humpty dumpty sat on a wall...

Child molestation is not a happy topic, especially when an American college football coach is in the middle of the scandal. You've probably heard enough about the man they call Jo Pa, too much in fact. His kingdom is crumbling and he is partially to blame. I have no sympathy for him and the wall of lies built around his unhappy valley.  I want to know where are the stories about the traumatized children and their families?

  

I am enraged.  I am sickened.  I am embarrassed, once again, for our country.  We are socially inept.  We've proven this in several ways.  We claim to help the world, yet at home, our residents are flailing.  Morality and ethics are lost a midst team jerseys and statistical polls.  Blinders must have been on sale this past decade, on the shelf next to the foggy glasses and rosary beads. 

Yes, I'm referring to the Catholic mess.  The entity who raped my generation of dignity and trust.  The church I trusted to teach my children about honor, respect, loving one another, and helping those less fortunate.  My fault, I didn't read the disclaimer:  'priests may seem holier than they appear.'  The Vatican cover up and the Penn State cover up are huge.  Two powerful, public, influential groups who have been revered and praised for good deeds.  Two groups of human beings choosing to look the other way, brush under the rug, deny, create excuses, and harm.  Once wronged, shame on you.  Twice, shame on me.  Action is needed.  

My interest is twofold.  I am a mother.  I am a psychiatric nurse. Protective maternal instincts cannot be matched.  Like the wild animal charging the invader too close to her babies, this mom feels like kicking butt and taking names.  My patients have shared horror stories of child molestation and abuse, sometimes  at the hands of their loved ones, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles...stories that explain the psychosis, dissociation, self-hatred, and self-harm of adulthood.  Where does the cycle end?  How?  When?  

I promise each of you this:  if I see an adult sexually molesting a child, I will be talking to 911 dispatch sooner than that predator can pull up his pants.  Period.  No second thought.  I knew this 22 years ago when my daughter was gracefully growing inside of me.  I know this everyday and forevermore.  Help is my middle name, even when I may be requesting, I can feel others' pain.  Maybe there in lies the motive for my anger today.  Maybe my anger is ever present because I so strongly feel the hurt around me.  I hurt for the children unnecessarily put in contact with predators, unhealthy adults who were given multiple chances to prey, given permission from their bosses, their confidants, their elders, their bishops and cardinals.  I hurt for the children who lost their youth and live daily with doubt, and wonder why they deserve their horror.  I hurt for the students at Penn State who do not understand the severity of their university's indiscretions, their judgement clouded by the pedestal's shadow.  I hurt for the believers who follow doctrine, blindly and unquestionably, their muteness deafening.  

Yes, to be human is to err.  I, of all humans, am a walking err.  I will not cast the first stone.  Too late for that pebble.  I'm looking for a rock to chuck, a boulder to roll, a stick of dynamite, anything I can use to awaken senses and knock heads.  Wanna' join me?

go green!

peace and love

~L

I'm hungry. I'm foolish.

I am the one in our family that brings up the death discussions. 

When I was in college, many years ago (ahem), I was alone with my step Grandmother when she coded in the hospital and died. She was the first body I stared at lying in a casket wearing caked make-up, not the way she looked all those weekends she slept at our home. 

I wrote about it and felt better.

I took a course at Indiana University called "Death and Dying" and read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' book about the stages of grieving.   After studying dying, death, and how our loved ones are affected, I promised myself to plan my arrangements.  I bring up the subject freely, with my husband, my kids, my siblings, my parents...just as if the interest of my organ donation request and eventual cremation is dinner table talk.

I live and I die everyday. 

 We all do. 

  If we prepare for life's daily routines, then we should also plan for

 the day we die...and a few days after that.

Look at one day in a life of a mortal being.

One day we cannot choose. 

Life and death are in God's hands.

The most we can plan is the celebration of and the dispensing of worldly possessions, 

including this body we wear now.

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

~Steve Jobs (Stanford commencement speech, 2005)

Life is NOW...let's LIVE!

~L

How did I get here?

I am the face of depression. 

I am the face of mental illness.

I am the face of mental health.

I am the face of recovery.

I am the face of emotion.

I am the face of misunderstanding.

I am the face of change.

I am the face of passion.

I am the face of humanity.
I am the face of generosity.

I am the face of frustration.

I am the face of negativity.

I am the face of a wife.

I am the face of a mother.

I am the face of a sister.

I am the face of a daughter.

I am the face of family.

I am the face of your friend.

I am the face of creativity.

I am the face of a nurse.

I am the face of reality.

No longer can I hide. 

No longer may I crawl away.

I started writing here two years ago, when I felt like I found buried treasure.  My writing voice tucked away and safely stored.  My passion, masked by the veil I so proudly learned to cover my inadequacies.  My feeling, my soul, my longing for more, all gradually reappeared as I looked inside myself, as I honestly asked, and stubbornly demanded answers.  I have some now.  I will hear more soon.  I’m on the path of redemption.  I am serving penance for my missing years.  Years began a lifetime ago this month.  Years I was granted by God and years I lived unconsciously, mind and soul split into pieces, like torn paper floating downstream.  I was lost and now I’m found.  Or something equally dramatic and less prophetic.  How did I get here?

cue Johnny Cash...

I thought about this keyboard all day.  Thoughts positive and light, waiting to be pieced together and shared.  Here goes…

Been kinda’ down the last few months for whatever reason or sense of something missing.  Been searching, yearning, reaching…for something undefined and needed.  Overanalyzed everything.  Pushed people’s buttons til they walked away.  Hid from others because they could not see.  Blah, blah…the same old story I tell with every breath I take.  Evolution of L.  Sad saga.  Life goes on.  And WTF!

Pullin up those proverbial bootstraps and beginning again.  I fired and rehired myself.  Not sure when the metamorphosis ensued, or the event that triggered.  Not gonna’ over think this one, just gonna describe the feelings.  Hands inside the car, seatbelts fastened, tray tables set for lunch…I’m feeling better.  I feel good.  Smiling.  Positive.  My thoughts are turning toward the sun and my shoulders feel looser.  Cluttered cobwebs be gone!

So what?  So let’s enjoy, shall we?

I was called to give advice to a friend whom I’m just beginning to know.  The subject matter was only familiar because the problem involved a female, which I sometimes play on TV.  My friend is a man and I have no experience giving this kind of advice to a man. Long story shorter, I found my perspective intelligent and fair and I came away feeling strong and straight and alive.  Although my friend’s situation is heartbreaking for him, a door has opened within my soul and I feel the fresh air circulating in my brain.  Placing myself in another woman’s shoes in order to fulfill his answers, in order to create temporary solace, with hope that he can see the bigger picture before his cliff rises to meet his doubts and fears, wishing I could make sense of the unknown in order for his heart to continue beating…I listened for hours and I played my part.  He claims I helped him.  He thanked me for caring.  He continues to battle against his broken dreams.  And I pat myself on my back.

Something’s shifted.  Energy movement from him to me?  Chakra, karma, ying, yang?  Insert a profound quote.  Re-tweet from Buddha or to write love on her arms (TWLOHA).  Read a paragraph from my nurse’s notes in a resident’s chart.  Clicking. Jiving.  Dancing.  Mentally moving to the beat of another part of myself.  My confident self.  Shit I feel good typing these words.  Thinking this way, claiming this land as my own.  By myself, using my learned skills and practiced talents.  I work my earth to produce more.  More me.  More of my mind.  More to share with you.  If you’ll have me.

I have a garden metaphor pertaining to my growth.  I’ve sprinkled my garden throughout one or two blog entries, hoed and tilled and fertilized over time.  Ignored it too. Today the muddy path and tangled roots are clearing.  My seedlings are planted and  sheltered from the wind and snow that will fall again.  Spring will come, says my French class friend.  From afar I watch his moves.  Learning what he began teaching me last year.  To live today and love today.  To be grateful for who I am and who surrounds me.  Tragedy lurks and fate occurs and only God knows what time schedule we fly by.  No use to worry or ask why.  Create, elate, celebrate! 

Jb, you opened my eyes and pointed my gaze inward.  You encouraged me to bust open my soul’s windows, to enter cautiously into the dark depths of myself, kept hidden and cold.  You reminded me of a lifetime where my heart was clean and fresh and trusting.  You represent a part of myself, of my life, that was forgotten and left for dead.  You revived me without intention.  You assured me by proxy.  You did what I remember of you three decades ago:  shared kindness.  I didn’t realize how lost I was until you helped me find my passions, my dreams, my unanswered questions.  You lit the spark inside of me that I had no idea was dying.  I had no inkling of its existence, of the flames preparing to ignite. 

FIRE!!!!

So I ran.  I ran into my fire.  I’m a slow learner, a procrastinator, distracted and unstructured.  I’ve been running through my fire for months, fanning flames with beer and chocolate, throwing on logs made of restlessness and doubt, walking over hot coals instead of walking with God.  The warmth engulfs me and I become complacent and charred.  Such is life.  Life worth fighting for.  Life lived once on earth and life of grace to live later.  No matter how fast I run, or how hot my soul’s fire, life will lead.  I am life’s follower.  I am part of the massive picture, the one I cannot begin to see unless I believe.  Unless I allow my talents to emerge positively.  Unless I allow others inside, even when I doubt they will understand.  Unless I turn my face to the sun especially during the dark of night.  Unless I forgive myself for my past.  Unless I open my perspective to possibility I fear.  Unless I slow down enough to hear your soul’s song.  Unless I tend my garden and share my laborious fruits.  Unless I look around the blinders and stretch my head out of the sand.  Unless I ask and unless I answer. 

Peace
Hugs
Light
Love
~L

peace, love, understanding ~L

Thank you Lord for understanding women.

Women hear me.  Women know what I'll say before I say it.  Women move closer when they see tears.  Women touch, distract, remember, realize, and touch again.  Women in my life are special and I hope I treat them as such.

Lately I have not felt like myself, like I should, like I expect to.  The cobwebs are accumulating and cross stitching inside my mind.  No room for additional thought patterns, no open runways to land on.  Clouds hover over my damaged wing.  The wing I repaired over the year is still weak.  Still hurting.  My new feathers wilting under the typhoon of sound.  The carousel's lights flash and I'm blinded temporarily.  All the horses and tigers smile as they circle past.  No open seats for this rider.  The queue for you.

Exit, reads the sign.  Purge and push open that steel door.  Walk slowly down the dark alley.  Don't look over your shoulder.  Keep your eyes on the blue light, gradually enlarging to the rhythm of your steps.  Feel the faint breeze on your cheek, smell the rain and the possibility.  Breathe.  Breathe deeper.  Almost there.  You're so close.  You're going to make it.  Concentrate and keep moving.  Let your soul sense direction and your body follow.  Stop questioning.  Stop wondering.  Embrace the warmth of anticipation manifested within.

walk out into the sunburst street sing your heart out sing my heart out I found grace inside a sound I found grace that's all that I found and I can breathe breathe now breathe (U2)

seattle says...

 

At night I sat on the roof and shot my photos of the twinkling lights and lit storefronts.  I was mesmerized from the minute the airplane began descent...sunshine and mountain profiles greeted my midwestern mentality.  

I shall return to you again Seattle, 

to your diverse population walking the sidewalk hills, 

to the great service and friendly strangers,  

your music and meals and home brews,

to the culture in the park and the creativity at the market, 

 to the shipping lanes and flower potted piers, 

 to the tolerant lifestyles of your neighborhoods, 

to creative opportunity and self preservation, 

to your forested foothills and falling water

 

to your naturally beautiful highway drives

  to continue my journey, renew relationships

live now...in God's country.

15 and counting...

we are now officially an exclusive group

living on the shady side of blogland

helping each other find words to use and songs to sing

sharing our fuzzy wuzzies

sharing our shitty gritty

real stuff

real people

real goodness

I expect fair reason

I expect calm critique

I expect YOU and I

I expect to laugh and cry

Please welcome your peers and allow their fears

please remember your p's and q's

feeling is allowed

expression is welcome

comment

link

think

listen

hear

~please sign up for email subscription (over there>>>>>>>>) so you don't have to sign in and check for new posts.

~if you want to guest post, email me. you may wish to privately publish your art and see the comments follow. you may want to talk about a subject important to you and watch people act. you may enjoy creating poetry and secretly want to share. I hesitated too. I put my faith in YOU. I began again and unlocked my soul's secrets...and I've survived. God's blessings and peace be with you.

Love,

~L

sky over Muskegon

viewed from my car at the Meijer gas station

Coldplay CD blaring

A/C blasting

Breyers chocolate melting

shot the movement and changes

time out for twenty minutes

cathartic release

daily meditation

reminder of our awesome God

and available blessings

on this west coast

summertime sunset

amen for peace

walk with me

hope and faith have no idea

their defenses down because of who they are

supposed to be and should have lingering nearby

lost in the shuffle

blending with civility and reality

overlooked, overlooked, overcome 

come closer to see what I mean

feel the heat where cool crests of wave crash

enter this storm, cautiously

you are welcome 

bring your faith and hope

even though they won't fit into this part of the puzzle

this story's only just begun

many years lie ahead, awaiting self confusion

awaiting and aware of the hoops jumped through

the ones closing as we speak

the lines drawn in red crayon 

red, red

read your rights

believing only gets faith through the night

dreaming about escape sets precedent for tomorrow

go to where the sun sets

feel your face burning the tears as they roll

watch God's country, He's waving at you

come in, just to get your feet wet, just a little while

just a little while

in a little while

the water sings a lullaby

the wind pushes notes into your ear

long note, longer, short, short

crescendo toward sand

tiny grains between toes distract from thought

oh, how I love the dampness of the rolling fog and the whitecaps' spray

breathe deeply the humid air

pull beach into your lungs and breathe, breathe, breathe

humidity tries to pull but humanity pushes 

reality stands against sound

hear the seagulls crying as they gather to fly

listen to the dunes reverberating laughter

recall the human kindness at home

ah, home

where my heart lives

where my heart beats

naturally sound, artificially strong

fighting for each moment

God given faith fight

following heart beats and hope

hoping and wishing and praying for time

passing time

rock of ages

rocking on and on and on

hiding within plain sight of expectations

grasping at straws of light slivering through the dark door

gasping for oxygen and acceptance

following the red brick road, dimly lit through shades of grey

one step, one more, another one

through the sludge of winter's landscape

trudge your path around spring blooms, watch the earth opening

summer sunshine fills the week and you arise to face its glare

arise

awaken

awareness pulling at your cluttered frontal lobe

forcing you to find what's missing

and return to sender immediately

please attempt to repair and rebuild, you will feel better soon

trust 

trust

try

RN again

yep, I got the job I interviewed for last week and wrote about here.  Thankful for your support as well as that of my family, extended family, fb friends, and of course God...who, by the way, always leads me on the path I need to walk.  Duh! 

Why I freak out over an interview when I've been describing myself to social workers and psychiatrists and family members for decades, I'll never know.  Just me and my insecurity dueling at the front of the line.  Step right up, see the middle-aged nurse doubting herself again.  Place your bets on the time she takes to SNAP OUT OF IT!  

uh, hello, where am I?  I'm employed?  I survived the self-sell?  

I earned opportunity!  I will be working! as an RN!   Wait, what?

AND MY JOURNEY CONTINUES~~~

to the middle

toward community

hearts mending

hopes growing

view, frame, focus

begin again

again

PEACE,

~L

peace for our son

Tonight he stormed and thrashed his way through the main floor.  My words biting through his brain like the concert music he just returned from.  A chore undone was repeated and requested.  The soft sounds of my parental voice threw him over his edge immediately.  I could feel his volatility rising, see his body tensing as he vomited disrespect and distrust.  Of his mother.  For his parent.  At this stoic human provider of warmth and comfort and all things Maslow.  Choking on tears and frustrating thoughts of incompetence, I forced myself to stand and look this beast in the eye.  This is not my son, what have you done with him?

For years Jeff and I have protected, guided, taught, allowed, modeled, provided, listened, comforted, praised, encouraged.  Two children born in two years.  Life's lessons learned on the job.  Our God given fallibility attached to our backs like super hero capes.  Nobody's perfect.  We are trying our best.  Learn from our mistakes and pray for forgiveness.  No manual, no instructions, no assembly diagram.  We received our kick in the ass and landed face first in family first.

Our intentions were always positive, however negatively we rated our performance.  We should of, could of, would of.  We have to, must do, plan to.  Our children became our purpose.  From this day forward, or forever hold your piece.  Today they are almost adults.  And soon we'll wave proudly as they march in their determined direction.  We poured their foundations and watch as they build up their future frame.  We have amassed hammers and nails and power tools to lend.  Our work gloves are nearby in case they request our input.  Rehearsed nods of approval are ready.  Wait!  The wind has picked up and that delicate two by four has collapsed.  One support stud is missing and has left a gaping hole for cold rain to fall through.  Step back before it falls on you.  This mess needs fixin...Super Parents to the rescue!

We have the professionals in place.  This is not our first trip to this rodeo.  We have our confidence in tact.  Took a couple decades to arouse.  Husband and wife are on the same page, the page we've been reading for 18 years.  Our hearts are locked and loaded, our words shelved methodically by circumstance.  The song remains the same: point him toward success.  We have taught ourselves the ins and outs of our son.  We know what ticks him off and turns him on.  We recognize his faces, smirks, gestures, tones of voice.  We can feel his mood before both of his feet cross the threshold.  We realize his fears and we have expressed our understanding of his anxieties.  Life is one scary four letter word, yes it is.  We are here to coach you to the first down.  We have the resources, the materials, the safety net.  Please let us.  We may be your last lifeline before the real world rears its ugly face.  We will not give up.  You are stuck with us and we pray for your heart to find peace.

God, please allow our son the strength and confidence in his abilities so that he can begin his life walk.  Lord, please bless the community with empathy, compassion, and patience as we journey with our son.  Thank you for providing our family with another day together.  We promise to care for one another as Jesus taught us.  Amen.

searching...

sun has appeared

finally

I was feeling kinda' blue

really a grey shade

hostile comments left floating in the room

unhappy child left the room

better to clear everyone's mind

he acts sad and feigns control

what is a parent to do for you?

say the word and we jump higher

leave your fear at our door 

only compassionate empathy lives here

in our hearts

in our concerned glances

after tantrums and telling-off

getting more difficult to see the bright light inside you

we miss your light

your sweet smile and sweet sound

 your laughter

relaxation rote

reap the benefits of our experience please

only you can choose

and we wish you would

sooner than later

later we can't catch you in our double strength net

don't you want to learn the ropes

of life

of the road

of the street smarts you desire?

you have the freedom to refuse and rebut

we accept your independence

your fresh perspective

sense not sensation

logic and love and more logic

 our job from God

your job from God

just do it...or die trying

tell it to me tuesday on wednesday

Tell it to me Tuesday, a little late.  It's a 10 minute free write so here I go:

Listen to yourself.
Truth or dare?
who's truth?
not for you or me to claim.
I know mine and you know yours.
Let it be.
let go and let God.
That's what you preach so let's put your money where your mouth is.
Yes, you know who I'm talking to.
You.
Me.
everyone.
because I have words and feelings and truth to share also.
and have I been negative about your ideas?
never.
have I hurt you...
despite your interpretation of hurt, like lack of laughter
whatever you search for I hope you find
your heart is large
your mind is open
your humor is...humorous
I like you but.

Hello L
I like you too.
your truth is refreshing
you are using your gifts as you should
as God wants
love everyone
love yourself
love life
laugh and live

my world is alive
thank you for joining me
thank you for your opinions
thank you for letting me know what you think
you don't really know me
unfortunate for you
too bad, so sad

how's that for funny?

Made in America

 

(NPR's photo)

living on credit and courage
broken dreams

brown pelicans wearing oil

big corporations watching the dow instead of the drill

the little people

big money

the Man

God's creatures

tar balls

threatened livelihoods

dead fish and drowned hopes

tired efforts

swimming in sad

pushing against potential

Spike Lee and Anderson Cooper

Presidents past and present

volunteers wiping blades of grass and foul feathers

fishing industry waits

families wonder why

I ache and cry

write and ache

read and watch

share shots 

aware of our fragility

futility

falliability

Inspiration

Let go and let God.

Use what you have and don't worry about the rest.

Live every moment as if it was your last.

Enjoy the scenery along your path.

Wake each morning with fresh perspective.

Apologize and move on.

Be honest with yourself.

Learn as you go.

Collect memories and dust bunnies.

Make memories and positive impressions.

Dance like no one's watching.

Feel your family.

See your soul.

Smell your ideas.

Hear God.

Touch lives.

 

just one thing

Recently a friend asked me what I was afraid of, why I'm not opening my heart and "using my gifts" on my blog, like I used to do...Challenge!  

Well he's not too far from right:  I have held back a bit. Since my words to important people in my life, people of my life, people I live for, set off a firestorm of anxiety. Some people are hurt.  Some are helped and some helped me.  Some wonder and watch.  Some question my processes.  Human beings I love, know more me.

I responded with face to face conversations, more truth, and putting my best work back into 'draft' mode.  Why?  To settle what I stirred.  To see what soup I created out of spontaneous epiphany.  To wait for the dust to settle.  To step back and peer through the window.  To talk to my husband instead of write about talking.  To assess my artistic senses with God's lead.  To watch my world through opened eyes.  

Perspective gained.  Respect delivered and received.  Confidence soaring on mended wings and meaning.  I've found and discovered something new each day since I wrote this piece.  Each moment lived with my blessings and family and friends, lived and loved and longed for more.

Here is more of me...just one thing.

 And I want it so bad, it's the first thing I see when I wake~my morning jacket

 

You may or may not have noticed a change in me. I've made a discovery about myself.   I've unwrapped a few layers and found perspective.  My new view.  My eye for the shot and my feel for the words. Talent.  Art. I am artistic. Two hobbies restarted in the past 6 months for the purpose of sorting and compartmentalizing priorities, goals, and next steps...Poof!  These ARE your priorities, goals and next steps. Really?  Who says?  How do you know?  Do you have proof?

They fit me.  I fit into them.  Yes, like a glove.  The feelings of satisfaction and purpose and knowing...priceless and unexpected and warranted.  You may understand this passion for self discovery.  You may understand how you look in your mirror and congratulate yourself.  You may know feeling accomplished because you completed, finished, succeeded, attempted, adhered.  You may have felt satisfaction and pride.  You may know how I feel now.

I am the lighting for my shot.  I am the thesis for my essay.  My fingers unconsciously moving across the keyboard produce comprehension.  My eyes hunt and search for composition among the mundane.  Naturally talented, gifted, surprised.

And I have proof.  This is not random thought trying to fit into specific challenge.  This is not a whim suggested by behavior of another.  I did not choose these creative expressions.  They chose me.  God chose me.  I accept my gifts and promise to handle them with care.  Thank you.

So now what?  Where to go, where to take my writing and shooting?  How do I use them for the greater good?  Funny how the expression, "starving artist" keeps popping into my mind.  Making money from my recently found completeness may be difficult or unnecessary.  Maybe my talents are not meant for production.  Maybe I should be shooting and writing to spread the word, the news, to educate, initiate, expedite.  This is not all about me.  It's bigger than me.

I am filling with spirit and my soul is awakening. I've worked at nothing purposely.  My work, my creative work, is my purpose.  My meaning.  ME.  I feel defined for the first time ever.  Not labeled with the role I must play or the line I should walk.  I feel discovered and highlighted and glowing.  The cracks of my years are aligning into a supportive foundation.  Goodbye fog, hello structure.  My structure.  This crashing force, energized by fresh purpose, keeps me breathing.  Breathing easier now.  Breathing the breath of my future.

My entire life has been a search party for this very day.  My day of unconditional love and honest acceptance.  My day to prove to family and friends, past and present, that I can do it.  Not just say I can.  Mean I can.  BE I can.  This unconditionality does not originate from the love of a human being as I believed it always would.  Should.  No, this brand spankin' new confidence, joy and longing, grows from within myself.  My soul and mind have enmeshed into a shining colorful aura and has settled peacefully into the chambers of my heart, the recesses of my skin, and rides gently the rapids of every breath I take.

I don't want this feeling to end.  Rough, raw, and rare with a sprinkle of humility.

People who know me and my search history, may think my methods have been haphazardly conducted.   I had to follow the threads, no matter where they went, as long as I felt loved along the way.  Acceptance by proxy.  Patterns formed and habits stuck.  Four decades makes marks and leaves scars and develops self reputation.  Self labels are applied and the consequences are invisibly damaging.  Beliefs form out of fragments of behavior, theirs and mine.  Settling comes with the territory of balance.  Expression dims as necessary and whole pieces break off the core.  My core.  My wishes and dreams.  My wants and needs.  My self, my being, my id and ego.  Cracking up and cracking open.  Investigations initiated and specialists referred.  We can rebuild her.  

Writing sporadically I soothed demons.  Shooting infrequently, I shared love.  Sparks not strong enough to create fire yet.  Keep rubbing those sticks together...you'll get it eventually.  Don't give up.  Keep trying.  You can do it.  Do what?

I don't want to list the ventures, a-ha moments, or sure things that strung me together over the years.  Sacrifices were made for my eventual success and martyrs wait patiently for their reward.  Here it is.  This is it.  I have found what I've been looking for.  I am ready to continue to self-nurture my strengths.  For the first time.  For the last time.  For now.  No more looking.  No more wonder.  This is my talent, my being, my core.  Nice to meet you.

'I see YOU'

my friend @ Mainland Streel has a 30 day challenge of blog prompts...

here's one of my offerings for day 11

a photo of myself, taken recently

(you may have seen this one already)

Chicago
my kinda town
city life
man's making
God's coast
God's people
with and without homes
or names
or numbers on plastic cards
people I talk to
smile with

one man sings to me
makes me laugh
outside the art house
under the lions
on route 66
just up the street
the famous street
named after my favorite
Michigan
my home
he has none

up the street
down the avenue
under the L tracks
above the clouds
inside the window
around the corner
bakery

hidden gems
city sanctuary
shiny sparks
dull dust on the thrift store shelves
black and white framed precisely
 sun stoked brick
bursting freckles
swift steps stalking the shot
one posed, one not
Linclon Park
Paulina
saturday swoon
walked way past noon
 
my home here
and there
and wherever I roam
city or country
I am the mouse
muse
meant for

 music and beauty and sweet smells and sounds
visions of grace and greed and grime
arousing suspicions
reflecting red white and blue
for you
with or without a job
flying high and expecting higher
on the seventh day
scraping the clear sky
 waving at the little people
 below
 with or without homes
the silence of history surrounds
Sunday

alas, the artists speak
in the bulls eye of business
Chagall, Calder, Picasso
mosaic of millions
great orange bird bending
face the music
on public property

see the sights
touch the steel

assess each angle

wonder what he was thinking
feeling and saying
about the people passing
 staring
 loving and learning
 ignoring and inspiring
 taking for granted
 and granting permission
providing purpose
 of puzzle pieces fitting
 where they weren't allowed before
 of childrens' eyes affected
 by their internal light
 never lost
 always found and flourishing
 art

 raindrops and river
rushing to meet the train station
 last minute focus
 last looks
someone else's photography
inside someone's former library
on the famously named street
where I met the man
with no home

full circle
three days
one person
hundreds of views
thousands of thoughts
memories amassed
purpose
point
direction
intention
meaning
of life
in
God's city

she thinks, therefore she writes

~Writing helps center me, whether I’m read or not. Put myself out there in private as a trial run and then approach life with thoughts in order and behaviors tested.~

I wrote the above words sometime in this past year.  When I was writing letters to an old friend, trying to play catch up, and I discovered that I was writing.  The more I wrote, the more I felt.  The more I made my fingers do the talking, the better I felt.  About myself and what I was thinking.  My mind opened, purged, let off steam, sorted and culled everything that needed culling and sorting.  As the quote says, I put myself out there.  First privately, now publicly.  Either way, I'm testing the waters of my next step.  Is this how I really feel or should I ask another question and critically think my way through this challenge?  Practicing and perfecting and persuading myself that my thoughts are valid and worth listening to.  

Don't you ever feel like your mind is about to explode from the myriad of useless information you've collected?  or because the important issues have been pushed to the back of the mind's closet where they are taken for granted and they begin to mutiny for release?  And when the mind makes up its mind, be prepared for rumbling, raging, running thought patterns.  Maybe mine are different then yours...thought patterns, I mean.  I know mine work well in some discussions and not in others.  I accept that my way to think and rationalize may be opposite of yours or just a bit off center.  This is precisely why writing is good for me:  the catharsis of releasing my jumbled thoughts in order to make sense of it all.  My trial run before I meet face to face or phone to phone.  I am a card holding member of foot-in-mouth club, so I know I must practice my communication craft.  Patiently, gradually, purposely, I teach myself.  The words flow freer through this keyboard and my relationships blossom because I write before I speak.  Aren't you relieved?

I write what I think.  Authors put their ideas on paper, as the old saying goes.  I am an author.  I write about what I have experienced, what I have seen with my mind's eyes, what I know to be true in my mind.  Get the picture?  I don't write about you and your problem and what you did to work through that challenge and what you said to so and so.  I write me.  If my story happens to intersect with your story, than you can expect what I put down on my proverbial paper to be my perspective.  You write or speak or feel or think your perspective, and I, mine. 

Long story short, I am a more relaxed, centered, and thoughtful person now...because I write.  

Well, there's other reasons also, but they aren't necessary to discuss today.  Just as well, because I know that my verbose style of emoting and explaining can be tiresome to readers.  (If you got this far, you're probably not one of the tiring.)  

I enjoy blogging.  I have discovered an artistic community in cyberspace where I am welcome.  Another peer group to bounce ideas off of.  A fresh set of eyes to critique my work.  Change is good and healthy and invigorating.  I am changing and writing and living.  It's all good.  All God.

peace be with you,

~L