to look back...
for fear the dam will break.
I want to say "I feel blessed for the experiences I've had" but that's not how I feel at all...
I feel angry and frustrated and resentful that I have been what I want yet I can't LIVE it.
I don't feel like me at all.
I feel disjointed and numb....
and sad.
I feel like the one who has left.
Being the one left behind is a miserable existence...but eventually you get your life back and go back to normal. The person who goes, leaves an indelible imprint that fills a gap and maintains a presence that lasts forever.
When you leave someone behind, you are making a conscious decision to walk away. With every passing mile on plane or train, you feel your closeness to them diminish. Every fiber in your body resists it...but there is nothing you can do with it.
You must go.
And then when you're back home, you feel so far away you would give anything to be back there for a minute. You would take back all of those hours sleeping or looking out the window...
or standing alone in a kitchen... and do sometime important and awe inspiring with that moment... something that wouldn't leave you left looking out a train window, wishing you had.
I know this experience is making me stronger....
love harder....
wish louder...
I just wish sometimes it didn't feel as if time were moving backwards pulling me into an alternate universe of stillness.
You've never felt truely alone until you've said goodbye to someone you love.
You can't hold them...or smell them...or look into their eyes...or feel their warmth or their hand in yours... their absense is like an echo in your heart.... reverberating a stillness in every chamber of your new quiet world.
So how do you live every day in the now...
without sacrificing who you are?
The you that wants to hold and touch and love and BE???
The you that must look past the moments captured in time that broke your heart beautiful and made you want it more than anything else in the world...
The you that wants to live inspired yet wants only to feel nothing...
the you that loves beyond words...but fears the isolation that vulnerability can bring....
HOW does one do it?
As near as I can tell....
and from what I've read....and what I've been told...
and from what I know...
there are really only three things....
1) You must always breathe....breathing is essential. It reminds us we are RIGHT NOW.
2) You must love with an open hand....control nothing. Expect nothing. Give as much as you can without surrendering all of you.
3) Love with all of your heart....but realize you can't make someone love you. The best they can do, is breathe and be, right along with you. Hopefully...beside you.
Most importantly, you have to keep your faith in front of you.
Knowing that whatever happens, is meant to happen. And whomever is meant to be beside you, will be there for good someday....
No distance. No timezones. No gaps.
But right now.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Soul Receives From Soul- Rumi
Soul receives from soul
that knowledge,
therefore not by book
nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries
come after emptiness of mind,
that is illumination of heart.
that knowledge,
therefore not by book
nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries
come after emptiness of mind,
that is illumination of heart.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Lulin
There are some magical things happening in our universe right now.
There is a beautiful comet "Lulin", otherwise known as C2007/N3 making what we can only guess is it's first orbit in our solar system.
Tomorrow, Feb. 24, 2009, it may be possible to see it with the naked eye.
What makes this comet so unusual is that it moves in the opposite direction of the planets...so...backwards.
It's taken on a greenish haze due to the poisoness gasses surrounding it...
and it has a evident twist in its comet "tail"....
The propulsion of it creates an optical illusion appearing as if the tail is in the front when there is one in the back as well.
There are many facets of this comet that resonate with me. But probably the most fascinating of all is that this is a once in a lifetime show. This comet won't appear again for over a million years.
For some reason...this is compelling to me.
If you look back at history you will read various concepts about what comets travelling within our solar system mark the beginning (or end) of.
I feel connected to this strange little comet....
as I feel there are important things happening in my life too....
sometimes I"m moving forward in a strange and backward propulsion...
and my orbit is just as velocitious....
despite the twists in my own tail.
I like this comet. I think it's a sign of amazing and magical things....
so tomorrow I'm going to look up at the sky and look for Lulin...
and celebrate the dance of this backwards green twisted comet...
I'll toast to the wonder and the awe and the unknown....
and to all of us who move backwards to get to where we need to go.
There is a beautiful comet "Lulin", otherwise known as C2007/N3 making what we can only guess is it's first orbit in our solar system.
Tomorrow, Feb. 24, 2009, it may be possible to see it with the naked eye.
What makes this comet so unusual is that it moves in the opposite direction of the planets...so...backwards.
It's taken on a greenish haze due to the poisoness gasses surrounding it...
and it has a evident twist in its comet "tail"....
The propulsion of it creates an optical illusion appearing as if the tail is in the front when there is one in the back as well.
There are many facets of this comet that resonate with me. But probably the most fascinating of all is that this is a once in a lifetime show. This comet won't appear again for over a million years.
For some reason...this is compelling to me.
If you look back at history you will read various concepts about what comets travelling within our solar system mark the beginning (or end) of.
I feel connected to this strange little comet....
as I feel there are important things happening in my life too....
sometimes I"m moving forward in a strange and backward propulsion...
and my orbit is just as velocitious....
despite the twists in my own tail.
I like this comet. I think it's a sign of amazing and magical things....
so tomorrow I'm going to look up at the sky and look for Lulin...
and celebrate the dance of this backwards green twisted comet...
I'll toast to the wonder and the awe and the unknown....
and to all of us who move backwards to get to where we need to go.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Connections
In the spirit of past lives ....
Connections. Awareness. Love. Light. Right now.
How often do we become so entrenched with daily life that we forget to stop and watch a sunset?
Or watch a bird soar effortlessly above the trees?
How often do we avert our gaze from another in order to miss an opportunity to talk?
I read a quote once that said "Strangers are just friends waiting to happen".
If that's the case, how many friends have I lost to my own focus?
We only have THIS life - one time.
How we operate and function in this life, will dictate our lives to come.
Regardless of your religion or what your concept of "heaven" or the "afterlife" is, it cannot be disputed that if you give good things, good things will follow you. Now and later.
We need to engage in the world around us and take it in. Breathe deep and emerge from our hibernation. Absorb the magic that exists every second of every day.
If you stop and listen to a bird flying above you, the world and everything around you will stop-
except for the bird.
His fluttering wings will be the only sound you hear, the beautiful whisper of movement.
If you stand on she shore and wait for the tide to come in, the silence will overwhelm you. Then slowly the crescendo of the waves lapping at your feet will build...into an orchestra of sound.
If you meet the gaze of a stranger moving past you on the street, time will stand still and you can almost hear their thoughts connecting at light speed with your own.....interrupting and claiming your frequency.
If you sit really still and wait...you can even hear the pop of the sunset as it falls behind the horizon...just begging you to crawl inside.
If you open your eyes you'll see it...and you'll never be the same.
The connections will follow you and beg you to make them whole. You won't be able to deny
the power in the sensations.
Give light, give love and embrace the spirit of an open heart...
it will follow you in this life and guide you straight on into the next.
Connections. Awareness. Love. Light. Right now.
How often do we become so entrenched with daily life that we forget to stop and watch a sunset?
Or watch a bird soar effortlessly above the trees?
How often do we avert our gaze from another in order to miss an opportunity to talk?
I read a quote once that said "Strangers are just friends waiting to happen".
If that's the case, how many friends have I lost to my own focus?
We only have THIS life - one time.
How we operate and function in this life, will dictate our lives to come.
Regardless of your religion or what your concept of "heaven" or the "afterlife" is, it cannot be disputed that if you give good things, good things will follow you. Now and later.
We need to engage in the world around us and take it in. Breathe deep and emerge from our hibernation. Absorb the magic that exists every second of every day.
If you stop and listen to a bird flying above you, the world and everything around you will stop-
except for the bird.
His fluttering wings will be the only sound you hear, the beautiful whisper of movement.
If you stand on she shore and wait for the tide to come in, the silence will overwhelm you. Then slowly the crescendo of the waves lapping at your feet will build...into an orchestra of sound.
If you meet the gaze of a stranger moving past you on the street, time will stand still and you can almost hear their thoughts connecting at light speed with your own.....interrupting and claiming your frequency.
If you sit really still and wait...you can even hear the pop of the sunset as it falls behind the horizon...just begging you to crawl inside.
If you open your eyes you'll see it...and you'll never be the same.
The connections will follow you and beg you to make them whole. You won't be able to deny
the power in the sensations.
Give light, give love and embrace the spirit of an open heart...
it will follow you in this life and guide you straight on into the next.
January Sunshine In The Afternoon
The sun dips behind the mountains for one last time before disappearing from the horizon completely...
leaving a faint but fiery shadow in the sky, marking it's dynamic exit.
Is this how we go? Does our spirit fire dance one last dance on earth before slipping through the dimensions of space and time? Do we get to say goodbye? And if so, can anyone hear us?
What of past lives? Do I believe it?
I have to.
I have to know that my spirit remembers things my earthly brain cannot.
Connections with people, places and time- transcend all of the elements of this dimension.
It feels (at times) as if almost elevated to a different plane of existence. Once dialed in, I can feel the vibrations of light and sound...
everything becomes something.
In the darkest of night I can feel the world around me...I breathe it in...and I want it all.
I want to feel the passion of life in my belly- strong and on fire...
like a sunrise I want to crawl into.
The magic of chaos...the spell of that natural wonder....
the sensuality of the space around us....it will bring us home again and again...and again.
to dance our quiet shadow dances...
feel wet grass beneath bare feet...
bask in the glow of liquid sunshine...
and make love to our good friend the moon.
leaving a faint but fiery shadow in the sky, marking it's dynamic exit.
Is this how we go? Does our spirit fire dance one last dance on earth before slipping through the dimensions of space and time? Do we get to say goodbye? And if so, can anyone hear us?
What of past lives? Do I believe it?
I have to.
I have to know that my spirit remembers things my earthly brain cannot.
Connections with people, places and time- transcend all of the elements of this dimension.
It feels (at times) as if almost elevated to a different plane of existence. Once dialed in, I can feel the vibrations of light and sound...
everything becomes something.
In the darkest of night I can feel the world around me...I breathe it in...and I want it all.
I want to feel the passion of life in my belly- strong and on fire...
like a sunrise I want to crawl into.
The magic of chaos...the spell of that natural wonder....
the sensuality of the space around us....it will bring us home again and again...and again.
to dance our quiet shadow dances...
feel wet grass beneath bare feet...
bask in the glow of liquid sunshine...
and make love to our good friend the moon.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Because reading this made me laugh..and remember.
Journal Entry December 25th 2000
(note: Cuss Cards are usually expired bus passes or library cards my lovely mother has bestowed upon my children since they learned talk. In posession of the card, they are awarded five solid minutes of "cursing" at their discretion, usually during a holiday family gathering or other special occasions where my mom has a camera and wants to mortify me).
(note: Ruthie and Walter are family friends of my grandmothers. They are not married to each other and as it was described to me, had a purely physical attraction. They are in their 70's and 80's respectively).
(note: Sometimes my mother is mean spirited and hateful).
************************************************************
Well...another Christmas has come and gone and another to go down in the diary.
We woke up early at 7am (thanks to Andrew) and stumbled upstairs to open presents and eat breakfast. We hung out watching movies until about noon and then our adventure began.
We headed over to great grandma's where Ruthie and Walter were already waiting.
Ruthie (fashionable as she is at 83 years old) looked very festive in her thigh high mini-skirt and platinum blond Marilyn Monroe wig. I was quite impressed that her make up made it on to BOTH sides of her face this Christmas.
Walter seemed like an awfully nice older gentleman. Silver hair, Gene Autry polyester pants and the obligatory tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches and the cowboy shitkickers (he would need them later).
Great Grandma was her usual mix of pissiness and holiday twitter. We installed her computer programs, hooked up her printer, loaded up the car and were on our way to Aunt Annie's for some "fine eatin".
When we arrived, Anne was busy cooking in the kitchen. I helped her bring everything to the table but let her have the satisfaction of putting the traditional "dallop of butter" on everything in sight.
Dinner was lovely and my kids didn't say one bad word (even though Santa had left "cuss cards" in their stockings).
After dinner it was time to unwrap more presents...always a treat when Ruthie is around. Two years ago Andrew and Kat got turkey basters..what every seven year old kid dreams for.
As we dug into our presents, it looked like it would be the usual fare; chocolates, nuts and petrified candies.
Not so this year...
Great Grandma tore into her bag with gusto. She pulled out a handsomely decorated antique clown then let out a shriek. Mom leaned over to see what all of the commotion was about and started laughing so hard she fell literally out of her chair.
Unable to talk she handed me the doll.
At first I didn't see it and then there it was...glistening like a mongoose turd in a shit storm.
The entire right side of the doll was covered in a generous coating of cat poop. Judging from the doll, a ver SICK cat.
My mom and I laughed so hard and so long that we didn't even notice my grandma and Ruthie near tears, bless their cotton socks.
I had just barely regained normal breathing when my mother held up her presents; a can of sardines and some SPAM.
I was the lucky one tonight, boy. The sweater I received only SMELLED like cat shit.
My mom hushed my grandma and assured her that she would have little trouble just "flicking that shit right off the clown."
But grandma looked unconvinced.
On top of everything else, Anne was dogsitting for Christmas and for four fucking hours those dogs stopped barking only long enough to breathe and to take turns sniffing the clown.
Although we had no Chinese waiters singing "FaRaRaRaRa" like in a Christmas Story, this sure felt a lot like the Bumpass Dogs. Install some sardines and cat shit and we could shoot an eye out.
Ah...Dear Diary.
How will I EVER bring the man of my dreams (if I ever meet him) over for a fun family Christmas?? He'd last about five minutes in amongst the howling dogs, shitty dolls, sardines and SPAM.
I swear I need to write a book about my family and their misadventures..no one would believe me though..and of COURSE the video camera broke!
This morning Andrew was completely distraught because he couldn't find his "cuss card".
Kat pulled hers out from her stocking and teased him with it, a devilish little grin spreading across her face.
After a few seconds Andrew looks around, spots the card under his foot, yanks it out, holds it up in victory and yells
"FUCK YOU KAT!"
Ah.
Merry Christmas.
(note: Cuss Cards are usually expired bus passes or library cards my lovely mother has bestowed upon my children since they learned talk. In posession of the card, they are awarded five solid minutes of "cursing" at their discretion, usually during a holiday family gathering or other special occasions where my mom has a camera and wants to mortify me).
(note: Ruthie and Walter are family friends of my grandmothers. They are not married to each other and as it was described to me, had a purely physical attraction. They are in their 70's and 80's respectively).
(note: Sometimes my mother is mean spirited and hateful).
************************************************************
Well...another Christmas has come and gone and another to go down in the diary.
We woke up early at 7am (thanks to Andrew) and stumbled upstairs to open presents and eat breakfast. We hung out watching movies until about noon and then our adventure began.
We headed over to great grandma's where Ruthie and Walter were already waiting.
Ruthie (fashionable as she is at 83 years old) looked very festive in her thigh high mini-skirt and platinum blond Marilyn Monroe wig. I was quite impressed that her make up made it on to BOTH sides of her face this Christmas.
Walter seemed like an awfully nice older gentleman. Silver hair, Gene Autry polyester pants and the obligatory tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches and the cowboy shitkickers (he would need them later).
Great Grandma was her usual mix of pissiness and holiday twitter. We installed her computer programs, hooked up her printer, loaded up the car and were on our way to Aunt Annie's for some "fine eatin".
When we arrived, Anne was busy cooking in the kitchen. I helped her bring everything to the table but let her have the satisfaction of putting the traditional "dallop of butter" on everything in sight.
Dinner was lovely and my kids didn't say one bad word (even though Santa had left "cuss cards" in their stockings).
After dinner it was time to unwrap more presents...always a treat when Ruthie is around. Two years ago Andrew and Kat got turkey basters..what every seven year old kid dreams for.
As we dug into our presents, it looked like it would be the usual fare; chocolates, nuts and petrified candies.
Not so this year...
Great Grandma tore into her bag with gusto. She pulled out a handsomely decorated antique clown then let out a shriek. Mom leaned over to see what all of the commotion was about and started laughing so hard she fell literally out of her chair.
Unable to talk she handed me the doll.
At first I didn't see it and then there it was...glistening like a mongoose turd in a shit storm.
The entire right side of the doll was covered in a generous coating of cat poop. Judging from the doll, a ver SICK cat.
My mom and I laughed so hard and so long that we didn't even notice my grandma and Ruthie near tears, bless their cotton socks.
I had just barely regained normal breathing when my mother held up her presents; a can of sardines and some SPAM.
I was the lucky one tonight, boy. The sweater I received only SMELLED like cat shit.
My mom hushed my grandma and assured her that she would have little trouble just "flicking that shit right off the clown."
But grandma looked unconvinced.
On top of everything else, Anne was dogsitting for Christmas and for four fucking hours those dogs stopped barking only long enough to breathe and to take turns sniffing the clown.
Although we had no Chinese waiters singing "FaRaRaRaRa" like in a Christmas Story, this sure felt a lot like the Bumpass Dogs. Install some sardines and cat shit and we could shoot an eye out.
Ah...Dear Diary.
How will I EVER bring the man of my dreams (if I ever meet him) over for a fun family Christmas?? He'd last about five minutes in amongst the howling dogs, shitty dolls, sardines and SPAM.
I swear I need to write a book about my family and their misadventures..no one would believe me though..and of COURSE the video camera broke!
This morning Andrew was completely distraught because he couldn't find his "cuss card".
Kat pulled hers out from her stocking and teased him with it, a devilish little grin spreading across her face.
After a few seconds Andrew looks around, spots the card under his foot, yanks it out, holds it up in victory and yells
"FUCK YOU KAT!"
Ah.
Merry Christmas.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wolfgang
“When I am . . . traveling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep; it is on such occasions that ideas flow best and most abundantly.”
-Mozart
-Mozart
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Rules to live by
"You have to dance like no one is watching...
and love like it is never going to hurt."
-Unknown
and love like it is never going to hurt."
-Unknown
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Music Makers
She pours over journals and poems and words uttered long ago.....(not that long ago)
all of the sadness....the tears....the transitions...
lies, deceit, sadness, debauchery, bad behavior.....
this is her road. This is her life. It is not happening TO her...
it's happening WITH her.
There's a difference.
There is.
She realizes that every step on the path is a step forward.
And every step forward is a step away from the past.
We ARE the music makers. We ARE the dreamers of the dream
We have the power to make it whatever we want it to be.
We must live in the moment NOW. We do not allow things to happen TO us....
the moments are happening BECAUSE of us.
Instead of tiptoeing through the gardens she wants to run barefoot through
the meadows with her arms outstretched and her face raised to the sky...
She might fall...she might get hurt....she might cry...
but in between she'll laugh and she'll dance and she'll love and she'll live.
That's when we breathe. That's where we find the music.
That IS the dream.
all of the sadness....the tears....the transitions...
lies, deceit, sadness, debauchery, bad behavior.....
this is her road. This is her life. It is not happening TO her...
it's happening WITH her.
There's a difference.
There is.
She realizes that every step on the path is a step forward.
And every step forward is a step away from the past.
We ARE the music makers. We ARE the dreamers of the dream
We have the power to make it whatever we want it to be.
We must live in the moment NOW. We do not allow things to happen TO us....
the moments are happening BECAUSE of us.
Instead of tiptoeing through the gardens she wants to run barefoot through
the meadows with her arms outstretched and her face raised to the sky...
She might fall...she might get hurt....she might cry...
but in between she'll laugh and she'll dance and she'll love and she'll live.
That's when we breathe. That's where we find the music.
That IS the dream.
Divided
Do you ever hurt so much it feels as if your heart is literally gaping open?
Where a word, or a phrase or even the melody of a song can break you into a million
tiny
pieces?
When all you want is to be numb...
fuzz up the corners a little bit...
and go hide out in your room...
under the covers...
away from the world.
Away from people.
Away from everyone.
You want someone to tell you it's all going to be okay
but you know it's not.
How can it be...
with your heart all torn open like that?
You'd sooner die than walk around with your heart in your pocket
or in your purse
or worse yet, on your sleeve....
but we do, don't we?
We collect all of the pieces, gather ourselves up and emerge from the darkness
to do it all over again.
Hoping beyond hope that next time...
it will hurt just a little bit less.
Where a word, or a phrase or even the melody of a song can break you into a million
tiny
pieces?
When all you want is to be numb...
fuzz up the corners a little bit...
and go hide out in your room...
under the covers...
away from the world.
Away from people.
Away from everyone.
You want someone to tell you it's all going to be okay
but you know it's not.
How can it be...
with your heart all torn open like that?
You'd sooner die than walk around with your heart in your pocket
or in your purse
or worse yet, on your sleeve....
but we do, don't we?
We collect all of the pieces, gather ourselves up and emerge from the darkness
to do it all over again.
Hoping beyond hope that next time...
it will hurt just a little bit less.
Going to it...
I guess when you grow up like I did...
where there is just one bad thing after another around each corner...
you learn how to kick your coping skills into high gear with little to no
thought process at all.
How exactly does this help you later on in life?
How exactly does this help you later on in life?
Does it?
I'm not saying I had a BAD life- my mother was amazing. She was the
ONLY thing good about being small. She still is.
ONLY thing good about being small. She still is.
She deflected all the bad with good, all of the dark with light, and all
of the tears with laughter.
I suppose that's why even now when something really terrible happens
I make a joke or struggle to keep from laughing.
It's my "go to" pilot.
The Midnight Club
We were....
"The Midnight Club"...
we started as four but as the fun increased...
so did our numbers.
The initiation was simple. You had to sing "The Midnight Special" by CCR....
the RIGHT way.
With the the "baoooms" and "Rosie Rosie's" in all the right places.
It was an amazing comraderie- one I will never EVER forget.
Our weekend plans were almost always the same....
Pretend to play board games until our parents were asleep and then
steal out into the night...
pilfered wine and Mickey's Widemouth beers tucked in every pocket, purse and
giant size Esprit bag.
Often we would just go to the school down the street....
kick back, smoke cigarettes, sing songs and be downright silly.
Other times we would venture down to "BROADWAY" which (we were told) was where
all of the drug dealers, murderers and rapists inhabited.
Did it stop us?
Hell no. We couldn't get down there fast enough.
Hell no. We couldn't get down there fast enough.
I"m trying to recall now just HOW many miles we walked all over downtown
Seattle at 2, 3, 4, 5 am in the morning.
There was
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Like tears all over
I don't want to be "that girl"...
the moody girl with all of her childish insecurities
and transparent questions.
I don't want to shed any tears,
or be the one you have to shoulder burden to...
the one you have to carry
and tell over and over again, "it's going to be okay."
I want to be strong...
a fortress to devotion....
immune to apathy and attention...
who doesn't count minutes and hours
and hold expectations hostage to affection.
But that's not me.
you are already aware I'm not wired like that.
My belly burns with a raging intensity
that neither time nor distance can diminish...
and sparks little pieces of crazy in me.
You know if I did put those pieces of me away
and carry on as if nothing mattered...
I would never be the same, right?
You know that it's all of the crazy bits that make me
who I am...and where I am...and why I am...
every day.
Without that, surely I wouldn't be "that girl"...
but I wouldn't be the girl you love either.
the moody girl with all of her childish insecurities
and transparent questions.
I don't want to shed any tears,
or be the one you have to shoulder burden to...
the one you have to carry
and tell over and over again, "it's going to be okay."
I want to be strong...
a fortress to devotion....
immune to apathy and attention...
who doesn't count minutes and hours
and hold expectations hostage to affection.
But that's not me.
you are already aware I'm not wired like that.
My belly burns with a raging intensity
that neither time nor distance can diminish...
and sparks little pieces of crazy in me.
You know if I did put those pieces of me away
and carry on as if nothing mattered...
I would never be the same, right?
You know that it's all of the crazy bits that make me
who I am...and where I am...and why I am...
every day.
Without that, surely I wouldn't be "that girl"...
but I wouldn't be the girl you love either.
Pushing Pause
Sometimes you need to feel it.
Roll your sleeves up
stick your hands in
and get way down deep with it
all the way up to the elbows of your clean new shirt.
Sometimes you need to stand across the street from it
holler and wave as it rolls by
smile stuck firmly in place
hiding the tears that fall behind the windows to your soul.
Sometimes you need to get behind it...
sneak up on it and blitz it before it blitzes you...
execution style.
And sometimes you just need to step back for a few minutes..
press pause..
and wait until the time comes when you feel strong enough
to resume play.
Roll your sleeves up
stick your hands in
and get way down deep with it
all the way up to the elbows of your clean new shirt.
Sometimes you need to stand across the street from it
holler and wave as it rolls by
smile stuck firmly in place
hiding the tears that fall behind the windows to your soul.
Sometimes you need to get behind it...
sneak up on it and blitz it before it blitzes you...
execution style.
And sometimes you just need to step back for a few minutes..
press pause..
and wait until the time comes when you feel strong enough
to resume play.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Living the moments
Now we must all get out and dig the river and the people
and smell the world.
-Dean Moriarty
On the Road
Jack Kerouac
and smell the world.
-Dean Moriarty
On the Road
Jack Kerouac
Friday, January 2, 2009
Reflections
Wow.
Sitting here reading old journal entries from way back when.
I cringe at how dramatic I was.
Was?
I was 18, newly married and saying goodbye to all of my childhood
friends who were going off to college while I stayed behind to play "wife"...
such was my allegience to the keeper...I mean "husband".
I've always said everything happens for a reason and it was a two for one with him.
My son and daughter.
The ONLY possible reason the universe could EVER have for a union like that.
When we met I was a waitress at a greasy spoon restaurant in The Seattle Center.
I was 17 and living off of Black Label Beer, Old Gold cigarettes and Top Ramen noodles.
My roommates and I drank EVERY night. Sometimes we drank in the morning too if we opted not to go to school.
Which was often .
We didn't just drink, we ERASED.
Time. Pain. Everything.
It was almost as if I wanted to make everything hurt on purpose..to distract me from the things
that were really painful..way down deep.
We lived in a shabby apartment on Broadway in downtown Seattle. I can't even remember everyone who lived there now.
I know there were at least four of us; three girls and a guy.
We were always on the verge of getting evicted.
People would show up at all hours of the day or night to come and drink and listen to music.
We were loud and we liked The Ramones and Fugazi.
Music with a lot of bass...much to our neighbors chagrin.
Often I would wake up in the morning to find a mass of leather jackets, Doc Martin boots and skinheads scattered across the living room floor, beer cans and cigarette butts creating a drunken quilt between the bodies.
We sobered up only long enough to go to class for awhile, or to get more beer. And then it was on to the next party.
Many parties ended in tears or teeth getting knocked out. For awhile Social Distortions "Mama's Little Monster" was our anthem of choice sung while "The Big Kids" ran down the street jumping on cars and kicking in windows.
There were moments of solitude but they were very few and far between.
Sitting criss cross applesause while a mohawk put on Vogner and closed his eyes in quiet contemplation was one of them.
True expression. True love.
We were living hard. Harder than 17.
But that's what we knew.
We ran around Seattle liked we owned it. Afraid of nothing.
There was that night our roommate came home with the would be rapist.
She thought there would be masses waiting at home to save her so she coaxed him out of the alley behind our apartment.
As fate would have it, that night it was just two of us, snuggled under blankets watching WKRP in Cincinnati.
The one night no party raged inside.
He was on to us when he walked in the door. He took one look around and fled.
Lucky us.
The police told us it was our fault for walking around with little skirts on.
Always objectifying, right?
That's when the fear came. But it was fleeting.
I still wandered around at all hours of the morning, one night actually getting in the car
with the fear. He told me I had to, that there was no choice.
At 2 am in the morning on a deserted street in the absolute worst neighborhood in town, I didn't see any other way out but in the car.
When we stopped at the seedy motel, a vision of a gang bang flashed before me and I
jumped out at the very first opportunity.
Running as as fast as my legs would carry me was like running through jello. I dove into the bushes of a church and waited until I could no longer hear his car circling the block and then I ran home.
It's surreal when I think of these times now because all I can see are angels floating above these recollections.
Boy we must have kept them busy.
I didn't even talk about the night lost in the ravine at "Jim's Joint", the popular outside Keg spot.
If a boy wants to get in your pants in the middle of a forest,
and no one hears you say no, is it still rape?
Jesus Christ, the shit we did.
So that was the life I was living at 17. And that's when I got married.
I sobered up, got pregnant and started my life over. I felt like if I didn't move
away from all of that life, the bad parts would overtake me and I would become a lost soul.
I was already pretty lost.
Having children changed me. It made me want to be a better person.
I guess if I couldn't be a better person for myself, I could at least do it for my kids.
So that's what I did.
And perhaps that's what the cosmos had in mind when it sent me off packing and married
at 17.
That's the only thing I can figure.
It sure as hell wasn't love.
That's a whole OTHER chapter for later. Maybe two as it goes.
Sitting here reading old journal entries from way back when.
I cringe at how dramatic I was.
Was?
I was 18, newly married and saying goodbye to all of my childhood
friends who were going off to college while I stayed behind to play "wife"...
such was my allegience to the keeper...I mean "husband".
I've always said everything happens for a reason and it was a two for one with him.
My son and daughter.
The ONLY possible reason the universe could EVER have for a union like that.
When we met I was a waitress at a greasy spoon restaurant in The Seattle Center.
I was 17 and living off of Black Label Beer, Old Gold cigarettes and Top Ramen noodles.
My roommates and I drank EVERY night. Sometimes we drank in the morning too if we opted not to go to school.
Which was often .
We didn't just drink, we ERASED.
Time. Pain. Everything.
It was almost as if I wanted to make everything hurt on purpose..to distract me from the things
that were really painful..way down deep.
We lived in a shabby apartment on Broadway in downtown Seattle. I can't even remember everyone who lived there now.
I know there were at least four of us; three girls and a guy.
We were always on the verge of getting evicted.
People would show up at all hours of the day or night to come and drink and listen to music.
We were loud and we liked The Ramones and Fugazi.
Music with a lot of bass...much to our neighbors chagrin.
Often I would wake up in the morning to find a mass of leather jackets, Doc Martin boots and skinheads scattered across the living room floor, beer cans and cigarette butts creating a drunken quilt between the bodies.
We sobered up only long enough to go to class for awhile, or to get more beer. And then it was on to the next party.
Many parties ended in tears or teeth getting knocked out. For awhile Social Distortions "Mama's Little Monster" was our anthem of choice sung while "The Big Kids" ran down the street jumping on cars and kicking in windows.
There were moments of solitude but they were very few and far between.
Sitting criss cross applesause while a mohawk put on Vogner and closed his eyes in quiet contemplation was one of them.
True expression. True love.
We were living hard. Harder than 17.
But that's what we knew.
We ran around Seattle liked we owned it. Afraid of nothing.
There was that night our roommate came home with the would be rapist.
She thought there would be masses waiting at home to save her so she coaxed him out of the alley behind our apartment.
As fate would have it, that night it was just two of us, snuggled under blankets watching WKRP in Cincinnati.
The one night no party raged inside.
He was on to us when he walked in the door. He took one look around and fled.
Lucky us.
The police told us it was our fault for walking around with little skirts on.
Always objectifying, right?
That's when the fear came. But it was fleeting.
I still wandered around at all hours of the morning, one night actually getting in the car
with the fear. He told me I had to, that there was no choice.
At 2 am in the morning on a deserted street in the absolute worst neighborhood in town, I didn't see any other way out but in the car.
When we stopped at the seedy motel, a vision of a gang bang flashed before me and I
jumped out at the very first opportunity.
Running as as fast as my legs would carry me was like running through jello. I dove into the bushes of a church and waited until I could no longer hear his car circling the block and then I ran home.
It's surreal when I think of these times now because all I can see are angels floating above these recollections.
Boy we must have kept them busy.
I didn't even talk about the night lost in the ravine at "Jim's Joint", the popular outside Keg spot.
If a boy wants to get in your pants in the middle of a forest,
and no one hears you say no, is it still rape?
Jesus Christ, the shit we did.
So that was the life I was living at 17. And that's when I got married.
I sobered up, got pregnant and started my life over. I felt like if I didn't move
away from all of that life, the bad parts would overtake me and I would become a lost soul.
I was already pretty lost.
Having children changed me. It made me want to be a better person.
I guess if I couldn't be a better person for myself, I could at least do it for my kids.
So that's what I did.
And perhaps that's what the cosmos had in mind when it sent me off packing and married
at 17.
That's the only thing I can figure.
It sure as hell wasn't love.
That's a whole OTHER chapter for later. Maybe two as it goes.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Do not go where the path may lead.
Go instead where there is no path
and leave a trail."
Go instead where there is no path
and leave a trail."
Stealing time.
Inside many women is that little girl
just waiting to come out and play.
In some women is an empty spot,
where that little girls vacancy sits.
Taken away violently,
and without regard,
in an unfortunate twise of fate.
Battered and instilled with fear,
instead of fighting
she gives in to the terrifying
but familliar feelings.
So small and fragile....
like a tiny flower whose petals were ripped away
from the budding rose.
She lays limp. Quiet. Lifeless.
Today no longer a woman.
Tomorrow never again a little girl.
just waiting to come out and play.
In some women is an empty spot,
where that little girls vacancy sits.
Taken away violently,
and without regard,
in an unfortunate twise of fate.
Battered and instilled with fear,
instead of fighting
she gives in to the terrifying
but familliar feelings.
So small and fragile....
like a tiny flower whose petals were ripped away
from the budding rose.
She lays limp. Quiet. Lifeless.
Today no longer a woman.
Tomorrow never again a little girl.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Pieces of me.
I feel the power of the waves as they crash recklessly at my feet...
proceeding fearlessly to overwhelm the shore...
retreating again within seconds.
A dance begins before me...
sand meets surf...
ocean meets sky....
in a magical and familliar embrace.
The sea moves underneath kisses blown from above...
Powerful.
Vital.
Honest.
The sun begins its descent into the horizon...
casting a fiery glow across the sky...
across the vast ocean....
so bright it seems to burn my soul
into a million little pieces.
So immense that if I were to close my eyes tight
I could feel the beauty within the warm glow upon my face.
The world is such a big place....
with so much to see,
so much to learn and grow from.
Sometimes I forget to appreciate the magic that is around me every day....
this presence in nature is so simple, clean and intoxicating.
It serves to remind us how alive we have the power to be...
how totally connected we all are....
and how much life you can live in a moment.
proceeding fearlessly to overwhelm the shore...
retreating again within seconds.
A dance begins before me...
sand meets surf...
ocean meets sky....
in a magical and familliar embrace.
The sea moves underneath kisses blown from above...
Powerful.
Vital.
Honest.
The sun begins its descent into the horizon...
casting a fiery glow across the sky...
across the vast ocean....
so bright it seems to burn my soul
into a million little pieces.
So immense that if I were to close my eyes tight
I could feel the beauty within the warm glow upon my face.
The world is such a big place....
with so much to see,
so much to learn and grow from.
Sometimes I forget to appreciate the magic that is around me every day....
this presence in nature is so simple, clean and intoxicating.
It serves to remind us how alive we have the power to be...
how totally connected we all are....
and how much life you can live in a moment.
Childhood brilliance
I came across an old journal entry from March 15, 2001.
In the almost eight years since writing it, I had forgotten of the brilliance I experienced that day.
I'll transcribe it word for word in order to capture the authenticity of the conversation.
03/15/01
I was witness to an interesting conversation between four children in the car this evening....
the discussion of God vs. Satan.
**(children ages 8, 7, 7 and 6)
Kat "I'm not making any of this stuff up. Most of the time, I tell the truth."
Sierra (on Satan) "I've been scared for five days and now I'm pretty sure I'll be scared five MORE days!"
Andrew (the athlete) "I think God and Jesus are like, a team."
Alexa "I really don't WANT to lie, but I'm pretty sure when I do, Satan makes me do it."
They were in such a deep philosophical discussion, it was almost funny had it not been so serious.
Kat said, "Do you remember when I was four and I started crying that one day? It was because I thought about dying and at first I was scared, but then a peaceful spirit came over me."
(my daughter....the Buddhist)
Sierra said that because she's only six, she's still afraid of dying.
Alexa said she was afraid to get out of the car because of Satan.
I told her that I didn't know her fathers beliefs or even her mothers but if she believed in Satan, she could believe there was also a God that would keep her safe as well. She seemed to like that idea.
When we arrived at my moms house, she wanted to know if Satan was home. They had all scared each other so senseless, they wouldn't get out of the car.
Eventually they (cautiously) got out of the car and are now quietly sitting in front of the TV watching a program about "The Wooly Mammoth".
The power and senses of children amaze me every day.
Four little kids having a seemingly innocent conversation...encapsulating all of the fears and
questions adults struggle with on a daily basis. The difference is that a child will listen to their
heart and let it guide them to the right path. Adults think too much.
We should all spend more time with the young spirit guides.
Little Yodas they are.
In the almost eight years since writing it, I had forgotten of the brilliance I experienced that day.
I'll transcribe it word for word in order to capture the authenticity of the conversation.
03/15/01
I was witness to an interesting conversation between four children in the car this evening....
the discussion of God vs. Satan.
**(children ages 8, 7, 7 and 6)
Kat "I'm not making any of this stuff up. Most of the time, I tell the truth."
Sierra (on Satan) "I've been scared for five days and now I'm pretty sure I'll be scared five MORE days!"
Andrew (the athlete) "I think God and Jesus are like, a team."
Alexa "I really don't WANT to lie, but I'm pretty sure when I do, Satan makes me do it."
They were in such a deep philosophical discussion, it was almost funny had it not been so serious.
Kat said, "Do you remember when I was four and I started crying that one day? It was because I thought about dying and at first I was scared, but then a peaceful spirit came over me."
(my daughter....the Buddhist)
Sierra said that because she's only six, she's still afraid of dying.
Alexa said she was afraid to get out of the car because of Satan.
I told her that I didn't know her fathers beliefs or even her mothers but if she believed in Satan, she could believe there was also a God that would keep her safe as well. She seemed to like that idea.
When we arrived at my moms house, she wanted to know if Satan was home. They had all scared each other so senseless, they wouldn't get out of the car.
Eventually they (cautiously) got out of the car and are now quietly sitting in front of the TV watching a program about "The Wooly Mammoth".
The power and senses of children amaze me every day.
Four little kids having a seemingly innocent conversation...encapsulating all of the fears and
questions adults struggle with on a daily basis. The difference is that a child will listen to their
heart and let it guide them to the right path. Adults think too much.
We should all spend more time with the young spirit guides.
Little Yodas they are.
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