Recycling At Its Best

I spent the day moving china closets and dressers and chests of drawers out of the room that will eventually be mine, then I ordered a wireless router so I can use my own computer. Believe it, or not, there are still several big things to move out of this room, before I can even think about making it mine, but I get a little closer every day.

My poor sister is the world's greatest collector, which can be nice. Besides all her own little collections, she has things the whole family didn't want, that she has kept. She has a unique little theatre chest that was once mine. The bottom two drawers hold lingerie, or clothes and the top drawer opens to reveal a large mirror that tilts up for make up, or whatever. She also has my small antique drop leaf side table that I am going to use for a desk. I even found a book case in the basement that will be just right, so I will only have to buy a new mattress. This is recycling at its best!

Tonight we carried her old dresser out to the garage and made way for the next big move. We will move the china closet filled with her doll collection out of my room into hers in the morning, if we can still move. I am already feeling the effects of muscles that have been over used and abused, but I can see my room emerging.

I can only equate this to sculpting, where someone takes a chunk of wood, or marble and slowly hacks out the statue inside. The room I envision is appearing in the same way. and so far I don't miss anything I left behind. That in itself is liberating.

Three Trees And Me

Moment to moment life is what I make it. I cannot change what is, but I am reminded of an afternoon years ago.

It was one of those warm sunny afternoons in Spring when the idea of Easter bunnies and Disney birds seem as likely as anything else. I sat on my screened in porch gazing out at the ornamental cherry trees in my side yard and, on impulse, got up and walked out under them. As I approached the first tree, I found myself in a flurry of pink petals. Their delicate roundness and impossibly light weight left the surreal impression of a fairy rain storm, a magical mixture of color, light and wind that seemed more in my mind than my senses.

A moment later, the sun went under a cloud, the air became permeated with the smell of impending rain and, almost immediately, I found myself pelted by huge, cold, hard, raindrops and dashed for cover.

The locust tree leaned wildly into the wind, dropping lady fingers into our pool. The little leaf linden began shedding all its parts in a mad attempt to stand firm and the oak tree over the back yard fence stood solidly watching us all. The world was making one of those transitions that marked the spaces between tranquility and chaos and I was there to see it.

Screened in porches are wonderful places. They put just the thinnest barrier between me and the world. I stood in the facade of that safe place watching the fury of earth's power descend upon my world. The pattering sound of rain bouncing off the roof and the soft squishy sound of it plopping off the plants in my yard soon stopped. The sun reappeared dressed in the sick, greenish, yellow glow that precedes tornadoes and I stood in absolute silence. It was one of those unnatural silences, where not even the birds make a sound, because we all knew what came next.

It snaked down out of the clouds like a finger probing an infected boil. Delicate, tentative, a white swirl twisting down and then back up in a sort of erratic pulsing. I could almost imagine the giant mouth of the wind god huffing and puffing, blowing this tornado in. Vaguely aware that I should go inside, I stayed there, transfixed by the strange beauty unfolding before me. Perhaps this is the feeling a mouse has when the cobra fixes it with those unfathomable steely eyes just before it strikes. I could not move.

A second later I heard the roar of a freight train rushing down upon me and glanced up to see the a smoky grayness replacing the white finger in the clouds above. And then it was gone. The rain reappeared, thunder crashed in the distance and lightning flashed, turning the three trees into back lighted silhouettes.

I sat on my porch enjoying the storm and contemplating the brief moments leading up to it. Each one had seemed like an eternity, a moment in time where all my senses were fully engaged and I realized this was the way I like to live.

Along The Way

The list of things to do does not seem to grow any shorter. Moving from state to state entails changing almost everything, insurance, driver's license, license plates, bank accounts, direct deposits into those accounts, taxes, and they all seem to require money in some way. There are other things going on too.

My niece is going through some self inflicted trauma that has my sister and the rest of the family pacing the floor. My good friend was just diagnosed with lymphoma and the situation that precipitated this move drags on. I guess that is the nature of life. I keep taking steps forward and the world around me keeps moving in its own way at the same time.

In between, one friend after another keeps reconnecting and I remember how good it is to be here where so many of them are. I have so much history here and that is so different from being in a place where no one really knows me at all.

Other friends continue on in their parts of the world, still enriching mine by their very being! Isn't it amazing how connected we all are?

Cobwebs and Shells

Opening my eyes, I am relieved to have escaped from a dream world where I was being tormented by bullies, but immediately after the relief comes a sense of confusion. Where am I? Who is this person in bed with me? Of course I am at my sister's home and she is the one sleeping on the other pillow. Rain falls against the window and the grayness of the day settles ominously over me, like some sort of cobwebby quilt that I need to push away.

The day begins slowly. I let Chauncey out into the back yard, make coffee and stand here waiting for it to be ready. Its rich aroma is comforting and the heat of the mug in my hands warms my spirits as I see Chauncey frolicking around in the rain. He is finally settling in and so am I, sort of.

After the relatively solitary life of the mountains, this world seems busy and sometimes chaotic. It is going to take a while before I can even hope to have a room of my own and right now everyone seems to feel I need company. As happy as I am to see them all, I often feel as if I am wearing that cobweb quilt, that perhaps I have turned it into a cloak and pulled its hood down over my eyes.

Always the quiet, introspective one, I have still always been the more adventuresome one. I am expected to come home bubbling and full of the tales of my travels and I try, but it isn't here. I am a turtle without a shell and feel very vulnerable. I tell myself all I need is time.

Little by little I am carving out the world I will live in and all will be well. All is well now, even if it is strange. I know that. I simply need to remember it.

Village Children

I suspect we have all heard, "It takes a village to raise a child."

I doubt if the person who said it realized that many children today belong to a village worth of people already. In the case of my great niece,there is a grandfather and step grandmother who are raising her, three "real" grandmothers, two great grandmothers, another grandfather, her mother and step dad, her father and step mother her step grandmother's children who have children she plays with, and a plethora of aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles and cousins from all these assorted people.

That child will be lucky if she can find someone to date who isn't related to her!

Is this a good thing? Well, I don't believe you can have too many people who love you, so as long as all these people can keep this in mind, she is a very lucky little girl.

And most of the time, she is.

Back To The World

My sister and I spent the evening making Cd's out of old LP albums. She is giving them as a gift to her friend for his birthday. Tomorrow we go to her grand daughter's confirmation a couple hours north of here, so we finished our evening trying on clothes and jewelry and asking each other's opinion. I haven't done anything like this in years! It reminded me of when we were teenagers and shared adjoining bedrooms.

It is a much more feminine world here. That will take some getting used to, but it does make me feel more like a woman and somehow also younger. I think I might have been settling in as the old woman in the mountains, rather isolated and alone. It felt right at the time, but I'm not really ready to be a crone yet.

My friends have been calling, wanting to talk and get together. I will never be part of my old world again, but I am in the neighborhood, a weary traveler come home. I am tired, amazingly tired, but I feel so good.

I"m glad I'm here.

The Cocoon Is Being Spun

Life is starting to take on a recognizable shape. I feel a little less shell shocked and a little more creative than yesterday. I am starting to envision this room without all the furniture, pictures and knickknacks.

Once it is empty, which may take a few weeks, because there really is a whole lot of my sister in here, I will have a blank canvas and that is always exciting. I am thinking a bed, a small bookcase, and a desk, just the essence of me to begin with. A quiet contemplative place to regenerate, uncluttered by too many remnants from the past.

I brought only the most sacred of my possessions here. Anyone wanting to know who I really am can tell from these things I hauled across the country and will set out in my own space some day. It will be the first time that I did not bring any mementos that are not purely me. No family heirlooms, no inherited books unless I actually use them, nothing that isn't pertinent to who I am now.

Imagine the chance to wipe the slate clean and start from scratch after all these years! What a blessing!

The Way

Idyllic times exist mostly in moments. Expecting more is not being very realistic. Life is filled with transitions and they, by their very nature, require some work.

Sometimes I am working towards a goal, but mostly I just have a general picture of what is ahead, or what I might like to be ahead. I learned a long time ago that making that picture too detailed eliminates a lot of wonderful possibilities. Those curves in the road can lead to some amazing places and I want to see them when they show up.

Much of the heartache in this life comes when the video in my head stops playing before I am ready. It is my nature to want to hold onto things, but most of my life has been spent letting go. It can be painful, but pain is okay, it can be a great teacher. It can also be very liberating.

Little by little I learn what is truly important and what is only illusion, or even delusion. Blowing these things away in the space of a breath, I breathe in the joy and peace that instantly follows. I may have to do this a million times, but eventually it works and there is an awful lot of peace in between. It is a learning process.

Not everything is painful. There are sweet lessons and beautiful lessons and sometimes just plain old everyday lessons. Eventually I learn to eat when I am hungry, sleep when I am tired and note the bumps in the road are not road blocks unless I make them that. I try to remember that the way I am walking, is my Way. Yet, it is your Way too, because I am you. I breathe in and you breathe out. I breathe out and you breathe in.

We are one in love, the art is learning to notice that.

Transdifferation

Transdifferation, the ability to regenerate organs and in the case of a certain jelly fish, actually regenerate its entire self! I don't know that I want to live forever, but I wouldn't mind having a new body to try it out!

In the absence of that, I do have a new life to begin and this is just the embryonic start of that. Today I am sitting at my sister's computer writing my first thot here. My car still holds most of my "stuff" and I am actually relieved not to have to deal with anything else.

My sister has a heart of gold and a great affinity for American country decorating. I am in her wall to wall "stuff" here and cannot imagine how she could offer to let me stay here as long as I like, even forever, but she has. I slept like a baby last night and made a pot of coffee this morning before thinking about tackling the car. She wanted me to let her do it for me, but she is at work now and will be there for the rest of the week. In spite of feeling a bit lazy, I am not a baby and must begin to take control of this new life right away.

Who Am I?

One of the definitions of competence is the ability to do something well, or to a defined standard. I would assume that would mean the ability to deal with life in a realistic and stable way on a day to day basis.

Living on my income, which is right down there at the bottom of the barrel requires that I live within a tight budget, but I manage pretty well if I do say so myself. All my bills are paid on time and I have no debts at all. I manage to have a few luxuries and do some things I like to do that involve gifts.

I am relatively well disciplined, having written My Thots nearly every day since 1998. I rode my bicycle nearly every day until I moved out here. I eat pretty well considering the money I have to buy groceries and have managed to improve this apartment a lot since I moved in here two and a half years ago. That required micro managing my money and being able to do the work of adding lights to concrete walls and removing carpets saturated with mold. I recycle, read voraciously and write when the creative juices are flowing.

I have spent at least a couple hours a day with my four year old grandson at least four days a week and, more recently, two nights a week, putting him to bed and singing him to sleep after our story time. He and I have had hours of fun drawing pictures, writing his name and letters, cutting with scissors, singing songs, reading books, playing ball and even making some books and doing some science experiments. We play on the computer, watch PBS kids shows and sometimes have dinner and a movie right here in my apartment. I think we make the most out of the time, money and what freedom we are allowed.

I find myself not just content, but actually happy most of the time. I try to roll with the punches and live the best way I know how, hoping that some of my knowledge and experience will be seen and absorbed by those with less than I. On the other hand, I try to remain open to the ideas and changes of others, knowing that I am never going to be too old to learn.

Moving On

Transitions are often difficult for the most pliable of adults, but for a little boy who has never even been to school yet, they are incomprehensible. Yesterday the chair I ordered for Lennon, before all this commotion began, came and we opened the box. Frankly, today I was too preoccupied to be able to focus enough to put it together with him, so I just sat the box on the floor.

I went into the other room and when I came back, Lennon was curled up inside the box and he refused to come out. He wants things to be back the way they used to be and I know this is his way of dealing with it all. It took me about twenty minutes of story telling and talking before he decided to come play.

Tonight I put the chair together. It is a small Adirondack chair that claimed it could be assembled in twenty minutes. Obviously they failed to take my lack of carpentry skills into account. There were three little thingees that were not on their list of parts that I had never seen before. It turned out not to be a real problem. The chair simply would not go together without them, so the trial and error method took about an hour to assemble. Lennon will enjoy sitting in it when he and Daddy are in the back yard, but I take the more romantic version that these arms will hold him when I cannot.

I thought I had pared my life down to the nitty-gritty, but as I packed today I realize that I really would like to take more than what my car can carry when I leave Wednesday. Of course I could always come back for the antiques, washer/dryer, bed and piano later on when I know where I will settle. I will miss my piano most of all, but I am taking the flutes and dulcimer, so I won’t be bereft of all music. It’s good not to get too attached to things.

Transitions, those events that test the truth and open doors, which sounds simple and right, but is still very difficult to live through sometimes.

Lennon’s World

First came the stories of Sir Lennon the Good and Sir Bobby the Brave. Then came the little action figures that became them. And now the castle is finished.

It’s taken quite a while to get to this point. The can of gray spray paint was defective, it had no nozzle and I couldn’t return it because I had no car. I found a can of lavender spray paint in the garage and was afraid that once I took the nozzle off of it, neither one might work, so I painted the castle lavender! Then I switched the nozzle to the gray paint and it worked, so the second coat was gray. Whew!

Lennon and I looked up the family crest on the internet. It was blue and yellow with a red line across the shield. I think the red was just so no one could blow it up and copy it, but Lennon loved that red line. Today I made a similar one in gold and blue, but it had to have that red line on it. He insisted.

Then while he and his daddy went hiking, I added all the other details. Now it is a fully fleshed out experience. Since I am leaving him my rock collection, I put the iron pyrite, copper and rose quartz in his treasure room. I put some hematite in the corner where a future Merlin might stick a sword some day and a conglomerate with some rough amethyst in another corner. Then when he got home I added the log and spotted rock he brought back. He wanted fish in the moat, so I added three almost hidden fish and an oracle, which, in our case, happens to be a white dove, to the castle parapet.

Now no matter what happens in this world, that world belongs to Lennon.

Me, My Kids and I

Kids are amazing, especially after they grow up. I guess that is the best affirmation I can have. If I like my adult children, I should feel pretty good about myself, because even though they get the credit for being who they are, I helped them lay the foundations.

All of my children are pretty strong willed, which isn’t really surprising. They had a good role model. I have always struggled to make sure I’m being fair, because mostly I like what I like and I want what I want and it doesn’t come easily to me to give in.

Yet I can give in. I can do amazing things for love and there has been a lot of love in my life. It’s just that sometimes it is hard doing the things I feel are right. Right isn’t always black and white. In fact it is often a blur of gray.

As our family goes through a major transition I speak daily, and sometimes hourly, with both my oldest and youngest sons. In the beginning these talks were all polarized around supporting each other. Now that support is becoming more protective and solutions are starting to drift into separate corners. Each of us feel our thoughts might possibly be more valid than the others and our sense of the necessity for speaking our minds is becoming stronger.

That might sound bad to you, but there is nothing like feeling my own emotional response to something for clarifying what I really think and feel. The pillar of this family is hurting in ways I never thought I would and as my oldest son said, “that is alright and right!” I am very emotionally involved in all this and no amount of common sense, or sense of duty can change that.

Our exchanges, as heated as they can become, are still love based. When this is all over, we three will still stand solidly behind each other in every way that counts and I find that rather awesome.

Focus

I love the sound of a voice talking to its beloved, the sweetness, the gentle inflection. I can hear the smile behind it, the affection that accompanies it.

“Hi, Sweetie.” There are a million ways to say those two words, but there is something in the timbre of a voice that lets me know when it is real and not simply some expected ritual.

My dog understands this. When he hears real dogs barking on television he is literally all ears. It is the same way when I am watching a video. He knows when the sounds are real and when they are fake. He runs and hides if it sounds like someone is in pain. Somehow he knows the truth behind what he hears.

I am not always so good at that. Most of the time I expect the best and that is what I hear, but once in a while that trust is violated. After that I am gun shy. Every look, every phrase becomes suspect. I hate that. I don’t like having to weigh every word and look for hidden meanings. I much prefer to take people at face value.

Symbolic gestures and hidden meanings are fine when writing. After all, creativity is simply to entertain. Real life is about living and breathing. It’s good when the air is fresh and clean.

So I listen to the good things again and again and try to ignore the ugly ones. It’s what keeps me focused on the sweetness in life.

Deep Water

Hit the brakes, shift into neutral and….stay put!

There is much to be said for doing nothing, especially when anything I can think of doing might just rock this boat that much more. One degree farther and it might sink straight down to the bottom of the sea.

I’ve often fantasized about deep sea creatures. Fragile little seahorses, the fathers carrying their young in pouches as they float through a tangle of seaweed and jelly fish. Tiny coral crustaceans and oysters patiently creating pearls, one layer at a time. It seems like a fantasy world, but it isn’t.

Predators lurk in the shadows. Every crevice is a threat. Poisonous sea snakes slither around in silent glory and this Sea City becomes the watery version of NYPD Blue. Just a little less dialogue and a little more venom.

I remember the world of my childhood as one of long summers, deep lakes, and big shade trees. I long for that. Sultry summer days when there is nothing more to do than curl up with a pen and paper, or my laptop, and work away. Enough drama! I want to write about people who care about each, who go the extra mile to make life better. I want to inspire people to be the best they can be and leave the mucky stuff on the bottom for the scum suckers.

Right now that is only a dream.

It’s Always Something

I thought my car starter had died, but it turns out, after my son hand pushed the car 1500 feet to a nearby car place to save the towing fee, that it was something to do with the battery. Instead of $300, it was $35! So life should be good, right?

But it’s not.

No matter how insulated I believe I am, I am still as vulnerable as that star fish on the beach. How I ended up on this beach is kind of hard to explain, but here I am and this is one time I cannot abandon ship.

It’s painful. Everyone is suffering and I’m sure everyone feels totally vindicated, but I don’t see it that way.

In the end, all will be well, but that is a long way off and it’s going to be a rough ride.

One Dark And Stormy Night

I am a little red faced when I admit this, but I love my imagination. It is honestly often more entertaining for me than any book, or movie, or television program around.

I set the stage. Perhaps a dark and stormy night in the middle of nowhere. I decide on the characters. An appropriate hero, or maybe even two, a woman in some sort of dilemma that causes her to run into the former and the story begins.


Turning the key one more time, the young man leans back in the seat and sighs deeply. Why is it that cars never break down in town, by a repair shop, when you have money? Opening tired eyes, he smiles wryly.

Five miles away another man pauses in the doorway before he locks up for the night. After all the years it took to find this place and get things just right, he seldom has time to come up here. Some people might find this storm a bit daunting, but not him. The rain pounding against the house with almost hurricane force, the sound of distant thunder rumbling through air heavy with the scent of wet pine needles and damp wood and the bright flash of lightning, fills him with a yearning he cannot put his finger on, but longs for.


My mind is off and running, or rather meandering, through the thoughts and feelings of people whose destiny lies in my hands. I design their houses, build their fires, decorate their rooms. I imagine situations where they must deal with the problems I create and yet.

I am filled with excitement at the way they cope and the drama that unfolds around them in the midst of nature’s fury. I become misty eyed at the sweetness that permeates the awkward conversation as it slowly settles into a deeply personal and revealing moment in time and I decide what will happen next.

What a beautiful night!

A Cosmic Buffet

Most of the people I know, who are content with their lives, have spent some time living with just themselves. It’s nice to get to know the one closest to me and understand who she really is. Then it is also nice to like her in spite of her foibles and love her even when she doesn’t succeed at what she wants to.

In the past, if even one person entered the picture, I was prone to blame my failures on that person, or at least on the presence of another person who was distracting me. Until I can overcome that particular fault of mine, living alone is a much better choice than otherwise. Pointing fingers wastes energy.

This timeline called “My Life” doesn’t appear to be an actual linear thing. It slides around, slipping into this mode, or that one, and offering me a taste of so many different ways of being that sometimes I feel like a visitor in a cosmic buffet where the food is so exquisite I don’t know what to sample next.

And sometimes it offers me the opportunity to curl up into a warm little ball and enjoy my one-ness.

All of it centers around me though and reminds me that until I can accept and love myself without any pressure, or doubts, I will never be able to love you the way you deserve.

Listen To The Children

I had to explain death to my children before I believed they were old enough to comprehend it.

At the time I told them that the part that loved and laughed and played with them had gone to heaven to be with God and all that was left was an empty body, kind of like the shells they found on the beach. They accepted this so well I was almost shocked.

Then they asked why I was crying. Desperately searching for an answer that would be appropriate for children when I was nearly lost in grief myself, I finally said, “because I will miss her.” They accepted that too.

Children are amazing. I still have a little poem mine wrote and its simplicity is so beautiful. It was years before I could let go, but they were out playing the next week. It was obvious they missed her too, yet they were willing and wanting to talk about her and how they missed her, while life went on.

And life does move on, no matter how unimaginable it seems at first. Eventually the scent on the clothing fades away and the sound of laughter becomes harder to remember, but the important things are always going to be here. It’s not necessary to have place markers to prove it, but it’s okay too. Sometimes a cherished ribbon, or tiny curl brings inexpressible comfort.

It isn’t easy, but I can tell you that the children playing in the backyard, right now, have what you need.

Just Happy

Yesterday I felt bad all day, couldn’t eat and was so tired I thought I’d have to go to bed, only I couldn’t because I had Lennon. I ended up taking a nap after he left and got up just in time to watch the new Bones and Fringe, two shows I really like if they are not repeats. Then I was in bed by eleven o’clock.

I woke up this morning at 5:30 AM feeling better than I can remember feeling in over a year! I don’t know why, but it was so great. It is amazing how much younger I feel when I don’t feel bad! I guess it is amazing that I don’t know how bad I felt until I feel this good! Whatever the cause, I am grateful.

I got up and wrote My Thot this morning, then went to MacDonald’s for coffee and a sausage, cheese and egg biscuit. I sat there reading my new book and eating breakfast all by myself for the first time in ages! It felt so good to get out and just do something like I used to.

On the way home I grocery shopped and later went for a walk with Lennon and Bobby. Well, walk is probably a misnomer. It was more like a forced march, but I kept up and had fun. We saw Payton, the horse down in his pasture and marveled at all the spring flowers blooming in mass quantities all over our neighborhood.

I made an awesome stew for dinner, watched my Netflix movie, and actually went back out to get seeds and some good soil to mix into the planters tomorrow. I’m hoping for another day like this one!

My son is going to help me dig a bed for some lilies and other bulbs, then transplant my azalea bush and maybe even cut back some shrubs hiding one of my other bushes. I’m almost afraid to think about it too much. I don’t want to jinx it and I am so looking forward to it!

Colloquial Proverbs

Life is always perfect.

Except.

For the one little rock that always seems to find its way into my shoe. One tiny pebble that can throw a monkey wrench into the whole works. A niggling reminder that the smallest amount of pain becomes unbearable if it sticks in there.

If I really believed in fate, I would say this is simply a reminder from the gods that I must learn to overlook the small things. But, on the other hand, small things can be a royal pain in unmentionable places.

The other side of this coin reminds me of, a stitch in time saves nine. The idea that if I don’t take care of the little stuff in a timely manner, it will grow into something bigger. It’s just that if I don’t have a needle close by, I tend to put things off. And if I do have a needle, there is always the possibility of it being turned back on me. You can’t win with needles. They get you coming and going.

A lot of unpleasant things do that, so I suppose the trick is….. you know, I don’t think there are any tricks. Life is about dealing with what is, the best way I know how and sometimes that is one thing, sometimes it is another.

In the long run, I try to remember that kindness is a better action on my part than revenge, or one up man ship. Negative actions are usually preceded by negative thoughts and this only adds to the unpleasantness. Especially mine.

That little rock becomes the thing that pins me between it and the proverbial hard place, if I allow it to. Indulging myself in how to dispose of it only hurts me. Just as I reap the benefits of feeling love, I feel the results of whatever else it is that I allow to take up residence in my life.

There are things I have no control over, but I am not one of them.

Breathe

People believe what they want to believe and no amount of facts, or figures, can change that if they don’t want it to.

I don’t ever want to destroy someone’s hope, but there is a difference between hope and gullibility. In the search for real peace of mind, there needs to be a firm grip on reality

Believing that turning over the right rock, or discovering the secret words, or doing the right dance will improve my life makes me easy prey for every charlatan selling snake oil.

The only real magic I know of comes from within. It is the belief that I can deal with life as it comes at me. Because? Because I have to. There is no other plausible solution.

Every step along the way leads me toward the hurdles that will inevitably rise up before me. Every breath I take allows me to prepare for that moment by being totally present in this one.

I can handle life one breath at a time and I can do it with both feet planted firmly in this real world. It may not be easy, although it becomes easier once I start trusting in the process, but it is possible.

That is reality.

Remember

I set the empty coke bottle down on the table and it rumbles ominously, like a snare drum playing it’s final farewell. The hair stands up on my arms and a chill passes through me. The world is neither silent, nor calm on this April night in the mountains of North Carolina.

These mountains have held such terrible trials for those who came before. The American Revolution played itself out here in random acts by traitor and loyalists with few knowing who was who and the Cherokee here are the relatives of those who managed to escape and hide from the infamous trail of tears. Cold Mountain is visible from my yard and its stories speak of the travesties of the Civil War. The world wars, the Korean, Vietnam and the civil right upheavals of the sixties, all touched this seemingly remote area.

Yet the mountains appear serene and the clouds drift lazily over blood soaked land and clear bubbling brook, expressing no deference for either.

This uproar in our home is minor by comparison and no matter how it turns out will not even be a page in the history books of the future.

Perspective. Always I must look for the correct perspective.

Good Friends

Someone asked me what I am looking for in a guy. Well, to start off, I am not looking for anyone. I already know some extraordinary people. People so wonderful that I wonder why I am lucky enough to call them friend. I think one on one relationships need to just grow out of friendships, otherwise they can be forced and grow in the wrong directions, ruining what is already very good.

My experience says a good friend is worth his, or her, weight in (whatever you value, divine cream puffs?)

But if I had to make out a list of qualities that I value above all others what would they be? First of all he would have to be secure and bright. A wicked sense of humor would be fun, as would a dedication to those things I find important, but on his own, not because I value them. At this age, I would want to be sure neither one of us is carrying any old baggage. And, last, but certainly not least, he would have to absolutely adore me for exactly who I am today and I would have to feel the same way about him.

Life is too short for anything less when it comes to intertwining lives as intimately as I would expect out of such a relationship.

Emotional Scars

Perception is probably the most important sense people have.

If there is physical pain, or actual injury to the body then it is always a little bit disturbing, but it is the emotional injuries that tend not to heal. They become the ghosts that string along throughout a lifetime, coloring and re-coloring every experience.

Two people find themselves in the same situation and one comes away angry, or upset. The other comes away traumatized. All things being equal, the way they perceive this action makes all the difference. A slightly unsettling event for one person can be a tragedy for another. Even every day things can seem horrendously life changing for some people.

Accidents can be forgiven, but intentional cruelty is much harder to let go of. Likewise, learned responses to certain stimuli make a huge difference in the response.

I know people who seem to thrive on bad experiences and tragedies. It’s as if they need them in order to garner the attention they crave. One example is a person I know who constantly makes dark personal jokes about life. They are often rather horrifying, but come out of this person’s mouth as such dry dark humor that it takes a while for the truth of them to seep through. For example: “Some people hunt for eggs on Easter. I remember the year we had to hunt for Mommy.”

I know other people who never mention the tragedies in their lives, those are the ones I believe are still suffering. It is still too painful for them to make these experiences any more real than they already are.

Our earliest years have a great effect on our perceptions, our responses. I am hoping Lennon will be able to take things pretty much in stride, the good and the bad by being able to talk about them and bring them out into the open. That way they surface, bloom and perhaps fade away for ever, leaving no emotional scars.

In The Silence Of The Rain

Silence is strength, but it requires faith. I want to believe you understand what lies within this silence.

I honestly believe we are so much more alike than even I dare hope. I write to you, pouring my heart out, sharing things I don’t share with others and you write back with such understanding that it turns my world upside down.

Too many words begin to sound false, even when they are not. My exuberance over flows and begins to appear like icing on a cake. Beautiful, sweet, but really irrelevant compared to what is underneath. It is relatively easy to be sweet and fluffy, but there must be something real below all that.

Reality understands that we live in separate worlds, that like the stallion and the dove we are worlds apart, but we inhabit the same space on a plane few ever even realize is here.

Your strength, your sleek beauty, your indomitable spirit call to me as surely as they must call to all who know you. I realize that I am only one who flutters near you, warming myself within sight of you. Yet, I believe that we have an understanding, a connection that feels very precious to me.

It is possible that I am only seeing my own reflection, that what I feel are only my own thoughts coming back at me.

I believe, though, that when the dove flies over the stallion, both hear the wind calling their name and feel the sun upon their shoulders and when the rain falls, we are united for a multitude of moments that make us who we are.

New Traditions

What perverse part of me finds fault with something that brings me so much pleasure?

I cannot imagine a mother not wanting to be involved in every part of her child’s life, yet this is apparently not a thought all mother’s share.

I had not really planned on doing much more than hiding a book and few eggs full of candy for Lennon this year, but when I asked my son when they planned to color eggs, I was surprised to hear they didn’t.

That was how my day began. His mother was off on one of her weekly foraging trips that occupy almost every minute she is not at work, so the rest of us did a little shopping on our own.

I began inventing a series of bedtime stories several months ago about Sir Bobby the Brave, Princess Barbie the Beautiful and Sir Lennon the Good Knight. Their adventures have become a tradition on the nights I baby sit. Lennon brushes his teeth, we read three books, then he climbs into bed and I fill him in on the newest adventures of this family who live in a castle high on a mountain top, far, far away.

I decided to purchase some action figures for my three heroes, but I didn’t know how to get to the toy store that sold them. So, Lennon and his father took me, then they went looking at balls and bats while I surreptitiously paid for and hid my toys in the car. Afterwards I went back in and we bought a T ball bat and ball and a small soccer ball for my house so we can play when their car is not home.

At home, the three of us dyed Easter eggs, sang songs, and generally did all the silly things you do when you are four years old and want to have a good time. Then his mother came home and his parents left for their weekly game night.

Lennon and I had dinner and a movie, Kung Fu Panda tonight, and I put him to bed with his story, sang him to sleep and came out here to the living room. It was a sweet day. I haven’t done these things since my own children were small and I would never have been able to do it if his mother had wanted to do it herself.

Sometimes it is good to just let go of the old thoughts about what should be and enjoy what is.

Imagine Turtles In Flight

Intuition, that instinctive part of me that lies somewhere within the mystical part of my mind. It rises like a censor from the depths of thoughts seeking harmony, urging me to listen, react, respond with great care, because my senses are right on track.

Yet intuition is not quite the same thing as instinct. Intuition is only the echo of what might have been, or even might be.

Instinct is a defense mechanism. Instinct relies on the tried and true. For me that is flight. It is so much easier to pack up my little turtle shell and escape. That is one of the reasons I give so much away. I do not dare to burden myself with the unnecessary. Anything can become a veil, or even a wall, between me and those things I love and desire.

Desire itself clouds my vision, making the object unattainable simply because I want it too badly. I am constantly letting go, but there is a difference between choice and fear. One is a good thing, the other so destructive.

What do I fear most? Probably looking foolish, putting myself out there, revealing all my weaknesses and discovering I am in the river with alligators.

But I’ve been there before.

And I survived.

Hope Springs Eternal

My grandmother’s generation got the vote. My generation fought for equal rights and both were necessary changes, but there was a price to be paid for both.

Women do not necessarily do things the same way men do, but they can do most of the same things. Small men cannot lift like large men, so size is an arbitrary thing that is not necessarily related to gender and both of us have minds. Still whenever there is no pattern for dealing with new and radical changes someone pays a price and this time it was the children.

Our generation had more divorce than the ones before it. I believe there was probably more open discord in marriages too. Many women no longer felt the need to kowtow to over bearing husbands and many husbands no longer felt the need to baby wives. Finding the balance during periods of radical change is always difficult. People tend to go to extremes in their search for common ground.

Add the drug culture from the sixties, the ideas of communal and free love and a whole generation was turned topsy-turvy. It’s not the first time in history, but possibly the first time that so many people across the board sacrificed their children’s security for so many things at once.

Now these children are starting families of their own and I am heartened by their attempts to give their children what they feel was lacking in their childhood. I see them placing the welfare of their children above and beyond personal desires and I believe this is a good thing. Children are a choice.

My son, a young attorney who struggled to put himself through law school, put it this way. “When we decided to have a baby, we knew things were going to change. Why have a child if you are going to give it to someone else to raise? Some people do not have a choice, but we do. By tightening our belts we can give this new human being the start she deserves if we are going to bring her into this world.”

His wife makes much much more than he does, so he is taking the first five years off to stay home with their child. A huge decision, but one he made freely, knowing it will put his status as a trial attorney on hold and maybe even end it altogether.

The trials and tribulations of our generation are paying off in a new generation of men and women, fathers and mothers, able to look at what we did and make educated changes. From the father who simply insists on getting his share of time with his children in spite of a divorce to parents consciously deciding what kind of life they can give their child, I see hope across the board.

April Fool

I am not a video game player and I am not a soap opera fan, although I did watch one when someone I was interested in did, but once we were no longer together, I gave it up pretty quickly. I just can’t maintain a real interest in make believe people.

I can generate an intense interest in real people, one on one, depending on how invested I am in what they are doing and how they do it, but even this is rare. I tend to sit back and watch the world from my own point of view, jumping in only when the spirit moves me and I feel I can really connect, or make some sort of difference.

There is nothing like believing something is over to make one sit back and evaluate her feelings. An April fool’s prank really caught me today.

I have allowed myself to be almost totally absorbed into a sort of virtual family. Now let me explain that this family is actually composed of real people brought together by a common thread that is relatively uncommon, but they are not physically present in my day to day life.

It is difficult to explain how close I feel to this “family,” where I have something I can contribute and they have much to give me that truly impacts my life in a pretty major way. Real people. Real problems. Real joys. It is a new world approach to the old village that I find very satisfying.

It is not easy for me to find kindred spirits like this, so believing it was ending was a jolt! A part of me would like to pull back, disentangle myself from what will be extraordinarily painful when it does end, as all things seem to. Another part of me says to seize the day and understand how lucky I am to have found this kind of satisfaction in a very unsatisfactory world. The pain will never equal the fulfillment and joy I experience almost daily.