weight

 I work on extracting my thoughts from my brain.
Carrying false messages.  Dead weight.  Believable.
Sticky.  Messy fingers pulling at silky strings of hurt.
Struggling to sort the welcome from the un.
Writing because I force myself.  Forcing substance into the holes.
Moles holes.  Rabbit den tunnels.  Secret hiding places.  Hiding hell.


You tire easily.  Your flames fanning.  Patience waning. 
In a little while I’ll fall into you and exhale.  Soon.

the big lake

Whitecaps wash my shore.
Parallel foam lines push my limit
Rolling.
Reaching.
Lone moves in the dull darkness, shadow boxing stars.

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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)

so this is christmas

breaking bread

passing muster

serving the under served

with time and a half

in half the time

loneliness blankets

provokes and pokes

weakness stabs 

strength jabs

empirical miracles

refreshing spirits

unrelenting madness

recovering rhyme and reason

of the season

no particular reason

humans gather to break bread

souls rise and shake their dead

hallmark cards seal the deal

each meal

every bite

hands held tight

holding prayers and promises

hoping they float

on the river denial

warm bed and roof overhead

fire or might

through the night 

wait

listen

hear jingling

feel shaking

smell baking

angel's wings and sparkling rings

equalizer

baptizer

cold and sold out

bitter and exhausted

turnstile lines at double doors

assemble masses

arrest routines with faded magazines

wait

hurry up 

catch the conga line

step up to the plate

speak up

decide now

act later

feel today

forgive tomorrow

float hope

grumpy grey

 

walk on

writer's block, melancholic mood, wheels moving, thoughts forming, door ajar, light dimmed, emotions knotted, procrastinate and ruminate while I debate the meaning of my mind...this poem from July applies today and may become my swansong. Thanks for walking 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

mellow yellow

We visited brother-in-law G last week at his summer house in Fennville, MI.  Jeff's parents were visiting overnight from the chicago burbs so we spent our Saturday an hour south, hanging in the rural-ness of summer scenes.  G's cottage is tiny and quaint, filled with green pottery, landscape oils, a miniature wooden sailboat, beach glass and dune rock, figurine birds and fish and deer, and a retro 1950's chrome and formica kitchen table and chairs(I covet).  G is an antique dealer, which explains why I love to hang out with him. 

While Jeff and Dad were golfing, Mom, G, and I drove to the big lake, stopped at a yard sale, picked up a peach pie at Crane Orchard, and asparagus at the open market.  These are the dandelion stairs to the beach...it was overcast and 10 degrees colder at Lake Michigan so we didn't stay long.  More pics later.

Meals are always fresh and healthy at G's.  Grilled brats, Mom's German potato salad, freshly harvested MI asparagus, beer and warm peach pie. See the orchards at Crane's...that's where we bought a straight-from-the-oven peach pie.  The scenery from their parking lot is special.  You look over rolling hills of apple, cherry, and who knows what other trees and plants, growing happily for years in a small valley nestled between farmland.  Notice the dandelions dancing here too...

Back to our house and more yellow:

Ahem!  Yellowstone, 1969 camper...

sits in our driveway awaiting last minute repairs so this outdoor lover can enjoy peaceful forest photography with husband and dog at nearby state park...long overdue!

more yellow photos for You Capture @ I Should be Folding Laundry (and I really should be).

PEACE,

~L

fly on the wall

I know I'm easily distracted.  This morning I presented like a case study of impulsivity and good intention.  Alone in the house with my mental to-do list, it occurs to me and I smile.  Flitting between tasks, making stations of unfinished thinking.  Starting coffee, preparing oatmeal, logging on, shooting the sky, playing fetch with ging, opening blinds and windows...fill the Cuisinart with beans and press start, empty the bottom rack, add raisins and nuts and brown sugar and wheat germ, frame the red leaves with the white cloud, fill the dog's water bowl.  A fly on my wall would be dizzy watching my moves. 

And my mind moves too:  Oh, I forgot to turn on music.  I should start a load of laundry and fold this pile. The sky is beautiful today.  Thank you God for sunshine.  Where is that list I wrote Saturday?  Should check those due dates and send that letter and call that office.   Grrr, I don't want to think about job hunting.  Something's missing...yep, my coffee mug.  There, that's better.  Where to begin?

 ADD, absent minded, flighty, laid back, unconcerned, living in the moment, day by day, one at a time.  I've been described.  I've self-described.  I see me.  No pill will teach my brain to rewire a lifetime of patterns.  No psychologist will succeed in redirecting my cognition.  Logical answers don't exist to explain my reasons.  Or my rhyme.  Fly by the seat of my pants and land softly where I belong.  Here.

Stuff gets done.  Tasks added.  People called, contacted, reminded, and greeted.  Paper pushed and piles pondered.  Lists linger.  Interesting intentions intertwine with exacerbated expectations.  Hardness points inward.  Should, could, would.  Do your best and be honest about the rest.  Deep breaths and gentle stretches refresh body and soul.  Move forward.  Just move.  Outcomes will step offline and results will be reviewed.  Necessary processing done patiently.  Done.  One way or the other, done.

A moment...

 ...with the sunset

Lake Harbor Park, Muskegon Michigan

more moments @ I should be folding laundry

aftermath

Four days ago I sent out a proclamation to all my family and very close friends.  You read it too, "just one thing" post.  For some of my family members, this wasn't only an introduction to my recently discovered artistic passions, this manifesto was a warning flag.  I received a few calls and a few interesting questions about my mental health.  They have every right to worry.  They have every right to check up on me.  And I am thankful they did, and hope they do again.

No, I'm not melting down or dipping into the depressive dungeon.  My mind is clear.  No, I'm not taking street drugs, drinking beer with breakfast, collecting razors.  Yes, I am taking my Zoloft and vitamins and herbal supplements.  I'm sleeping, eating, crying, laughing, socializing, and getting outside.  All in a somewhat chaotic balance, but for me, just right.  In other words, I'm OK.

This is all about pulling up my proverbial bootstraps and digging into the fresh dirt around my roots.  Change is good, even if you don't agree with it.  Here's some Q & A that may be of interest:

"Why do you feel the need to share your innermost thoughts with strangers on the internet?"

 ~~Validation.  Encouragement.  Fellowship.  Education.  Opportunity.   Support.

"Why don't you just talk to your family, your friends, a professional?"

~~Please don't assume I'm not.

"You sound angry."

~~Some days I am angry.  Angry is a valid feeling.  But, no, I'm not angry in general.

"Is this another one of your passing phases?"

~~This is me. This excitement is a breakthrough which I explained in "just one thing."  My passion.  No sudden moves to an ashram.  No discard of my nursing skills.  Just a release of expression in writing and photography and my journey of their integration into life as I know it.

"Why did you copy your post to so many family and friends?"

 ~~I am sharing my love with you.  Simple.  This is how I roll.

"Do you realize that some recipients may misinterpret what you communicate?"

 ~~100% I do!  I know we have difference...of opinions, tastes, likes, expectations,  methods, communication, beliefs, values, behaviors, and how we interpret.  All I can say is, if you have a question, ask me.  If you have a concern, call me and we'll talk.  I respect you.

dear mommy and daddy...

I must postscript my hiding poem/post from yesterday...I freaked out my parents, I guess asking for help at the end.  And crying.  And the obvious struggle I represented through my words.

MOM and DAD, I'M OK.

I appreciate the concerned calls and the assurances of support, but this is life.  I feel, deeply sometimes, and I need to get it out of my head and heart and process how to deal.  I felt soooo much better after typing that poem and hitting 'publish'.  Better enough to go on with my day and the next.  And here I am today, writing normally and without blurry eyes and angst.  Maybe tomorrow I'll feel again...and write about it.

Enjoy your daughter, she's opening up to you.  She wants you to read her.  To know her heart.  To realize her motives.  To see her.  No strings attached.  No expectations.  Just learn.  Your eldest daughter is breathing fresh air, healthy oxygen, warm sunshine, and the fruits of YOUR labor.  Happy.  Smiling.  Now.

one of my Dad's former workplaces...

~thought of Dad when I found this shot under the L tracks in the Loop (chicago)

~yes, his name is Frank and he used to show me off at the barber shop when I was a child

(I do listen to your stories Dad!)

~many fond memories of visiting the zoo as a child

(although, not this one)

and this is what my family and I get to witness any day of our week...

God.

peace and quiet

Lake Michigan, Muskegon

you capture @ I should be folding laundry

just write

having lots of fun reading everyone else....real bloggers...real feelings and thoughts and talent ...filling my spinning mind with balance, and corrupting my balance of mind over matter...read, taste, learn, listen...testing waters and unlocking doors...admiring from afar and admonishing admirers...isn't blogging grand?

~~~~~~~~

I'm off to an adventure this weekend.  I'll be meeting my french class friend and possibly part of his family.  Lots to peruse and lots to shoot in the urban jungle.  Safari in the city.  Aiming shots at skyscrapers and roaming pedestrians.  Shooting the trophy life I longed for.  the past meets presently.  two worlds colliding, gliding, careening off line.  Looking forward to flight of fancy and fantasizing what-if's...at lunch.

ps:  I'm unemployed.  tbc...

sun kissed

 lake michigan

you capture @ I should be folding laundry

L says...

 

PEACE and LOVE

to you.

I should be folding laundry...You Capture

One of my favorite blogs to read is "I should be folding laundry" written by a creative Midwestern mom.  One of her talents is photography and she has created a sharing outlet for people like me, budding hobbyists.  You may link to her weekly photographic fun here or linking on a widget in my right hand column...the one of the lady with a camera in her face titled "You Capture."

Even though I've been lurking around the laundry blog for weeks now, this is my first attempt in this venture.  Each week brings a theme or starting point for our creative juices...this week we are challenged to find color in a winter scene.  I believe I've succeeded.

Sunsets over Lake Michigan are coveted and this visit was no exception.  Clad in boots and a few warm layers, hood up, gloves on, I spent an hour or so alone on the dog beach.  The warmer months beckon dogs from every neighborhood to swim and romp and poop on these shores.  This evening I was the sole inhabitant of God's graces.  Even my husband could only stand by for 15 minutes before he slid off to familiar monotony.  I shot hundreds of pictures using my new telephoto lens and I struggled to edit, crop, and choose the best to share.  These are a few of the best, maybe...