Watch the fear in your world.
Today I choose to watch it instead of eat it.
I used to take a dose every morning, swallow it, think for just a second, "Maybe this isn't the best thing to do", then swallow some more.

I can see it out there on the bridge. I can see people afraid to look at each other. I can see people skirt the edge, very close to the rickety posts just to not touch anyone else. I know they listen to the new several times a day. This is one of the ways to eat your daily dose. It's good to be informed. In most relationships, I listen with my heart first and then my head. When it comes to the news I find it useful to listen with my head not my heart. I have to remember that news anchors are actors usually, not journalists. They are hired more for their teeth than their objectivity.
Distance is key in my fear fight.

the face of fear

If fear is an insidious thread woven through our lives, well,I guess I wonder what else is in that fabric. Sure, there's some fear, a little tiny bit of terror, some narcissism etc. There's also a good bit of love, esteem, gratitude, more honesty than I thought there would be. All in all my fabric is holding up pretty well. I spend a bit of time working on this. Just never describedit before.

03/12/10
I wish it had been different.
I wish I had done what I always do, and I had talked to you till you were bored with me.
I screwed up and hurt you and never meant to belittle.
I guess I can’t even try anymore, I wanted to do that to, but I screwed that up also.
I keep hearing you in my head. I keep seeing that you don’t tell me that you want me, but you might someday want someone and I’m your best choice right now. (For what?, for waiting?)
You might be afraid of being alone someday, but you are much more afraid of not being alone today.
I can’t give my heart to your trial.
I wish I could. I love you.

I keep throwing away from me all the things I used to think I needed.
While I'm clear that I don't need them, this room is getting rather empty.
Participating is the key, I can't see it all, but it's there some how.
So I am participating. Slogging is more like it.

Anticipation…an act of trust

Anticipation…an act of trust

Grandmother moon rose very late and woke me before dawn.
The air is chilled and crisp. It’s light is peeking in between the new life on my oldest oak tree. The wind blows and the light dances, this moon is calling me.
She says I am a seed moon—plant roots in my wane.
She says my spirit will nurture what you put in the earth now. I will give what it needs for a good harvest. I will let the roots grow strong under the land. I will give enough water to prepare for the hot and dry that will inevitably come. Do not fear those times, they are part of the time needed for a good harvest. I will cover it with the earth for a time in order to break it’s shell and nurture it at the same time. She says will you trust me? Will you trust me to break and grow your heart, your life, so I can grow your ability to love? Will you give me that part of you?

I will, with trepidation plant my heart and my feelings of love. I will trust.
I will practice patience. Let the weight of the earth lay on my heart and sever it’s protective membrane. Let the minerals and water work their magic and show me the places where I do not know how to love. Let the roots grow so that my heart reaches deep, and deeper, down into the earth. When the sun is near and the earth has no moisture I can reach another way for what my heart needs. I can go deep below what is on the surface and find the hidden love that sustains me. Trust.

It went by so fast:

I dreamed of a painting. A dark background, with light only on a striking woman, looking down in such pain, she is feeling this:

Standing there, my red gown flowing down to the floor.
The shards of my broken heart all around my feet.
I know if I take a step it will slice quick and I will bleed.
I try not to move,
I hesitate more… Time passes I don’t know how much time
I begin to realize I’m being very, very still and quiet. I am afraid.
I begin to realize that I am hiding here.
I come to awareness like coming out of a fog for just a moment or two and the fog comes back.
The next time I am aware I realize, I may have been here near to a life time.
Where is this? I cannot see. Why can I not see?
My eyes are closed tight.
My arms wrapped in front of me to protect my breasts, my heart, but no, they didn’t, did they?
It went by so fast.
I can still hear the explosion in my ears.
Not feeling but fleeing down inside myself.
The shattering went into my head and resounded.

Now I stand here.
What can make this moment last.
This moment where I know where I am?
Where I know what is around me?
All is quiet now- I think, yes, I know now that I am breathing.
I remember the pain, I heard the shot whirring in the air, I heard it all like a million crystals exploding my heart.
Yes, I am breathing still…so How am I here?
How is there a way to survive and more than survive, breathe easier?
I open my eyes and glance around me.
I hear my heart beating in my chest, afraid and yet sure and steady none the less. It is a reassurance to hear my own heart, a reassurance I haven’t had in ages.
I see the razor sharp barbs on the floor.
How long? I can take a step between 2 pieces there only if I keep my eyes open. Not an easy task, forcing yourself to stare at them, but I choose to look.
So what happened? I am ok.
I am now, finally wanting to move away form the scene of this great tragedy.
What was it that broke? Was it something that protected my heart or restricted it?
I may never know.
What I know is that this hiding place is not for me any more.
Gently, looking down, I take a step, then another, I walk away from the pieces of my old self.
Step on into this new place.

She's a crazy drunk

She’s a crazy drunk.

No, I really mean it.

There are people who are drunk and it makes them crazy
Then there are those who are crazy and then they drink, to cope.
Like that one, that keeps cleaning the walls with her ping pong ball.
They kind of shuffle along. They don’t rush anywhere even to the liquor store.
She’s there, sober now, locked up and crazy as a betsy bug.
Unable to be treated at all until later. Later when all the drugs and alcohol have worn off.
When she’s there with only her own personal dragons surrounding her.
With the knowledge that she should be different knowing this is all she has ever been.
Nothing has ever made it all right, really. The best she has ever gotten is a little abatement on the battle.
She screams in agony and fear as the dragons taunt her, but no sound comes out.
What we get to see is a little girl smile a sort of nod and a shuffle. That is what the training has done. That is what has gotten the goods.
This world can honor that in her. They cannot honor the reactions to being surrounded by dragons, when they see that they run away and are afraid. Then she’s all alone with them. On her own. Everyone knows that’s bad. So she pretends and makes the little girl smile until she can’t and sometimes it’s embarrassing and she scares people. She tries harder, and harder. She’s getting better at the smile, the nod, the shuffle. She’s getting old from it, but that’s ok. She always knew she’d never be a great beauty. That was never going to be her way of getting by.

So those people come and watch and see and try to imagine what is really her, so they can “assess”. Then they watch when she doesn’t know and they assess some more.
In all of this there is no mercy.
They give her drugs they keep talking but know she really doesn’t care what they say.
The beasts are resting now but she is really alone because she can’t really hear anyone.
So there’s not much to do till it all comes back, so she smiles, and nods, and shuffles

Thirty is a big birthday

There’s a photograph of us in a box in my closet.
I get it out every so often.
I’m glad someone took a picture I can freeze that moment in time and hold on to that feeling.
I can feel your cheek against mine in the sunshine.
You smell divine. You are nestled up on my shoulder, safe.
We are both laughing and happy.

What neither of us could recognize in that moment is that our lives had changed forever.
You came and made me grow up…then gave me the ability to love enough for the rest of my life. You needed me in a way that mattered more than I knew.
We both grew as fast as we could.
We still are. And here we are miles apart and I want to celebrate that moment and all the moments from then until now that you have been in my life.
You have been a gift to me beyond measure.
When I get so stuck into myself that no one can tell me anything, you can. I will always hear you.
When I’m uncertain if I’ve made a difference in this world, I look at you and know that I have.

Thanks for still being here.
Know that you are loved.
Happy Birthday, son.