With one exception, I am not close to those I was born to. My life and choices have been very different than my brothers and sisters, parents. I have been described, at best, as weird, at worst as dangerous. I try to force myself into a closer relationship that doesn't make me feel like myself. Since I've been in Georgia, I have had less and less communication over state lines. I came to be more of my own in that time- of what struggle and motherhood had be become. I was told I don't act like myself when my friends are around. I need to be more like myself. Truth is, I am not myself when my family is around. Our connection is on a cellular level, not a soul one. I feel the absence of what was not there. I am told I am somehow to blame. I think to much on that idea because it makes little sense to me. I'm trying to put logic to something too intangible for it. I need to understand that it is what it is. I need to understand that my siblings don't know that either.
The family reunion is next week. I have attended every one since The Big ToDo in 1992. Mom believes it has run it's course. She and every one of the 6 kids have hosted, along with the both aunts from the Watts side. She feels we have finished and there should be no more. The Watts' need not come together after this year. Her sentiments bother me very much. What bothers me more is I'm not sad about not going. My indifference is unsettling. I have no affinity with my blood kin, save my brother Kevin. The thing that binds us most is being outcasts of our nest. He has had much the same kind of life. He feels the same lacking. We spent hours trying to make sense of it or put it down. We were unsuccessful.
With Dad gone, I have little to draw me back.
I struggling to know if it's ok for me to choose to be orphaned.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Dirt - week 3
Relaxation for me does not involve being still. Relaxation comes from the satisfaction of a hard day's work. I'm not meant to sit still. Ideas come to me when I mow the lawn. I find clarity in stacking the woodpile. Sweat and peace are equals. Quiet mediation comes to me only after the hard climb up a waterfall. After patching the roof, digging in the yard, cleaning the garage, I am sticky, stinky, and filthy. Then I shower. The water sloughs off heavy thoughts that are now on the surface of my dirty skin. It leaves behind comfort and pride. I watch the darkness of the water swirl in the tub and down the drain. It feels like victory. I feel like I have endured something and come out a better person on the other side. I have proven my strength to myself and then blessed myself- rain to wash me clean. Dirt on the outside is not the problem. Its the stuff on the inside.
I cry to wash it out. It's not enough. Give me tools, a goal, and the time alone to finish it.
I have earned my rest. My mind is clean of it's sown dirt. And I can be who I know I am.
Sweat, and dirt are my path to beauty.
I cry to wash it out. It's not enough. Give me tools, a goal, and the time alone to finish it.
I have earned my rest. My mind is clean of it's sown dirt. And I can be who I know I am.
Sweat, and dirt are my path to beauty.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
the things left behind-
sometimes I mourn the lost time that comes with motherhood. Not just a busy day, but that I don't can't won't do what I knew to be me before they came along. I started fencing and started my redefinition. Their father moved away, and I lost my fencing weekends. Coming close to yourself, then losing it a bit is hard. Grief comes from out of the blue. That is one of the reasons I randomly cry.
Real life education
Sometimes my replies on Facebook get long. I will be adding more to this. Right now I need breakfast-
*****************************************************
Common sense doesn't mean as much as it used to. Common sense is taught in the home, while the broad spectrum to application is what is refined in schools. We SCAdians need to remember we are a rare exception to the general whole society rule. I had 5th graders at the museum that didn't know you could cook without a microwave. As American's evolution dumbs down, common sense disappears. We have lost the understanding that kick ball is an application of practical physics. Or that imagination is the source of innovation, not just macaroni art. Go play kid!!
I don't "qualify" for any jobs I want for lack of a piece of paper. I know what I know and what I am capable of doing and learning. My word is no longer enough and that makes me very very sad.
*****************************************************
Common sense doesn't mean as much as it used to. Common sense is taught in the home, while the broad spectrum to application is what is refined in schools. We SCAdians need to remember we are a rare exception to the general whole society rule. I had 5th graders at the museum that didn't know you could cook without a microwave. As American's evolution dumbs down, common sense disappears. We have lost the understanding that kick ball is an application of practical physics. Or that imagination is the source of innovation, not just macaroni art. Go play kid!!
I don't "qualify" for any jobs I want for lack of a piece of paper. I know what I know and what I am capable of doing and learning. My word is no longer enough and that makes me very very sad.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Blue SIlk
I'm a huge fan of silk. I'm an even bigger fan of not paying full price for it. I have spent so much time working with fabrics that I can spot 100% and blends almost every time. I shop at Good Will. I run my fingers along the packed racks and can pull out 100% silk shirts for $3. Sometimes they are even in my size. If they are not, I have now awe of brand names, so I have no trouble at all with the idea of cutting apart a linen, silk, or wool garment to reclaim the fabric for other uses. It makes me feel very resourceful.
As luck would have it, a found a dark blue silk suit with lovely embroidered details on the jacket hem. I wore it to church on Sunday. I wore it with matching shoes, and the proper foundation wear and lingerie. I wore a black wool cloche hat. I wore white crocheted lace gloves and carried a clutch purse. I've dressed like when I was in my 20's. I have a drawer with elbow length gloves. I always wore full garters, fancy shoes, and I had few hats. I wore it because it was fun, like playing dress up.
I did not expect (nor realize until later) that today I felt so much better about myself . I wasn't dressed to the nine's since it was church, but it was my current Sunday best.
I felt strong. I felt like I was right. I felt like I had the authority to tell the girls in backless mini dresses that they were absolutely inappropriate for church. At least wear a shawl or little jacket. Even in front of their mom's who let them wear them.
I felt intelligent. I was positive that every one knew that I didn't have to rely on sex to get by- that I had know how, skills and the strength to make things happen- all with out having to show as much skin as possible. Tiny clothes mean a tiny mind. The wonderful thing about that is minds can grow. Your butt is no longer the only interesting thing about you. Your cleavage is not your resume'.
My absolute favorite part of dressing well and feeling well was four out of eight of my tattoos were clearly visible. All but one are behind me. I'm a different person coming and going. I've always been a fan of being a variation on a theme.
There might be an emotional point between recognizing my inner power and a superiority complex. If there is, it'll show itself. Until then, lead by example
As luck would have it, a found a dark blue silk suit with lovely embroidered details on the jacket hem. I wore it to church on Sunday. I wore it with matching shoes, and the proper foundation wear and lingerie. I wore a black wool cloche hat. I wore white crocheted lace gloves and carried a clutch purse. I've dressed like when I was in my 20's. I have a drawer with elbow length gloves. I always wore full garters, fancy shoes, and I had few hats. I wore it because it was fun, like playing dress up.
I did not expect (nor realize until later) that today I felt so much better about myself . I wasn't dressed to the nine's since it was church, but it was my current Sunday best.
I felt strong. I felt like I was right. I felt like I had the authority to tell the girls in backless mini dresses that they were absolutely inappropriate for church. At least wear a shawl or little jacket. Even in front of their mom's who let them wear them.
I felt intelligent. I was positive that every one knew that I didn't have to rely on sex to get by- that I had know how, skills and the strength to make things happen- all with out having to show as much skin as possible. Tiny clothes mean a tiny mind. The wonderful thing about that is minds can grow. Your butt is no longer the only interesting thing about you. Your cleavage is not your resume'.
My absolute favorite part of dressing well and feeling well was four out of eight of my tattoos were clearly visible. All but one are behind me. I'm a different person coming and going. I've always been a fan of being a variation on a theme.
There might be an emotional point between recognizing my inner power and a superiority complex. If there is, it'll show itself. Until then, lead by example
Friday, June 25, 2010
unexpected
A friend sent me one of those lovely emails about living life and loving full and send it back if you are a friend. I put this at the top of the note before forwarding and thought it came out well-
****************************
I've cut out a bunch (including people) lately so could see the good stuff. Last weekend, we went hiking. The boys went nuts in the waterfall's natural slide. I laid down in a puddle of cold mud to spread my hands amid a puddle of yellow butterflies sucking minerals from the rocks between my fingers. Extraordinary adventure with my fingertips.
missyouloveyou :-*
****************************
I've cut out a bunch (including people) lately so could see the good stuff. Last weekend, we went hiking. The boys went nuts in the waterfall's natural slide. I laid down in a puddle of cold mud to spread my hands amid a puddle of yellow butterflies sucking minerals from the rocks between my fingers. Extraordinary adventure with my fingertips.
missyouloveyou :-*
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Even trade
At the last family reunion, my sister ripped me up one side and down the other about deeply emotional things and was very harmful. I have not healed yet from it. She told me I had ruined my relationship with Dad. I had not kept my promises, and stopped being honest with him and refused to communicate. He had died 2 years earlier, so there is no repair. More importantly, there is no forgiveness.
A thought popped in my head less than a minute ago.
If these things about my Dad are true, then I am fucking pissed that he didn't have the balls to come to me about it. I called. I wrote letters. Not once did he lament a loss to me. The fact that I did not visit physically does not at all mean we did not communicate.
If these things are not true, then I am fucking pissed at my sister for being a liar about me and my Dad.
Either way, I have lost a member of my blood. I have gained myself by realizing it.
My truth is the truth. Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it.
There is a Jimmy Buffet line for everything.
A thought popped in my head less than a minute ago.
If these things about my Dad are true, then I am fucking pissed that he didn't have the balls to come to me about it. I called. I wrote letters. Not once did he lament a loss to me. The fact that I did not visit physically does not at all mean we did not communicate.
If these things are not true, then I am fucking pissed at my sister for being a liar about me and my Dad.
Either way, I have lost a member of my blood. I have gained myself by realizing it.
My truth is the truth. Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it.
There is a Jimmy Buffet line for everything.
jumping on the bandwagon
Ah me- insomnia is part of my daily routine. A wise person makes wise use of their time and takes advantage of opportunities as they come.
Strength- I want it- physically, spiritually, emotionally, psychologically.
I love being physically strong. I was not a tom girl (or was it boy) nor girlly girl. I was in between. I still am absolutely in between. I want to be able to throw a pack of shingles on the roof, fell trees and build whatever needs building. I want long, flowing gowns and long, flowing, curly hair. Strength and independence go hand in hand. I have to be physically fit to care for myself, my family and my property. I will not be helpless because something is heavy or difficult. I love watching old movies because the women are so strong. I love the tough broads- Rosie the Riveter types who rise to the challenge as if it were merely an annoyance like spoiled milk. Look at those photos from the 40's. They are perfectly made up and coiffed with a smile for the camera and hope in their eyes. And they never backed down. They took the shot gun off the wall, they threw boiling water, they stamped their feet and refused and insisted. They had curves and loved themselves for it. They knew they had power and strength by that love. Their clothes were to die for- glorious bias cut satin gowns, fun denim capries and knotted button down shirts and always the perfect shoe. Don't forget red lipstick and a hat, a lace hankie with a drop of perfume.
Pin up girls are strong and wonderful. Her image was on airplanes, on posters, everywhere. She was a bit risque' - sometimes very risque'- but not pornographic. She was alone. She was having fun. She was strong and doing just fine. She was virtuous by the strength in her fidelity.
My god speaks to me in a language that I understand. I also speak to my god in a language that can be understood coming from me. I can not pray with a French accent, nor should I try. I speak with smoke and fire and images in my mind. This is how we communicate most efficiently. It takes a long time to say things, but the conversation is there. Efficient and fast are not the same thing. The more I use my form of prayer, the more I feel the presence of god in my life; the more I see it others, the more I listen.
Scarbage- the mental junk you can't manage to throw away, even though you know it is useless
I watched commercials for Scientology as a child and thought it should be looked into. I have issues with some of Mr Hubbard's ideas. He's a bit of a chauvinist and I think he made poor vocab choices here and there. The theories work though. Auditing works. The most difficult part is that I have insomnia so much, that we can not do a session for my lack of good rest. Nonetheless, what we have been able to do, and what I hope we will be able to do again, has healing qualities. I'm looking forward to sleeping, so we can clear out all this- Scarbage that I know is there but can't find the handhold yet to throw it out.
I need to learn something. Anything. I have a quote from The Once and Future King by T.H. White. "The best thing to do for being sad is to learn something. It is the only thing that never fails." I do not know as much as I would like, and what I do know, I know well. I can't tell you a thing about the infernal contraption I am using right now, but I can tell you everything about the fabric I'm wearing. The more I know, the better I can apply my physical strength and know how to accomplish goals with intellect when muscle is not enough.
It's been 2 of the 3 hours I have been awake this night. I will now lay in bed doing isometric exercises while doing crossword puzzles in ink.
physically strong = independence
emotionally strong = virtue
spiritually strong = indelibly
psychologically strong = restful body and thought
intellectually strong = order and understanding
Strength- I want it- physically, spiritually, emotionally, psychologically.
I love being physically strong. I was not a tom girl (or was it boy) nor girlly girl. I was in between. I still am absolutely in between. I want to be able to throw a pack of shingles on the roof, fell trees and build whatever needs building. I want long, flowing gowns and long, flowing, curly hair. Strength and independence go hand in hand. I have to be physically fit to care for myself, my family and my property. I will not be helpless because something is heavy or difficult. I love watching old movies because the women are so strong. I love the tough broads- Rosie the Riveter types who rise to the challenge as if it were merely an annoyance like spoiled milk. Look at those photos from the 40's. They are perfectly made up and coiffed with a smile for the camera and hope in their eyes. And they never backed down. They took the shot gun off the wall, they threw boiling water, they stamped their feet and refused and insisted. They had curves and loved themselves for it. They knew they had power and strength by that love. Their clothes were to die for- glorious bias cut satin gowns, fun denim capries and knotted button down shirts and always the perfect shoe. Don't forget red lipstick and a hat, a lace hankie with a drop of perfume.
Pin up girls are strong and wonderful. Her image was on airplanes, on posters, everywhere. She was a bit risque' - sometimes very risque'- but not pornographic. She was alone. She was having fun. She was strong and doing just fine. She was virtuous by the strength in her fidelity.
My god speaks to me in a language that I understand. I also speak to my god in a language that can be understood coming from me. I can not pray with a French accent, nor should I try. I speak with smoke and fire and images in my mind. This is how we communicate most efficiently. It takes a long time to say things, but the conversation is there. Efficient and fast are not the same thing. The more I use my form of prayer, the more I feel the presence of god in my life; the more I see it others, the more I listen.
Scarbage- the mental junk you can't manage to throw away, even though you know it is useless
I watched commercials for Scientology as a child and thought it should be looked into. I have issues with some of Mr Hubbard's ideas. He's a bit of a chauvinist and I think he made poor vocab choices here and there. The theories work though. Auditing works. The most difficult part is that I have insomnia so much, that we can not do a session for my lack of good rest. Nonetheless, what we have been able to do, and what I hope we will be able to do again, has healing qualities. I'm looking forward to sleeping, so we can clear out all this- Scarbage that I know is there but can't find the handhold yet to throw it out.
I need to learn something. Anything. I have a quote from The Once and Future King by T.H. White. "The best thing to do for being sad is to learn something. It is the only thing that never fails." I do not know as much as I would like, and what I do know, I know well. I can't tell you a thing about the infernal contraption I am using right now, but I can tell you everything about the fabric I'm wearing. The more I know, the better I can apply my physical strength and know how to accomplish goals with intellect when muscle is not enough.
It's been 2 of the 3 hours I have been awake this night. I will now lay in bed doing isometric exercises while doing crossword puzzles in ink.
physically strong = independence
emotionally strong = virtue
spiritually strong = indelibly
psychologically strong = restful body and thought
intellectually strong = order and understanding
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
On Strength
Strength is that which endures. Strength holds up hearts and holds up buildings. Strength remains constant reliable truth. Strength maintains. God has given me strength.
But to grow, create, change, advance; this is courage. Courage pulls you into the unknown. Courage reaches unaware of the fear of falling. Courage is the means to the end.
God grant my courage. My prayers for strength have been answered in abundance. I have the strength to go on and on without change, continuing, feet firmly planted, holding up my orb of self with all this excess strength.
Bless me with the audacity of Moses, the daring of Joan, the dreams of Columbus, and the voice of a Suffragette. Bless me with the infinite possibilities that only courage can bring.
Bless me past the fear of falling.
But to grow, create, change, advance; this is courage. Courage pulls you into the unknown. Courage reaches unaware of the fear of falling. Courage is the means to the end.
God grant my courage. My prayers for strength have been answered in abundance. I have the strength to go on and on without change, continuing, feet firmly planted, holding up my orb of self with all this excess strength.
Bless me with the audacity of Moses, the daring of Joan, the dreams of Columbus, and the voice of a Suffragette. Bless me with the infinite possibilities that only courage can bring.
Bless me past the fear of falling.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Water 3
*a tiny mention of some really important water*
Introduction
I am a dandelion
growing alone in a field of roses
with nothing to do
but indulge myself
with the uniqueness of being a weed.
My oneness makes me whole
'cause I have a driven soul
a determination
that can build a bonfire
from a bucket of water
And I intend to set the world alight
with kaleidoscopic flame-
You can't kill a weed
Cut off their heads
poison their hearts
trample their core
They will always return
more alive from the learning
A weed will always survive-
June 22, 2004, revised June 21, 2010
Introduction
I am a dandelion
growing alone in a field of roses
with nothing to do
but indulge myself
with the uniqueness of being a weed.
My oneness makes me whole
'cause I have a driven soul
a determination
that can build a bonfire
from a bucket of water
And I intend to set the world alight
with kaleidoscopic flame-
You can't kill a weed
Cut off their heads
poison their hearts
trample their core
They will always return
more alive from the learning
A weed will always survive-
June 22, 2004, revised June 21, 2010
Water 2
I'm glad to be here in Boggs' Creek
to be here with the '-ures' all around me-
the stature of salamanders
the ligature of vines
in the texture of tree bark.
The lecture of water
the future of me
throwing rocks in the water
leaning on trees
to see a salamander on a vine
May 2010
to be here with the '-ures' all around me-
the stature of salamanders
the ligature of vines
in the texture of tree bark.
The lecture of water
the future of me
throwing rocks in the water
leaning on trees
to see a salamander on a vine
May 2010
Water
Dare #1 water
Rain to wash me clean
that is not cold
Rain that has a purpose
Rain to wash me clean
of the sickly, smoldering embers
who waste their heart
Rain to wash me clean
to polish the hearth
with drops of thunder
why come in from the rain
Rain to wash me clean
that is not cold
Rain that has a purpose
Rain to wash me clean
of the sickly, smoldering embers
who waste their heart
Rain to wash me clean
to polish the hearth
with drops of thunder
why come in from the rain
Feminine Voice Dare
Message to all women: write.
I've realized just today why I hate the term "women's history" or "women's studies." I have always felt that women are/were a part of ALL history, that we didn't have a separate history where we evolved in a bubble. Our lives should not be considered separate from that of men. Our lives are defined by our relationships to them and to each other. However, women came late to literacy, so that most ancient records portray the feminine voice as one of muted pluralism defined and described in most part by men. I don't want our voices quieted again, so I'm asking the women in my life to write. Write fiction, non-fiction, conversations, letters, journals, blogs, cookbooks, strategic battle plans, etc.
These are the keys to being heard by future generations. Tell your own stories. Please don't be quiet. make some noise, ladies. :D
*********************************
I had always been proud of my writing until one English teacher told me it sucked. I kept much of my writing private, having become so self conscious of it. A poke from the right place at the right time can start the ball rolling. She plans to give us a subject and we have one week to create.
Let's see if I still got it....
I've realized just today why I hate the term "women's history" or "women's studies." I have always felt that women are/were a part of ALL history, that we didn't have a separate history where we evolved in a bubble. Our lives should not be considered separate from that of men. Our lives are defined by our relationships to them and to each other. However, women came late to literacy, so that most ancient records portray the feminine voice as one of muted pluralism defined and described in most part by men. I don't want our voices quieted again, so I'm asking the women in my life to write. Write fiction, non-fiction, conversations, letters, journals, blogs, cookbooks, strategic battle plans, etc.
These are the keys to being heard by future generations. Tell your own stories. Please don't be quiet. make some noise, ladies. :D
*********************************
I had always been proud of my writing until one English teacher told me it sucked. I kept much of my writing private, having become so self conscious of it. A poke from the right place at the right time can start the ball rolling. She plans to give us a subject and we have one week to create.
Let's see if I still got it....
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