Just an old bird brain, that's me.

Good Morning blog readers,
Well one thing is evident,staying off of facebook has certainly provided me with more time to write about my thoughts -
Hence, here I am again, me and the box.
I woke up this morning thinking about two things.
One, as much as I say I am okay with my new middle aged status (40 is the middle of the road right?) I am not liking the new creaky version of my body. I hit forty and BAM every damn joint and muscle is aching.
This morning I began to diagnose the diseases I am surely suffering from as each ache took over my stiff self as I tried to stretch into a wakeful being. I am pretty sure I have bone cancer as this stiffness has to be something more than middle age and I am fairly certain to be suffering from some muscular disease to boot, as I would rather stay fetal every morning than stretch into the ever imminent charlie horse - But here's the thing, I probably don't have any diseases, the things I am feeling are par for the course of a deteriorating body.
Man I do not dig that.
Now I will readily admit that since I started school (as previously blog discussed) I have not taken as great a care of my body as my former gym rat self did - there simply is no time. And in my body's defense, I have used this outer self to the max, I have had a great time with this flesh and bone - there is little we have not accomplished together - we have hiked and run and lunged and danced and even leaned dangerously close to the edge of a cliff in Ireland - me and the bod have had some seriously good times.
Oh how I wish they would just go on and on forever...
I have a hard time with the concept that they cannot. One thing that I have learned about myself by way of my philosophy and English classes is that for me, the reoccurring theme of death keeps a popping up - To put it plainly I am not particularly comfortable with my own mortality.
Not that I want to be immortal and vampire like or anything, I just don't like the idea that all of this has to come to and end - and yup to my chagrin, it sure does....
The second thought out of my head, has to do with the Robin who has tirelessly worked to construct this beautiful little piece of natural architecture right in the pot of my Nana's plant. what the heck is that about? We are surrounded by trees here at my house, surely there is a branch in one of them better suited that this little plant pot.
And yet, there it is.
This connected the two waking stream of consciousness thoughts together in a relatable way for me.
My Nana, she loves birds. I mean she really does. She wasn't a bird watcher or anything, but she would sing with them when I was a child, she would whistle to them (great whistler) and they seemed to whistle right back at her. When she was here in Virginia at Gordon House (nursing home) she was always keeping track of the birds activities. Watched them for hours from her wheel chair in the sitting room and knew exactly who was connected to who, who was buildibg what nest where and funny enough the birds thoughts on the weather. She would tell me when it was going to rain by the behavior of the red cardinal perched in the tree across the street.
She knew all their business.
While she was there, I potted a creeping plant for her and placed in on the top shelf in the bathroom, directly in front of the window. The staff were always leaving the bathroom door open and it bugged her to no end - but being paralyzed means you are at the mercy of those with legs that work and their level of concern with your wishes.
I totally got why the bathroom door being opened bugged her, who wants to stare at a toilet all day long? So, in effort to ease her discomfort in the hours my family was not there to repeatedly shut the door,I placed the plant on the shelf thinking, maybe just maybe it would give her something to stare at instead of the commode.
When she left Virginia, that plant came home with me.
It has been sitting in my house, lonely for her eyes ever since.
Recently I thought it looked starved for light and so I put it on the front porch railing, thinking, yay for direct sunlight and yay for me having face time with Nana's plant as I sit on my porch. listening to the birds and drinking my morning coffee.
And then before my eyes, there was this nest. And when I say nest I say wow a work of art labor of love. Funny how we humans refer to the pre-baby time as nesting....This Momma Robin bird built her babies the most beautiful place to grow - I mean really the intricacies of her work are astounding to the eye - she did this with just a beak? Oh the the things a Mother will do...
And so, I have been thinking on this Robin and her TWO blue eggs that sit in a nest in my Nana's potted plant. I have been thinking a lot about what this may mean?
Maybe nothing - but that's bullshit, everything means something!
Is it pure coincidence that with all the trees, Momma Robin chose Nan's plant pot?
I think not.
I choose to believe, that me and the bird and the eggs and the nest and the plant and my Nana are all there together. And that maybe there is a message for me there.
Yes, there is a message for sure.
Maybe Nana is talking to me by way of the wind and maybe she whistled to that Robin to come show me the circle of life to ease my worried mind?
Maybe she is getting ready to say goodbye and is leaving part of her spirit here with me?
Maybe she is using the birds to tell me to write my damn book - The Canary Memoirs?
Maybe it's none of those things - But I KNOW it is something.
And so I wait, in my creaky ass middle aged body, feeling the sands of time dwindle in numbers and watch up close - on my own front porch the cycle of life unfold in nature. I wait for the meaning...
I get why she loved the birds and I get why I see myself as a 'bird not of this earth'
I feel a lesson and a book and a tattoo coming on...
Love and peace. peeps - have a Blessed and beautiful Friday.

shhhhhh

We meet again, me and my purple lap top...
I am sitting on my front porch, DESPERATELY trying to escape Motherhood. Call me wicked, awful, a terrible person if you will, but honestly, sometimes a Mom just needs to NOT feel like one.
Right now, this very moment in time is one of them.
Thing is, sometimes I miss quiet so much that I hurt inside.
I get really, really tired of hearing my own voice micro manage every little detail of life x 4.
Oh wait, 5 if you count mine...
That sentence right there cuts to the very heart of what I am feeling -
I - get lost - in them, and then I can't find myself even when standing in front of a mirror.
I wouldn't trade my babies for anything in the world.
I just sometimes wish that the other life I could have had existed simultaneously with the one I do have.
Imagine if there were a portal I could step through that would lead me to that place every once in a great while - how cool it would be to know the other me.
I bet she is a writer who lives in a small contemporary loft in NYC and that her bathroom sink is clean of toothpaste remnants.
I don't want to be her, I just wish I knew her.
I am not by any means settling by being the frazzled basket case who is hiding on her porch, typing on the box by the Robin's nest with two brilliantly blue eggs.
This life is grand - I just miss the quiet is all, and miss myself in the midst of the chaos and noise.
Motherhood is a full time job and I have been at it for twenty one years....
Twenty one long years - crazy to see those words before me...
Well... the kids have found me and are now DESPERATELY trying to convince me that ice cream is the answer to their contentment.
I guess the jig is up - back to the grind.

Kiss like sugar

Hey Blog readers,
So this morning as I attempted to de-frizz my mop top whilst standing in the humidity of the bathroom, I heard the front door close and realized that my kids were heading off to school without kisses. I began to yell "HEY HEYYYYYY" so that they would turn their little tails around and complete the morning ritual, to no avail- closed windows, ugh. As I sped towards the front door clad in nothing but my towel, I swung it open fiercely and almost fell right over Mimzy who had Not in fact heard me yelling, BUT she herself had realized that our puckers had not pressed together, she was coming back of her own accord to smooch it up with her Mommy. Phew...
I was blown away by the magnitude of the kiss I received, Holy Cow, my girl can kiss. Now maybe it is just that she has my full lips and so when they meet it's like yin - yang or like puzzle pieces fitting together, but personally I think my girl has just got some mad kissing skills.
Which leads me to the broader topic...
Kissing...
Is this an either you got it or you don't thing or can it be learned like any skill, fine tuned and tweaked to perfection? But wait, should kissing really need to be worked at???
I don't know, I just do not have the answer.
I will say that kissing is really important to me and honestly throughout the course of my life, with the exception of few, I have felt unbelievably let down by lips pressing against mine.
Now my Grandfather - he could kiss. He would vacuum suck my entire face off when I was a kid and yes, I admit it, I liked it. It's true that I would need a towel to mop off the excess saliva left on my face after he greeted me and it's also true that sometimes I hesitated going in for the kill, but despite the wide mouthed bass nature of my Papa's lips, what made his kisses the bomb were that he would grab hold of my little face and pull me in like he meant it. When he gave me kisses, I knew I was his little Pumpkin and I knew that I was loved because I FELT it. I loved his kisses so much that I even spoke about them in his eulogy - Oh Papa how I miss you...
When Mimz and I kiss it is the same way, BAM lightening bolt straight to my heart, I love this kid and reciprocity, she loves me back.
Our kisses communicate, they speak the language that kisses should speak,our kisses say what we are feeling.
The one this morning, in my towel on the porch said "My day would have sucked so bad had this not happened" - I felt it - she felt it- lippers against mine = relief for us both, normalcy, routine, permission to advance through the remaining day.
In addition to Papa and the Mimz, I would say my Nan is also a great smoocher, she's got game too.
Now to the really, really, sad and depressing part - the romantic kiss...
In my mind, and please tell me if I am wrong, the romantic kiss should leave you feeling lightheaded and dizzy every time - not recoiling in horror whilst simultaneously choking on a tongue.
I realize that there are aggressive women kissers who get into all that tonsil hockey shit, but I say, yeah no, not me, no thanks...
When lovers Kiss it should communicate, I am so unbelievably hot for you, NOT - I am trying to kill you by way of the Anaconda in my mouth.
A lover's kiss should say, I want you so bad I'm in physical pain with yearning, NOT -
let me cause you physical pain by breaking off your front tooth by smashing into it with mine.
Romantic kisses should speak the language of love.
Now again, I acknowledge, different strokes for different folks - maybe you like to be gagged and who am I to say "yuck" to your "yeah" - maybe if you are a man and reading this, you should consult with your lady before changing your style based on my suggestions...
At any rate here they are, take it or gag on it, your choice...
Lips are soft, let them press gently.
Let them move by way of the emotion leading up to the kiss.
Open your mouth, feel the warmth, don't however climb in to it with your whole body.
Touch other places too, a hand on a face says, I so want to be here.
Run some fingers through, even grab a little hair - loosely. (this is PG 13 people please)
Have the tongues say hello but don't have them tie in a knot or twist about uncontrollably.
Breathe while you kiss, nothing says yowza more than a little exhaled moan.
Let her lead, dance the same dance - don't dougie when she is doing the tango.
And finally, say what you mean with your mouth using absolutely no words.
A bazillion years ago at a New Years Eve party, a very intoxicated me took full advantage of the one night a year it is customary to kiss a lot of people,
It went like this -
Snowy Winter night, huge NorEaster - walls of snow. About two am, clubs had closed and everyone was gathering in the woods at a house of someone I did not know. Kimmie and I walked (stumbled) down the long driveway together, trying not to fall on the sheets of ice thicker than a rink. People were everywhere in hardcore party mode, loud music thumping from the house, continuous laughter, FUN FUN FUN all around us. Kim stopped to talk to someone and I saw a mutual friend coming, a good male friend, he was in a crowd moving up the path. The excited Happy New Year wishes began to exchange between us all, and then it happened....
"Heyyyyyyy Happy Newwww Yearrr" I smiled big and wrapped my arms about his neck to give him a hug,
he said "where's my kiss" and I shrugged, well what was one more? - so in I went.
HOLY HELL....
That boy pressed his big sweet smile right on top of mine and proceeded to kiss me so deeply,so sweetly and so slowly, my cheeks flooded with heat as did the rest of me and I fell limp right there in his familiar arms. When it finally ended and we drew apart, our smiles were even bigger than when we began. I remember thinking, as he was pulled him away from me, lingering on his smile as he continued to find my eyes despite the yanking, I thought aloud, DAMNNNNNNNN.
For a second I thought I had dreamed it, that was until I saw the sparkle in my eye glint off a snow bank....
The kiss said, "I have wanted to do that to you for so long"...
I have never forgotten that kiss and have been hard pressed to find a repeat in the years following...
Kisses are so intimate, faces meeting in the motion of love....
Ahhhh.... and so, I guess my point is this - make your kisses talk.
Make your kisses really communicate, and please if you happen to kiss me, please don't let it say, wow your trachea tastes good...

life is but a Monet....

Hi,
So as I was just driving home from school, windows down, DMB blaring, left foot up on the dash, I thought - I could go on like this forever. Just drive and drive and drive on an open country road with all the green at my eyes, the breeze in my hair, the music in my ears and the sweet smell of fresh grass and blooms in my breaths.
And then I thought of impressionistic art, and how that medium encapsulates what life comes down to. A series of ever changing impressions.
Monet that crazy, brilliant man, put up canvas after canvas after canvas and went back and forth between many works of the same subject - painting different hues created by the light of early morning and then the late afternoon sunset smolder.
And what Monet saw, may not be what I would have seen even to stand right beside him. I love that. I love impression.
And then I took the thought one step further and I thought,
well if you have wicked seasonal allergies, this scene I am wanting to drive off into, may be the worst thing you have even seen...Maybe you may see nothing for all the water in your itchy burning eyes, heck breathing in that fresh cut lush grass could very well cause you pain....My heavenly day could be your hand basket straight to hell.
And, is there really someone out there that doesn't love the Dave Matthews Band?
Could Dave's voice be like nails on the chalkboard to you? (I mean I cannot even fathom the thought, but whatever I guess anything is possible)...
Life is all impressions, unique, individual and to each his/her own.
I love that, again I say, I love that.
What we see is rarely, or if ever what someone else sees. What we see is only our impression, just yours and just mine.
I'm not sure why I though that was worth a quick mention, but I did....
Peace out for now.

I let you down...tail between my legs...

Good Evening,
Man is it beautiful out...
Forgiveness....Hmmmmm, what exactly is that?
Last night I watched a PBS program on the necessity of forgiveness and the steps that must be followed in order for this state of peaceful resolve to be attained.
It was interesting to say the least as the examples provided ranged from a Mother who left her children in order to find her true self, to the Rwandan genocide and the German burden of guilt for the Holocaust. It was heavy pre-sleep material to put it lightly.
I woke up this morning in a continuum of the thoughts I was in before my much needed slumber was finally attained. My mind was racing as I tried to find calm and snooze.
The documentary basically asserted that forgiveness is necessary in the face of pain or basically you re-live the wrong-doing again and again. If in fact death is involved, you die another death (an emotional one)
I would agree that forgiveness is essential to living a full life.
That however, is a lot easier said than done....
One absolute, is the necessity of proper steps to a legit apology. These are (for the wrong do-er) accept responsibility, apologize and ask forgiveness.
My question is what do you do, if the wrong do-er doesn't take those steps?
Is there a way to really forgive if the crime is not admitted and owned?
What if the wrong is denied and ignored and worst of all, put on you?
Then what?
I have had to forgive a lot of people in my life and I have had to beg forgiveness a few times myself.
This whole process, from either side of the coin, is extremely difficult, pain staking and life altering.
There are a few people I need to forgive, their crimes live deep deep in the recesses of my hidden, private heart.
There is one person (who I will not name), whom I desperately want to forgive but she won't let me.
And here I feel stuck and helpless because I just do not know how to get over that hurdle, that step of accepting responsibility.
I know that for her, she CANNOT face the blame and WILL not, EVER...
I know that no tragedy, illness or death-bed goodbye even, will cause her to budge from her safe place of denial.
I wish it were not so, but I would bet my life on it, she is permanently un-moveable.
And so, I am left holding the bag of pain, and in her sad, lonely eyes all the blame.
This totally sucks for me.
I mean totally, totally sucks.
I would like to say that now because I am a grown up girl and can better understand all the pain that this person had to go through in her life, that it makes it easier to forgive and forget - BUT,
that just isn't so, at least for me in this particular circumstance.
I understand her so much better than I did and that DOES relieve me of some of the fault I placed on myself for her lack of love - but it just doesn't = forgiveness, at least it sure doesn't feel like it when I am completely honest with myself.
(And of course you in blog land...)
So, what I have come to in my head for today, is that for now, I haven't quite moved on...
I want her to say she is sorry and she never will.sigh.
In order for me to be a part of her life, she has to do this - at the very least accept SOME responsibility for the burden she has given me. Until that happens (won't) I will have to continue to work on this process inside myself and try to find some state of peace minus that piece of the puzzle and her.
I will say, that for the most part I am not angry anymore.
I feel a great relief from being able to understand her even where she fails to understand herself and that makes all my rage dissipate in the flood of knowing...
And, I love her.... I always will. Regardless of, and in spite of, the broken off arrow that hangs out of my heart which her very bow has driven there.

This weekend I got in a small car accident - totally my fault.
I plowed in to a young lady driving her dads car as I backed out of my driveway, my stupid windshield wipers wouldn't shut off and I was distracted, I looked away.
I got out of the car and asked if everyone was okay and then proceeded to do the steps
1. accept responsibility
2. apologize
3. ask forgiveness...
I hugged these people like a million times until it occurred to me that maybe me being nice was annoying.
I said, "Is it making this better or worse that I am so sorry, cause if you need to be mad at me, I can totally take it?"
they laughed and told me I was sweet, and Dad, well when he showed up, pulled away from his fishing trip, there to assess the damage, well he hugged me too.
I thought to myself - well I did that right, if there is one thing I am good at, it is saying what needs to be said.
Forgiveness is so much easier minus the anger, so maybe I am getting closer with she who won't be named.... Maybe one day the hurt will dull like the anger did and maybe then forgiveness will appear before my eyes and say, "the steps aren't necessary if you practice them yourself"
I don't know if that will happen, but I sure hope so.
And so, if I had to sum up my thoughts for the day - if I had a message to deliver to those who want to hear it,
Do the steps.
Just do them and save the pain for when it counts for something that you have absolutely no control over.
God Knows (or Allah or Buddha) there are plenty of those circumstances to go around, lots of shoes in the air getting ready to drop....
Just do the steps....

Twister fit the mold (mood) that I am in...

At one minute before noon, I say Good Morning Blog readers, Good Beautiful Sunday Morning,
I woke up about an hour ago, the second round of waking, the first came at around 8 o'clock this morning as children discovered that the fertility Bunny/chocolate lunatic had been in the house and left treats for them. I don't know what that Bunny was thinking with the Justin Bieber CD in Mimzy's basket, she must have momentarily lost her bunny mind?
I have spent the last hour or so listening to the sounds of my life in gratefulness. There was the vacuum (and I wasn't pushing it, yessssss)- there was the stereo blaring, first Jason, then Dave, then Ben, now Maroon 5 (I just need a little of your time, a little of your time...)- there was Mimzy's voice every ten minutes or so, like the best snooze alarm ever, "MUMMA GETTTTT UPPPP" - there was Willa barking his ever loving head off at the little birdie that has constructed a beautiful masterpiece of a nest in my Nana's plant on the front porch - there were the birds outside of my open bedroom window gossiping amongst themselves, chirp chirp here chirp there - the coffee machine brewing and the repeated slam of the front door, then the back door - six feet running up the steps across the porch, front door open, front door slam, feet across the living room rug pound pound, on the linoleum in the kitchen slap slap and then to the back door, open, slammmmmmm laughter, yelling more laughter REPEAT....
I am okay with all of it. In fact I can think of nothing better than to listen to Jason discuss the merits of kissing off a smile, the kids in active play, the birds in chorus of productivity with me stretching beneath cool sheets, under the constant whir of the ceiling fan while in a contemplative post dream state.
I love Sundays.
I always have big ideas for all the shit I will accomplish on my ONLY day off. I will run important errands, or go on grand excursions to make up for everything I miss all week long, finally shave my legs.... I always plan to drag my ass out of bed bright and early to get a jump start on all my big plans - and every damn Sunday I push the limits of reasonable delay and instead lay on my tummy looking out my bedroom window, chin on my hands, and do a whole lot of NOTHING.
I love it...
The whole fam damn circles about me "Is this what you are gonna do today?" contempt and disgust for my laziness evident in the sting of their accusations - sometimes I wish they would shut the hell up, are they blind to what I go through every week? - but most Sundays like today, on some appreciative level I am thankful that I am the old woman in the shoe... Their needy voices mean that I am needed and that's an okay state of affairs.
(when I have the pre-menstrual rage later this month and want to make them all drink tainted kool-aid, someone please make me read this)-
And with that,the Justin Bieber CD is thumping from the living room.
Is it sad that I am actually enjoying it?
And so, with that I will close the box and get upright since I believe I am seconds away from total familial melt down.
But before I do, I will say one more important thing... How very much I miss the place of a child's perspective.
Remember when mud puddles just called out to be jumped in without any regard for consequential clean up?
Mimzy is in the front yard in a bikini with the hose, she looks like she has spent a weekend at a music festival hula hooping and hurting boys with her beauty....
She is covered in the elements - she is laughing freely with her head thrown back.
Ahhh childhood, Ahhh Sundays, Ahhh to have had my own childhood and now watch theirs.
Upright here I come, sigh, smile.

I came to shed a little light on this darkening scene....

Good GOOD FRIDAY morning,
Because we are in a "holy" season right now, I thought it would be appropriate to comment on the state of holiness and Holier than thou-ness.
I try really hard to not be "holy than thou" about things in life. the older I have gotten, the easier this state of mind and action has been to achieve - I will be honest in saying that my current state of openness and non-judgment has not always been the case. In fact there is a young man in my Humanities class that always chooses the side of opposition in a discussion (on any given topic - doesn't matter the material) just simply to be oppositional. He reminds me a lot of my former, younger, less wise self.
With that said, I am Catholic. Made all the sacraments too. We are currently in the remembrance of Jesus' sacrifice and crucifixion for the sake of saving the world from sin. I love Jesus, no doubt.
However, now that I am more educated, I also KNOW that a lot of the Christian religion (all denominations) has been constructed throughout thousands of years by politics, power and land conquering and absorption. That is just factual.
Jesus was a real man, this is also fact.
Maybe he was a delusional schizophrenic who believed he was the son of God and if born today would be on Thorazine in a mental institution, labeled unsafe for the masses.
Maybe, he was in fact the son of God and sent by his Holy Father to save us from our sins.
My personal belief, is that Jesus Christ was a courageous man with a message of love, and a conviction to be true to his ideals regardless of consequences.
If only there were more like him, sigh.
I not only respect Jesus Christ for his beliefs, I keep him in mind sometimes as I set out to do bad - WWJD?
BUT, with that said, I have learned through my education and my own personal growth that Jesus is not the only way.
I studied a ton of world religions this semester and found that ALL of them had bits and pieces I would consider worship-able, some of them more than other no doubt, but the amazing thing is that all RELIGIONS ultimately strive for humanity to evolve to a higher level of self awareness, understanding and compassion.
Compassion would be key here for me and also inclusion. These two facets of religion are the most important in my view.
Compassion, well duh.
Inclusion, well because regardless of whether you believe in the Holy Trinity, Buddha or Allah - we are ALL HUMAN and therefore free to believe in whatever deity we so choose.
The reason I am commenting on religion at all, is because I see an anti-Muslim sentiment around me that I find displeasing and sad.
What cracks me up is that most people who have this anti-Muslim ideal, don't realize that Judaism, Christianity and the Muslim faith are off- shoots of each other and literally fit together like puzzle pieces. Although they differ in many ways, they are ultimately co-operative belief sets that differ at all based mostly on ethnicity and origin of Birth and oh let's not forget colonialism...
Muslim worshipers have the most unbelievably devout mindset that it makes me as a Catholic look like a slacker.
Did you know that as a self proclaimed Muslim, you make a vow to travel to Mecca at least once in your life to make the holy pilgrimage? Millions of people do this every year.
Did you know that Buddhists believe that Nirvana is in all of us already and that all you need to do to attain it, or find "your face before you were born" is to find that perfect state of emptiness within yourself - and by empty they mean no judgment, no conditioning, no pretty purses or computers...
INCLUSION people, inclusion.
We are humans. We are therefore, all brothers and sisters and brothers and sisters should never shun or shut out one of their own.
Now, I will say that I understand that MUSLIM and TERRORIST are synonymous for a lot of Americans, but this idea is also not okay for me, and shouldn't be for you as an American.
Terrorists are Terrorists and religion has nothing to do with it at all. Plenty of Christians kill Christians, hell Plenty of Christians killed million of Jews.
Terrorism is TERROR.
I also understand that the freak shows who flew the planes into the World Trade Centers were praying to Allah in the seconds before they turned to dust.To that I say, well of course they were - I'd probably resort to Our Father's and Hail Mary's too, seconds before my life materialized into nothing but a wasted purpose.
The people who attacked our Country and killed our citizens in the name of Allah were not making a religious statement with their actions they were making a political statement and happened to use 'their' God to hide behind.
This is no new concept throughout history and certainly shouldn't be credited to the Muslim's as the originator.
Terrorism is what our country was founded on if you really want to get technical, just ask any Native American Indian living on a "reserve" situated by a nuclear waste site, they'll tell you - Christian settlers sure did a number on their indigenous people, I believe in numbers upwards of TWO MILLION.
So, my point is this.
Let's celebrate Easter (if you do) being mindful that the reason we celebrate it now (in April) is because it fit nicely into the already PAGAN spring festival hence the bunny (fertility) and the other 'traditional' Springy things that have nothing to do with the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Let's be really mindful that before Jesus there were religions as far back as the appearance of Human's and that ultimately what every religion has had in common, is being the best human being we can be.
We must stop hating, judging, segregating and perpetuating a cycle of inhumanity that will do absolutely nothing but give people reason to become terrorists because why not, hate reigns supreme....
We are different and if you believe in God, and follow Christianity, then you know we are all created in God's likeness - you don't have to be Aquinas or Descartes to figure out that if you BELIEVE that, than YOU MUST BELIEVE we are all created in perfection, done deal nothing more to consider - Just be.
May you ALL be well...

we all do it the same way...

Hey hey hey,
For those of you who are not in Virginia, I feel it is my duty to inform you that the State, or at the very least my little portion of it, is completely NEON GREEN. Last week we had some intense rain and then, like it always does eventually, the sun returned and BAM, we are knee deep in pollen. My eyes have itched all day and I had to de-pollen even the inside of my house (open windows) I am not complaining - I am in itchy eyed, raspy throated heaven. Allergies have your way, you can't hold me down.
I love Spring days like the one I had today. I sat outside on the wall beyond the door at school and lifted my head high, extending and stretching my neck as far back as it would go before snapping, closed my eyes to the bright warm sun and took a deep breath as the breeze worked in time to not only blow through my hair but to also tickle my nose as it pushed my inhale along, a little assistance from the perfect moment to make it even more so. Ahhhh, Spring how I love thee.
Not only did I revel in the sunshiney breezes and absorb the very neon green into my soul, I excitedly popped in an old cd from the visor of forgotten music. I pried it free from it's dark sleeve as I left the parking lot at school, thought maybe it was high time it be heard and I smiled as I saw Mary's handwriting, DMB Virginia show disc 2....
The player was on random and so I had no idea what heavenly sound would flood my ears first..
It went kinda like this. bam bam bam bam bam bam bam ...Carter Beuford on the drums yeeahhh. Then this ripping base bow bow bow bow bow....Stefan you sex pistol you.
Then Boyd Tinsley you crazy Motherfucker, hurting those strings with that magic wand you call a bow....And then my man and his rhythm guitar dadadaddadadda, like foreplay, just like foreplay. sigh.
And then the archangel himself, Leroi, blowing his light through the brass tube, a bong if ever there were one and I am HIGHHHHHHH.
The very first song I fell in love with, Ants Marching.
I remember just the moment it happened for me, the moment that this song was etched on my heart and I felt not so alone in the world for having seen myself an ant...
My very first DMB show, THE SHOW that changed the direction of my life, but that is a story for another blog.
Focus, DEB FOCUS.
I think I was 24, I think is was July. I know that I traveled my ass off to get to where I was going that night. Flew in from Texas, landed in Boston tan and refreshed, drove home to Maine, grabbed my other clothes, my bag of pot and the one sweet world picture in a bread tie and hit the road to Connecticut. Yeah, girl will travel....
This was my first DMB show and the night I would party with Dave to the wee hours of the AM, but again, sheesh FOCUS DEB.
Ants Marching - shit, it was crazy, and as usual in all crazy beautiful moments I did the Deb weep/laugh - it is the most amazing feeling the two emotions merging and forging through my chest together up and out, a sound like no other when it exits my mouth. If you are ever nearby when this happens I will clutch you, and pull at you while I furiously jump up and down, a lot.
The show was AMAZING and I was in awe, like real awe. Boyd Tinsley's hair alone, spreading up and cutting through the neon lights, like a swimming jelly fish in reverse as his big white teeth grinned so wide that the chocolate skin seemed cut clear in two for the joy of that smile - that sight alone - awe inspiring. I can remember my own joy gathering, building steam from some pressure cooker deep in my guarded soul - guess what baby you're about to break free...
The whole night, wow.
But the moment I am getting to, the one I remembered today in the car, careening dangerously through the green, swerving to and fro about the yellow lines, was the encore - the traditional ANTS MARCHING - holy o'hell.
If you know a live DMB show, you know how it goes. But back in the day it was all new and fresh and unexpected, no one knew back then...
I will never forget how the girls next to me lit a joint just as the drum beats started and we all raised our hands to the air, joints ends waving like lighters and we cheered for the DMB National Anthem.
For most of my life, up until that very moment, I felt like a foreigner in a strange land, misunderstood, quirky, a bit beyond the norm - And then as Leroi unleashed his sax on the crowd and Boyd matched him wail for wail, Dave yelled "yeaaaaah Lawwwd" and the lights of the entire stadium came on, a static, penetrating electric white light.
My mouth fell open, I covered it with a protective hand and laugh/cried aloud for the sight of it...
Everywhere I looked, everywhere around me, people sang the words at the top of their lungs, heads thrown back in fierce commitment, sweat flinging from her to him, to me, to her, and back again, and everyone - I mean everyone was dancing the most ecstatic dance I had ever seen. Thousands and thousands and thousands of people in the throws of musical love. Then it peaked, the sounds frenzied from the energy and culminated in that climactic Ants Marching ending, and for the first time in my life I knew I was not alone.
I am tearing up just for remembering...
And so, today in the spring of my fortieth year, I listened to Ants Marching in the neon of a new green and felt grateful that I have taken these chances rather than placing them in a box until a quieter time....

(Once in a lifetime Mary, no boxes...)

dream a little dream for me....

Good Morning blog land,
I just woke up from the strangest dream and although I have no doubt that none of you will have any interest in what goes on during my REM phase, I just have to get it out of my head before it fades in detail anymore.
So it went like this...
I was in a house, not my own, in the dense woods somewhere?
And it was jam packed with people, Mary, Shawn the kids, my kids yada yada and yet,
in a remote little corner of the house, a living room nook or cranny I think, there was Dave Matthews.
YESSSSSSS. But no wait. He wasn't married to his wife Ashley (also a yessssss) But no wait... He had this bimbo of a girlfriend, you know the type "Heeheeheee" - when nothing is funny, got it?
And she was like straight out of 1985, tight permed curly hair, too much blue frosty eye shadow, too tight jeans - a mess to behold.
At any bizarre rate, Dave thought she was the shiznit - this girl was the apple of his eye - which was weird to me and yet made perfect sense because it was if Dave had taken a bite out of the apple picked right from the garden of moron.
He seemed void of all the insight and depth, completely different from the man that opens his mouth in a scream and all the pain of the world escapes and takes flight in chariot led by golden horses towards a higher existence somewhere where pain just doesn't hurt anymore....
Suddenly Dave was just plain idiotic. He was all about this trophy girlfriend who was for all intents and purposes nothing more than a glad trash bag.
I dreamed it, don't judge me - this is straight up dream time regurgitation.
And sooooo, it went like this.
"yeah Dave so I am thinking of going home up North" (me)
and he was like, "yeah but you hate the cold" (girlfriend "heehehheehhee" for no apparent reason?)
And it went on like this for a bit as we discussed the merits of Virginia vs. the Northern frozen tundra and his girlfriend just incessantly giggled while he salivated at the mouth as if every utterance from her lips was like honey straight from the bee.
Then, he said "so you wanna write a book ha?"
And then he asked if I would write his story and I said, "Sure Dave" but, in order to do that I really would have to go on tour with him and I became acutely aware that if Bimbette was his new 24/7 sidekick, that would not fair well for my mental stability or better yet, my slacking admiration for my hero.
I said "Really Dave?" bewildered beyond any sense of misunderstanding I had ever experienced, face twisted up in a furrowed brow so deeply lined it actually hurt to have this expression on my face. "Really?"
And then I said this, "Cause if this is it, if this is all you got, every song you have ever written is about to change for me in a way that may leave unable to take my next breath?"
And she giggled and I felt homicidal and remembered back in the early 90's where he came tome across the crowd of VIP's, when I first saw him in real time, curls newly buzzed, in orange plaid pants, so tall and so lanky and I thought man you are an orange and I want to peel you clean, and he held up that finger he used to pick his guitar and he mouthed "wait" to me and I looked behind me like an always ready comedian to see if it was the pretty girl behind me he was signaling to - but there wasn't one....And I remembered how later that night as he signed my Cd's and T'shirts, I asked him coyly, a good buzz gone round twice or thrice, I asked him with his spine exposed like keys to a piano, "Um do you mind if I just touch you, may I um just (exhale shaky breath - inhale deeply all the way up from my toes)run my fingers right along here (touching him gently) because there is an invitation and my answer is yess yess yessss."
And how he paused and turned his head in a lazy sexy smile and said, "I take it you'll be attending then?"
And how I LAUGHED because it was funny as shit and we WERE the same flavor of crazy and OMG who is this idiot he has dangling off his beautiful arm and where is my knight in shining wit????
Because #41 and Say Goodbye and every other angst ridden anthem of my life is about to become nothing more than a distant memory and I am going to freak out.
Change scenery -
then I stripped down to my bra and panties and went out in the pouring rain and thought, I have to know if I can brave the elements stripped down bare and I began to walk through the woods in my undergarments and I think a pair of pumps (?)
I walked and and the water rushed down my face continuously enough that I had to keep my lips defensively pursed to keep from drowning. My bra and panties clung to me like another layer of my own wet dermis and I forged on deeper and deeper into the density of the trees and the rain.
The sounds were like the loudest symphony like Beethoven's 5th, DA DA DA DA - the rain beating the leaves and the percussion sound of the drops as they slammed off my body.
I thought I can do this, I can round the bend by the river and walk on, I can keep going with nothing here to shield me, I don't need the sun, I can skate at the Dyer Arena on the snowy days and the love will be enough to keep me warm and the kids, the kids they love the snow, they love the love...mud slides rising up around me.
change-
Soupy sales (OMG WHAT?)
was on a skate board with a bunch of young skate punks and they were racing and I was watching a spectator like at the INDY 500 (is that a race name?)
and all these people were screaming and cheering and I was so confused and then the track was littered with fallen teenagers and there was Soupy, boarding on to the finish line neck and neck with this young punk and he moves just a wheel ahead for the win and the crowd goes crazy like crazy crazy and he skates by me and says
"I'm so much more than a caricature"
Bam AWAKE.
Thoughts OMG????

Buh Bye boulders...

Hi everyone in blog land,
Wow it sure has been a long while since I last spewed at the mouth....
That unfortunately is a sign of my way too busy life.
This semester has proved to be my most challenging to date, not necessarily the work load but the life load coupled with the work load. I am lucky to be hanging on at all considering all the personal things that have been going on this term.
I say that (type it) then chuckle, realizing that a year ago I had to drop a class because my Papa died and I was returning home to say goodbye...
Oh my Papa.... I miss him so much and can only imagine how my Nan must feel.
A year is a long time to be without your other half.
I guess this is a transition point???
I have been taking this World religions class, I am fairly certain I recall previous blogs inspired by this class? At any rate, we are working on Buddhism as of late and I am so moved by the Buddhist practices that I am, yet again on the verge of something life altering.
Crazy how that just keeps happening for me...
The Buddhists believe that nothing is permanent and that human unhappiness comes from an unwillingness to accept that everything WILL change, everyone WILL die.
I will not deny, that this DOES in fact cause me a great deal of emotional strife.
I don't want to die, but even more than that, I don't want people I love to die.
And yet, in my life, dying is as central a theme for me as living. So many people that I have loved have passed on.
And then I panic in my head and think Oh shit, just not my kids, please not my kids.
But....Kids die everyday and mine bear no immunity different from those.
Buddha began his teachings by giving away.
In effort to accept the things I cannot change, like that everything WILL AND DOES AND WILL ALWAYS CHANGE, I think I am going to practice giving away and stripping back on what I do not need.
I am good at the purge, just not always so GOOD INTENTIONED in my purging practices. In all honesty, I do a lot of what I do, to prove that I CAN.
I have lived a long life of fighting back and proving others wrong.
I want to prove right to and for myself only.
I want to move closer to the type of enlightenment that I read about and internally crave.
There was a time a few years back I lost a ton of weight to prove something to someone (or a few someones) and to slay a demon (or a few demons) of the self doubting nature.
There was a time I got a 4.0 GPA to prove to myself that I was in fact smart enough, watch me now....
Thing about that mindset is..... That it changes, it HAS changed.
I am thinking about INTENTION more than ever, and HONESTY.
Kinda the way I also view JOY and PAIN (pump it up pump it up, like sunshine and rain)
Things that go together...(like my Nana and Papa sigh)
I have to find some more peace and I think that starts here and now with these words.
I thought about it all day, remembering the way my Papa looked as I knelt by his casket -
nothing is permanent and good intention is vital to good existence within the time we have.
I am a good person, I have no qualms with my goodness - I do however take up with the attainable goodness vs. the experienced goodness and how the two are interconnected and not up to God or destiny or even Karma but up to, you guessed it ME...
So you piss me off.... What am I going to do with it?
So I have no time....What will I do with the time I do have?
So my body feels like crap and is a vessel....How will I care for it?
And so on and so on.
I have been a victim, no doubt.
I have MADE myself a victim, noooooo doubt.
Worst thing to realize is, victim is as victim does...
Now I am not saying that it is all my fault, all the shit, the hell, the pain, the absolute crap of life. NO.
But I am saying that INTENTION is half the battle.
INTENTION, that real inner thought, main motivator, the purpose involved is KEY.
My intention to PROVE something has got to go.
I am thinking that I need to listen to the birds sing more, the winds blow more.
I want to hike to the top of a mountain and sit in meditation and think about how neither it, nor the sky, nor the sweat pooling in my bra is permanent and that the intention behind all of those realizations is to truly HAVE them. BE in them because I am alive, because right now I CAN.
Does that make sense?
Not to get into the bikini and look good, but to put something into my body that will help me help it reach it's intended potential and to feel good.
Not to write the book just to write it, but to have the intention to say something meaningful and representative of my spirits time here, my observations of every detail that hasn't eluded me.
I don't make any sense do I?
Well, I do in my head and my INTENTION in these words is for me to get it, so I guess goal attained even if I leave you scratching your head. huh?
I spend too much time doing stupid meaningless shit, too much money on stupid meaningless shit and too much energy working against positive healthy energy - all means to the wrong INTENTIONED END.
Today at school, I talked to so many people. So many people smiled at me, said hello. I felt their energy, they felt mine. I give good energy when I take the time and focus, truly attend to that exchange and when it is with pure intention and not some ulterior motive, even ones underlying and hidden and shhhh'ed.
I spend too much time trying to be too many things to too many people that won't be permanent and don't matter anyways.
I want to live my life with better intention because my life is not permanent.
In order to do that, I think I have to make some key changes in my day to day life.
I am NEVER going to NOT paint my toe nails, but I think I currently have enough polish colors to paint a thousand feet in rainbows of every shade variation -
SOOO no CVS and the make up aisle for boredom sake, I'm sure there is a book Emma can read me in the time it would take to waste my 5.99.
Let's give vanity a rest, no one gives a shit what I look like anyway...
NO shopping. No spending. No bad shit in my body. No negativity for the sake of making noise in the face of uncomfortable silence. No facebook for a while. No constant phone checking. Maybe even shut off friggen cable?
I want to strip down naked (emotionally and psychologically) and allow myself to rise to the surface free from all the needless burdens that materialize in all my misguided intentions.
Cause just like you, I have em'
Ohhh do I have them.
So yeah, time to reevaluate and figure out a less cluttered path.
Going to give away (figuratively) all the shit I carry around like a back pack full of boulders that I definitely do not need weighing me down...
I may not be here tomorrow, so why not start today????