Please let the first day of change stick this time-

There is a day of contemplation- of finding the twists and turns and being so very angry at the people that lead you the wrong way while telling you they love you. Then you become ashamed that you listened to them instead of yourself. You trusted them instead of your inner voice screaming. You notice how it paralyzes you completely. The frustrations of friends and family feed the shame. You tune them out to get it together. You know in your brain that what they think doesn't matter when they only know a small potion of the story. But you heart knows it does. It's been more nearly half your life since you have been your own soul- potions here and there along the way, but not completely- not in 25 years- more than half your life- because of those wrong turns taken by people who believed they were doing the right thing comparing you, goading you, admitting they lead you purposely wrongly then wondering why you felt helpless and hopeless. You have a day like that and you start cleaning out your dresser. You throw out the threadbare and stained and too small shirts that have always been there. You finally throw them out. You don't have to keep them, just because they have always been there. You get rid of the shirts you should keep because they are good shirts and will keep you warm- doesn't matter if you hate the style. You get rid of those. You start folding what's left and it's surprising when you find a shirt you absolutely loved, you feel sexy in and it actually looks good on you. How could you have forgotten you favorite shirt, crammed and wadded under the ones long overdue to be throw out, gotten rid of, given back, just gone? Look at all that room for your favorite shirt- that makes you feel like you- that you now remember-

Master of most

I am in need of a master in the old sense of the word. I need a guide and mentor. There have been times when I have expressed my need in a lot of different categories. I search for a spiritual mentor, especially in terms of my supernatural tendencies and tend to encounter folks who say "Yeah, me too- and then continue to tell me how their experiences were more significant than mine. Or they nod and patronize me-amused at my inexperience and smug in theirs. I search for a costume/clothing mentor, and they say I'm doing it wrong because it is not their way. Like the old Chinese man in the wood- I need someone who sees that I want to know and is confident enough in their own skills to not worry if mine are or become greater. The key may being finding someone who is not emotionally invested in the outcome. And by emotionally invested, I mean someone who will not feel they are less if I excel. Makes me sound arrogant doesn't it? Well ask me if I care- It's the energy I can feel coming from who I ask-

Time to Grow up

I have to turn down another job offer because of cash flow. I am not amused. I'm pissed as hell. I hate being a grown up and having to think so much of the bottom line. I am encouraged to keep looking- to find the job when I feel productive and satisfied. I did. And I have to turn it down because it is half the hourly rate , AND half the hours. I'm the money and I have these boys to make sure have a better life than I did. I have to make sure they learn to push themselves- to take advantage of every ounce of education they can squeeze out of every brain they find. I have to make sure they don't grow up like me and one day decide "Today I will grow old because I can no longer dream or hope for something better for myself". I was never taught these things. I did not have anyone to believe in me, to talk to, to guide me. And now that I am lost, I will have to be their guide. It's too late for me. I will stay at my current employ. I will grow old and humorless, but by God they will not be like me. Patrick said he wanted to be like me when he was about 4 years old. He said I was strong- like a mermaid. When he was older he said if he were a hero, he would be a child of Athena. I have no idea who he is talking about. I had to give up being that person. Today, I am no hero. Today, I got old and grew up. No more dreams for me, just for them.

every morning

when it effects your sleep- like insomnia or nightmares when it effects you self image when your talents are unused and forgotten when it effects you ability to interact with you family and children you gain weight, have stomach pains, and basic health is compromised you shut down emotionally and spiritually, because who you know you are is not ok where you are If it is a relationship, you are encouraged to out- even helped If it is a job, you are supposed to be grateful you have it, look on the bright side and ignore the bad parts, endure it, and convince yourself it's not that bad. off to work I go-

An artist is born with a heart half broken. Life and it's trials can increase that proportion. It can never be lower than half- except for when we are engaged in our art. The greatest hurt comes from those who do not respect this fact, who tell us our problems are not real, we should be glad for what we have, or just how it could be worse. It can be no worse than knowing yourself, knowing your place, and exactly how that place connects you to God and not being able to be there.

Body Talk

I suited up in my rapier armor for the first time in a very long time. It took a great deal of effort. A full time desk job has taken a huge toll on my body. I fit in want ever exercise I can, when I can. Sometimes. We had started P90-X, stuck with it for 3 straight weeks and I was starting to feel and see results, not only in how I looked, but in how powerful and in control of my own body I felt. It was easy to stop and hard to start again for one simple reason.
I hate all exercise videos. Using one is an unequal compromise. Videos (and gyms, for that matter) can't help me. Self image is the same as faith- the intent determines the outcome. It taints or tints it.
When I put in a video, there is no real goal to me. The movements feel purposeless. I focus on feel the burn and pain. I feel compared and unsuccessful. At the end of it, I have gone no where. My scenery hasn't changed. My body is tainted with the feeling that I have wasted my time. I can not perceive that I have actually done anything. And my efforts at fitness are only marginally successful.
When I ride my bike, I focus on reaching and pushing- make it to the top despite the burn and the pain. I have a tangible goal to focus on. When I climb up a boulder, or a waterfall, when I hit the target 10 times in a row, when I set out and I get there, achievement tints my self image. The body that follows shows that. I had always maintained that a muscles made from baling hay were far more sexy than the ones from a gym. The goal tints them. Makes them shine.
I am not a body builder. I know for some the reps and quantity are the goal. It plain old isn't so with me.
Climb every mountain
Swim every sea
I have conflict because my full time job means precious little time with family and even less to do things like mow the lawn. It is hard to walk away from my moments with them. There has got to be a way for a mom to find balance. And be forgiven for doing so.

that which is not accepable

My work consists of telling people why they are wrong.
I have to tell people no and give them bad news.
Good customer service consists of spending as little time as possible with people.
I produce nothing.
I am accountable for things that I am not supposed to review.
As a government employee, I can not defend when racial or religious slurs are said to me. Nor can I defend myself when some one is aggressive verbally. Nor can I say a thing to the man who slaps his infant in front of me and yells "no hitting" when the 1 year old was just waving his arms around. As a government employee, I have to hold my tongue when the mother in front of me calls their toddler stupid and useless.

In the first few weeks, I had compassion and an eagerness to make sure paperwork was in order for the benefit of the customer. This is not necessarily office policy.
Go call your insurance company. I'll be over here eating paint.
I try to focus on the notable people of the day. I met a man today who is doing what I would love to be doing- restoring historic buildings. I met a man who was so moved by the wonder of seeing his own child in an ultrasound, he is near graduating with his MA degree so he can share that experience with others daily as a tech. I have to focus on these people. It's these few that my gut tells me to chat with that get me through. I come home and leave everything at the office. That part is easy because I am nothing there. I know myself so well now. I am reassured in my knowing. I am looking to reviving.
On Monday, I had a moment when I was arguing with a customer about his due date. The expiration is on the bill twice. It's not my problem if you wife did not read it. Something popped in my heart/ brain connection. I actually heard it- like when a tendon is torn from bone. I could see the whitish connective band frayed and ricocheting in my mind's eye. I had become the grey of a government employee. I put Black 47's 'James Connolly' on repeat in my car-
"It's better to die like a man on you feet than like a slave bound in chains-"
I searched out that man's restoration business when I got home today. We all have asked at what point is enough enough? Why, when we decide it is, my love. That which is not acceptable can only be for so long. I need more because I am more.

rant of the day

Suppose you are allergic to seafood. You are at a restaurant and ask the waiter what he recommends. He says the shrimp scampi. Knowing what your needs are, knowing what is unacceptable to you, you order the veal Parmesan.

To say you have to accept the current society, the now environment, the status quo-
that Hollywood and Madison Avenue dictate what we do and how we view ourselves is irresponsible bullshit. To believe that means you do not know yourself and are too weak minded to stand up. It means you deserve the psycho-emotional anaphylaxia you put yourself through.
Know thyself and to thine own self be true-

3 am again, no 4 am rant

The middle of the night is the only time I feel like I have myself to myself. It is also the worst time to write, or sew and expect to be able to go to work the next day. Well crap.
Sometimes I come home for lunch just to be alone for 15 minutes. Even if the family all backs off and know Mom's in time out, their enerigies are there. My darling love is wondering and reaching out to me with his heart- it is not the same as just being alone to recharge, to find restful peace before starting it all at full bore again. I keep telling myself, because others keep telling me- there is always tomorrow, or next week- and it fills me with rage.
Later is the kind of thinking that has it all ending up being too late in the end. I've spent too much time waiting. I have full faith in all of you to be able to figure it out. Leave me to me. I don't want to go out. I want to stay here, alone. And when I come out in 3 or 4 or 8 or 12 hours, it will have helped and I won't resent being needed, or the being the only one who knows what to do. As much. The thing with moms needed to take time for themselves is something we know in a full "no Shit" capacity. It's everyone else who needs to respect that fact, and give it to us. I don't feel that this need is respected by anyone. Otherwise, they would not tell me to just do it tomorrow, or next week. And if I had that feeling about making dinner......? It's starting to sound like a reasonable idea to pack up the sewing room and let the boys have it for play room. I'm not using it and they could. And it makes me sad that I feel like my need to have my own kind of recreation feels so disrespected that it does sound like such a reasonable idea. I packed it all into the attic before when the boys were all in diapers. It cracked my heart a little each day to see what was such a part of me having to be ignored. It was less painful to put it all out of sight and forget how it felt to feel peaceful creation. There was a bit of release when I did that- like when I mowed over the gardens, or decided to stop clearing the work benches- a relief that I didn't have to be sad about it anymore because it was gone. And I stare at the TV doing nothing and feeling like I don't know anything anymore. Worse part is, I can see the same broken heart behind the eyes of the boys about the things they used to love. No time or soul to play baseball with Patrick, teach Richard to sew, play music, rock climb, draw, paint, build- I don't even know what they like anymore. I don't know any of us anymore it seems. It makes me very sad that this is the only kind of writing I can come up with because of the emotional, mental, and spiritual log jam feels iced over with no signs of spring in sight. Even more so that I have to rant and demand to get respected time alone. That feels dirty- not at all helpful or healing. I don't remember the last time I relaxed- that I was not in full speed ahead mode. I some how think if I get what needs to get done, then I will have time for myself to enjoy the things that being me peace- as long as no one else needs something from me, even if it is just love. I'm tapped out and it's hard work to scrape the inside of that barrel. Me, what I do, my time, does not feel important enough in others minds. I want to run away from home. Or change the locks, albeit temporarily. So this is Purgatory-
There's always next week, I'm told.

Back to bed. Being so worn out will not help my defeated feeling. It only makes it worse. I had a life goal to be a force of change for myself, and not a complainer. That goal is out the window tonight. I do feel better though. Thanks for listening.

fire in the sky

Every day on my work breaks, I go for a walk to look at things far away, esp the clouds. They have been very white and remind me of charcoal drawings the way they feather out. They are usually a blank slate to stretched cotton. Every day this week, I have seen the form of a phoenix in the skies.
We hear what we want to hear, but we see what we need to see. Phoenix is fire. Phoenix re starts, redoes, or begins to continue.
Which pile of ashes am I to sweep up and drink the tea of? I am eager, even impatient to know. I can start feeling like I am living my own life again. I was a fulfilling and powerful, grown up feeling when I had it in the past. Fire does not wait well.

done and done

Poetry, by it's very nature is secretively personal, whatever the emotional circumstance. I have ones from when I was sure I was in the deepest love or pain (sometimes both at the same time)that I was sure were brilliant at the time, but now I shake my head at how little I knew about either thing at that time. I would never let them go though. They are more than mine. They are the manifestation of something significant enough for me to document.
Because of that personal nature, poetry is so very intimate. To send out a manuscript is a huge step of chance. It feels riskier than other forms of writing. It is standing naked at the Super Bowl and asking everyone what they think of your body, and then compare it to others equally naked.
I just mailed my first collection of poetry to be judged. I'm at the 50 yard line, during half time, and I can't see how much time is left on the clock.


Exciting, isn't it......?

other missings and noticings

Last night I had a meeting with the director of The Polk Street Players- a tiny community theater that uses the basement in our church. Michael is an 842 year old Englishman. It was nice. I helped him tape the seams on the flats before the painters tomorrow and we talked about all 38 of their par 38's. The theater seats 50.
I had not planned to go back into theater again. It's bad for families, esp those who want to do other things on the weekends. Of course, I have not done a quarterly production deal since high school, so maybe it's not as bad as the weekly event work, or local crew.
The point is I'm toying with the ideas of happiness. What was going on when I had my own person satisfaction and happiness at it's highest?
The Furniture Doctor-
being a stagehand-
the first couple years of my business-
Yes I love love loved doing the work. I loved the job, even (maybe especially) when I complained. Deep down, I wouldn't trade those 15 years for white collar any day. My only regret of that fact is monetary, but not the experience. The common thread was us working to realize a common goal- the team work, counting on each other to do what needed to be done and being trusted to do my part. It was knowing for sure that if any one of us failed, they others could absorb and get the job done. Unwarranted blame was unacceptable. Someone had your back. The end game was the goal, not the praises of any one of the team, and we were going to make it happen. We needed it to happen. And we are not going to bed until it does.
Back in those glory days, the goal was all we had. There were few pets, fewer relationships (outside the wings) and no kids. Our only obligation was the show. Once you have the pets, and love, and kids, and the house, and PTA and all that, is it the natural flow of life that you lose that single mindedness? This may be a motherhood thing where you have no choice but to split your own goal concept and give slivers to all your charges.

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.