Ordinary Life

Hindsight, you speak as clearly as you see. It was all too much, these words hurled at me.  I have collected each kindling line and here, set them aflame.  There is music in the crackling, the burning and  lifting away I hum along, louder now:  "... it is well..."  LAST YEAR WITH LARRY (by Larry, with his phone )  You are a psycho. Everyone knows it You are just someone I use to know You are not a VERY stable person. Your family is a cult. You will lie and cheat to get your way.  You attack anyone that disagrees with you You are on the bi-polar kick today I see. You really need some help I’m not saying that to be mean. You really need to get checked out I just simply no longer loved you Less of you is more for me You are just crazy Get in the real world Nope. I’m not going down your crazy rabbit hole. You were the problem in this marriage. I now believe that 1000%. You are not mentally stable and have major issues.  I pray for our kids you get hel...

It's been a year since his gifts returned but I could not... gifts for being their father, returned in protest because I was their mother.  ::Laswell ~ It's been a year::

  Wasn't there always warm welcome,  plenty to go around?  With heads bowed in gratitude,  Here love once was found. 

There's a table, You've prepared for me  in the presence, of my enemies... 2011 Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody. Don’t insist on getting even; that’s not for you to do. “I’ll do the judging,” says God. “I’ll take care of it.” ~ Rom12 As I walk through this season of mourning, I stop along the way sometimes, wondering if these promise are still true for me, despite my own humanity. I believe that my heart was in the right place, but I am told, too, that hearts are wicked and deceptive above all else.  I hope that I have been obedient.  I hope that the desire for peace and love is not a seed wasted.  Motives are harder to be sure of when denied a share of the harvest.  Still, I will trust. It's all I can do. 

The question was recently posed amongst a group of friends whether our depressions and anxieties are sinister voices that hail from a spiritual realm or are but the echo of our own inner cynic. I rarely feel the need to opine on such things, but it just so happens that I have been pondering the same line of thought over the past few months myself. I don't have the ability or desire to speak definitively, but wouldn't mind joining the conversation. Here's what I've got so far : Not that long ago, I realized something helpful: every thing a particular human enemy was saying aloud to me was exactly what a spiritual force bent on destruction would say if given a human voice. This person was close enough to know what was important to me and where I was most prone, so that is where they aimed their lashing tongue. I came to believe that, because this person was not yielded to kindness, they had offered themselves as an open tap for discouragement. One name used for a spiritua...

East coast girl with your sun tanned skin Salt in your hair, kissed by the wind You're wild and free to live and let be Strings let go you'll soar and sink low Follow the river away from the sea  Float the Savannah, back home to me. I once wiped the tears of a young girl's eyes  Real life is tested by whether we cry. Feel and allow it, for though there is pain  A life without contrast is one built in vain. Salt and fresh water, shadow and light  Opposing angles build houses upright I sit in my own house, thinking of you,  little kite tattered, lost in the blue I bottle my question and fling it to sea:  Were sandcastles and kite flying only for me?

A well endowed house save a few essentials... I woke up in Madame Blueberry 's house (in a tree and everything.) My mother-in-law is a woman who has just about everything...two and three of some things...but yesterday morning, she had no coffee pods. Lots of tea [which I love] but not a drop of the kick-in-the-pants-in-a-cup that I needed to get me up and get me thinking this particular morning. And my father-in-law Charlie runs a proud "gourmet" kitchen... he even went to a Johnson & Wales Camp once upon a time.  Imagine my surprise when I  discovered the man has no French press,  no grinder.  And that's what made the bag of whole coffee beans ironic. Or was it that they were the only coffee to be found in all the house?  Either way. I am here to tell you that I was undeterred. I am also here to tell you that determination alone does not the cup of coffee make. You need many other elements. I found the closest thing to a grinder and made. . . well, .....

I started to write a post about loss (and legacy reels) back when my grandpaw passed away ...and then tried again recently when my uncle departed. Days got busy, I'm easily distracted and all of my attempts felt too frilly...too feely. What I'm really aiming to say has been said in countless ways so, maybe that is why I feel too antsy to pin the words down ( pen the words down?). It amounts to "Life is beautiful." though there are plenty of other worthy and valid things to be said about lives well-lived and legacies left behind. Like the following statements: "The Grand Canyon is large." "Niagara Falls is wet."  "There's gold in dem dar hills."  improvements could be made but the fundamental idea is present and accounted for. Sometimes that's the best one can do. So, here I am, sharing the video made in tribute to my uncle as a stand-alone excuse for where I've been lately, a picture-postcard from this other place for which ...

    I let my full weight fall against Burger King's heavy glass door and pushed against it. By nature a fairly passive person, I knew the door would absorb my unusually forceful shove with no loss of dignity. I even imagined it welcomed me a little. Better doors than people. (or...doors are better than people?)    We were en route to the bedside of a very sick relative and I knew we may not make it in time to say good bye.    Over the course of the morning, I had morphed into a tiny black rain cloud, prone to outbursts like thunder claps and sudden showers that washed away any semblance of "strength".     Once inside the ladies room,  I wiped away what streaked mascara could be budged and sighed a prayer of "please".    I wasn't praying for extra time. I wasn't praying to get there. I was praying for peace and that all would be well with my uncle...soul wise...you know..." It is well...it is well...with my soul ." And I wa...